|
 Orchestra
Makassy: Legends of East Africa, ARC, 2004
Rating: A
Despite video games, there are
many reasons to be glad to be alive during the age of technology. One
of the biggies is being able to travel through space and time to hear
glorious sounds from the past and from other lands. Legends of East
Africa is a prime example; in this case the musical pleasure is Tanzanian
soukous/rumba circa 1982. Okay, that may not be all that long ago, but
I would have missed it entirely if not for technology.
This was originally released
as the album Agwaya, and a couple of extra tracks have been added.
If the Makassy name doesn’t ring a bell, the names of band members Mose
Fan Fan and Remmy Ongala should. They and the rest of the group had learned
their licks and earned their keep playing for dance clubs, so by the time
they got around to recording, their musicianship was absolutely sparkling.
This reproduction is very clear, very crisp (all except for the two bonus
tracks at the end, which sound like mono—the actual music, though, is
as attractive as the rest of the disc).
As you can imagine, this is
effervescent music, bouncy and full of the joy of life. There are four
vocalists, two lead guitarists, two trumpets, two saxes, three drummers.
Lyrics are in several African languages, some of them appearing (with
English summaries) in the accompanying booklet; most recount the trials
of daily life. One actually praises “Comrade Robert Mugabe” as Zimbabwe’s
independence leader, which shows how long he’s been around and how circumstances
change.
Elegant instrumental solos emerge
from jazzy song structures. Guitars dance, horns scintillate, rhythms
percolate. It amazes me that the pace can be so quick, the flow so relentless,
the sound so vibrant, yet somehow it all remains so effortless and relaxing.
Maybe that’s just the magic of great music.
I haven’t even mentioned the
appealing melodies or the stunning vocals or the multi-textured, multi-layered
percussion. You’ll just have to travel through time and space for yourself.
Go get this album and rejoice that technology has made it possible.
 Midnite:
Let Live, I Grade Records, 2005
www.igraderecords.com
Rating: A-
Half a minute into the first
track and you KNOW this is not pop music. A steady reggae beat, but rudimentary.
Minimalist melody. Intense, chanting vocal. Subdued arrangements. Nothing
to seduce you with mere charm and decoration. The atmosphere is dark;
the atmosphere is dread.
Thus the singular vision and
original sound of Midnite continues with another chapter called Let
Live. It’s a chapter very much centered on the uniquely textured vocals
and literate lyrics of Vaughn Benjamin. A master of understatement in
his delivery if not his words, Benjamin holds forth on the Rasta faith,
materialism, social injustice and more. Here’s a sample: “…intelligentsia
who know not what they’re talking about; political misjudgements based
upon projections of your paranoia and insanity.” See?—he feels strongly,
and is keen on sharing, sometimes in such a rapid-fire delivery that I’m
just not sure what’s going on. No wonder the lyrics aren’t provided; they’d
probably fill a thick book.
Okay, given that the “music”
is a backdrop for the message to an even greater extent than usual in
reggae, does that mean just token arrangements? No way. Producer “Tippy”
Alfred has given all sorts of care and attention to what, after all, powers
the words and renders them listenable.
Instrumentation includes nyahbinghi
drums and a berimbau (combination one-stringed bow and shaker) along with
the usual guitar, keyboard, drums and bass. But it’s the smart, judicious
use of these various tones and textures, along with some overdubbed harmonies
from Benjamin himself, that gives the deep grooves of this album their
subtle variation and beauty.
I would never suggest that anything
here is remotely breezy or light-hearted, but a few of the songs are somewhat
tuneful, with tempo changes and other stylistic differences easing the
intensity when necessary—including Pressure and Massiah guesting as a
singer/deejay combo on the thoughtful “All About What You Do.”
So yes, some elements of Let
Live come from the dancehall, and obviously the basic impetus remains
Jamaica’s deep Rasta roots. Yet the bulk of Midnite’s artistry can be
attributed only to the unique and sophisticated musical vision of the
individuals involved. This album is further proof that the power of reggae
has found a creative home in St. Croix.
Dub Trinity & Chet Singh:
Dub Trinity & Chet Singh, 2004
www.dubtrinity.com
Rating: B+
What do we have here, a North
American LKJ? Linton Kwesi Johnson without the sonorous voice but with
the highly charged lyrics, highly developed social conscience, and rootical
reggae band behind? It’s an obvious comparison. Dub poet-deejay-singer-chanter
Chet Singh is from Jamaica, but “Dub Trinity” is actually a dub duality
from the Toronto area: Beau Dixon and Gregory Roy. Together they do their
own updating of a grand Afro-Caribbean musical tradition, ultimately the
same tradition that brought us the talking blues, and it shows.
