I bought this as a youngster from the local dread emporium, in a middle/working class neighborhood of Sandy Eggo across the street from the Safeway where my bike got stolen a couple years previous, where built into a garage and beside a similarly tiny shoestore, the shop wafted incense smoke and dub bass into the brains of impressionable youth like myself. I was terrified of the shop, scared that I'd get instantly stoned, and scared that I'd be outed as the redneck-heritage dweeb I was, by the impassive and mountainous Rasta who stood guard over the tiny shop (perhaps 5' by 10' inside). Of course, no one but myself cared whether I was there or not. Probably the dude was mildly amused at worst. More likely he was stoked to make a sale no matter who it was making the purchase.I came to this shop a handful of times as a teen; I bought Black Uhuru cassettes, incense and a 'Free South Africa' T-shirt that I didn't really fully understand (well, I was 14, and my intentions were good); outside, I got hit on by an older white businessman who talked to me about how reggae was 'happy music'. This cassette is surely not happy music, though like any music worth its name it contains seeds of joy. But it also contains the word 'blood' hundreds and hundreds of time, in nearly every song. Violence and suffering pervade the album.
I'd read this sentence in the Rolling Stone Record guide review:
"Proof positive of poetry's power".
That was enough for me; I had to hear it.
What I heard when I got that cassette into my walkman wasn't poetry of the kind they teach in school-- this is pure dub propaganda, filled with blood, blood, blood, more blood, and calls for revolution. But endless subtleties pervade: LKJ was not a simple-minded advocate of violence or even peaceful revolt, but an observer of injustice all around and a caller to strength via activism. He sees the hurt in the community as a whole, when "there are wicked men sitting in the seats of judgement; there are people waging war in the heat and hunger of the streets".
I actually don't know anything at all about the unrest or oppression in England that occasioned this album, which makes for an odd listen, as this was clearly meant to be very specific to its time and place; but I know great music when I hear it. And this is some of the tightest, deepest, funkiest dub of all time. The band are among the greats and they prove their worth, with LKJ's coolly impassive baritone riding over the top of the beats.
In this case as in many others, art aimed specifically at a time & place yields true universality.
"All we have is bottles and bricks and fists".
Don't miss "Song of Blood" sung by Junior Murvin, the toughest falsetto singer in all recorded history.
1 comment:
Awesome! Thanks for writing about this.
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