Weekes, the youngest of 10 children, spent whole days trying to figure out songs he would sing at night.
"When we would sing, my dad would get into the party and sing to us," Weekes said in his laid-back east Caribbean accent during a telephone interview from a hotel near Minneapolis, Minn. "That's how it all started."
These days, Weekes, who also sang in his church, sings positive messages to his global family while he and his band, Adowa, tour the world. The tour will make a stop at Downstairs on June 19.
"We love to move around and do our thing," he said. "We're looking forward to coming to Park City."
As with most artists, Weekes had a different goal as an emerging artist. While living in Canada a few years ago, he had an epiphany.
"My watershed moment came when I lived in Toronto and used to hang out with a group of musicians," he remembered. "It's sad to say, but the songs we sang out were not the songs I would even sing to myself alone in the house, so I figured I should do something more constructive."
While still singing, he turned his focus to world unity. He used his music as a launching pad to humanitarian efforts such as a group known as They Often Cry Outreach, a charity he founded in 2007 that helps underprivileged children in the Caribbean through health, sports and enrichment.
He was also named Goodwill Ambassador by the International Consortium of Caribbean Professionals, which is recognized by the United Nations, and spends his spare time addressing global warming, domestic and youth violence, poverty, casualties of war and health.
"Being a humanitarian should be an in-born thing and nothing we should question," Weekes said. "Taking care of your brother is just something you should do."
With that said, the musician and songwriter said it was a good thing he was young and ignorant when he set out to play music and help the world.
"I've said this before, and I'll say it now: if I knew the height of the mountain, I would not have started climbing," Weekes said with a laugh. "I didn't know anything and I jumped into the water without knowing how to swim. I figured it out right away, because it was do or die."
Within a few months, Weekes formed Adowa featuring guitarist Adoni W Xavier, bassist Burt "Radss" Desiree, keyboardist John "Esquire" Hewitt and drummer Cornel "Manamuzik" Marshall and established his own record label, Jatta Records.
Weekes and his band have released three CDs, the latest called "A Waterlogged Soul Kitchen."
"The album refers to Hurricane Katrina, because we were so moved by what had happened," Weekes said. "Since so much has transpired since then, the album can mean different things to different people, but we liked the title, so we kept it."
While recording the new CD, the band wanted to mix things up without changing its style.
"What we tried to do with this album is stretch the music a little," Weekes said. "We added cellos and violins. We also wanted an acoustic theme running through the entire album, so every song features an acoustic guitar."
As with the previous CDs, Weekes and the musicians had all the songs arranged before heading into the studio.
"However, one thing we have learned is not to go into the studio with the songs engraved in stone," Weekes said. "We'll go in with an open mind, because things happen in the studio, and since it's music, we have to let it take its own path."
The only song the band wrote in the studio was "Drill."
"As we were doing it, Mike Pinera, the guitarist for Iron Butterfly, happened to stroll into the studio," Weekes said. "So we had him play the solo on the song."
Balancing music and humanitarian causes always is a challenge, Weekes said, but the rewards outweigh the stresses.
"Let me tell you a story," he said. "We went to Saint Lucia to give away 500 soccer balls to the kids on the island. I remember going to a particular field and dropping 49 balls onto the field.
"There was one 5-year-old boy who was trying to get a ball," Weekes said. "Every time he got near one, someone would already be there, but at the end of the hustle, when everyone had a ball, there were five balls left for him alone to choose from. He just went down to his knees and cried.
"That, to me, was a gift of the trip."
Still, Weekes said he wouldn't be able to "be his brothers' keeper" without the music.
"We play a roots-reggae revival party," he said. "We don't come in a hearse. We come wearing bright colors and use a lively backbeat to spread the message, and we always bring a positive message with the music."