It shows in the lyrics: angry,
sardonic, sarcastic, satiric, biting, pointed, irreverent, derisive, even
reflective—everything our old English teachers should have taught us poetry
could be. As well as literate, of course. We need the critical, outspoken
observers of society who can put their observations into music, the Bruce
Cockburns, Billy Braggs, LKJs and Chet Singhs. With their strategically
targeted enemies they can inflict a lot more verbal damage than any number
of reggae/ragga firebrands who generally want to burn down Babylon.
“My name is Joe Duplicity,”
Singh proclaims over quick drumming and steady rhythm guitar, “I live
in New York City; I watch the TV and I get confused…” Another track, “Angels
of Mercy,” starts with a drum roll and the kind of easy flowing organ
riff you’d hear in an old rocksteady instrumental, but the good feeling
is interrupted: “a special newsflash: ten Palestinians dead today, five
Israelis dead today;” a simple sing-song chorus repeats the death count.
The juxtapositions of musical elements, as well as the lyrics themselves,
deliver a strong statement.
Like LKJ, Singh often uses very
specific circumstances and factual events to make his points; the specific
becomes universal. “Counter Attack” is an example: its lyrics cover Canadian
politics both federal and provincial in which names are named—but those
lyrics also explore broader themes of interest to all earth dwellers:
air and water pollution, the disparity of rich versus poor, the policies
of the world bank. The reggae is likewise strong. Arrangements and rhythms
differ from track to track, and dub elements abound—two of the nine tracks
are pure dub, in fact.
The relaxed tempo and reflective
mood of the last track stay with me: “’Twas another lazy Sunday/And I
was sitting on the grass now/Watching the sun come and wondering/Why,
why, why, in the abundance of water, plenty cups are empty…” Sometimes
I wonder too. It seems a very natural thing that such musings should be
set to a deep and potent reggae beat.
 Soul
Majestic: Until That Day, Soul Majestic Music, 2004
www.soulmajestic.com
Rating: B
I used to be cussedly didactic.
I always had the urge to teach a lesson. My attempts at writing were attempts
at making the significant statement, every time. My editorial cartoons
were often disguised sermons. But I’m trying to lighten up. Now my urge
to improve others is restricted to writing critiques, and since everyone
knows critics have no actual influence, this is like a withdrawal for
me. But I used to have “the urge,” and I had it bad.
Other people have the urge too.
It seems almost inescapable in reggae, especially among the contemporary
US reggae groups who pride themselves on their rootsiness. Long gone are
the days of songs purely for fun. Now there always has to be a message.
Everyone wants to be seen as credible, so no smiling please.
I shouldn’t pick on one single
group, but I will. Witness the following track by track rundown of Soul
Majestic’s Until That Day:
1) entitled “Hypocrisy;” about
oppression, suffering, revolution.
2) a love song, but with a message:
“Oh my lady, oh my queen, we both have grown.”
3) about living “itally” and happily,
though in poverty.
4) “Even when the world goes wrong…my
mind is holding firm.”
5) about music, but notice that
it’s good for you: “This here music gonna rock you to a higher plane.”
6) “Stand up, find the strength
inside/When life gets rough, you can’t run and hide.”
7) “A race with no knowledge of
their past culture/Is like a tree without the roots.”
8) “To those who came before us/We
give thanks for the wisdom you pass.”
9) an ode to herb, but notice that
it’s good for you: “A more perfect medicine would be difficult to find.”
10 a hymn to Jah: “We all are here
to do thy works, thy will, that’s my true ambition.”
11 entitled “Be Wise.”
12 and in case you missed everything
in the earlier tracks: “Make a change, set a goal, improve your soul,
rid the world of greed…”
13 dub of #1.
14 dub of #7.
15 dub of # 8.
Until That Day is an
accomplished work. The vocals are great, the musicianship is topnotch,
the tunes are tuneful, the band is proficient in the various styles represented
(dancehall included). It’s quite enjoyable. But if we are to take our
clues from Soul Majestic themselves, obviously those considerations aren’t
the important ones. The only question that really matters is this: “Is
Until That Day good for you?” If it lightened up a bit, it certainly
would be.
 Anna
Fisher and Jawge Hughes: Yin Yang, Molin Music, 2004
www.AnnaFisher.com
Rating: B
The oboe doesn’t show up a lot
in reggae. Other “classical” instruments do, but they’re of the brass,
stringed or keyboard persuasions. Woodwinds, umm, not so much. Anna Fisher
wants to set right that little omission, and who can blame her? My memories
of the oboe go back to my teenage years when my kid brother squeaked and
squawked his way from novelty to reasonable proficiency. After we got
beyond the first few months I came to love the richness of the oboe’s
tone. And now here it is hooked up with reggae’s immutable rhythms, and
not a squeak or squawk to be found. Nice. The oboe’s close cousin, the
English horn, shows up too.
Fisher’s love for her main instrument
is obvious, but by the end of the album we can see clearly that “I Can
See Clearly Now” is another great love. Yes, the old hit by Johnny Nash
is given four treatments: an oboe instrumental, an English vocal version,
a Spanish vocal version, and a dub. We’re lucky that the tune is strong
enough to withstand such an onslaught of music making, which it does,
although you may find yourself wishing for Nash’s beautiful voice instead
of Fisher’s barely serviceable one.
Lovely as that song is, however,
my favorite track on this mostly instrumental disk is Jawge Hughes’ “Jamaica”,
an airy introspection with a gorgeous melody line over a solid, relaxing
one-drop rhythm. It’s here that the oboe’s capacity for musical expression
and subtlety are most obvious.
Besides writing five good tunes,
Hughes does considerably more to justify his name on the cover. He adds
his voice here and there, but primarily he’s the keyboardist and programmer.
I looked in the liner notes to see who plays the beautifully understated
pan on “I Can See…”, but to no avail, so I have to conclude that he is
responsible, and that the pan is synthesized. Hey, it works. Various other
musicians also contribute sounds and textures, including Tony Chin on
guitar, The Fully Fullwood Band (briefly); and Marcia Higgs delivering
a rushed, lively vocal on her effervescent song “Hip Hop Hooray Oh!”
“Yin Yang” is a friendly album.
You just have to get beyond the crummy packaging (poor photos and meager
information) to the pleasant music inside. It may offer a revelation to
some listeners: that reggae is more adaptable than we often realize, and
can thrive in different forms. I’m glad that at least one of them has
room for the oboe.
 Crazy
Caribs: Dancehall Dub, Ariwa/RAS, 2004
Rating: B-
It’s almost deserving of a newspaper
headline: “Daring Dub Disc Descends into Dancehall”. Subhead: “Crazy Caribs
incorporate dub tradition into ripe musical genre.” Lead paragraph: “In
a long overdue venture, the ‘Crazy Caribs’ have released a full-scale
compact disc that brings the sound-altering studio manipulation known
as dub into the energetic world of dancehall reggae. Featuring such popular
musical figures Fluxy, Sly and Robbie, and produced by studio whiz Mad
Professor, the new album…”
And so it would go, this big
news item. If only the actual music were as electrifying as the news.
As you would expect from the
names involved, it is expertly crafted dub. Sounds swirl, chime, echo
and percolate over clacking beats and inventive percussion. Pleasant tunes
remain discernable despite the dubbing process. There’s even a sound appearing
in the final track reminiscent of Lee Perry’s famous mooing cow (roaring
lion, whatever).
So it’s a nice idea, reasonably
well executed. It just doesn’t come across as the inventive departure
from dub’s norms that one would expect. The absence of vocals—the total
and absolute absence—is maybe the biggest reason for it to be lower than
expected on the excitement meter. The steel pan, courtesy of someone called
Pan Africanist, provides a welcome and fresh musical texture, but is no
substitute for the human voice.
However, however, however. It
is danceable (I tried it out in the privacy of my own home) and it is
highly listenable. So what if it’s not earth-shakingly adventurous?
 Tea:
Voyages du Jour, Lost Grove Records, 2004
www.teaproductions.com
Rating: B-
Given that we’re talking “tea”,
it’s tempting to use words like tasty and tasteful, which the album often
is and always is, respectively, but at times the word “tepid” seems to
fit better.
But that doesn’t tell you much
about what the music sounds like. Well, look at the artwork. The front
photo shows the paper tab that attaches by a string to the teabag that
appears on the back cover. Clever, sophisticated, intellectually appealing.
The music corresponds: suave, perfectly executed and ultra professional,
with sky-high production values.
I’ll be more specific. It’s
Afro-French pop music, meaning dance music. If to you that connotes superficiality,
well, that’s one way to look at it. The rhythms are complex and many of
the tunes are almost pretty, with generic, seemingly déja-heard melodies.
