Black Uhuru is my favorite reggae band. I like being able to say that; it impresses people who really care about reggae. I would hate people to think I’m a basic bitch who only listens to Legend by Bob Marley. I need them to know that I’m the kind of insufferable person who communicates entirely in obscure music references. Anyway, it’s not because I actually really want to impress that one guy or whoever. I can admit that I don’t, in fact, know that much about reggae music. There’s a world of it that I don’t know about. Everything after about 1990 is a blank map to me. And it would be cool if someone offered to educate me about it.
I love how this Black Uhuru song throws you for a little bit of a loop. First you’re lulled by the groove, like you can just zone out to it, then at about halfway, the chorus kicks in with a strong reminder of just where reggae culture came from. It’s not just a groove, it’s a raised fist. Which is what reggae music is all about; it’s a Trojan horse that teaches political lessons under the guise of music you can groove to. I’ve always appreciated Black Uhuru for their songwriting, for striking a balance of making strong points but writing them poetically.
Can anyone hazard a guess what this one is about? Black Uhuru have lot of songs of great political and social import, but this isn’t one of them. Sometimes you just have to celebrate the basic stuff, I guess, and if there’s one thing everybody likes about Rasta culture, well, you guessed it.