Showing posts with label Gil Scott-Heron. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gil Scott-Heron. Show all posts

Thursday, October 6, 2022

Shots in the Dark: The Adjusters "Otis Redding Will Save America"

The album cover features images of a factory, children shooting water pistols at each other, and a large 1970s American car parked on a street.
Editor's note: Shots in the Dark spotlights Third-Wave ska releases that should have been massive hits on the scene but, due to bad timing, poor luck, or a fickle record-buying public, were lost in the fray.

(Appreciation by Steve Shafer)

The Band: The Adjusters, an overtly left-wing, mod-ish ska-soul band from Chicago who were heavily influenced by The Redskins (anti-fascist, socialist soul-rockabilly-punk skinheads, who released several singles and one classic album, Neither Washington Nor Moscow) and Billy Bragg (anti-fascist, socialist folk-punk rocker who still endeavors to write protest songs that are about both the personal and political, and has released a host of singles and albums, including my favorite Talking to the Taxman About Poetry, which sports the best-ever critique of Reagan's Cold War-era USA: "Help Save the Youth of America" (some of which is terrifyingly relevant again*)). This interracial, mixed-gender band was composed of Daraka Larimore-Hall (who is half-Jamaican) and Jessica Basta on vocals, Jason Packer on guitar, Matt Parker on organ/piano, Rench on drums, vocals, and samples, and Joshua Thurston-Milgrom on bass.

The Sound: The Adjusters' incendiary 1997 debut Politics of Style (Jump Up Records) veers between Stax soul, JB funk, rootsy reggae, and traditional (not 2 Tone) ska. Their 1998 follow-up on Moon Ska Records Before the Revolution (produced by Victor Rice) further refined the formula to greater effect with an even better collection of tracks (full disclosure, when I was at Moon Records I worked with the band promoting this record). 2003's Otis Redding Will Save America (blessed with a mind-blowingly good co-production by Rice and Rench) blended hip-hop, Big Beat, and trip-hop into the mix for a searing and unblinkered look at America in the years just before and after the Twin Towers fell.

The Release: The writing, recording, and mixing of The Adjusters' Otis Redding Will Save America  straddled one of the most dramatic paradigm shifts in American history: the immediate pre- and post-9/11 years. The relatively peaceful and prosperous Clinton '90s wound down with an absurd impeachment over lying about sex (and we didn't fully comprehend the portents of the 1993 World Trade Center attack and 1995 Oklahoma City bombing and how they would shape the next two decades). The first dotcom bubble burst and the Y2K freakout was (thankfully) a bust.

The George W. Bush years started badly with an election swung his way by the right-wingers on the Supreme Court and only went down from there. After apparently ignoring our intelligence service's red alert signals about the coming terrorist attacks, Bush led the nation into a particularly nightmarish and tragic period in the USA following 9/11. It all culminated in the appalling--and completely unnecessary and unprovoked--2003 Iraq War (that eventually killed around 4,500 American servicepeople, tens of thousands of Iraqi insurgents, and around 600,000 Iraqi civilians). Even as it was all unfolding back then, it was obvious that the George W. Bush Administration was lying that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction and that Saddam Hussein was behind the 9/11 attack. They simply wanted to justify a preordained invasion of that country (when it was likely that elements within the Saudi government helped the al-Qaida terrorists carry out their mission).

The 9/11 attacks did more than murder several thousand Americans. They shook us to our core and unleashed our darkest impulses in our so-called War on Terror--leading us to abandon our laws and values to assuage our security fears and nurture our lust for revenge. And our country did more to destroy itself and betray everything that America purports to stand for than 12 hijackers could ever dream of accomplishing.

