Concert Review: Gov't Mule and Ziggy Marley (Red Hat Amphitheater)

BY MAUI CABRAL

There are artists you want to photograph because you love their music. There are legends you want to photograph because you understand their place in history. And then there are the artists whose influence somehow became woven into who you are. For me, the Marley family belongs in that last category. So when I walked into Red Hat Amphitheater knowing that by the end of the night I would be standing just feet away from Ziggy Marley, not just seeing him live for the first time, but also photographing it... Man. This one was a unique moment. This wasn’t another name to cross off the show bucket list. This was one of my dream shows. Before the night was over, I’d be crossing Ziggy off the dream show list.

Yola opened the night, and calling her simply an “opener” almost feels wrong. Singer. Songwriter. Musician. And, yes, a badass DJ. Her voice carries the kind of soul that immediately demands your attention. There is gospel in there. Country. Americana. Rock and roll. Soul. But more than anything, there is power. Yola doesn’t sound like she’s trying to recreate another era of music. She takes those influences and makes them completely her own. And for a tour bringing together the worlds of Gov’t Mule and Ziggy Marley, she made perfect sense. This entire evening was going to be about music without walls. Genres didn’t matter nearly as much as feeling. And Yola established that immediately.

Ziggy Marley approached the stage , and there I was... Staring at a childhood hero of mine. The eldest son of Bob and Rita Marley has spent nearly four decades building a career that carries his family’s musical heritage forward while establishing a voice unmistakably his own. From his years with the Melody Makers through his solo career, Ziggy has expanded reggae through elements of funk, blues and rock while continually returning to ideas of love, humanity, social consciousness and unity. His career has earned him nine Grammys, but the numbers only tell part of the story. Because the name Marley means something beyond awards. It means something beyond reggae. And it certainly means something to me.

As he danced his way in , I prepared for show time. The Marley family has been a major influence on me for most of my life. The music. The imagery. The culture. The message. Love. Unity. Peace. Strength. Those weren’t ideas I discovered yesterday. They’ve followed me throughout my life. And the influence became personal enough that the Marley family even played a role in inspiring me to begin my own dreadlock journey. That’s how deep this one goes.

So imagine carrying that influence with you for years... and then one day you’re walking toward a photo pit with cameras hanging from your shoulders knowing that Ziggy Marley is about to walk onto the stage in front of you. How the hell was I supposed to act normal about that? And for a second, I wasn’t a photographer. I was that younger version of myself again. The kid listening to Marley. The person absorbing that culture and message. The person who couldn’t possibly have known where life or a camera would eventually take him.

Then reality came rushing back. I was photographing Ziggy Marley. I raised my camera. Looked through the viewfinder. And there he was. The dreadlocks. The smile. The movement. The Marley name standing a few feet in front of me. Except this wasn’t an album cover. It wasn’t a photograph somebody else took. It wasn’t a video. It was happening right fucking there, and now it was my responsibility to photograph it. Those are the moments where this journey becomes difficult for me to put into words. I can explain shutter speeds. I can talk about lenses. I can tell you about lighting and composition and timing. But how do you explain what it feels like when somebody whose family helped influence the person you became suddenly appears inside your viewfinder? You can’t. You just press the shutter. And try like hell to remember everything.

It would be easy to talk about Ziggy entirely through his father. But that wouldn’t be fair. Ziggy Marley has spent decades building his own legacy. He helped lead Ziggy Marley and the Melody Makers before establishing an extensive solo career, carrying reggae forward while allowing funk, blues, rock and other sounds into his music. In 2026, that story entered another chapter with Brightside, his ninth solo studio album. And that’s what I appreciated so much about finally seeing him. You absolutely feel the Marley history. How could you not? But you also feel Ziggy. His own energy. His own personality. His own relationship with the audience. His own message. This wasn’t somebody simply carrying a famous name. This was an artist who has spent a lifetime deciding what he wanted that name and his own music to represent.

ONE LOVE.

There was something beautiful about looking around Red Hat during Ziggy’s performance. People dancing. People smiling. Strangers moving together. Different ages, different backgrounds. Different lives. For a little while, none of that seemed particularly important. Everybody was just there. Together. That’s the thing I’ve always loved about this music. The Marley legacy has never simply been about songs. It’s about connection. It’s about recognizing the humanity in the person standing beside you. It’s about finding joy even when life gives you plenty of reasons not to. And standing there experiencing that message live while photographing someone connected so deeply to the music that helped teach me those ideas was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Then came Gov’t Mule. Led by Warren Haynes, Gov’t Mule has spent decades occupying that beautiful space where Southern rock, blues, soul, improvisation, and jam band culture all collide. And that’s exactly what their performance felt like. There was room in the music. Room for the guitar to wander. Room for the rhythm to settle into a groove. Room for a song to become something slightly different from what it was when it began. Nothing felt rushed. Nothing needed to be. Watching Warren Haynes play guitar is watching someone who understands that sometimes the notes you don’t play matter just as much as the ones you do. From behind the lens, that made Gov’t Mule especially interesting to photograph. There wasn’t this frantic feeling of waiting for some massive jump or explosive breakdown. You could actually settle into the performance. Watch. Listen. Wait. And let the moment come to you. It was blues. It was rock. It was soul. And it felt completely alive.

The name of this tour couldn’t have been more appropriate. “Dreaming the Same Dream.” Because when you really looked at this lineup, that’s what connected everything. Yola brought soul and a voice capable of filling the entire amphitheater. Gov’t Mule brought blues, improvisation and decades of musicianship. Ziggy Marley brought reggae, history, love and a message that has traveled across generations. Three completely different musical worlds. One stage. One crowd. One night. Somehow it all made perfect sense.

I’ve been fortunate enough to photograph some of my heroes. I’ve photographed artists whose records I grew up listening to. I’ve stood in front of legends and had that same thought more times than I ever imagined possible. How the fuck did I get here? But this one belongs in a different category. Because when I look at these photographs years from now, I’m not simply going to see Ziggy Marley. I’m going to see a piece of my upbringing. I’m going to remember why the Marley family meant so much to me. I’m going to think about the music, the culture and the message that inspired me. I’m probably going to look down at my own dreadlocks and smile knowing that even a piece of that journey traces back to this family. And I’ll remember that somehow... after all those years... I got my turn behind the camera to capture photos for one of the Marleys. Some dream shows happen and immediately become another incredible memory. This wasn’t one of those. This one is staying with me.

Yola reminded us what soul sounds like when it’s given room to breathe. Gov’t Mule reminded us that great musicians don’t need to rush a damn thing. And Ziggy Marley reminded me why I fell in love with this music and this family in the first place. I came to Red Hat Amphitheater carrying years of admiration. I walked out carrying photographs. My photographs. Of one of my idols. Ziggy Fucking Marley. That’s still hard for me to process. Photography has taken me places I never expected. But every once in a while, it takes me somewhere that younger me would’ve never believed. This was one of those nights. One of my inspirations. One of my dream shows. One of the Marley family. Finally... through my lens... One love.

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JOSH "MAUI" CABRAL

Hey! I'm Maui. Originally from Queens, New York, now making Raleigh, NC my new home. I'm a touring photographer and Nomadic Motorcycle Rider, obsessed with seeing the world through different lenses!

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