Album review: Windrush Baby by Aleighcia Scott & Rory Stonelove

Windrush Baby by Aleighcia Scott & Rory Stonelove

OK, massive and crew, I admit I have been a little quiet lately. There have not been many live reggae gigs in Scotland, and too many new reggae releases for me to keep up with. So, what could have woken me from my slumber? It’s the new album, ‘Windrush Baby’ by Aleighcia Scott & Rory Stonelove. Now, I’m no bandwagon-jumper, just because David Rodigan says it’s “One of the best reggae albums I have ever heard” and Reggaeville called it “a triumph…a classic in the making” doesn’t mean I’m just going to say it’s really good. But it is really good. Every track is a killer, no filler, demanding to be played from the top to the very last drop.

The opening bars of ‘First Love’ should get you hooked, utilizing the ‘Top Ten’ riddim to full effect, with a sultry vocal and lyrical twist on the classic lovers rock style, culminating in a dubbed out trumpet solo from Okiel McIntyre (last heard on the ‘We Remember Bob Andy’ album), reminiscent of a spaghetti western theme, the way the Skatalites used to do. ‘Good Vibe’ is just that, an infectious, finger-clicking, head-nodding, toe-tapping, rocking reggae beat with a positive message, opening with a blast of the ‘Breaking Up is Hard to Do’ horns riff (I think) and stretching out to showcase the talents of Dean Fraser and co in a jazzy, improvised fashion at the end. The only cover version on the album, ‘Do You’, is a faithful rendition of John Holt’s Studio One classic, allowing Ms Scott’s beautiful voice to take centre-stage, complete with sumptuous strings and glossy production, that should make it a crossover hit. ‘Hey World’ uses a funky disco style to push reggae’s conscious social comment, in the vein of ‘Could You Be Loved’ or Dennis Brown’s A&M years. Another single that would be right at home on mainstream radio as well as in a blues dance is ‘In My Shoes’, which showcases the accessibility of reggae music and the pure artistry of the musicians involved.

Next up, as we get up to turn the record over onto side two on the turntable before remembering it’s digital, is ‘Pretty Little Brown Thing’ straight to the head of all sexist, condescending men, with an almost singer and deejay style combination vocal that reminded me of ‘Sensimilia Babe’ by Brown Sugar (I don’t mean it borrows from it, as it sounds totally fresh and original to me, but it could have been recorded by the Queens of lovers rock, which is a compliment, but not in a sexist, condescending way). ‘Maybe’ uses the great technique of a nod to the old school to draw us in with a lyrical reference to Errol Dunkley’s ‘You’re Gonna Need Me’ and the bassline familiar from ‘Six Street’ before reaching out in all different directions with new, catchy melodies and dancing flute, trombone and keyboards. ‘Mr Big Shot’ (not The Beat or the Jean Knight song, but I am sure they would approve) is a powerful affair, with driving bassline, machine-gunfire drumming and swirling organ to complement the anti-racist, sufferer’s message, with some roots-style blood and fire. ‘This Way’ is pure lovers magic, with a glorious, soaring vocal and earthy, pounding bass, segueing effortlessly into ‘My Love’, which sounds like a stripped-back dubplate special, and tops things off in heartfelt fashion.

Apparently, Rory needed some persuading to include this last one, and over the five years this album was in development they worked on and rejected almost as many songs, which goes to show the high standards these tracks had to meet. The more I listen to this album, the better it gets. Rooted in the classics of Jamaican music that Aleighcia was evidently raised on down there in Wales*, but it’s not a nostalgia affair, it celebrates the Black British journey with topical themes and a slick, modern sound, sticking to the basic principles of music, not bowing to passing fads. A great voice, original songs, real instruments played by skillful musicians and classic reggae production, what more could you ask for? Well, a nice vinyl version and a tour taking in Glasgow, please. One love!

* For more reggae-Wales connections, read the chalice-dropping novel, ‘Black King’.

Preview: Johnny Osbourne

Ready or not, Scotland – here he comes, the greatest ever reggae artist called Johnny*, one month to go:  Johnny Osbourne, Thursday 3rd October,  BAaD, Glasgow.