(Just as a reminder, here are some of the appalling lowlights of our War on Terrorthe torture--and waterboarding is torture--and indefinite detention of suspected terrorists; the use of extraordinary rendition; the illegal monitoring and wiretapping of Americans' e-mails and phone calls under The Patriot Act; the profiling and quasi-legal surveillance of American Muslims; the "unitary executive" theory and use of Presidential signing statementsthe Bush Administration's deliberate misinterpretation and shredding of our nation's laws; and does anyone remember that insane psych-op weekend when Americans across the country freaked out after the White House suggested that Americans buy duct tape and plastic sheeting in case of a dirty bomb/bio-chemical attack?)

The Adjusters believed that America--which has never quite lived up to its promise in the Declaration of Independence that all people are created equal and have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness--had not only lost its shit but had badly lost its way.

While the band was recording the album in Version City's spartan basement studio on East Third Street in Manhattan, one of the band members visited the restroom of the bar upstairs and noticed something written on the toilet stall wall (in what would become their own Smells Like Teen Spirit moment): Otis Redding will save America.

Eventually, The Adjusters realized that this phrase encapsulated everything they were trying to convey with this album. Otis Redding, the "King of Soul," had attempted to goad America into locating its conscience as it staggered through one of its most turbulent, violent, and hate-filled decades. He was one of the first Black soul singers who broke through to the white rock audience (see this video from the '67 Monterey Pop Festival) as an undisguised, undiluted, and unbowed Black man (in the 1960s, Black men accepted within white pop culture usually weren't permitted to be regular human beings who could express, or be the overt object of, sexual desire--see the constraints placed on Sidney Poiter by Hollywood). This was at a time when America was forced to come to terms with its white supremacist/Jim Crow legacy and recognize and support the equal/legal rights of Black American citizens; endure a string of devastating political and racial assassinations (JFK, MLK, Jr., RFK, Malcolm X, Medgar Evers, and many lesser-known Civil Rights martyrs); and muddle through an unwinnable, imperialistic proxy war with China and Russia in Vietnam that killed 58,200 young US soldiers (average age: 23) and millions of Vietnamese

To give some context to Redding's extraordinary and unprecedented impact on American society, check out this appreciation in The New Yorker: "Marching in place to keep pace with the beat, pumping his fists in the air, striding across stages with a long-legged gait that parodied his “down home” origins, Redding’s confident yet unaffected eroticism epitomized the African-American ideal of a “natural man.” White audiences of the time had never seen anything like it. The effect was so powerful that Bob Weir, of the Grateful Dead, said, of Redding’s performance at the Monterey Pop Festival, "I was pretty sure I’d seen God onstage"...In the way he looked and the way he sang and the way he led his tragically unfinished life, this princely son of Georgia sharecroppers was a one-man repudiation of the depraved doctrine of "white supremacy," whose dark vestiges still contaminate our world." (After over 4,000 documented lynchings of Black Americans from 1877 to 1950, the US finally has the Emmitt Till federal anti-lynching bill on the books, which was signed into law by President Biden and defines lynching as "a hate crime that results in death or serious bodily injury.")

To heal the nation, Redding pleaded with everyone to "try a little tenderness," which isn't just about relations between the sexes. The country needed (and still needs) heaping doses of empathy for white America to see Black Americans as their fellow human beings. But Redding also insisted that respect be shown to Black citizens in his hit song transformed into an early feminist and Civil Rights anthem by Aretha Franklin. Notably, Redding's posthumous hit "Dock of the Bay" underscored the loneliness and aimlessness of being rejected by the society that birthed and (reluctantly) fostered you.

While Redding never finished his journey (he died in a plane crash at age 26 along with most of the members of his backing band the Bar-Kays), his music and insistence on being his unreserved self in public on stage offered the hope that America could be a pluralistic society that embraced diversity and recognized everyone's rights equally.

For Otis Redding Will Save America, The Adjusters expanded their sound to further explore/honor Black American music beyond their mod-ska-soul mix and incorporated hip-hop and its musical descendants filtered through British subculture: trip-hop and Big Beat (Lionrock's "Rude Boy Rock" and Sly and Robbie's Drum & Bass Strip to the Bone by Howie B influenced this record enormously). Of course, practically all American popular music was created by Black American musicians: jazz, blues, R&B, soul, rock 'n' roll, and hip hop (Black music is one of the United States' most powerful cultural exports and a primary driver of our entertainment economy). And The Adjusters were about celebrating Black American music.

