Bob Marley - Exodus: 30th Anniversary Edition (Island)
Repeteco in english!
REGGAE would have been Jamaica’s secret had it not been for Bob Marley’s crusading songs of redemption, ripe with the fruit of human spirit.
As a man exiled from his homeland in the midst of political strife, a man who survived an attempt on his life no less, Exodus is a defiant act.
A celebration of his spirit and passion at a time when a lesser man could have been broken. If Natty Dread was the album which truly gave reggae its passport, Exodus gave it refugee status.
Recorded in 1977, it has aged well, despite familiarity threatening contempt; many of the tracks on Exodus have been co-opted by advertising executives at some time or another, looking to grease the wheels of consumerism with Marley’s iconic work.
Yet conversely, it could be argued that it is because of this integration into everyday culture, rather than being coveted jealously by a few, that Exodus has remained so fresh and contemporary.
This is an album that everybody should already own, and after some 50-plus weeks in the UK charts, clearly, many already do. It transcends the boundaries of what is expected from popular music.
Politically, Exodus is a statement; musically, it pulses with a joyous defiance. The rhythm is an hypnotic skank, almost psychedelic in green, gold and red hue.
Swagger
Perhaps it’s loosened by Marley’s stash of ganja, or The Wailers’ confident swagger, either way, there’s an r’n’b gloss to the production which suggests that Marley’s outlook was worldwide at the time, noting the works of soul and R’nB artists and applying that sonic clarity to the traditionally rustic spice of the roots reg-gae stew.
The great Curtis Mayfield’s People Get Ready is given a Trenchtown makeover, ending the album with a gospel inspired flood of unity and hope. Two values which shine consistently in Marley’s work.
Three Little Birds and Turn Your lights Down Low are essentially soul tracks with a strong Kingston lilt and dreadlocked hair.
Marley’s legacy is everywhere; from fathering a commercial acceptance of reggae, raising awareness of Rastafarianism, to paving the way for even more aggressive musical expressions of Jamaican identity, such as dancehall.
It is even preserved in ink, with Marley’s image, brandishing his Les Paul Junior like a machine gun, adorning posters and prints the world over.
This 30th anniversary edition comes in a bewildering array of formats and, really, one wonders what Marley himself would think of his album being available on a USB stick.
But, if you don’t own Exodus, preferably on the original vinyl pressing, then your record collection is most certainly incomplete. Buy it (on CD) while summer is still upon us.
REGGAE would have been Jamaica’s secret had it not been for Bob Marley’s crusading songs of redemption, ripe with the fruit of human spirit.
As a man exiled from his homeland in the midst of political strife, a man who survived an attempt on his life no less, Exodus is a defiant act.
A celebration of his spirit and passion at a time when a lesser man could have been broken. If Natty Dread was the album which truly gave reggae its passport, Exodus gave it refugee status.
Recorded in 1977, it has aged well, despite familiarity threatening contempt; many of the tracks on Exodus have been co-opted by advertising executives at some time or another, looking to grease the wheels of consumerism with Marley’s iconic work.
Yet conversely, it could be argued that it is because of this integration into everyday culture, rather than being coveted jealously by a few, that Exodus has remained so fresh and contemporary.
This is an album that everybody should already own, and after some 50-plus weeks in the UK charts, clearly, many already do. It transcends the boundaries of what is expected from popular music.
Politically, Exodus is a statement; musically, it pulses with a joyous defiance. The rhythm is an hypnotic skank, almost psychedelic in green, gold and red hue.
Swagger
Perhaps it’s loosened by Marley’s stash of ganja, or The Wailers’ confident swagger, either way, there’s an r’n’b gloss to the production which suggests that Marley’s outlook was worldwide at the time, noting the works of soul and R’nB artists and applying that sonic clarity to the traditionally rustic spice of the roots reg-gae stew.
The great Curtis Mayfield’s People Get Ready is given a Trenchtown makeover, ending the album with a gospel inspired flood of unity and hope. Two values which shine consistently in Marley’s work.
Three Little Birds and Turn Your lights Down Low are essentially soul tracks with a strong Kingston lilt and dreadlocked hair.
Marley’s legacy is everywhere; from fathering a commercial acceptance of reggae, raising awareness of Rastafarianism, to paving the way for even more aggressive musical expressions of Jamaican identity, such as dancehall.
It is even preserved in ink, with Marley’s image, brandishing his Les Paul Junior like a machine gun, adorning posters and prints the world over.
This 30th anniversary edition comes in a bewildering array of formats and, really, one wonders what Marley himself would think of his album being available on a USB stick.
But, if you don’t own Exodus, preferably on the original vinyl pressing, then your record collection is most certainly incomplete. Buy it (on CD) while summer is still upon us.
posted by Luiz Carlos | Quinta-feira, Junho 28, 2007
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