Junior Murvin | Muggers in the Street

Reupped here. RIP

[Originally posted on October 1, 2012.] Found a couple of weekends ago in Millennium Records (4045 White Plains Road). Actually, owing to the bizarre lettering on the cover of this one, whoever had added this CD to the shelves had placed it upside down pointing face outward, so my eye kept gravitating toward it, trying to figure out what it was. I finally asked the owner: "Hey what is that grayish-blue CD with the bizarre lettering?"

"Junior Murvin," he said, once he'd figured out what I was talking about, and brought the CD down for me to examine up close. "You know him; he did 'Police and Thieves.'"

The owner was right: Though I'm no fount of knowledge when it comes to reggae, I had certainly heard "Police and Thieves" before, and not just the Clash's version--although, admittedly, that's where I'd heard it first.

Junior Murvin, who's still alive, was not particularly prolific: Muggers in the Street was only one of seven total albums (not counting compilations) he released over the years since debuting with "Police" in 1977.

Oh, and before I forget ... as I said in previous posts, I'm considering changing the layout of this blog to something more like this. But in a sense, it's your blog, not mine, and I'd like you to decide what format you'd like to experience when you visit the Bodega. A couple of people have already chimed in, but I'd like to hear your thoughts as well ...

Upper Hutt Posse | Te Reo Maori Remixes

 

Listen to "Te Hono Whakakoro" 

 

Listen to "Tangata Whenua" 

Listen to "Anei Ko Te Wiya" from the bonus MC Wiya disc

Grab it all here.

One of the many projects I've been working on recently has been the steady compiling of songs for a politicized global rap mix. So imagine my Blueberry Hill-level thrill when, tonight after work, I decided to stop by the Asia Society to check out the super freaky Lin Tianmiao show and, in a remainder bin in the bookstore, found this CD by hyper-politicized Aotearoa / New Zealand hip-hop group, Upper Hutt Posse. 

This band, which got its start playing  reggae in 1985, is probably the greatest thing musically to have ever come out of this particular Polynesian island country. In addition to socially-conscious lyrics, the music itself is utterly thrilling, as thrilling in places as Public Enemy was in their day. (Don't believe me? Give "Tangata Whenua" a whirl.)

From the band's Wikipedia page:

UHP formed as a four-piece reggae band in 1985. Since their inception, Dean Hapeta (also known as D Word or Te Kupu) and the Posse have been fighting racial injustice through their music. In 1988 they released New Zealand's first rap record and their first 12-inch hip hop record, "E Tū", through Jayrem Records. The song combined African American revolutionary rhetoric with an explicitly Māori frame of reference. It pays homage to the rebel Māori warrior chiefs of Aotearoa's colonial history, Hone Heke, Te Kooti, and Te Rauparaha.

Writing about the band, Stephen Zepke insisted that "Upper Hutt Posse aren't a symptom of the recent rise in Maori activism, they're a cause." 

Orits Williki | Mubalamumbe

Listen to "A Way We A Go Do"

Get it all here.

In the contentious field of contemporary American poetry, nothing is ever as hotly contested as issues around identity and self-expression. I believe this, in part, having been involved in a particularly public, at times brutal debate around this poem in 2006.

But American poetry is hardly the only arena in which ideas and expressions of identity can be cause for controversy. In Orits Williki's case, his claim to Ethiopian roots is, in his home country of Nigeria, a cause for ridicule--not that I personally understand why that should be so. (Read more about this here.)

What strikes me as odd in this case is that no similar questioning seems to arise around Williki's decision to use reggae as the musical vehicle for his social/religious protest songs. His claim to having Ethiopian roots seems perfectly reasonable, especially after reading the interview above; it is in his use of reggae wherein he is, literally, adopting a cultural persona.

That, of course, is what I would argue makes his music remarkable--more interesting, I would argue further, than a measurable percentage of "legitimate" contemporary reggae. And not simply because it is an example of someone playing with identity, but because the music, at least on this particular album, is good enough that it makes me genuinely excited about the genre. 

I found this gem at an African grocery store in a southwestern suburb of Dallas this weekend while on the way to a Vietnamese restaurant that had been highly recommended. Though the pho was merely so-so, accidentally finding this treasure on the way more than made up for it.

Alton Ellis | Get Ready for Rock Reggae Steady

Listen to "Mad, Mad, Mad"


Listen to "I'm Just a Guy"

Get the whole 20-track collection here.

As I said yesterday, I spent a good portion of my Sunday this week up on White Plains Road in the Bronx, where I plucked a number of fabulous items from a Nigerian drug store and a couple of black music focused record/CD/cassette stores.

Today's selection was found at Millennium Records (4045 White Plains Road), the last place I visited before hopping on the train back home to Astoria. I asked the guy behind the counter, Pablo, who seemed like the owner of the place, how well the store was doing and was happily surprised when he told me that he does a pretty brisk business.

"We have a few white guys who come up here for the records; we sell a lot of those," he told me. "And the current R&B section is very, very popular." The majority of CDs he had for sale were from the Caribbean or the U.S.--at least, so I thought. "Many of these," he said, pointing to an area of what looked like ska and reggae, "are actually from overseas; London."