This expanded musical palette may have been a bridge too far for hard-line ska fans, but The Adjusters never comfortably fit within the confines of the '90s US ska scene, which skewed more towards punk rock (it's worth noting that in its original '76-'77 incarnation, punk stripped rock 'n' roll of its Black origins in R&B and gospel). And The Adjusters' overt democratic socialist stance and political activism through Modern Action and the Democratic Socialists of America was sometimes a sore point among the reactionary, almost libertarian (barf) elements of the ska fan base (even though some of our country's most popular social and educational programs--Social Security, Medicare, Veterans Administration, public schools, public universities, public libraries--are all socialist in nature). But The Adjusters never cared about discomforting the comfortable and privileged (see Daraka's comments about the 1998 Ska Against Racism Tour in the Chicago Reader**).

Like The Specials, The Adjusters wanted their music to move your body and their message to stimulate your mind. So, Otis Redding Will Save America is equal parts party soundtrack and political rallying cry--both essential for surviving desperate times. And it's one of the best albums that the '90s ska scene ever yielded.

Otis Redding Will Save America opens with "WTF Ska" an old school-sounding tune that's laid over a decidedly new school drum loop (this ain't downtown JA!). It's the instrumental version of "When Things Fall," which appears later on the record and is an appeal for solidarity across race and class lines in the face of injustice and adversity--and pretty much sums up the theme of the entire album. The Adjusters' superb and powerful cover of Gil Scott-Heron's "Gun" is about the fraying of the social contract (to the point where every one of your fellow citizens is a potential threat) and a society where violence and killing are both way of life and entertainment.

Everybody's got a pistol
Everybody's got a .45
And the philosophy seems to be
At least as near as I can see
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine

This is a violent civilization
If civilization's where I am
'Cause every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam

But Saturday night just ain't that special
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run
Yeah, 'cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life
You got to understand to get it in hand about the guns


"Can't See the Light," an original, traditional-sounding rocksteady cut (that features Dr. Ring Ding), is about being comfortably numb and disconnected as the world burns around you--and refusing to take sides or even recognize right from wrong (and alludes to The Clash coming to terms with reality with this lyric: So safe and warm in your nice suburban home). "Master Blaster" is, of course, a Stevie Wonder cover. It's his 1980 reggae tribute to Bob Marley that incorporates part of "Jammin'" and celebrates Zimbabwe's hard-fought independence from their colonial British overlords and Black self-determination, in general (Jessica Basta takes lead vocals here and really shines).

Sounding like a lost Public Enemy cut from It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back, "If You" is an extraordinary and wickedly fierce hip-hop track featuring the mighty T.O.N.E. on vocals and built on a sample from Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" (most famously used during a brutal attack on a Vietnamese village just after the "Charlie don't surf scene" in Apocalypse Now). It offers sharp commentary on how bringing about real change demands so much more than performative gestures.***

If you're sick of seeing Black people gettin' shit
Raise your fist (raise 'em up, raise 'em up)
And if you're sick of seeing women gettin' hit
Raise your fist (raise 'em up, raise 'em up)
And if you're sick of seeing poor people gettin' dissed
Raise your fist (put 'em up, put 'em up)
And if you wanna do something 'bout it
You gotta do more than raise your fist to get pissed

The downbeat "Monkey Hate Reggae" is about a disaffected youth in a no-future rust belt town coming under the sway of a "right-wing libertine" and acting out violently as a result (shades of "Clampdown"). The ebullient "The Fightback, Part II" revisits and amps up this funk-powered Before the Revolution track, but recasts its lyrics to laud the massive antiglobalization protests at the 1999 World Trade Organization's meeting in Seattle ("Corporations split the world in two/Which side, which side for you?...You can't fight the man alone/Fuck with the people and the people fight back").

