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 Various:
Music from the Chocolate Lands, Putumayo World Music, 2004
www.putumayo.com
Rating: A
This has to be one of Putumayo ’s best yet. It features the label’s usual
MO, i.e. an attractive and informative booklet to accompany a CD of nice
music, but this time they’ve outdone themselves. Chocolate is the theme,
chocolate is the color, and smooth, rich and sumptuous is the music. The
bios and song descriptions in the liner notes are shorter than usual to
leave space for a chocolaty tidbit about each country represented therein.
I even tried scratching and sniffing the disk, but no, they hadn’t gone
quite that far.
A trio from Congo, Cameroon and Martinique offers the first enticement,
“Lisanga”. It’s gorgeous, with intricate vocal manoeuvrings (that sound
like pygmy music) over light, driving rhythms accentuated with percussive
vocal effects. There’s a piece from Brazil, of course, by one Marcantonio.
How does Brazilian music manage to remain so stately while being so informal,
life-affirming and friendly? I don’t know either, but it does. Haiti produces
cacao, so we have its complex, propulsive multi-rhythms represented here
by Beethova Obas. The tuneful Mexican piece has the castanets and strummed
guitar that you’d expect, along with a strong tango influence.
India, Ivory Coast send some tasty stuff along, and so does Switzerland
in a collective of Swiss and West African musicians called Taffetas, whose
dominant instrument is a kora (rapidly becoming my favorite musical instrument).
Teresa Bright from Hawaii has a fresh, nimble vocal style that is far
from the slow, yearning cliché of the islands; the clapping percussion
that accompanies her would be at home in a flamenco piece. There’s also
a treat from Belize called “Baba” and a classic Peruvian tune, “Valintin,”
sung by Susana Baca. As the perfect dessert to this 12-course feast, Alfredo
“Chocolate” Armenteros of Cuba blows his trumpet. It’s smooth and enticingly
bittersweet, just the way I like it.
Chocolate is famous for being (in the minds
of many) better than sex. This album won’t do anything to destroy that
reputation. Taste it and enjoy.
 Binghi
Ghost: Street Hits, Street Scholars Records, 2004
www.streetscholars.net
Rating: A-
It starts quietly. Someone is talking gently, unpretentiously about Rasta
livity. Hmm, what is this? Street Hits? Really? But then some chords pound
and suddenly we’re immersed in a quick reggae rhythm with voices impulsively
chanting—each competing for attention, each passionate, each tuneful.
The momentum builds, those voices flowing up and down and around, all
propelled by the incessant hip-moving beat.
It’s invigorating, and it’s an accurate introduction to the complexities
of this album. There’s a heckuva lot going on, all of it under the strict
control of its creators, none of it chaotic or lacking purpose. Binghi
Ghost seems to have absorbed many influences, roots and dancehall and
rap and beyond, and he puts them to use wherever they fit. The song writing
is therefore inventive, and on top of it all, he’s a remarkable vocalist,
apparently able to adjust his voice to different textures at will. I have
no idea how he does it all.
If you insist on having a category to slide
this into and “reggae” isn’t specific enough, then you could call this
dancehall, more or less. But surely this is one of those albums that would
have some chance of converting the hold-overs from bygone times who refuse
any and all exposure to contemporary dancehall. This is the product of
a non-straight-laced mind and should be received with the same openness,
which surely wouldn’t be difficult. The animated deejaying, the danceable
beats, the positive attitude—all are more than accessible, they are downright
enjoyable. And when you add the nyahbinghi elements and the other roots
elements into the mix, and realize after a few listens that many of the
melodies are pretty and that even the chants and raps are laden with hooks,
then you have to forego any prejudices and just enjoy.
 Linton
Kwesi Johnson: Live In Paris, LKJ Records, 2003
www.lkjrecords.com
Rating: A-
I am pondering as I write. Recommend this or not? The songs range from
brilliant to absolutely riveting. Both LKJ and the Dennis Bovell Dub Band
are fully and creatively engaged. This is where eloquent, biting words
meet dynamic, buoyant music. This is forceful reggae.
