Sweet rocksteady lovers, rather impassively worried about being apart for a while; plus the Supersonics’ slinky, tiptoe classic Our Man Flint (nodding to James Coburn’s piss-take of 007, just then arriving in Kingston cinemas).

Two Duke Reids: hard-swinging, emotionally distressed rocksteady from Mr Soul Of Jamaica himself, down on his knees, hand on heart; and a terrific version of Gene Chandler’s Duke Of Earl on the flip.

Flexidisc.

A locomotive Ben E. King cover and some wistful Deadly Headley. Derrick’s singing is clear as a bell; Striker Lee works the throttle. One to stick next to DM’s Seven Letters.

Ace organ-driven rocksteady cut of Love Is A Message, recorded at Treasure Isle on Bunny Lee’s ticket, by youngsters Jacob Miller, Lawrence Weir and Lassive Jones aka Delroy Melody.
They were going by the name The Young Lads, but Jones remembers Striker’s strong advice: “there are too much Lads group, you boys are going to school, you boys are School Boys.”

Scorcher. One megaton of Hudson dread; pure reggae noir.
The mix is quite different to Flesh Of My Skin.
Definitively presented at last (after some dire bootlegs), by Dub Store in Tokyo.

Beautifully-sung reggae-jeggae sufferers.
With a vibesy instrumental on the flip, featuring what sounds like a wooden flute.

A sweetly Christmassy, party-rocking rework of the William Bell / Booker T original.

A fat, wide, brassy cover of his idol Otis Redding. Plus an ace, driving, vengeful Reggae Boys, on the flip.

Head-to-head Bunny-Lee-supervised knees-up-mother-browns.

Lovely singing by the Hombres over a limber, spaced-out Upsetters rhythm you could listen to for hours. The dub attenuates the political reasoning with cruel brilliance.

Sweet rocksteady — expertly arranged, with boss guitar, horns and harmonies.
“We’re going to put it on… we are loaded… (long pause)... with soul music.”

Bumping, soulful ska. Plus Tommy McCook’s brilliant Goldfinger, on the flip.

What a tune. A surging, early-seventies Soul Syndicate rhythm, with a fulgent trombone solo; and succinct, profound reasoning from the Don, at his very best, about thinking for yourself. Rebel music to live by; as clear as a bell. That’s a tough Sleepy on the flip, too. Killer.

With a deadly, riding-east tang to the moody rhythm, sublime singing, murderous bass… Scorcher.