Why am I so excited about the prospect of seeing Johnny Osbourne live with the Uppercut band for the first time playing in Scotland? Straight from international festivals and the Jazz Café in London to the Barras, we are very lucky to have one of the living legends of reggae with us. No other Jamaican singer has spanned the generations and genres of reggae so comfortably, cutting his teeth in the rocksteady era of the late sixties with infectious hits like 'Warrior’, equally at home with conscious messages like ‘My Name Is Man’, from sublime  love songs like 'Love Is Here to Stay’, to cutting eighties digital anthems like ‘Budy Bye’ that still rock the dancehall. Why he is not more of a household name in the UK today remains something of a mystery (although it may be something to do with spending most of the seventies in Canada). A pupil of the Alpha Boys’ School, where he would have looked up to the likes of Don Drummond and Tommy McCook as they invented ska in a lunchbreak, Johnny’s first recordings were with Winston Riley as a member of the Wild Cats, clearly showing an early affiliation with Scotland. ‘Come Back Darling’, accredited to Johnny Osbourne and the Sensations in 1969, is a rock steady gem with crossover appeal (the title track later a top ten hit for UB40) but he left for Canada the day he completed the album to be with his family. His return to Jamaica in 1979 led to a hugely prolific period. The ‘Truths and Rights’ album alone secures his place in music history, a Studio One album (like Freddie McGregor’s ‘Bobby Bobylon’) that looks, sounds and feels like it was forged in the fire at the very foundation of reggae music, it came as a shock to discover it was only released in 1980 (though many of the rhythms date from earlier). Every track on the album is a classic, with the outstanding ‘Jah Promise’, ‘We Need Love’ and ‘Sing jay Stylee’ he built the bridge between rocksteady, roots and the emerging dance hall explosion. He followed this up with a string of hit singles and albums for the top producers of the early eighties such as Prince Jammy, Henry Junjo Lawes and Bobby Digital, including ‘Water Pumping’, ‘Fally Ranking’, ‘Rock It Tonight’ and ‘On the Right Track’, making him a constant feature in the reggae charts. He also documented the history of black Britain with the poignant ‘13 Dead and Nothing Said’ following the New Cross Fire. Even those not familiar with his work may recognise his voice which graced many of the tracks on the classic Greensleeves dub albums, floating in and out of the mixes from Scientist, or even sampled by Major Lazer. But while I’m still discovering more of his classic tunes, I know the Glasgow reggae community will be ready to show their appreciation for Johnny ‘Bumpy’ Osbourne. One love!

*Top 10 Reggae Johnnies

1.       Johnny Osbourne

2.       Johnny Clarke – he would be a lot of people’s number one, as testified by the crowd when he played Glasgow

3.       John Holt – he would be higher but no one ever really called him Johnny. Just Sir John.

4.       Johnny “Dizzy” More – trumpet player, founding member of the Skatalites.

5.       John McLean – not the Glasgow revolutionary socialist, but the London lovers rock singer.

6.       Johnny Nash – Bob famously taught him to play reggae.

7.       Johnny Lover – deejay on ‘I Like it Like That’ Tuff Gong version on B-side of Rock My Boat.

8.       Little John – gave us the unforgettable Clarks Booty

9.       Johnny Was – classic from Bob Marley’s Rastaman Vibration, covered by Stiff Little Fingers.

10.   John Brown – fictional character who personified Jamaica and saved the world in ‘To Jamaica With Love’

Film Review: Rudeboy: The Story of Trojan Records

Warning: This film contains graphic scenes of the destruction of vintage vinyl which some viewers may find upsetting.

Trojan – a name forever synonymous with classic reggae music for a certain generation, proudly emblazoned across my T-shirt, occasionally these days gets strange looks from the youngsters who apparently think I’m advertising condoms. But this documentary, still playing across the UK in August should help restore the balance and put Trojan Records back in the forefront of the consciousness of the music-loving public. Nowadays it’s hard to imagine, but there was a time when ska, rock steady and reggae was a weekly feature in the UK charts and Top of the Pops in the late sixties and early seventies, making an indelible impression on the minds of British youth and laying the foundations for the Two Tone revival. This film tells the story of how this was achieved, through a slightly fuzzy haze, like memories of blues dances and house parties seen from the eyes of a child staying up past bedtime. The action starts, where else, but Kingston, Jamaica with a reconstruction of Duke Reid running the music production and distribution across the island in his Trojan truck (made in Croydon, where I once bumped into Desmond Dekker coming out of a pub - talk about full circle, eh?) and running auditions in his liquor store for the likes of Derrick Morgan. This was of course the perfect opportunity to bring the Treasure Isle store scene in To Jamaica With Love to the silver screen, but sadly the producers forgot to call me.