So what’s the problem? Well, I’ve listened maybe six or eight times,
and I STILL can’t bear to hear the crowd cheering wildly as LKJ intones
the words “people living in fear of impending nuclear warfare” and continuing
to whistle as he conveys the sobering truth that, for many of the world’s
peoples, the struggle to survive outweighs any concerns about world wars.
The concert has just begun, of course, and folks are merely responding
to the first bars of a favorite song. I’d likely have cheered too. But
wow, the vast gulf between live happy cheering people and the sense of
the words is mind-boggling.
Anyway, there’s the problem. It’s the Live Album Syndrome. Aside from
the annoying fans, you also have the initial dumb, clichéd introduction
(“Are you ready? … put your hands together…”), and later the band member
intros that, no matter how well done, have nothing remotely to do with
the art of making music.
Yet I can’t dismiss the album. For one thing, LKJ’s french accent is
so bad that it makes mine sound good. Secondly, his output is unprolific
in the extreme (but impeccable when something does emerge), so we dare
not let this one go by. Thirdly, this collects some of the very best of
his very strong oeuvre. And finally, a few of these performances have
to be LKJ’s definitive versions of the songs: “Reggae Fi Radni”, for example,
with its deceptively easy rhymes and beautifully lyrical arrangement;
or the already powerful rhetorical devices of “Liesense Fi Kill” —about
blacks dying at the hands of the police—made even more potent though an
emotive violin solo and the barely submerged rage of the vocal.
My pondering has came to an end, as you will
see from my rating above. I feel okay about it. When I want to hear “The
Eagle and The Bear” without my brain being torn apart, I can retreat to
LKJ’s Making History album. There’s no crowd there.
 Dylan
Judah: Dylan Judah, Mountain Paradise , 2004
www.dylanjudah.com
Rating: B+
Remember way back when any dub that did appear on a “normal” reggae album
was an obvious appendage? When it was an extra bit awkwardly tagged on
to the end of the occasional song? Dylan Judah provides a great example
of how far that musical art has progressed, with dub ingredients now perfectly
merged within the song as it flows along. He’s not the only one doing
it by any means, but it sure is done well here. Together with the profusion
of memorable tunes, it’s what defines the disc for me.
Someone, presumably DJ himself, also has an imaginative way with intros.
“Bread of War,” for example, starts with a horn bleeping away until the
groove is found. In “Sound the Trumpet” we hear nyahbinghi drumming in
the distance, then horns again, and finally the rhythm is established
and the vocals eventually start. Another intro features a vamping keyboard,
yet another a noodling guitar way down in the mix. These are not startlingly
unique accomplishments, of course, but they do indicate that the musical
impulse never lets up. Every element is important enough to involve creativity.
Of course, those fine openings do all lead to something worthy of them.
In my first example, it’s a call-and-response between lead vocalist and
chirping background singers, plus a sing-along chorus that warns the wicked
to “Repent, repent!” In my second example, it’s a very appealing melody
line. The bouncy love song entitled “Express” features some spirited Michigan
and Smiley-style toasting. The slow, deliberate tempo of “The Answer”
provides a reflective mood for lyrics about love and war and disaster.
Although not a musical highlight, “Love and Joy” is interesting for its
stop-and-start dancehall rhythm that perhaps mirrors the singer’s apparent
confusion in reconciling the Rasta “love and joy” ethic with the “burn
up the Pope and blaze Constantine” side of things. It puzzles me too.
This is an accomplished album. Creative arrangements,
catchy tunes, skilled musicianship. Varied styles, including roots, lover’s,
ragga, Nyahbinghi, whatever. Lots of nicely integrated dub. Great intros.
Good CD.
 The
Young Elderz: Children of Rastafari, Young Elderz, 2004
www.young-elderz.com
Rating: B+
Five years from now, when the hundreds of thousands of reggae fans who
are now buying Jimmy Cliff’s new album have long since put it away on
the shelf and forgotten it there, a few lucky people—a small fraction
of the number who bought Cliff—will still be playing and enjoying the
album they bought instead: The Young Elderz’ Children of Rastafari.