Several notable “world music” guests contribute vocals. The arrangements
aren’t exactly inspired, but the grooves are deep, the horn charts are
fully developed, the feminine voices in the background are ethereal. The
bass bubbles, the piano tinkles. It has limpid flute, sensitive acoustic
guitar, expressive electric guitar, synthesized textures…specific enough
yet?
I quite like the song entitled
“Al Hajii Yoo.” Its vocal is more soulful than most, the tune more memorable,
the sound rich and pleasurable. Just as good is the closing track, “Baba.”
Congolese vocalist Steve Ngondo sings in Lingala with minimal accompaniment;
then a percussive riff carries us into a more substantial segment, where
a bouncy beat supports the lively music-making on top—in fact I can picture
the musicians actually moving as they play (which I had a hard time imagining
through most of this album). The song has several additional changes,
one of which brings the female chorus up front for a while. Kinda nice.
It’s too bad the good stuff
has to make room so often for the fluff stuff: beats that become relentlessly
automatic, production so perfect that it sometimes disengages completely
from the messy world of reality. But in truth, Tea’s Voyages du Jour
is very accomplished, very professional. I know that. When it ended
last time, I dug out my old vinyl copy of The Kinks Muswell Hillbillies
and played the deliciously sloppy romp called “Have a Cuppa Tea.”
How refreshing it was.
 Jimmy
Cliff: Black Magic, Artemis Records, 2004
Rating: C+
- You’ve listened a few times.
Whaddya think?
- Hey, it’s getting a lot of attention
for a reggae album. Reviews all over the place, not just in specialty
mags and papers—mass consumer ones too. Cliff is huge right now.
- Apparently a lot of people like
the album. What do you think of it?
- People say it’s the best he’s
done in years. Mostly new songs, lots of guest stars, big production.
- So you like it, then? The production?
The arrangements?
- There’s a string orchestra in
there, a gospel choir, some rapping and scratching, a bit of Spanish,
all sorts of different stuff. The credits go on and on, three pages worth
of small print in the liner notes. Organ, trombone, calypso pan, you name
it. There must be a half-dozen credits for “programming” and another half
dozen for “remixes”. This was one huge project to put together.
- But do you like it? Do you think
it all works?
- It’s remarkable, really. So many
people. Including big non-reggae stars like Annie Lennox, Sting, Wyclef,
Kool & The Gang. Those names contribute a lot.
- So you think those folks contribute
something worthwhile?
- I meant the names themselves.
Greater name recognition, better promotion. Marketing, you know?
- Some of those folks helped compose
the songs. Do you like them?
- Over half of the 16 songs have
joint writing credits. That has to reflect a songwriter with a wealth
of ideas. Or not enough.
- But having additional writers
means the content is varied. You must like that, huh?
- Wow, variety. Electronic stuff,
dancehall rhythms galore, a relationship tune, a plea to “…get together
and show our power all over the world.” Tony Rebel shows up. Bounty Killer.
“Plastic” gets used as a metaphor for cheap and artificial—imagine! Cliff
does some gorgeous singing on “Love Comes.”
- Ahh yes, he’s still got that
voice you like, right?
- “Love Comes” reminds me of his
singing on “Bongo Man” years ago, which for some reason I want to go listen
to instead, and which coincidently doesn’t include a rap. “The City” is
a listing of city names, a cliché come to life—you know, that someone
has such a beautiful voice he could get away with singing the telephone
book. “Terror” informs us that 9/11 was “…a wakeup call to nations great
and small.” “War in Jerusalem” updates Max Romeo’s “War Ina Babylon.”
The best song on the album is about the plight of refugees in wartime;
I’m not sure it’s reggae, but Joe Strummer was involved.
- You like “Over The Border,” then.
But do you like the album as a whole?
- I should like it. I want to like
it. There’s lots to appreciate.
- DO YOU LIKE THE ALBUM?
- Gotta run.
------------------
Although the closest Ted Boothroyd has come to a personal
association with the Caribbean was to have a Trinidadian grandfather, which
Ted
didn't really have a lot to do with, he happily took in Harry Belafonte's
calypso
hits in the '50s and became a huge reggae fan in 1969 when Desmond
Dekker's "Israelites" hit big in Canada. Ted has reviewed books
on Caribbean music for The Beat, writes album reviews for other periodicals,
and co-hosts
a reggae and world music radio show in Fredericton, New Brunswick,
on Canada's east coast.
|
