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 Burning
Spear: Creation Rebel: The Original Classic Recordings From Studio
One, Heartbeat Records, 2004
www.heartbeatreggae.com
Rating: A+
Let’s consider some musical history:
• Louis Armstrong, the
jazz world’s greatest figure, recorded The Hot Fives sides at age 25.
• Hank Williams, the
father of country music, started his brief but prolific recording career
at age 23.
• Chuck Berry, the best
rock ’n’ roller of them all, was 28 when he made his first recording,
“Maybellene”.
• Glenn Gould, classical
music’s most renowned interpreter of J.S. Bach’s keyboard works, recorded
“Goldberg Variations” at age 23.
In each case, the unerring vision
that drove these people to create their art was already fully formed,
utter and complete, by the time of their first recordings. The artists
never bettered those earliest efforts. They may have become more popular
or more polished in their performances, but they did not become better
artists. That would have been impossible.
Now, let’s consider reggae’s own
Winston Rodney, aka “Burning
Spear”, who recorded his first works at Studio One in Kingston, Jamaica
at the age of 22. Am I about to make a claim that his artistic vision
had already been fully formed by that time, and that he never bettered
those early recordings? Yes. Am I suggesting that his genius deserves
to be ranked with that of Armstrong, Williams, Berry and Gould? Yes.
And that’s why you see the A+ rating
above, because Creation Rebel collects most of that seminal music
and presents it in excellent sound and appropriately respectful package.
True, Rodney re-used and re-shaped significant chunks of this material
over the next ten years or more, so some tunes, lyrics and titles show
up in albums you should already have, like Marcus Garvey and those
that followed. But this is the undecorated version of the music, the unadulterated
vision of the artist, the initial, unforgettable fusion of commitment,
talent, dignity and passion. It’s not duplication.
The lyrics are here. The liner
notes are as complete as you could reasonably expect. There are several
“previously unreleased” tracks, including the original “Rocking Time”
single with a toast by Coxsone Dodd
himself. The musicians are the usual Studio One stalwarts. The pointillist
cover drawing from the one of the two original Studio One LPs is reproduced.
What more could you possibly want? Go get it.
 Lustre
Kings Meets Project Groundation: Calling All Jah Children (Mixtape
Vol. One), 2004
www.lustrekingsproductions.com
www.projectgroundation.com
Rating: B+
To identify this as a various artists
compilation would be woefully inadequate. The 61 tracks allow a whole
slew of people to chat and sing over seven different ragga riddims. Each
contribution is pretty short, mind you, and intense. It’s a complex production
of the entire Lustre Kings' catalog and an amazing accomplishment, fully
justifying the intermittent outbursts of self-promotion (otherwise known
as dub plates) for Lustre Kings and Project Groundation.
You might wonder if the album therefore
sounds as busy, dense and claustrophobic as the cover looks. The answer
is yes, for the most part. Doesn’t it become a relentless attack? Almost,
but there are mitigating elements: the differing vocal styles keep things
interesting, and even within each riddim one or two of the artists come
back with a “Part II” reworking of their own “Part I”. This format provides
both variation and focus, at least briefly.
The transitions between rhythms
come in different forms too, and they are slick. After 9½ minutes of the
first riddim (“Fortune Teller”, with track titles like “No More War”,
“Bun Dem Again”, and “Unity is Strength”) comes a series of electronic
swoops, spoken praise to Jah, chanting background singers, more sound
effects, and then we’re into the second riddim, “Alarm Clock”. This is
a noisy one, obviously meant to wake us up with lyrics like “woe to the
bloody city”. The “Liberation” riddim brings out a more contemplative
side from the artists; I especially like the joint efforts by Capleton
and Yami Bolo, and by Moon and Turbulence, just as catchy.
The “PGM Remix Section” brings
a surprise, as for a short while the beat becomes subdued, the music is
confined to a gently tinkling piano, and the lyrics turn to praise of
the herb. Songs in praise of women, however, must wait for “African Charm”,
unfortunately the weakest riddim here. Melodic choral chanting marks the
transition to the “Talking Drum” riddim, which has the greatest lyrical
variation, all the way from “I Wine Pon Her” to “See the Wicked Run”.