The reason? It’s not that I consider Cliff less creative or accomplished
as a songwriter or performer than the Elderz. I have great admiration
for his past accomplishments in both respects. It’s simply that a memorable
album and a big glossy production are different things entirely, and The
Young Elderz delivered the former, while Cliff delivered the latter.
(Bootnote: I’m not saying that good album and big production can never
coincide; they probably do at times.)
Let’s consider what The Young Elderz offer. They spend 61 minutes demonstrating
how much can be achieved with simple instruments and a few intermingling
voices in combination with great tunes. There’s no showing off, and they
haven’t hired a posse of big names to help; they just make good music
together. The lyrics are straightforward expressions of concern and faith.
The harmonies may seem fragile at times, but they are practiced, inventive
and warm. The production is professional but nothing fancy. And the album
works beautifully.
Each track has its attractions, but I’ll cite three particularly. “The
Crossing” uses a simple chord progression on guitar as the basis of a
lovely hymn; it changes at the 3-minute mark to a more pronounced, quicker
rhythm. Among the many strong musical hooks on this album, “It’s a Blessing”
has perhaps the most unforgettable in the harmonies of the title refrain.
And I have to mention the extended song about African repatriation, “Towers
of Return,” which begins with nyahbinghi drumming and a spoken mediation,
then turns into a very pretty chant with humming vocal support and simple
guitar accompaniment.
This is your chance to be one of those whose
CD purchase will still be played and enjoyed five years from now. Go ahead,
get this modest work of art.
 Various:
Select Cuts from Oracabessa, 2 CDs, Select Cuts, 2004
www.selectcuts.de
Rating: B+
This is a full package and then some. To understand what’s going on here,
first look at the subtitle: “12 inch biz, dubplates, remixes and definitives.”
Then read the sub-sub-title: “version excursion inna dancehall style.”
Next read the liner notes, which refer to “a unique sound christened SpeedHall.”
The notes also explain in bewildering detail the genesis of this double
album, starting with how a couple of the UB40 guys founded a label for
“progressive” dancehall, eventually issuing a compilation called “Oracabessa
One” as well as an album from Musical Sniper called “Rough Upbringing”—both
of which contribute tracks to this new compilation, along with “some surprises.”
As you may or may not expect from the above, this assortment is pretty
good for listening as well as for dancing—meaning the music isn’t all
in the beat, although a big chunk sure is. I especially like “Girls Like
Us,” the big hit by Crissy D and Lady G; “Party Tonight” by Musical Sniper;
“Double Rum” by Nu Skool Players, and the vocally frenzied “Western End”
by Mr. Vegas. Some delightful kids’ voices join the Campbell Brothers
to make a subdued, thought-provoking and appealing version of Stevie Wonder’s
“Village Ghettoland.” On the so-so list are the warmed-over funk of “Party
Time” by Tony Curtis and the dub of Culture Black’s “Under My Guiness,”
which veers off toward (believe it or not) New Age washes of sound.
Let’s see, who didn’t I mention yet? Elephant Man, Don Yute and Lady
Saw are all here, and most of all Rappa Roberts, who is actually Musical
Sniper in his deejay guise. I should also point out that most of the tracks
on the second disc are alternate mixes of what was on the first disc—or
maybe the remixes on the second actually came first, chronologically speaking.
Doesn’t really matter; these are just as valid, if not quite as necessary
once you’ve heard CD #1.
All in all: 25 tracks, a bit over half that
number of actual tunes, and more than two and a quarter hours of high-end
production of vibrant (mostly) dancehall reggae in its modern mode. For
many of you, that’s got to be a convincing argument in favor.
 Version
City Rockers: Darker Roots, Antifaz, 2004
www.antifaz.com
Rating: B
Yeah, “Darker Roots”, and shorter too. This disk is only 32:21, total!
Thanks to its solid reggae credentials, however, it’s well worth the all-too-brief
listen. Some of my favorite reggae figures show up, including singers
Sugar Minott, Ronnie Davis, Yabby You and Congo Ashanti Roy, as well as
Cedric Brooks (sax soloist on an instrumental tune) and even Glen Brown
(melodica player and percussionist throughout, and passionate lead singer
on the first track). As far as I know, this has been my introduction to
percussionist, keyboardist, producer, engineer and co-songwriter extraordinaire,
King Django, and I am mightily impressed.