The instrumental booty-shaking dancefloor-filling portion of Otis Redding Will Save America is a collection of genre-bending trip-hop tracks packed with elements of reggae, funk, and hip-hop, plus samples galore (this entire album features some seriously deep grooves and crazy, next-level rhythms thanks to secret weapon Rench). The awesome "Mumia in Tibet" (which refers to Mumia Abu-Jamal) is like a drum 'n' bass mash-up with something off Jump With Joey's Ska Ba"Boomstick" borrows Musical Youth's intro to "Pass the Dutchie" ("This generation...rules the nation...with version!") for this fantastic percussive workout. And "Supergoodlookin" brings the funk for when you want to get down and funky ("...take it home if you like it/Finger-licking good/Take it home if you like it").

Otis Redding Will Save America concludes with the sobering reality of "It's Like That." The struggle for equality and social/economic justice is far from over and must continue at all costs, despite people's apathy and the considerable power of the forces perfectly happy with/exploiting the status quo: "Can't tell the rich man to stop scheming/But we can change this shitstem/If only we look past the horizon...You may not feel the situation/But give it a generation/It's not gonna look good to my grandchildren."

The Ugly Reality: The Adjusters' Otis Redding Will Save America was released just a few years after the ska meltdown at the end of the 1990s when the scene was abandoned by the wannabes and driven/shamed back underground. So, the audience to enjoy it and the scene infrastructure to promote it was largely gone. And it didn't help that Otis Redding Will Save America was only available as an import from Grover Records in Germany. Right after The Adjusters finished recording the album, Moon Ska went under (on December 17, 2000), but Bucket was kind enough to release the unmixed masters to the band so they could finish and issue the record elsewhere. After the album was released by Grover, plans were in place to tour Europe in support (Daraka was living in Norway at the time and other members of the band took leave of their jobs or quit), but everything was canceled at the last minute. The band broke up as a result--and none of the tracks on Otis Redding Will Save America were ever played live.

It's also incredibly ironic that an album about the battle for America's soul has never been released domestically. But perhaps worst of all is that these songs about racism, hatred, inequity, gun violence, and the longing to change the power structure of our economy and political system are still painfully relevant almost 20 years later, maybe even more so now than they were in 2003.

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Notes:

* I happened to catch Billy Bragg at The Beacon Theater on his brilliant first tour of North America in 1984 opening for Echo and the Bunnymen during their magnificent Ocean Rain tour.

** [From the Chicago Reader's "Ska's Lost Cause" article:] "The Adjusters’ Larimore was more skeptical. “Not talking about racism as a system, or racism as something that you should be actively fighting against, but talking about it like, ‘You shouldn’t be mean to black people,’ is just ridiculous,” he said. “It’s like the 2-Tone take on racism, which in the 2-Tone context meant something completely different. There you had a racially diverse scene where people were beating each other up, so going out and saying ‘Hey, don’t beat each other up’ was a progressive thing and part of the more socialist agenda of the people behind 2-Tone. But going to a ska crowd that’s 99 percent white and pretty solidly liberal–especially on race issues–and saying ‘Don’t beat up black people’ is like going out and saying ‘Don’t molest children.’ They might as well do Ska Against Incest.”"

*** Here are some of my favorite verses from "If You" worth quoting here:

If I'm a villain
Let's love the penicillin
I'm not sick with crimes
I'm sick with rhymes
New gang bang
I bang slang for fame
Guiliani, ha!, punany
The same thang...

And

Smiling faces lyin' to the races
You got a facelift, but you're still a racist
You might like your blunder
My hatred alone will rend you asunder
I've got a mind to triumph my will
Look in my eyes, got expression to kill
Syllogisms for your fascisms
You won't find me in your high-tech prisons
Damn!


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Much thanks to Daraka Larimore-Hall for filling in a few of the blanks and providing several corrections.

