Opening for a big act gives you guaranteed pay, no production costs, and exposure to new fans. But it doesn't build your own fan base. Riley Green's rule: always follow a support slot by going back to play a club in that same city to actually convert those new listeners into your own crowd.
Where this was said
At 1:39:53 · chapter starts 1:33:00
The final stretch of the main conversation pulls together the episode's threads. Riley articulates a clear career philosophy: many of his best decisions looked financially dubious or brand-risky on paper, but each led organically to the next thing. The Voice itself is a product of this chain. [1] — Riley Green "Riley Green has done plenty of things that looked bad on paper — financially questionable, off-brand, too risky. Every single one led to so…" 1:32:55 He observes that stand-up comedians who reach household fame have all diversified — Eddie Murphy is now better known for acting than stand-up, Dave Chappelle had network TV, and SNL was the launching pad for dozens of comedy careers. Country music is the same. He then breaks down touring economics: opening acts get guaranteed money, no production overhead, and exposure to new fans — but they don't build their own fan base. His rule is to follow every major support slot with a club show in that same city to convert exposure into loyalty. He no longer takes opening slots at all, and the Cowboy As It Gets Tour is entirely his own.
Riley Green's Cowboy As It Gets Tour features Justin Moore, Randy Houser, Drake White, Hannah McFarlane, and McKenzie Carpenter as openers.
Reggae didn't emerge from thin air — it was built layer by layer from mento in the 1940s, ska in the late 1950s, and rocksteady in the mid-1960s. Each stage absorbed new influences, from transistor radios picking up Miami R&B to the distinctive 2-and-4 rhythmic accent that defines the genre.
Before hip-hop existed, Jamaican DJs were already doing it. Electricity spreading across Jamaica enabled mobile 'sound systems,' and DJs developed toasting — speaking and singing over recorded music — a tradition that DJ Kool Herc brought from Kingston to the Bronx at age 12.
Joe Higgs is reggae's great unsung hero. This Kingston musician took teenage Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Wailer under his wing and taught them how to sing, write songs, and make music — at a time when most artists would have focused on their own careers. Without him, the Wailers probably just would have sucked.
Reggae archivist Roger Steffens' analogy says it all: Bob Marley was reggae's Martin Luther King Jr., making the music universally palatable; Peter Tosh was its Malcolm X, inserting fierce militant political energy. Together, they gave the Wailers a depth no single voice could achieve alone.
King Tubby built his own hardware from cast-off recording gear to strip vocals and create dubbed-out instrumental reggae — essentially inventing electronic music in Kingston before Kraftwerk did it in Germany. The dubplate he created became the raw material for DJs to toast over, seeding hip-hop.
Two days before the 1976 Smile Jamaica anti-violence concert, gunmen shot Bob Marley in the chest and shoulder, shot Rita Marley, and wounded two others. He showed up and played anyway. The concert had already drawn accusations that Marley was a tool of the PNP government — a charge that frustrated him deeply.
Peter Tosh's killer was a man Tosh had taken in after prison, giving him shelter and food. The man repaid that generosity by holding Tosh hostage, torturing him for money, and shooting him in the head. It is one of the most brutal betrayals in music history.
The Windrush Generation brought Caribbean music to London after World War II, and reggae's 2-and-4 rhythm lodged itself deep in British culture — giving birth to ska bands like The Specials, pop acts like UB40, and even punk. Johnny Rotten was a reggae fan, and Public Image Limited has the dub influence to prove it.
Reggaetón didn't come from nowhere. It emerged from underground Spanish-language reggae-rap scenes in Panama and Puerto Rico, drawing directly on Jamaican reggae's rhythms and attitude. The line from Kingston to Bad Bunny's Super Bowl performance is a straight one.
We use essential and analytics cookies to run Vuci. To understand how the site is used: Privacy Policy.
Install Vuci on your phone
Add it to your home screen for a faster, app-like experience.
Install Vuci on your phone
Tap the Share button, then “Add to Home Screen”.
A new version is available
Reload to get the latest Vuci.