For half a century, Sly & Robbie reached into every corner of popular music. They were reggae icons and an in-demand rhythm section and production team, working alongside Bob Marley and Peter Tosh early on, but later appearing on records by a staggering variety of artists, from Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones to Madonna and Sinéad O’Connor.
Drummer Lowell Fillmore “Sly” Dunbar, who died January 26 at 73, first met bassist Robbie Shakespeare when they were teens in the Trench Town neighborhood of Kingston, Jamaica, the birthplace of rocksteady and reggae. For them, reggae was at the root of their identity as musicians, but they were always interested in stretching out in new directions, from the new textures of dancehall reggae to electronic dance music.
Back in 1999, I went to Jamaica to talk with Sly & Robbie, who were then at a height of influence and activity. They had a new album, Strip to the Bone, with electro producer Howie B, blending dub with the newest sounds of the moment.
After I got to the island, and checked into my hotel—a resort owned by Island Records founder Chris Blackwell—I soon learned that only Sly had shown up. Robbie was in Miami. It hardly mattered, since the drummer was a warm and relaxed host, eager to discuss a music career that had led the Grammy-winning duo around the world, but always coming back home to Jamaica.
“There are a lot of great musicians in America, and we admire them and learn a lot from them,” Dunbar told me while stretched out on a chair on the hotel lawn. He was dressed in denim, soaking up the Jamaican sunshine. “But should we go to America and make music inside of this big place, or stay here in Jamaica? This is where we came from, this is where we learned.”
Sly & Robbie toured the world, and frequently visited recording studios in New York, but for much of their lives, he told me, Jamaica remained at the core of their inspiration. “This is where we live, so you have to maintain the home ingredients.”
As for his partnership with Robbie (who died in 2021), Sly noted that while they did sometimes work separately, something special happened when they were in a room together. “Most of the time people just want to get that sound,” he said. “As Chris Blackwell always said, put me and Robbie in a studio and you don’t know what’s going to happen.”
By then, Dunbar had begun to incorporate electronic drums in his repertoire, expanding from—rather than abandoning—his acoustic roots. For Sly & Robbie, staying current was a core mission. He noted that Marley was the first on the island to use a drum machine, on 1974’s “So Jah Seh” and the next year on “No Woman, No Cry.”
“I was looking at the world development of the drum section, percussion stuff, and everything was getting electronic,” Sly explained. “I said, this is going to be big. I want to be a part of it, I want to grow with it.
“A live kit has more soul to it, I think personally. But what the kids are listening to, and what has become the sound of the day, is done on an electronic kit. If I didn’t stay involved in it, and decided I was going to stay acoustic, I wouldn’t have any sessions to do in Jamaica. Nobody would have any time for me to come set up a kit.”
As an adolescent, his head was first turned by the beats and deep feeling of drummers Lloyd Knibb of the Skatalites and Al Jackson Jr. of Booker T. & the M.G.’s. And as the music evolved, Sly moved with it.
“Going to school, I used to bang on the desk and start playing,” he said of his obsession with the new Jamaican styles exploding around him. “When rocksteady came, I was trying to learn it. And when reggae came, it was great dance music and I wanted to be part of it.”
Though not credited, Dunbar played with Marley just once in 1977, on his “Punky Reggae Party,” originally released as a 12-inch single on Tuff Gong/Island. But he and Shakespeare watched as Marley rose from local hero to become an international icon.
“We listened to his work, and you could tell something was going to happen,” Sly said. “He kept on improving and improving, his songs were getting better and better. He really got serious. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted to be and where he wanted to go. It was very clever of him.
“All the music people used to live in Trench Town. I used to look at these people, who were big stars, and I wanted to be like them.”
As a lifelong musical partnership, Sly & Robbie kept the bass and drums in sync, but loose enough to allow either to stretch out in a moment of inspiration. “We support each other in our playing,” he explained. “If Robbie breaks away and does something, I stand firm, and he comes back. I’m right there.”
As artists, the duo released more than 30 albums together. “We never really disagree,” Sly added. “We always remember where we are coming from, and we have a lot of respect. We know it wasn’t built by one of us. It was putting in the time and energy and sacrifice. We never forget that.”
In 1999, Beenie Man was the current star on the radio at home. For Dunbar, the music in Jamaica was always evolving, from rocksteady to roots reggae to dancehall and beyond, and he welcomed all of it. Sly & Robbie were always prepared to dig into a classic reggae groove, but never stopped being intrigued with wherever it was going next.
“If you look at ska and reggae from back in 1970, and you look at what we’re playing today with dancehall, there’s no old reggae song like dancehall. It’s two different things,” Dunbar said. “But if you look at R&B then and you look at R&B now, it’s the same thing. If you look at rock and roll then and now it’s the same groove. Reggae keeps changing.”
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