That he’s a loved and internationally recognised icon undoubtedly has something to do with the fact he’s a lovely, warm dude with a laugh you could bottle, but it probably has just as much to do with his grit. Take this as an example: when Cliff was 14 years old, disheartened by label knock backs, he wrote a song called Dear Beverley and marched into the local ice-cream parlour/record store of the same name and told the owners that they should record him. Leslie Kong, one of the guys Cliff bailed up, took him seriously and went on to manage Cliff until his death in 1971. That’s some serious strategic thought for a 14 year old (not to mention the balls). “Let’s put it this way, when you want something, really want it, you’re going to find the means and the ways to go for it,” Cliff chuckles.
 
It’s an understatement to say Cliff’s had a remarkable career, but when you press him, his favourite moments are not the flashiest. “My first favourite moment had to be when I first heard myself on the radio in Jamaica – that blew my mind,” he laughs. “Then when I got my first number one in Jamaica – there are quite a few favourite moments.”  
 
Cliff’s outspoken in his belief that reggae has had a powerful and positive influence on the world (over and above weed and reggae’s groove). “The most important effects, like most popular music in different parts of the world, is that it reflects the society,” he muses. “Sometimes, like in our case, it directs, not just reflects, but directs society and which way to go. We find a lot of times in Jamaica, politicians listen to what we’re saying and follow.” We wish that happened here.
 
Cliff has also had a long standing interest in matters less worldly. Cliff was raised by his dad and Nan in a pretty strict Christian environment. In fact, his dad wasn’t so keen on him playing the devil’s music, but, thankfully, his Nan backed him. After being a dedicated Christian for donkey’s years, he devoted himself to Islam, but in later years science has won out – so how and why did he make that transition from the sacred to the profane? “That was just a search to know, ‘who am I?’,” Cliff explains. “Whether it be Christianity or Islam or Judaism, they don’t tell me anything about myself as an African. First of all, when you look at the heroes in The Bible, they’re all Europeans, so where do I come? The transition to Islam was another search, but there was nothing new there, it was the same thing. So, I had to go to my roots in Africa, to understand who am I.”
 
His desire to understand his roots also inspires Cliff to ken where other people are coming from, particularly musically. So whenever he’s visiting somewhere new, he makes a concerted effort to dig out the country’s relevant roots music. In fact, he’s listened to a lot of our indigenous music. “I’ve always thought that one day, maybe there would be an opportunity to blend some of it with reggae,” he says. “The opportunity hasn’t arisen yet, but I am still hopeful.” 
 
Pushing 70, Cliff’s not content to rest on his laurels; he’s got a couple of hefty developments in the works. “My first love was as an actor, that’s what I loved to do, so I want to fulfill that yearning,” he reflects. “I’m also working on new music, writing new songs for the purpose of a soundtrack for a new movie, which is a sequel to The Harder They Come and I may make an album before the movie comes out. The album’s about relationships and about social and political consciousness in the world. It’s based around those things. Maybe I’m touching a lot more on relationships at this point in my life than I have done in the past. I’m writing a lot.
 
“In the movie, I’m playing the lead role, I’m writing the music and I’m writing part of the storyline. We hope to go into production next year, may be after the Australian tour. This time next year, we should be in deep production.” We love that he describes these as his most immediate plans – the dude’s still got more up his sleeve.
 
Cliff has very few regrets in life, but at least one stands out – he was once wearing a particularly tight pair of strides that split on stage. “I was dancing away and they busted,” he chortles. “I was quite embarrassed.”
 
BY MEG CRAWFORD