"And they sell?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," he said, smiling. It was not a long conversation but, I have to say, it was one of the most life-affirming I've had in recent memory. Imagine! A music store that is actually doing brisk business. And providing a real cultural service for the community that surrounds it. I picked up the Alton Ellis he had, as well as another CD that I will likely post in the next week or so.

Alton Ellis, aka "The Godfather of Rocksteady," started his career as a singer in 1959 as one half of the duo Alton and Eddy (the other half being Eddy Perkins). After scoring a couple of hits, Perkins moved to the U.S., leaving Alton in Kingston, where he found work as a printer. When he lost his job, he took up music again in earnest, initially working with others as part of a group or duo.

This retrospective CD (from 1999) begins with Alton's first solo recordings in 1967 and follows his career for another seven or so years--the latest track here is from 1974. If you like it, stick around; I'll be posting a number of things this week and next that I found on White Plains Road yesterday.

La Merde Chaude! | 19 Hot French Trax

Listen to "Quai No 3"



Listen to "Le P'tit Clown De Ton Coeur"



Listen to "Sex Accordeon Et Alcool"



Listen to "Le Travail"



Listen to "Au Revoir"


Get the 19-song mix here.


Despite New York's reputation as one of the most expensive cities on earth, there is not a single day of the year that you can't find at least one totally free event to partake in--everything from live performances to gallery openings to street fairs. Today, of course, was Bastille Day on 60th Street in Manhattan, which is held annually on the Sunday following the actual Bastille Day. For several long blocks along 60th Street, just below Central Park, you can listen to free live music as you wander by stalls offering French eats, groceries, knick-knacks, books and--you guessed it--music. 

Last year, I picked up three French hip-hop records for $1 each, one of which I posted here. At today's fair, the Alliance Francaise Library was offering French CDs withdrawn from their library for 25 cents apiece. I happened to be at their stall the moment they opened. Fifteen seconds after they opened, I walked away with all 16 CDs they had out for sale. I knew it was a gamble; after all, these were rejects, la merde de la merde. I stuffed them all in my backpack and promptly forgot about them as I wandered around, taking in the sights and smells and sounds. Hours later, when I returned home, I plopped the first CD into my computer to have a quick listen (Arthur H's first album, Arthur H--that's an image of him from the back of the CD at the top of this post).

The opening track, "Quai No 3" (listen to sample above), had me sitting up and taking notice. I created a new playlist in iTunes, titled it "Merde," and dragged the song into it. Not that I thought every album was going to be a winner, or even have single listenable track. But I thought it would be fun--and appropriately French--to perform a kind of oulipian experiment using the Alliance Francaise Library's withdrawn CDs I had picked up this year and last.

When the second CD (Johnny Hallyday's Les Grands Success De Johnny Hallyday--second sample above) turned out to be as great as the first, I figured I'd just gotten lucky. When the third, fourth and fifth CDs all proved to each be as fabulous as the last, I almost started to cry. Really? I'd spent four lousy bucks on this merde. And all of it was kicking my ass.

In creating tonight's mix-tape I gave myself a couple of rules: (1) I could only include one track per CD and (2) I had to use EVERY CD I'd gotten at the fair, both this year and last. I admit that I broke the second rule--while I found a couple of tracks on Florent Pagny's Re:Creation that didn't make me want to do violence to myself, I also remembered how OuLiPo creators had embraced the "clinamen"--or "unpredictable swerve." In layman's terms, it means the Oulipians allowed themselves one opportunity to cheat. So I took mine.

That said, this is an effing supremely fabulous mix, especially considering the fact that I only passed on one of the CDs I picked up in the last two years at a street fair. Do note, however, that while I did stay true to the first rule of only including one song per CD, I wound up getting two CDs each by two artists Java and Dominique A, which is just as well, as they're both incredible. Also, JL Murat's Lilith is a two-CD set; I picked a song from each disc.

Obviously, this is not a representative sample of contemporary French pop. It seems skewed toward the experimental (Franck Vigroux's collaboration with Elliott Sharp!) and the music dates from as far back as the 60s to the present, with quite a bit of 90s action.

If there's anything you find yourself particularly thrilled by, let me know and I'll perhaps post a few entire CDs of the creme de la merde.

Greatest music video ever?

Zom Ammara and Joey Boy

Download an mp3 of this song here.

This solves the mystery of who this was, btw.

Thai Reggae | Half Bob Marley, Half Original

Four songs from the CD above.

Download the entire CD in a single zip file here.

I don't take the current situation in Thailand lightly. I had long ago planned to upload this CD, which I found in the previously mentioned Thai store in Manhattan's Chinatown--on Mulberry? Elizabeth? Below Canal, at any rate.

It is, to me, one of the oddest CDs I've ever picked up. Half of the songs--every odd numbered song, beginning with #1--is a Bob Marley cover, but sung in Thai. Every other song--the even numbered songs--are what I believe are original songs, also in Thai.

Surprisingly--or perhaps not so surprisingly--it's actually exceptionally well done. Having spent my formative years in the 80s in San Francisco and Berkeley, I was pretty sure that I never, ever, ever, ever wanted to hear Bob Marley again. That was admittedly before I knew there was a band in Thailand covering his songs.

It would feel crassly hand-wringingly holier-than-thou to dedicate this upload to the Thai protesters, so I won't.

But, still.