Fab Phang chugger. Barrington kills it; grooving dub.

Extended, with dubs.

Inspired singing, feel-the-vibes deejaying, and awesome Scientist/Tubbys mixes via Channel One in 1980.
Jeesus Chroyss, we noice.

Originally out in 1983, Love Power is co-produced by Fabian Cooke (from Itopia) and Lloyd Bullwackie Barnes, with assistance from Prince Douglas. Cooke plays most of the instruments himself, with his drumming centre-stage, though Ras Menelik puts in a brilliant shift on congas, and backing vocals are by Sugar Minott and the Love Joys. Cooke’s own well-crafted compositions are joined by covers of Irene Cara and the Four Tops, infectiously bridging roots, lovers and synthy, soulful eighties boogie.
Betrayed is solid-gold, signature Wackies. He’s My God is a tasty sip of low-slung, grooving gospel-reggae. Evoking Michael Jackson, the jamming album-closer Drums is top-notch disco-reggae, opportunely poised for revival.
Terrific stuff. Transgressive; full of personality and charm.

‘What about the half that’s never been told? The half, the half, the half that’s never been told.’

‘Politics have failed.’
Stone-classic Bullwackies (as excursioned by Rhythm & Sound for Burial Mix), sensationally throwing in two unreleased dubs, newly extracted from the master reels. Both are equally unmissable but quite different, with contrasting effects: the second dub adds ninety seconds, including whip-dem spring reverb. Drawn from the Selective Showcase LP, the vocal mix is more open and dubwise than the Sing & Shout LP offering, with less keyboards.
Asked whether it should be mash or march, after some pondering Bullwackies replied: ‘That’s a good question.’

A fresh iteration of the mid-eighties LP (itself a compilation of recordings from the previous five years or so), replacing two tracks — Dancing In The Rain and All Things — with their full 12” versions.
This is a deeply personable, expert, limber blend of roots and lovers, kicking off with an exclusive mix of the deadly Mash Down Babylon; dropping classic, lush, spaced-out Wackies dub science to close; and taking in reworkings of Lickshot, Billie Jean and The Righteous Flames’ I Was Born To Be Loved, along the route.
The moniker ‘Chosen Brothers’ is Lloyd Barnes’ spiritual way of sharing the credit for his solo projects. “Anyone in the studio at the time could be a Chosen Brother,” he says. In this case a full crew includes Sugar Minott and Prince Douglas at the desk; Jah Batta, Milton Henry, Wayne Jarrett and Junior Delahaye all on backing vocals; and such dream-team Bullwackies instrumentalists as Clive Hunt, Jerry Johnson, Fabian Cooke and Ras Menelik.

Deep, rootical lovers, darkly seething with one-step-at-a-time hurt and steely, vengeful self-esteem. Hypnotic, stripped and disconsolate, with implacable drums and bass, dubwise from the start, the production is classic, unmistakable Wackies, featuring Fabian Cooke’s scattered, abrupt organ stabs and minimal guitar-work, Ras Menelik’s masterful nyabinghi drumming, and harmonic commiseration by Sugar Minott and the Love Joys (with a strangled sob at intervals).
Over six minutes, the extended mix is different to the Love Power LP; and the additional dub, released here for the first time, is unmissable for its extra rawness and dubbed-out emptiness.
Plus thirteen minutes of blissful disco-reggae on the flip: two contrasting dubs of the Giorgio Moroder/Irene Cara/Flashdance cut from Love Power, both previously unreleased and a bit sick.

Previously unreleased but killer.
Jah B’s singing is softly sublime; discreetly channeling Bob Marley. People have wondered whether it’s a young Jah Batta; but insiders say it’s Al Moodie, from the same session as Bull Bay Jumping.
Both dubs are genius Wackies: trenchant Utopia rhythms, with shimmering, majestic brass.

Rudie will recognise Bobby Sarkie from The Tartans and The Immortals (not to mention his solo roots killer Better World). His singing here is expertly reined in by desolation, numbness and regret, over a hollowed-out, mesmeric rhythm, with some nasty synth-work and nonchalantly brilliant effects on the drums. The vocal cut is more than a minute longer than the version which opens the Jah Son Invasion album with such a flourish; and the mix is different, with more prominent keys, and toned-down bass. It’s previously unreleased, like the dub.
The B-side is booby-trapped with sensational instrumental excursions on Junior Delahaye’s Working Hard For The Rent Man and Jackie Mittoo’s almighty Drum Song, which conclude the same original tape-reel as Over And Over. Rent Rebate features masterful, boppish soprano saxophone-playing by Roland Alphonso, and restrained guitar interjections by Barry Vincent, with a Spanish tang. The superb hand-drumming on Mount Zion is by Ras Menelik; and it’s Mittoo himself on organ (or just maybe Clive Hunt, Wackies can’t quite remember).

Two magnificent, seething sides of rawly militant witness by the Black Morphologist of Dub.
Nuh Skin Up sets his livid, reeling reasoning to a churning, hypnotic Soul Syndicate rhythm, teeming with star-wars bleeps and lasers, and sick, parping synths.
‘The memories of some bad things will never erase… We’re angry. You make us angry.’
Felt We Felt The Strain picks up the pace with no alleviation of hurt and fury. It’s a dubwise steppers, sharpened by Chinna’s guitar, with unheimlich organ; haunted throughout by a kind of swirling white noise in the background, like a tornado of tortured souls.
Long-term Shaka staples in these extended mixes.
Utterly singular, compelling and unmissable; more timely than ever.
‘Nuh skin up’; ‘be serious’.

Classic, feel-good, disco-friendly Lovers Rock from 1980. Sonia is so happy she sings to herself.

Titfers off for Frankie Beverly. Don.

The reissue of Steve Barrow’s brilliant, powerhouse selection for Blood And Fire.

Biff, baff, boof.
Two hunks of deep Wackies roots; and an amazing, previously unreleased coup de grace.
First off, a haunting, dazed, raving account of being kicked out of a squat; with heavy bass, killer organ, sublime backing vocals, and a hurting, searing Stranger Cole. ‘We’ve got to find a better place.’
Then a tough instrumental outing on the same deadly, signature Wackies rhythm as Clive Hunt’s Black Rose, by Wanachi.
And on the flip: stark, visionary, semi-acoustic primitivism, from the same drama school as early Ras Michael & The Sons of Negus.
Unmissable Wackies.

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.

Super-heavyweight Aggrovators roots. Barry Brown at his very best; deadly, sombre horns; lethal Tubbys dub. Scorcher.

Angry, tear-up digi, both sides.
Two scorchers from 1989; blazing out of Annotto Bay, on the northeastern coast of JA.

Not a best-of compilation, this is the great singer’s fine fourth LP, squaring up to Roots in 1977, with the Revolutionaries.