Bob Marley's old band get crowd singing with legendary reggae

  • The Wailers
  • O2 Academy Oxford
  • October 2

It may be early on a nondescript Wednesday evening, but inside a packed O2 Academy Oxford the crowd are already going wild.

Seminal reggae band The Wailers have bounded on stage and are hurtling headlong through their classic hits album Legend. And, from the off, the audience are with them – singing-along to every word.

There aren’t many bands, or records, that inspire that kind of love, but this 25 million-selling landmark album holds a special place in the hearts of its fans. Even non-reggae lovers know every song, so burned are they into our collective consciousness.

There is no need for setlists; we are all singing from the same hymn sheet: Is this Love, No Woman No Cry, Could You Be Loved, Three Little Birds... the hits keep coming. And despite having played them thousands of times, the band are delivering each musical gem with the respect and soul-penetrating energy intended by their writer: the great Nesta Robert Marley.

Indeed, the late Rastafarian singer, songwriter, protest figurehead and prophet was a towering presence in this rammed venue, despite having died more than 30 years ago.

His replacement, Dwayne ‘Danglin’ Anglin is practically a note-for-note sound-alike for Bob, and reels around the stage, dreadlocks flying, with all the energy of the young Marley. Squint and you could almost imagine the great man himself up there.

Of course, Danglin has always been at pains to insist he is no replacement for Marley, and graciously acknowledges his predecessor throughout the set – something which only strengthens the presence of his spirit as we, voices growing hoarse, yell along, as one, to Buffalo Soldier.

Any suggestion that this is a tribute show is banished by the presence of original Wailer, Aston ‘Family Man’ Barrett, coolly kicking out the bass licks at the back.

The trim-bearded reggae icon is responsible for some of the most recognisable grooves in popular music and, in shades and beanie hat, is still very much the band’s spiritual heart and soul. A few songs in and the crowd are croaking. “Give yourself a round of applause,” says Danglin, “...’cos everything is gonna be alright!” “Do you want some more Rasta music?” he asks us, to unanimous approval, before launching into a stirring Get Up, Stand Up.

Mixing things up, they leave the stage to the anthemic Jamming, before returning to renewed roars. This time Danglin, guitar slung over his shoulder, leads a tender sing-along to Redemption Song, eliciting a forest of upraised hands holding phones aloft (far less likely to set off the sprinkler system than lit cigarette lighters).

“Show some love for Robert Nesta Marley!” Danglin shouts, to one last roar, as the band troop off and we leave – some of the greatest songs ever made still ringing in our ears.