perfidy

Reggae was born on island which has seen endless trouble, a tropical stone that often seems two meals away from total social breakdown. And yet, the protest music from Jamaica sounds so happy if you don't stop to listen to the words. Even the bouyant sounds of international icon Bob Marley are full of parables of social justice and frank calls for political revolution. Just what does "the stone that the builder refuse / will always be the head cornerstone" mean if not "the last will be first" or "the meek shall (conquer?) (inherit?) the earth (and right soon)?" Although largely diluted through repeated exposure, Marley sang revolution music.

And indeed for all the pot and talk of "one love" real Jamaican reggae is a revolutionary music, full of anger, fierce pride, and religious fervor. Sure, it sounds placid and groovy (presumably thanks to the weed and the humidity in Jamaica) but underneath that lopsided jerking throbs the heart of a million Marcus Garveys.

This goes triple for the true radicals. Burning Spear (born Winston Rodney) is one of the greatest and most influential roots reggae artists in the history of the genre. Since 1969 Rodney has been writing and producing reggae in his own trademark style, dubbier and less poppy than the Wailers, more concise and less trippy than dub masters like King Tubby. And although some of his albums from the 1980s and 1990s sound incongrously light and shiny, there has always been a lived-in funkiness to his sound. More importantly, throughout his career he has displayed a sharp, even militant, political consciousness, singing about Rastafarianism, poverty, and justice, and even naming one of his albums Marcus Garvey. The name 'Burning Spear' is itself a pointed reference to black nationalism, having originally belonged to the first president of Kenya, the former Mau Mau leader Jomo Kenyatta. In a way, Burning Spear is a gospel musician first and foremost - just for a gospel that most people outside Jamaica don't vibe with automatically.

If there is one rap against Burning Spear as a musician, it might be that sometimes his message has gotten in the way of his music. That is not to say that his political statements have been misguided (and I'm in no position to judge that), but that some of his song have not necessarily been songs as much as manifestos. When he is hitting his mark on both fronts, the results are exhilarating, funky, and deep. His greatest songs are like this - I am a huge fan of "Social Living," "Slavery Days," "Marcus Garvey," and "Marcus Say Jah No Dead" for that very reason. The first time I heard these songs, I remember being stunned and thinking to myself, damn: this isn't 'No Woman No Cry,' this is deep.

But too often I have felt the grim convictions in Burning Spear songs almost defeat themselves and come across as halfway to hopeless. A shining example of this is "African Woman" off 1990's album Mek We Dweet, an impassioned song about famine and poverty in Africa that looks at the pain of that continent, and despite an uptempo groove and bright (and dated) 1980s production, descends into despair.

The new Our Music completely manages to avoid these pitfalls of despair and datedness, sounding rootsier, skankier, and more focused than anything I've heard from Burning Spear in quite a while. Granted, I'm no expert to say the least, but gone is the overproduction that made much of his later Island-era output sound a bit slick. Back is a more analog vibe that recalls the sounds of the legendary Studio One, where the first Burning Spear music was recorded back when that name still referred to a trio.

The lyrics, though still as fervent as ever, are for the most part uplifting, complementing the negativity with positive ways to move forward. Yes, it's defiant, yes it's evangelical about Jah and Rastafarianism and the messianic black nationalism of Marcus Garvey, but I'm happy to be hearing again a Burning Spear record that contains more true hope than despair.

With the notable exception of "Together," which despite its title asks an anonymous traitor how many was he has betrayed Africa (an indictment of the kleptocracies that rule much of the continent?), nearly everything on Our Music is positive. On the title track Burning Spear sings about reclaiming reggae from the pretenders and fashionistas, and on "Walk" Spear visits people around the world. "Try Again" is a positively bubbly song about forgiveness, self-reliance, and the teachings of Marcus Garvey. "One Marcus" rides a laid-back organ-and-horn groove while teaching about... Marcus Garvey. All the while the bass throbs, the keyboards bounce, the horns writhe, and the rhythm section keeps things percolating beautifully.

It is good to see a mature musician moving forward without spiralling into irrelevance or forgetting their strengths. Our Music is a top-shelf addition to the already distinguished catalog of one of reggae's all-time greats. I suppose it's by now obligatory for reviewers to say this, so, uh... keep the spear burning.

This review also appears on blogcritics.org.