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Sign of the Times (RAS/Ariwa, 1986) Considered by many to be a classic of the era, in addition to being Macka B’s most accomplished album (meaning his career was all downhill after that?), Sign of the Times has a sound that is very much, well, a sign of the times. Released in 1986 – when dancehall was just starting to switch over from a heavy, roots and dub-influenced sound to an even heavier digital sound spawned by Wayne Smith’s “Under Mi Sleng Teng” – this album largely resists the computerized “ragga” sound in favor of a more traditional early dancehall stylee featuring simple drum and bass-heavy tracks (courtesy of producer Mad Professor). Likewise, Macka B’s vocals are typical of the time; i.e., he’s got an old school delivery: slower, with more enunciation than today’s dancehall lot. Thus, you can actually understand what he’s saying, and boy does he have a lot to say. Few artists in reggae (or frankly in any genre) approach each song with such a focus on specific topics and social issue as Macka B does. In this way, he resembles dub poets like Mutabaruka, Oku Onuora, and Linton Kwesi Johnson, although his flow is more rhythmic and structured in a traditional DJ toast. On Sign of the Times, he addresses issues ranging from dietary concerns ("Baked Beans and Egg," "Big Mack") to hair styles ("Wet Look Crazy") to police abuse ("We've Had Enough!") to corrupt clergymen ("False Preacher") to European colonialism ("Invasion") to interracial dating ("Indian Chick"), always with an insightful eye and a sharp wit, as in the opening lines of "Wet Look Crazy": Even
Michael Jackson him never learn Still, as engaging as his lyrics can be, his vocal style is very dated and not suited for everyone's tastes -- mine included, to be honest. And Mad Professor's music just isn't particularly thrilling, at least not on a consistent basis. "Apartheid," "Indian Chick," and "Serve You Right" feature rumbling, funky rhythms, but the rest is relatively flat; a dub version of this album would put me to sleep. Little beyond these tunes is as effective as his early pre-Sign of the Times single "Bible Reader" (see the compilation Mash Up the Place!). All in all, though, if you're a Macka B fan, this is a must-have. Personally, he's just not a favorite of mine. |
| Track Listing 1. Wet Look Crazy 2. Baked Beans and Egg 3. Invasion 4. Serve You Right 5. Eternal Dreadlocks 6. Baby I Love You 7. Plastic Bullets 8. Indian Chick 9. One for Jah 10. Big Mack 11. We've Had Enough! 12. False Preacher 13. Apartheid |
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Here Comes Trouble (RAS/Ariwa, 1994)
Trouble indeed -- with a capital "T," and that rhymes with "B," and that stands for Macka B (a little something for you musical theater fans). Granted, I'm not a huge Macka B fan, but Here Comes Trouble is the worst album I've heard from him. Little here proves worthy of multiple listens, and in the case of the poodle skirt-wearing, '50s rock 'n roll-styled "Do the Butterfly," one listen is too many. Inexplicably, Macka B even throws in a DUB of that wretched, wretched song. Shudder. The rest of the album is downright classic in comparison, but in a vacuum, it's just generic. "Promises" and "Thank You Father" are generic dancehall, while "Squeeze Me" and "Crackpot" have that generic, too-cutesy lovers sound that Chaka Demus & Pliers rode to success on "Tease Me." Even the messages -- Macka B's meat and potatoes -- are mostly generic, from "Promises," which rails against lying politicians, to "Reggae on the Rampage," which celebrates the popularity of reggae music, to the religious "Thank You Father" to love songs like "Squeeze Me" and "Don't Worry." When he does step out on a limb musically, we end up with subpar stuff like the New Jack R&B ballad of a title track, the Public Enemy-ish dancehall of "Reggae on the Rampage," or the aforementioned song that shall not be named. Only two tracks score with the sort of intriguing lyrics we've come to expect while not being undermined by musical sillyness: "Rottweiler," which bashes both child molesters and the too-fast girls who might actually attract them, and his humorous anti-bleaching statement "Getting Blacker," on which he claims he has a skin condition like Michael Jackson, except his gets darker...to his delight.
| Track Listing 1. Thank You Father 2. Squeeze Me 3. Reggae on the Rampage 4. Crackpot 5. Rottweiler 6. Promises 7. Here Comes Trouble 8. Do the Butterfly 9. Getting Blacker 10. Don't Worry 11. Promises of Dub 12. Butterfly Dub |
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Discrimination (RAS/Ariwa, 1995)
Discrimination
is a mediocre album with great lyrics. As
much as anything I've heard from Macka B (admittedly, not much), it shows why
he's long been considered one of the premiere wordsmiths in reggae. Wonderful examples abound, as when he bemoans the plight of
Jamaican immigrants trying unsuccessfully to get into England on the title
track:
If they was white, would you let them come over?
When a planeload arrive from Australia, / They no lock dem up in a detention center...
England say dem a di mother country, / But how can a mother reject her baby...
Now just imagine if Jamaica did do the same, / The same thing with the English plane:
All a di plane dem wha land a Kingston, / Get all a di white man and white woman,
And put them in a room fi interrogation, / And ask them about a thousand question,
And if fi any reason they get one wrong, / Send them back pon the next airplane to London.
Then, when savaging racists on "To Be Racist":
All of your problems you giving us the blame, / But your biggest problem is in your own brain,
Sick in a yu head, totally insane. / Who you think you are, you think you John Wayne.
Well, this is not a Western, neither a game, / And what used to happen cannot happen again.
If you a bad bull, then me a the bull fighter. / If you a Rambo, them we a Terminator.
You think you rough, then we have the sandpaper. / If you a duppy, we are the Ghostbuster...
Now, the PNP they've got a plan / To keep all the black people out of England...
But what about the other side of the situation? / All the English who living in another man's land?
To be fair, all those generations / Would have to come back to England.
All the English who say they're American / Would have to come back to England.
All the English who say they're Australian / Would have to come back to England.
All the English who say they're African / Would have to come back to England.
All the English in the Caribbean / Would have to come back to England.
He's
even inventive when performing a lighthearted tune like "Hands Off," which
plays with the conventions of sexual innuendo:
