Rainford (2019)
Perry’s
umpteenth studio album was co-produced with dub reggae producer extraordinaire
Adrian Sherwood. Perry as ever provides the vocals, sounding, yes, like an
elderly man, but a man with fire still burning in his belly.
Some tracks
have a freestyle, go-with-the-flow format, with Biblical allusions that veer
into babbling chants, snarls and shrieks.
The final
track, perhaps ominously but appropriately, is ‘Autobiography of the Upsetter’,
and while I expect Perry to continue for a few more years yet there will
naturally be a point at which the book is closed. This feels like some sort of
career-capping memoir as Perry reminisces on his life in music.
Unfortunately,
the vocals ebb and flow and there are words that are hard to comprehend. He
begins by saying he was born Rainford Henry Perry in Jamaica in 1936, informing
the listener that his father was a freemason, his mother an Eto Queen (no, I
don’t know either) … “They shared a drink together, they then go on to make a
Godly being/ Just look at me.”
Among his
reminisces are how, he says, he made the Wailers, and in particular its
frontman:
“Bob Marley come to me saying ‘my cup is overflow, my cup is overflow,
and I don’t know what to do. Can you help Mister Perry?’ Yes I can, I give you
Punky Reggae Party.”
He later reminds listeners of his work with Susan Cadogan, who had a
number of big reggae hits in the UK including the Perry-produced ‘Hurt So Good’.
A couple of
tracks, if we are honest, don’t quite continue the quality but ‘Makumba Rock’
partially makes up for such slackness – it is an unhinged jam where Perry
alternately cries like a baby, bleats like a goat, and whines “I want my mommy,
I want my daddy” as heraldic horns blast forth and a hardcore dub rhythm
transports the listener back to 1974 and near the end warns Britons: “Prince
Charles will not be King.”
The Black Album (2018)
This is the artwork, but it suggests a theme. Or a statement.
With Robbie Lyn and former Perry producer Daniel Boyle in tow, Perry has created an album that harks back to the 1970s halcyon days of reggae and dub. To add to the retro feel each track is followed by its dub version, which means that the vinyl version spills over on to two disks. Some of these versions are as good as, or perhaps even better, than its daddy.
The opening track, ‘Mr Brown In Town’, includes Perry’s declaration that “I'm still alive, refuse to die”. You can’t argue with that.
Continuing with the colour theme, let’s skip to ‘Your Shadow Is Black’, a track that has that roots reggae feel as Scratch and background harmonies mingle in true 1975 fashion with obscure, repetitive lyrics rattling off frenetically. Then hold on for the dub version with the beautiful amalgam of flute and melodica brought to the forefront with a minimal amount of lyrics.
The Beatles reference at the beginning wasn’t merely a clutch at an album with similar tones of colour. The Black Album includes ‘Dub at Abbey Road’, which is not a version but the original track, that sees the apparently mad Jamaican recall The Beatles’ heyday and their LSD consumption.
Furthermore, the vocal sessions for this album were held in the famous Abbey Road studio where the Scousers recorded the eponymous album half a century ago.
I immediately struck up a rapport with ‘Captain Perry’ in which the gaffer transposes himself “on the high seas .. on the moonbeam .. on the mother ship …”. He doesn’t miss a trick, so the female backing singers would have us believe.
Those vocal harmonies lend a contrast to Perry’s limited range, a clear flaw in the album but it would also appear, if I listen really intently, that this is a trick to deliver some risqué statements. Stripped of the mumblings, the dub version, with its focus on the chorus is a superior, minimalist beast.
Clearly, Perry will keep going until his body stops, and even as I write I see there’s a new album with Brian Eno (yes, that Eno) which we’ll endeavour to get to as well.