The “Disco Rock” riddim takes a bouncier, more subtle approach, and includes
very nice vocal harmonies. An appealingly fuzzy keyboard riff is prominent
in “The Shining”, which offers an interesting vocal from Jah Marcus and
a truly spectacular one from Jah Mason. Lutan Fyah, whose presence has
been felt across the whole disc, chants it to a close over an acoustic
guitar.
The few softer, gentler parts notwithstanding,
Calling All Jah Children is primarily dancehall reggae of the hardest
core—more than 75 minutes worth. I have no idea whether it represents
the future of the genre, but right now we’re in the present, and someone
is calling us. We have to respond.
 Various:
Women of Latin America, Putumayo World Music, 2004
www.putumayo.com
Rating: Half
of B+
This CD is only half an album.
Just eleven brief tracks, the whole thing less than 39 minutes—half the
present capacity of a compact disc. Now consider the title, Women of
Latin America, and ponder the fact that exactly five nations are represented,
from what, maybe 18 countries that could readily be considered Latin American?
Yes, it’s half what it should be, so I’m granting it half a rating and
half a review.
As you might guess from the label
and cover, if not the theme, this is a uniformly gentle exercise in musical
expression. It’s a collection of female singers showing their feminine
side. They’re highly accomplished women, mind you, so the listening is
pleasurable: relaxed, tuneful and pretty music, with lots of room to breathe.
On the other hand, there’s nothing the least bit challenging about it.
So it’s for late night, when your brain wants only to be soothed, not
stimulated.
An early highlight is “Sinuoso
Trópico” by Jacqueline Fuentes from Chile—a forlorn violin sets the scene
for a heartbreaking vocal and lovely melody, accompanied by Spanish guitar.
The familiar “Justo Agora,” from Brazil’s Adriana Calcanhotto, is another
acoustic delight. “India Song” has a gentle guitar and flute, a husky
laid-back vocal and an unhurried, strolling lilt. Beginning to get the
picture? Somewhat more upbeat and playful than the others, however, is
“Anda Mareado” by Tania Libertad of Peru, who uses…
I warned you.
 George
Nooks: Don’t Give Up, Jet Star, 2004
www.jetstar.co.uk
Rating: B
Unlike a certain multi-artist compilation
that amounts to half an album, George Nooks’ Don’t Give Up could
be two. There’s the contemporary roots reggae album, and there’s the lover’s
rock album. Uh-oh, what to do with the dancehall? Okay, maybe the better
division is between the inspirational album, the one turned toward God,
and the worldly one, concerned with partying, women and socio-economic
conditions. On third thought, let’s put the hit-oriented, pop stuff on
one side and the creative, invigorating stuff on the other.
Or we could leave it as is and
simply praise the variety, quality and quantity of this single album.
I just wish it didn’t start with “Bridge Over Troubled Water”. It’s a
good song—it might even show up in my personal list of Paul Simon’s 25
or 30 best—but mushy, way too familiar, and so pretty it sticks with me
for days. Nooks’ powerful and mellifluous voice handles it with ease,
even adds some soulfulness, despite the fact that the “musicians” here
are Mafia and Fluxy. Another big production follows, then “Don’t Give
Up”, with popish tune, arrangements and philosophy (“Don’t give up on
your dreams; don’t give up no matter how hard it seems”). “Just Out Of
Reach” is hurtin’ music with a strong country & western flavor, yet
the vocals harken back to such timeless reggae singers as Boothe and Sibbles.
The tuneful “Tribal War”, a 2003 hit for Nooks, has a deep rhythm and
great arrangement for strings.
“Lord I’m Depending On You” offers
a slow, meditative prayer: “Oh father, I give thee thanks for life and
for everything thereafter.” That’s followed by the keyboard accompaniment
and rub-a-dub rhythm of “I Wanna Show You”, a great showcase for the female
background singers who keep dropping in—always welcome, of course. Just
as memorable is the hooky “Party Vibes”, which pits our sweet-voiced singer
against the gruff deejay Bounty Killer. And there’s lots more, including
two Dennis Brown tunes: “Money In My Pocket” and “Foundation”—unnecessary
padding, perhaps, but good music all the same.
Don’t Give Up is a reggae
tour de force from Mr. Nooks. It has astonishing variety in rhythms, tempos,
and arrangements. The singing reflects a real pro at work, one who comes
across as literate, sincere and well intentioned (although overly simplistic
at times), and whose musicality sounds effortless. So go ahead, get yourself
a deal: two or more albums disguised as one. You can’t go wrong.