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Monday, December 21, 2020

Duff Review: The Archives "Carry Me Home: A Reggae Tribute to Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson"

The cover features a Rhodes keyboard viewed from above, with a flute and handwritten lyrics on pieces of paper resting on it, and a pair of hands on the keys.
Montserrat House
2 x LP/CD
2020

(Review by Steve Shafer)

The idea for Carry Me Home: A Reggae Tribute to Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson came about when Darryl "Trane" Burke, the keyboardist for the superb Washington, DC reggae band The Archives, learned that Gil Scott-Heron's father was Jamaican, and he realized that he had never heard any reggae covers of Scott-Heron's songs. Gill Scott-Heron was, of course, the extraordinary and highly-influential Black American poet, author, and jazz-influenced soul and funk musician who was most active in the 1970s and '80s, and whose songs addressed systemic racism, social and political injustice, and promoted Black pride. Burke then enlisted the help of Eric Hilton of Thievery Corporation, who agreed to co-produce the album with Burke and release it on his label (Hilton had issued The Archives debut album in 2012 on his ESL Music label); and legendary reggae percussionist Larry McDonald (Lee "Scratch" Perry, The Skatalites, Toots and the Maytals, Peter Tosh), who was a member of Scott-Heron’s band Amnesia Express back in the '80s and '90s. McDonald, of course, knew long-time Scott-Heron collaborator Brian Jackson (he and Scott-Heron recorded seven albums together in the 1970s), who was intrigued by the project and agreed to perform on several tracks. 

The results of this collaborative effort are spectacular. Carry Me Home is a triumphant reimagining of Scott-Heron and Jackson's indelible and indispensable songs (beautiful Trojan Horse-like music delivering devastatingly pointed lyrics into listeners' minds) as soulful reggae cuts in the vein of The Wailers, Steel Pulse, and Black Uhuru. The album is essentially bookended by two of their most powerful and--yes--still disturbingly relevant songs, Scott-Heron's "Home Is Where the Hatred Is" and Scott-Heron and Jackson's "Winter in America." A metaphor for a dysfunctional and cruel society (America, writ large) that forces many of its people to seek escape by any means necessary, "Home Is Where the Hatred Is" (from 1971's Pieces of a Man) is heartbreaking in the mass suffering and wasted potential that it hints at. This is what happens when a nation decides that Black lives don't really matter: 

"Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it
Might not be such a bad idea if I never
Never went home again...

...Home is where I live inside my white powder dreams
Home was once an empty vacuum that's filled now with my silent screams
Home is where the needle marks
Tried to heal my broken heart..."

Puma Ptah's vocals are filled with so much sorrow on this track--and his singing is highly evocative and affecting throughout this album (as if he's channeling the unheard music of so many singers).

In the waning days of the disastrous Trump years, when racism, corruption, incompetence, cruelty, cronyism, inequity, lies, Covid-19, and outright sedition (I still can't believe that there was an out-in-the-open attempted coup by a sitting president abetted by the majority of Republicans in both houses of Congress!) have run wild and nothing good and right seems to matter, Scott-Heron and Jackson's mournful "Winter in America" (from their 1975 album Midnight Band: The First Minute of a New Day) feels uncomfortably prescient:

"And now it's winter
Winter in America
And all of the healers done been killed or sent away
Yeah, and the people know, the people know
It's winter
Winter in America
And ain't nobody fighting
‘Cause nobody knows what to save"

Augustus Pablo's wonderfully gifted son Addis Pablo contributes melodica to the Dennis Bovell-sounding (and "Rivers of Babylon"-like themed) "Rivers of My Fathers" (from Scott-Heron and Jackson's 1974 album Winter in America): "Rubber soles against the concrete/And the concrete is my smile/Got to change my way of living/Got to change my style/Let me lay down by a stream/Miles from everything/Rivers of my fathers/Could you carry me home?" "Peace Go with You, Brother (As-Salaam-Alaikum)" (also from Winter in America) is plea for Black solidarity in the face of oppression. The toll of America's still unresolved legacy of slavery and racism on generations of Black Americans is pointedly raised on the plaintive "Who'll Pay Reparations on My Soul" (from Scott-Heron's 1970 album Small Talk at 125th and Lenox). Reworked in an awesome Lovers rock style, with impassioned vocals by Raheem Devaughn, "A Toast to the People" (from Scott-Heron and Jackson's 1975 album From South Africa to South Carolina) recognizes the awful burden and struggle Black Americans have faced, but is also hopeful that someday things will be better:

