Stunning. Crucial Studio One.
Heavy, heavy, heavy roots nightmare about centuries of African enslavement and colonial exploitation by the British, and their mutation post-independence into the new JA ruling class, like a home-grown zombie.
The dub is a total knockout, too.
Killer record.

The debut LP by the godfather of rocksteady, from 1967; choca with many of his signature recordings. Stone-classic songs over cornerstone rhythms, like I’m Still In Love With You, I’m Just A Guy, and Get Ready.
Crucial bunny.

Gorgeous…and backed with rudeboy anthem A Man Of Chances.
Two counts of murder.

‘You think you can hold me down, you think you can tie me down… I’m a man for chances.’

OG had been a UK-resident for five years by the time of this Brenton Wood cover, recorded here during the Soul Vendors 1967 tour. (One night Jimi Hendrix was the support.) A Procul Harem on the flip.

Studio One activist Sugar Minott’s favourite LP of all time.
A stone-classic mixture of foundational rhythms, peerless rocksteady lovers, and songs with the political concerns of the roots reggae to come.
Killer after killer. An absolute must.

Herman Sang (from the Jiving Juniors) was at Brentford Road from the start, in the late-1950s.
This is wistful organ-combo r&b — pre-ska — with some sweet calypso jazz on the flip.

Jen rides the dread Sidewalk Doctor rhythm, with Woman Of The Ghetto lyrics.
Jackie Mittoo puts any survivors to the sword.

In his dazzling, rubadub flow, with intricate rhyming, lavish word-play and off-the-wall allusiveness, his genial socialism and jubilant, green-fingered vegetarianism, his knockabout sense of humour and all-round irrepressible good vibes, Ranger is the peerless heir to U-Roy and Dennis Alcapone… and the most diplomatic of envoys for the new dancehall styles just around the corner. He’s undervalued because of a perceived lack of gravitas, but he’s one of the all-time great deejays, and this is his best work.
Have a listen to the musical shock attack Automatic: over Take A Ride, no less, he bundles the Last Poets into a breakneck stream of consciousness, with walk-ons for Marcus Garvey, Bag O Wire, and Garvey’s secretary Mother Muschett; Dovecot Memorial Park and Madison Square; a bad boy who doesn’t know Ranger’s dad is a cop; succinct advice like ‘natty don’t play card inna Babylon yard’; a big baboon in the light of the moon, a broken chair, a felt hat, an anchor you can’t conchor…
“Everybody was wondering why I sounded different. And the reason I sounded different was through I did grow in England and I have the English accent and when I speak you can hear every word I am saying clearly. It was a plus for me. And then through I liked to write poetry and write songs, you know I’m a writer, I stick to the topic from start to finish.”
And the musical rhythms are a preposterous fish-tea tidal wave of Studio One classics (plus a Shank I Sheck): Take A Ride/Truths & Rights, Real Rock/Armageddon Time, One Step Beyond, Hot Milk, Throw Me Corn, Never Let Go, Full Up, Please Be True, Things A Come Up To Bump.

So let the good time roll, with Sir Coxsone at the control. When Ranger talk, the dance it have fe cork.
Deliriously enjoyable. Terrific cover art, too.
Very highly recommended. Five ribbits, five bims, five flash-its, five oinks.

Sugar’s debut LP, from 1978: inspired, crafted voicings of all-time classic S1 rhythms, banger after banger, insouciantly announcing the rebirth of the greatest reggae label of all time, with vibes and panache to the max.
Hotly recommended. Crucial Studio One.

‘Coxsone Boy’ showed Mr. Dodd how to lick over Studio One’s vast armament of foundational rhythms for the dancehall era to come (and claim them back from Channel One). He knew them all backwards from singing over them on his sound.
Killer selection.

An LP’s worth of vintage Studio One rhythms (and Coxsone productions), vocals plus dubs, all unavailable elsewhere.

Sublimely versioning the almighty Curtis anthem; with another rocksteady clarion-call on the flip, brassy and more stern, by The Hamlins.