 Eek-A-Mouse:
Eek-A-Speeka, Greensleeves Records, 2004
www.greensleeves.net
Rating: B
In his last album, Mouse
Gone Wild, Eek-A-Mouse came across as a violent, lust-crazed egomaniac,
so I vowed to disavow him ever after. But my editor wanted a review of
this new disc, so what’s a poor critic to do? I had to listen to the thing.
I expected yet more unbearable
braggadocio and mindless semi-porn. But I listened and listened again
and came out smiling. Sure, there’s a bit of sex talk, but he’s under
control now, a far more socially responsible creature. The difference
is evident from the first song, with its thoughtful lyrics about Jamaica’s
ongoing ills: “Some of you folks don’t understand how it’s so hard in
the Caribbean/Black man just a beat black man.” That “law and order” theme
recurs several times over the first half of the album, whereas most of
the second half is devoted to affairs of the heart. There’s also room
for an upbeat, handclapping, horn-driven ode to the weed, surely the most
joyous such celebration in all of reggae.
Fortunately, the Mouse’s vocal
tricks and mannerisms are in full glory—not just the scatting “bidda bing
bing” stuff, but his patented “singjay” style and his abrupt changes in
timbre from one line to the next, so we get, for example, a meek Eek alternating
with an insistent one. And he still likes internal rhymes almost as much
as the usual kind: “enter the center,” “mean dreams.” Those mousy peculiarities
are still good fun after all these years.
Also after all these years, his
best-known hit, “Wa Do Dem,” returns with a contemporary sheen. The lyrics
remain as they were, so you’ll be glad to know that 22 years later his
lover still doesn’t worship diamonds or pearls (surprisingly, she’s also
still a “virgin girl”, which is kind of a shame).
Overall, an enjoyable album, both
in lyrical content and music. Keep in mind that original melodies have
never been the Mouse’s strong point, and typically the lyrics take some
creative nosedives (“…pretty like a diamond, pretty like a gold/When she
a walk, she a walk on the road.”) But the catchy arrangements, effervescent
dancehall rhythms and Eek’s u-neek delivery compensate. I’m glad I obeyed
my editor and listened to this; it helps me forget the “wild” album.
 Various:
World Groove, Putumayo World Music, 2004
www.putumayo.com
Rating: B-
Can something be engaging and disengaging
at the same time? Yep, I think so. Just listen to World Groove.
Each individual track is charming enough as it passes by, but when it
ends, who cares? We move on to the next track and get something no more
and no less involving. So when the album is playing, I groove on it just
as the title suggests I should, but there’s no overpowering force urging
me to press “repeat”—either when it’s all over or anytime before that.
But, but it’s so…nice!
Yeah, and it won’t matter to me
if I never hear it again.
A throw-away phrase in the liner
notes may explain this conundrum. One of the artists is described as producing
“dance tracks with broad appeal,” and that summarizes the whole album.
Pleasant enough to be appealing, bland enough to be broadly appealing,
rhythmic enough to move to. Then what differentiates one track from another,
you ask? Jazzy, scatting vocal samples in one, an intimate acoustic guitar
in another, the fragility of the voice in a third. Issa Bagayogo’s bright
Malian lute; Zap Mama’s keening, wordless vocal introduction; the Cheb
Mami-assisted excursion into hiphop. A big disco production here, a vibrant
salsa beat with squeaky horns there, Middle East influences in several
places.
So, yes, there is variety in the
arrangements and approach. The other major element that differentiates
one track from another is the degree of internal cohesion. Some are fairly
focused (thereby gaining membership into the category of music we call
“songs”); the rest are more or less successful combinations of beat and
melody, called…I dunno, maybe “grooves”. Which is fine; that’s what this
disc is all about, after all.
Along with lively artwork, Putumayo
albums always sport literal titles, so if we are to accept their label,
“World Groove” is a sub-genre of contemporary urban music. That suggests
that the wide world of music is coalescing, with more small-scale variety
packaged within more large-scale uniformity. In summary, therefore, if
you like your music engaging, culturally-informed, lacking in edge, and
disengaging, this album is definitely for you.
