Can’t bubble, can’t cook, can’t even dress properly.

Tough, thumping Jammys from 1989, with expert falsetto singing from CT.

Magnificent, militant roots with the heart of a lion. Bunny’s greatest record under his own name, much superior to the version on the Liberation LP, this was originally released as a UK disco 45 in the early eighties.

Heavyweight, apocalyptic Bunny, with a burial b-line, burning horns, masterful dub. By a mile the best thing on Blackheart Man.

Ferociously magnificent, utterly crucial collection of his late-seventies singles, chanting it down like a more blood-and-fire, non-bucolic Burning Spear. Produced by Glen Brown, mixed by King Tubby. Towering roots reggae, inspired through and through, from start to finish; hotly recommended.

Rough, tough, searing steppers from the Meditation, with a killer-diller Dillinger, produced by Isha Morrison — Mrs Lee Perry — and originally out on Orchid.

Tough mid-seventies steppers from the US, in tow to Johnny Clarke. A one-away for Bev; nothing to do with Jah Shaka (except he’d run it).
Rough dub, too.

Ace vocal excursion on Augustus Pablo’s monumental 555 Crown Street rhythm, from 1979.
Notwithstanding his unforgettable Fuckerys A Gwaan, that’s gotta be Jah Bull’s finest moment, on the flip.

Driving Shaka murder. Fury and yearning folded into a perfect blend of digital and old-school music-making. A drum-machine and Bagga Walker from Studio One tear up the dub. Complete with rare, ebullient Colarman toast.