Everyday life in the music factory that was Kingston in the era of independence is witnessed through magical interviews with the surviving members of that trailblazing generation, including Marcia Griffiths, Dave Barker, Lee Scratch Perry, Bunny Lee, Roy Ellis, Freddie Notes, Toots Hibbert, Ken Boothe and many more, alongside archive footage and dramatisations. Trojan Records sprung up as an independent force, making deals with Island Records and various producers, capturing this fever and selling it to a hungry market in England initially made up of Jamaican migrants, quickly spreading to their white working class neighbours. How a combination of West Indian and British entrepreneurs and musicians battled prejudice to get radio airplay and television appearances, inviting Jamaican artists into living rooms up and down the country, is shown to play a genuine part in breaking down barriers and counteracting the racism that was rife at the time of Enoch Powell. It doesn’t quite explore the uncomfortable phenomenon of those who liked the music but also continued to be racist (listen to ‘Skinhead A Bash Them’ by Claudette and The Corporation, and see the great Don Letts’ The Story of Skinhead for a deeper examination).  There is inevitably a slightly rosy-tinted nostalgia about the film, but the murkier side of the business is touched upon, with legal wranglings and contract disputes rumbling in the background as Trojan grew. The story of how it went from not being able to keep up with demand to flooding the market with Jamaican music is illustrated in harrowing scenes of the policy of destroying unsold stock for tax reasons.  Flipping from collecting original hits to becoming a receptacle for records squarely aimed at the UK pop charts, losing some of what made it so special and controversially adding strings, at a time when the era of roots and punk was brewing, all added to its sudden demise as liquidation came in 1975. The bubble may have burst, but the impact of Trojan Records could never be forgotten, as the label was resurrected and successive generations have rediscovered this music which will never, ever die. At the CCA screening in Glasgow we were lucky to have one of the contributors to the film, one of the founding fathers of reggae and sound system culture in Britain, Sir Lloyd Coxsone, in a Q&A afterwards, as he continues to spread the message. One love. 

Friday 16 August 2019, Beautiful Days Festival
Devon

Friday 16 August 2019, We Out Here Festival
Cambridgeshire

Friday 16 August 2019, Green Man Festival
Brecon Beacons

Tuesday 20 August 2019, Rototom Festival
Benicassim, Spain

Thursday 22 August 2019, House of Vans
London

Wednesday 28 August 2019, Soundtrack Film Festival
Cologne

Friday 20 December 2019, YAAM
Berlin

Book Review: The Life of Peter Tosh by John Masouri

I was fifteen when Peter Tosh was murdered. I was just getting into reggae and aware of him as one of the original Wailers, but when I tuned into Radio London for the traditional Sunday lunchtime lovers rock show, and heard the infectious ska sounds of  ‘Hoot Nanny Hoot’ instead, it sounded totally fresh and exciting, with the young lead vocal expressing a playful wisdom . As it was followed by tunes like ‘The Toughest’, ‘Downpresser Man’ and ‘Bush Doctor’, I was hit by a strange mixture of excitement at discovering all these classics for the first time, and the dawning realisation that I was a bit too late, and something was tragically wrong in the reggae world. The normally rich, authoritative voice of radio legend Tony Williams was choking up as he broke the news that Peter Tosh had been fatally shot at his home in Jamaica, age 42.

So I must admit it took me a while to open up this weighty tome, as even though it was over thirty years ago, it still feels like his sudden, brutal death is a shadow hanging over his story. But long time reggae journalist, John Masouri, has done a miraculous job of bringing Peter Tosh back to life, restoring the complex and often conflicting sides to his character through meticulous research into his childhood, detailed documentation of every tour and album, and interviews with long lost relations, friends and enemies. Through the cloud of ganja smoke and verbal obfuscation that surrounded him, a picture begins to emerge of the militant rebel whose intelligence, wit and desire to get his message across led him to international fame. Sometimes his own worst enemy, he would simultaneously attract and repel success, with his words and actions damaging his career and personal relationships. Masouri never lets us forget the effects of the car crash that killed his girlfriend, leaving him grief-stricken and guilt-ridden, and the numerous police beatings he suffered, causing permanent pain and headaches. All this at the time when reggae was king, and Peter Tosh shared the stage with the likes of Dennis Brown and Gregory Isaacs, in regular line-ups at huge concerts all over the world. A serious time, when apartheid South Africa was a seemingly unshakable reality and the struggle for equal rights and justice was not just a song.

Reading this biography is like an interactive experience, as when you read about the concert in Montreux in 1979, lauded as one of his best, or the time he made a cameo in a Brazilian soap opera, you can witness them for yourself in few clicks. It’s fascinating to read how Peter Tosh was often vilified by the British music press, being accused of selling out or watering down his message and music (they obviously had not listened to him saying “I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations” on ‘I Am That I Am’) while being hailed in the streets as a hero in black communities across America, England, Africa and the Caribbean. ‘The Life of Peter Tosh’ is an important work and a vital piece of reggae history, taking its place alongside the numerous biographies of Bob. It leaves you with a greater understanding of the man, an overdue celebration of his achievements, but nothing can quite shift the sense of regret and frustration and injustice that limited his output, and ultimately his life.

The Life of Peter Tosh by John Masouri