Bob Marley & the Wailers: Crystal Palace Bowl, London

AS MARLEY got more and more into it, a controlled zombie look-alike waded slowly, mechanically, into the pond until the fetid, oily liquid washed heavily about his chest. His taut neck supported the head and eyes, transfixed, moth-like, to the figures poppin', creepin' and a' crawlin' around the stage. I thought this was druggy music man. (Pardon? — Ed.) The wind wafted in a pungent nosefull of dope, sweating water melon, fried chicken and Ambre Solaire from the masses swaying as one in the sunblessed bowl.