In a backwards kind of way, I’m slowly getting at the reason why this
is not listed as a “various artists” compilation, which it closely resembles.
These are all “new” tracks, having arisen from a series of recording sessions
between 2001 and late 2003 backed by the New York group Version City Rockers.
So the band is what holds these sides together. In some (or most) cases,
the featured performer was brought back from semi-active, quasi-retirement
mode, but hey, you’d never know it from their performances here, even
if none are quite career-defining.
Highlights, you ask? For starters, Minott’s vocal on “Nah Bodda Wid It,”
the vamping organ accompaniment by Vic Ruggiero on the Ronnie Davis tune,
and the old tune “Down by the Riverside” as redefined in a spirited version
by Sister Nancy. More highlights? Cedric’s sax, Ranking Joe’s litany of
African countries (did he really pass through Ghana, or was it merely
a handy rhyme for “marijuana”?), and the horns on Yabby You’s “Rough in
Babylon.”
The most memorable artistic statement, though, has to be the intense,
sombre “Why Dem A Galong So,” in which Congo Ashanti Roy ponders the Sept.
11 incident. The lyrics combine the expected criticism of “heads of government”
with an unexpected degree of introspection, powerfully reinforced by the
sympathetic arrangement.
“Darker Roots” should be twice the length it
is. I use the word “should” to reflect both my expectation (given today’s
norms) and my fervent wish (given the quality of the half hour offered).
So the bottom line, now that I’m here, is that you’ll have to decide for
yourself whether it’s worth the money. I say yes.
 Various:
Reggae Now, Vol. 3, Bogalusa, 2004
www.reggae-now.com
Rating: C
First a rundown of what’s on this disc:
• Some gruff deejaying
and strained singing from Sizzla.
• Luciano’s charming
handling of the primary melody line of Bobby Goldsboro’s simpering tearjerker
“Honey,” reconstituted with more likely lyrics.
• Anthony B’s mundane
delivery of the obvious truth that “life worth more than money.”
• Bushman, gentle and
soft, proving that he has learned from Gregory Isaacs, among others.
• A rough, hooky, wonderfully
feisty Turbulence.
• Abijah singing tunefully.
• Chezidek’s peculiar
vocal style.
• Nothing remarkable
from Norris Man.
• Sugar Minott veering
dangerously close to Bobby Goldsboro territory. (Earth to reggae artists:
of all the possible Bobs to emulate, this is the wrong one.)
• Front Page proving
that falsetto soul music lives.
• A lightweight and
unthrilling Thriller U.
• An inconsequential
Half Pint.
• Natural Black backed
by acoustic guitar and not much else on the delightful “Oh Be Unto Those.”
• Chrisinti’s heartfelt,
gentle, soulful take on a melody that’s hardly there.
• “Music is Life,” an
attractive and memorable tune from Luciano and Turbulence together.
• A disappointingly simplistic, non-engaging
closing track from Warrior King.
To my ears only the contributions from Luciano, Turbulence, Abijah and
Natural Black are remarkable, but as you see, stars and semi-stars abound,
and if you want, you can read short biographies of most of them in the
colorful booklet enclosed with the CD. Be warned: the writing tends toward
the grandiose, one word never sufficing when four are available. Sugar
Minott, for example, isn’t a “pioneer in reggae”, he’s a “driving force
in pioneering the creation of reggae music.” The syntax is a bit off too:
“Contributing to his indoctrination into the reggae music started while
growing up near a dancehall…”) Luckily, the sloppiness of the writing
is at times amusing: “Chrisinti says he is heavily influenced by his Rastafarian
levity.” Rasta “livity” we know about, and yes, it tends to influence
those who practise it. Rasta levity exists too, I’m sure, but we just
don’t hear about it as often.
Oh, oh. I’ve become distracted from the music.
Sorry about that. It’s just that with this album, it can so easily happen.
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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.
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