A few weeks back, I tried to describe the new Swollen Members disc bycalling it "juvenile", and the word applies to the latest effort byKingston dancehall psychos Ward 21, too, but not in the same way atall: where Swollen Members sound so earnest about their high-schoolpimpin' fantasies that you really have to cringe, the lyrics to a Ward21 song like "Coochie Zone", which shouldbe offensive, end up being balanced off by production and a publicimage so completely off its gourd that you just sort of have to cackleand nod your head to the beat. "But Taylor," my Inner Liberal ArtsMajor chides, "aren't you just belittling the efforts of hardworkingJamaican musicians to keep the world from noticing your microscopicoppressor's wee-wee?" "Shut the hell up, Inner Liberal Arts Major," Ireply, more than a bit self-conscious about how cold it is in here,"These nutcases use the word 'cocky' as a noun about every third track;how seriously do you really think they want to be taken?" My Inner ArtsMajor slinks off to wonder exactly what a "cocky" is, and I spend thenext 70 minutes digging the fact that it's possible to make a dancehallrecord with bagpipe noises, tacky '80s dance-pop riffs, and lyricsabout Michael Jackson's flaming Pepsi hair. Plenty of other, moretraditional sounds are put to use on U Know..., too, and Itired of the constant falsetto squawking of the album's title wheneverthe mix got thin, but the lunatic elements are hard to dislike, andthey're definitely the focus of the group's sound, so until Weenone-ups them by locking themselves in King Jammy's studio and making abrilliant album out of reverb-soaked farting noises, this is going tobe my Crazy Jamaican Album of choice.samples:
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