"And though it's been too long
Too many years have passed
And though the time has gone
The memory still holds fast
Yes, as strange as it seems
We still live in the past
The essence of a black life
Lost in the hourglass

And ever since we came to this land
This country has rued the day
When we would stand as one
And raise our voices and say
You know there won’t be no more killing
And no more talk of class
Your sons and your daughters
Won't die in the hourglass...

...A toast to all black fathers
Who live their lives in vain
A toast to all black mothers
Who shoulder this life in pain
A toast to the people"

With its sweet harmonizing and great, off-kilter percussive elements, the highlight of the album is "Must Be Something" (from their 1975 album Midnight Band: The First Minute of a New Day)--which brings Fishbone's "One Day" (from their 1988 record  Truth and Soul) to this reviewer's mind, as they're both about Black Americans living in a kind of limbo, since there's no clear answer as to how or when racial injustice will end (and it's not necessarily their responsibility to solve the problem, either): "Must be something we can do/We didn't come all this way just to give up/We didn't struggle all this time to say we've had enough."

One missed opportunity is "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" (from 1971's Pieces of A Man), Scott-Heron's truly groundbreaking musical poem that, in addition to the work of of The Last Poets and the deejay style of toasting in dancehall reggae, helped give birth to rap and hip-hop later that decade (via the JA-born, Bronx-raised DJ Kool Herc). Perhaps all of the dated early '70s references (John Mitchell, Spiro Agnew, Hooterville Junction, etc.) led Burke and company to opt for the mostly instrumental route here, but it would have been fantastic if they'd asked a guest musician (like Horseman AKA Winston Williams) to toast the original text, which is so funny and potent in its urging Black Americans to get involved in the struggle for racial equality, since change will not be brought about by the powers that be and sponsored by corporations for broadcast on TV. And if listeners didn't get some of the political, pop culture, and product references, they should look 'em up! (One stanza from the original that now chills one to the bone is: "There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay." How times have changed.)

There are two excellent dub versions of "Home is Where the Hatred Is" and "Rivers of My Fathers," as well as the terrific "Revolution Disguised as Change," penned by reggae poet/musician Mutabaruka (who performs on this song) and Burke, and lyrically inspired by "Winter in America" and "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"--the chorus reminds the listener that even though some progress has been made in the fight for racial equality, "It's not quite spring yet..." While I'm not well-versed in all of Gil Scott-Heron's music, with at least two business tycoons operating their own space programs (and NASA working on sending people to Mars), it would have been great if The Archives could have included a version of Scott-Heron's biting "Whitey on the Moon."

The Archives' Carry Me Home: A Reggae Tribute to Gil Scott-Heron and Brian Jackson is a stellar tribute to Scott-Heron and Jackson's extraordinary musical legacy, and one of the best albums I've heard all year.


Thursday, August 23, 2018

Duff Review: The Last Poets (w/Prince Fatty and Nostalgia 77) "Understand What Black Is"

Studio Rockers
Double LP/CD
2018

(Review by Steve Shafer)