 Pacific
Vibrations: Eastern Sun, Pomponio Records, 2004
www.pacvibes.com
Rating: B+
A reggae album that brings to mind
Jefferson Airplane as well as Augustus Pablo (along with Jeremy Steig,
to get far too obscure) is bound to get my attention. Eastern Sun
does that with, respectively, a psychedelic electric guitar, an expressive
melodica (as expressive as an inherently wimpy instrument can be) and
a jazzy/rocky flute.
Not that these elements entirely
define the disc, but when the parts are this good, the whole will likely
be as well. Sure, such instrumental expertise and invention have to find
a balance within the overall performance, but relax, the balance is fine.
Sure, the quality of the song writing is paramount, but relax again, because
the song writing is fine too. Absolutely, a roots reggae album has to
have that deep bass heart-beat rhythm; stay relaxed, this does.
Eastern Sun rises and sets
with excellent examples of Pacific Vibrations’ sound. The first track,
“Butterfly”, has a catchy refrain, a rich melody, emphatic playing and
adequately expressive (although not beautiful or particularly powerful)
vocals; the psychedelic guitar starts here. The last track is “Open View”,
an effortless bopper with subtle, percussive handclap arrangement, call
and response vocals, and not-quite-poetic lyrics with great intentions
(“Live open-minded and have open views”). In between sunrise and sunset
are ten other songs whose structures allow time to build and explore and
come to very satisfactory conclusions. At times that means extended instrumental
solos on trumpet, sax and trombone. It also means acoustic guitar, surf
guitar, Spanish guitar. It means high-hat, fluttering sound effects, jazz
influences, changing dynamics, synthesized keyboards, chanting vocal,
folkie vocal—in addition to the aforementioned flute, melodica and psychedelic
guitar. The highlight for me is “At This Time”, which encapsulates the
best of these elements.
Yes, I like this album and I like
its influences. I also like its simple, attractive package, despite the
unintended connotation the cover drawing has suddenly acquired—it looks
ominously like a tsunami bearing down on a far-eastern shore. Don’t take
it to be anything more than coincidence, though; it’s simply the artist’s
take on a famous Japanese woodcut theme. And there’s absolutely no reason
to avoid this one.
 Trüby
Trio: Retreated, Compost Records, 2004
www.compost-records.com
Rating: C+
I approach this review as a fan
of Caribbean and “world” music, not as a lover of electro/tech-house/disco
music (assuming such people exist). So the fact that I find parts of this
album irredeemably monotonous is likely because my ears are not fully
attuned to the genre. I will not be going out of my way to get them attuned,
mind you, mostly because the music isn’t aimed at the ears anyway, but
at the body parts that move when you dance.
Retreated is a collection
of “remixes”. Meaning remixes of actual songs, apparently, but sometimes
the alterations are so complete it’s hard to tell for sure. That’s because
the point here isn’t melody, nor is it harmony, nor lyrics, nor the beauty
of a well-trained voice. This is music to groove you, not to amoose you;
to tire you, not inspire you.
However. Some elements do appeal
to my eardrums, and here they are:
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The occasional world music
samples and influences. First example: the treatment of Louie Vega’s
“Elements of Life”, which leaves intact some of the tune, several
very satisfying chunks of the vocal by Marcia Montez, and a lot of
the feel. Second example: the “Senor Coconut Remix” of “Jaleo”, which
features furious rhythm, Spanish guitar, and Concha Buika.
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The frequent deep bass base.
This is self-explanatory for any true reggae fan.
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The astonishing variety of
sounds. Beeps, zaps, drones, rattles, swishes and unidentified flying
noises of many descriptions, all forced into service to the almighty
beat.
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The percussion. It may be
synthesized, computerized and digitized, but it’s also complex, inventive
and at times irresistible.
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The sporadic lyricism. The
mind does get a piece of the action now and then.
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The attention to detail.
The textures, the dynamics, the flow—wherever you listen, meticulous
care is evident.
As may be obvious by now, Trüby
Trio is not a band; the members are not musicians in the usual sense,
but studio dial-twisters. Rainer Trüby, one of the three guys, donates
a full bonus disc to this package, with more remixes that use the same
approach and often the same raw material. Altogether, this is an amazing
151 minutes of music. Assuming you like to dance, that fact alone might
make Retreated worthwhile. Maybe.
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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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