The multi-faceted Letts went on to become a DJ at the legendary nightclub The Roxy, embarking on a career in which became famous for introducing reggae and dub music to the burgeoning punk rock scene, thereby influencing important and widely influential acts such as The Clash. Letts later became a founding member of Big Audio Dynamite alongside former Clash singer Mick Jones.
Letts has since directed countless music videos -- including those for several Bob Marley songs -- and documentaries, and recently released his hard-cover autobiography, Culture Clash: Dread Meets Punk Rockers via SAF Publishing. His latest music film was 2007's The Good, The Bad and The Queen DVD.
In this special essay composed for BobMarley.com, Letts tells his story of life as a Marley fan and friend in his own words:
My parents are Jamaican, but as first-generation British-born blacks, we were like a lost tribe. We knew what we should sound like because of the records that we were getting from "yard." When I first heard "Catch A Fire," it was a revelation, not just because of the lyrical content but also the musical moves. It stood head and shoulders above anything that we'd heard up until that point. And we can't forget Chris Blackwell's part in the equation. He gave the album a kind of equity with the rock albums of the day in the way the record was packaged, promoted and produced, and respect is due.
Although we had a soundtrack, we had no visual accompaniment, but that changed with two things -- seeing the movie "The Harder They Come" and Bob Marley live at the Lyceum gig in London (July 19, 1975).
Here was a man who'd achieved success on his own terms and did not seek the blessing of society. I walked out of there a changed man, empowered and inspired. After seeing one of his later gigs at the Odeon in Hammersmith (June 1976), I followed his tour bus back to his hotel and hustled my way in with Bob and the rest of his entourage. Walking straight into his hotel room, I sat in a corner while the rest of the Rasta elders from London proceeded to smoke herb and "reason" with Bob late into the night.
Eventually after Bob had "out-reasoned" and out-smoked everyone, he cast his eyes around the room and caught sight of a young dread sitting in the corner with a little bag of herb. I was summoned to the table and we proceeded to reason 'til dawn and he'd finished my herb, too. That was the beginning of our relationship.
In those days, I was running a fashionable shop on the Kings Road Chelsea called Acme Attractions, and every time Bob was in town, he'd check me, 'cause he knew I was a smart guy with good sense! I remember going to the carnival with him one time and he sent me to get some herb (he was always running out), and by the time I came back he was chatting up my girlfriend. It's no secret that Bob was a ladies' man.
Another time, I went to the hotel with my Polaroid camera because I wanted to get a picture with Bob. Now, in those days, Polaroid was quite a novelty, and when the Wailers saw it, they were amazed: "Bloodclaat instant picture!" Everybody wanted a shot with Bob: Family Man, Carly, Seeco, everyone. Needless to say, I had to run to the local store three times before I finally got my picture with Bob.
By 1977, the white teenage youths in London were looking for a new soundtrack, as the music of the time didn't reflect the mood on the street, and punk rock exploded on the scene. I got the gig to DJ at the first dedicated punk venue in the U.K., the legendary Roxy Club. Problem was, this was so early in the scene, there were no punk records to play. So I'm spinning what I like, heavy dub reggae, and the punks were loving it. They dug the whole anti-establishment rebel vibe, the bass lines, and, of course, the herb.
It was during this period that Bob was staying in Oakley Street off the Kings Road Chelsea during his "exodus." I went round to collect some money he owed me dressed in my bondage trousers, and upon seeing me, Bob exclaimed, "Don Letts, what ya' deal wid yu look like one a dem nasty punk rockers." He'd obviously been reading the tabloid press and the punks being were portrayed as social outcasts. To which I replied, "They ain't no crazy baldheads, they're my breddrin," trying to explain that there really was something going on with these youths. Anyway, I walked out in a huff. That was the last time I spoke to Bob.
Some three months later and somewhat more informed, Bob was moved to write "Punky Reggae Party." That tune became the anthem to the cultural exchange I'd created at the Roxy. It was with Bob's inspiration and the Punk D.I.Y ethic that I would later re-invent myself as a filmmaker. I actually went on to direct his "One Love" music video (I'm the one singing with Paul McCartney in it), "Waiting in Vain" and the long-form DVD "Legend." I even made his children's first video, the Melody Makers' "Met Her On a Rainy Day." At the end of the 1990s and with Chris Blackwell's help, I directed my first feature, "Dancehall Queen." Filmed in Jamaica, it was massive hit, and I'd like to think that Bob would have been proud of the feisty dread he helped create.
In my journey as a filmmaker, band member (Big Audio Dynamite) and DJ, I've been fortunate enough to travel around the globe several times, and I'm here to tell you that the most influential and recognizable musician on the planet isn't John Lennon, Mick Jagger or even Bono. It is Bob Marley.
He remains the premier voice of the dispossessed around the world, for black, for white, and everyone in between. It was Bob that taught me to be all I can be and I feel honored to have spent time with a man who remains a large part of who I am today.