Anyone who's read Jeff Chang's pretty phenomenal history of the origins of hip-hop "Can't Stop Won't Stop" (particularly chapter 2, "Sipple Out Deh"--here's the money quote: "Dub's birth was accidental, its spread was fueled by economics, and it would become a diagram for hip-hop music. A space had been pried open for the break, for possibility. And, quickly, noise came up from the streets to fill the space--yard-centric toasts, sufferer moans, analog echoes--the sounds of people histories, dub histories, versions not represented in the official version.") knows how reggae helped birth hip-hop via DJ Kool Herc (Jamaican-born Clive Campbell, whose family emigrated to The Bronx when he was 12 and who brought his experience/knowledge of sound systems and Jamaican dancehall deejays/toasters with him as he started to DJ his own parties and used the percussive "breaks" from funk LPs--which he lengthened by repeatedly fading back and forth between the start and finish of the same break on two records--to lyrically rhyme over). Equally as influential on the creation of hip-hop were the sharply political and radical spoken word artists like The Last Poets (founded in 1968 on Malcolm X's birthday) and Gil-Scott-Heron, who were heavily influenced by the Black Power and Black Arts Movements of the 1960s and 1970s (which promoted "African-American intellectual achievement, political power, and cultural pride" and challenged America's institutional racism and culture of white supremacy) and typically delivered their poetry of "versions not represented in the official version" over backing jazz, blues, or soul instrumentals.

So, it's fitting that The Last Poets have engaged both Prince Fatty (Mike Pelanconi) and Nostalgia 77 (Ben Lamdin) to produce and write the driving and insistent roots reggae and Jamaican jazz musical accompaniment for Understand What Black Is (recorded for their 50th anniversary and also the first time their poetry has been paired with reggae which--as Linton Kwesi Johnson and Dennis Bovell have so aptly demonstrated--works quite well together). Stirred to action by the current (though not the first) white supremacist in the White House, The Last Poets continue to have much to say about the dismal racial state of our Union as far as Black people are concerned and the extraordinary impact that Black culture and creativity continues to have on America. Each of these songs is densely packed with compelling imagery and commentary (thankfully, there is a lyric insert). There is much to unpack, so much so that this album might be best digested in short sessions for maximum impact/reflection.

The title track "Understand What Black Is" illustrates the absurdity of racism as well re-orients our perspective from the dominant white, Western European lens, since "Black is humanity" (our collective origins trace back to decidedly non-white people in Africa--and everything about our species and its resilience and accomplishments has flowed from them): "Understand what Black is/The source from which all things come/The security blanket for the stars/Understand was Black is/It is not a color/It is the bases of all colors/It is not a complexion/It is a reflection/Of all complexions called human."

The righteously defiant "How Many Bullets" points out that despite centuries of enslavement, oppression, and murder, American racists have not--and can never--destroy the spirit, culture, and pride of Black people ("You can't kill what you can't see"). In a similar vein, the phenomenally epic "Rain of Terror" is a comprehensive history of white supremacy and racial violence in in the United States ("America's a terrorist!"), from the first white European settlers in the 1600s to the present--referencing mostly (and conveniently) forgotten horrific events like the destruction of Rosewood, the Tulsa race massacre, and the Philly police dropping a bomb on MOVE (seriously, this should be used in history classes across America as means to help kids to learn about our nation's outrageous and disgraceful treatment of non-white people throughout its existence).

Of course, not everything on Understand What Black Is is a bleak reminder of America's Original Sin. There's the lovely tribute to Prince in "North East West South" ("I will try to make sure that no Purple Rain gets stuck in the clouds again") and Biggie Smalls is remembered in "She Is." "What I Want To See" is about envisioning the best for everyone after witnessing the worst ("No prisons no locks no keys no killings no laws/To control the free of us/But a paradise a heaven on Earth/Where everyone can sing and dance/To their own music/And we live only to bless each other"). And "The Music" reminds the listener of an obvious but often not really recognized truth that pretty much all contemporary music that developed in the Americas (gospel, blues, jazz, rock, reggae, rap, salsa, etc.) is Black music with common roots in Africa spread throughout the "New World" via the slave trade.

To quote Max Romeo and Lee Perry, in these "sipple out deh" ("slippery out there") days, as America's Civil War continues to play out in the most grotesque ways, The Last Poets' Understand What Black Is provides a host of reasons to be angry, inspired, hopeful, and aware. It's the protest music that these times demand and good people need if a lasting change is ever going to come.

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