Hear Ghetto Priest's "They Call I Black" on BandCamp.com
According to the bio, Ghetto Priest is a former "football hooligan" turned petty criminal, gang-member, prisoner, Rastafarian, DJ and finally, having lived a hard life, survived it, and honed his natural talent, became a staple on the UK roots reggae label OnUSound Productions run by Adrian Sherwood.
I became familiar with 'Priest's music through a collaborative release in 2011 ("The Lion Of Judah Hath Prevailed; The Process Meets Ghetto Priest") with the Saginaw rock-reggae outfit The Process. That record included 'Priest's song "Ghetto Life", which captured the essence of the same with a sedated but serious reggae vibe. The single was intended to be a sneak-peek of an as yet unreleased full-length title called "Sacred Ground" slated for release sometime later in 2012.
But for now, Ghetto Priest offers another peek into his process with a limited-edition, five-song "mini-album" called "They Call I Black" (presumably shortened from the original title, "They Call I Black...but I'm Just Bruised", which appears on one of his webpages).
I'm glad this record came to me when it did because i hadn't fully realized how agitated and distracted I'd become from modern living. The music has been an antidote to my serotonin conditioning via cell-phone notifications; like a rat hitting a lever for his pellet (though i should admit, I wrote the whole review from the damn thing).
The overall mood on this record is contemplative with lyrics that are reflective, uplifting and self-affirming. I usually recoil from such things, but they're served in such a way as to be palatable - even to me.
The soundscapes on "They Call I Black" are dense and synthetic with guitars mostly playing a supporting role. When I say dense, i mean the treatment of the ambient effects feel like very thick air - which is apropos for the heat-wave we've been suffering in the summer in 2012, I suppose.
The arrangements are light on tension and long on endings which some listeners may find slightly frustrating at first; expecting a sonic roller-coaster with bells and whistles when what they get is a nice, wavy boat-ride with the wind in their face and the sea in their hair.
"They Call I Black" seems to be reaching for crossover appeal in the way Seal bridged the gap between soul and pop music in the early nineties. It offers a different view of Ghetto Priest on three of the six tracks which depart from his reggae roots. Two of the tracks, however (and one remix), are firmly in his genre. - and one of those, the purposefully-striding "The Time Has Come", is a gem that will find a permanent home on my playlist.
- Mitch Phillips
Track by track
On the lead-off track, "Wrapped In Prophesy", Ghetto Priest delivers a serious, mortality-pondering lyric over a soupy, tech-noir backing track that reminds me of a Daniel Lanois (Peter Gabriel) or Trevor Horn (Seal) production - my favorite periods from both those artists. The mood is downbeat, lush, and hypnotic. I dig it. Good soundtrack material. At the same time, i can't help but feel this track could have benefitted from a lead on the way out. Instead, it slowly disappears into the horizon on a repetitive riff, choosing atmosphere over instrumental acrobatics.
In "Open Up", the feminine qualities in 'Priest's silky smooth vocal are immediately evident. He sings softly, like a concerned mother trying not to pique a troubled child, "Life keeps moving on / don't lose your faith / If you can't keep up with the pack / slow down the pace" - a philosophy which seems to have served him well. The contemplative mood continues, but this time perhaps in contrast to the song's uplifting lyric; 'Priest sings, "Open Up / Let Your Mind Fly / higher than high / don't look back / soar through the sky / touch the stars..." but it gains little momentum from the verse to the chorus, arguably playing against the message. That said, if you like your positive affirmations decidedly more laid-back, "Open Up" accomplishes this without suffering from what might otherwise sound cliche.
On "The Devil & The Deep Blue Sea", a slowly arpeggiated acoustic guitar accompanies the verses, but this time give way to more rhythmic density into the chorus. A well crafted pop song. (A dub remix of this track is also available on the mini-album, but was not reviewed here.)
Finally, 'Priest brings on some reggae vibe with "Bruised" on an otherwise very easy-listening pop record. A good track, with a few caveats; while Ghetto Priest's creamy Kahlua voice is very pleasant and pitch-perfect, the vocal performances here, including the back-ups, sound a bit "in-the-can"; they lack the verve and spontaneity of a first or second take. The harmonica solo, while a welcome contrasting texture, is uninspired and missing altogether in the outtro where it could have brightened an otherwise dull ending. I'd like to hear this cut live with a little more "Ghetto" and a little less "Priest" - if you can dig it. This one deserves another life.
"The Time Has Come", the second reggae offering on this EP, suffers none of that stilted energy; it's fresh and loose vocally but still retains the synth-heavy vibe of the overall production. And it opens-up in the chorus the way the track "Open Up" never does, allowing the life in the music to flow freely - which every good reggae record should.
"The Time Has Come" is the stand-out gem for me on the mini-album "They Call I Black" by Ghetto Priest from OnUsound productions.
Preferred context:
"They Call I Black" by Ghetto Priest is a good record for that contemplative evening drive home; a downshifting from a day's activity with a shot of pure-reggae purpose at the end to give you renewed confidence and hope. Sounds pretty good from my hammock, too.
- Mitch
According to the bio, Ghetto Priest is a former "football hooligan" turned petty criminal, gang-member, prisoner, Rastafarian, DJ and finally, having lived a hard life, survived it, and honed his natural talent, became a staple on the UK roots reggae label OnUSound Productions run by Adrian Sherwood.
I became familiar with 'Priest's music through a collaborative release in 2011 ("The Lion Of Judah Hath Prevailed; The Process Meets Ghetto Priest") with the Saginaw rock-reggae outfit The Process. That record included 'Priest's song "Ghetto Life", which captured the essence of the same with a sedated but serious reggae vibe. The single was intended to be a sneak-peek of an as yet unreleased full-length title called "Sacred Ground" slated for release sometime later in 2012.
But for now, Ghetto Priest offers another peek into his process with a limited-edition, five-song "mini-album" called "They Call I Black" (presumably shortened from the original title, "They Call I Black...but I'm Just Bruised", which appears on one of his webpages).
I'm glad this record came to me when it did because i hadn't fully realized how agitated and distracted I'd become from modern living. The music has been an antidote to my serotonin conditioning via cell-phone notifications; like a rat hitting a lever for his pellet (though i should admit, I wrote the whole review from the damn thing).
The overall mood on this record is contemplative with lyrics that are reflective, uplifting and self-affirming. I usually recoil from such things, but they're served in such a way as to be palatable - even to me.
The soundscapes on "They Call I Black" are dense and synthetic with guitars mostly playing a supporting role. When I say dense, i mean the treatment of the ambient effects feel like very thick air - which is apropos for the heat-wave we've been suffering in the summer in 2012, I suppose.
The arrangements are light on tension and long on endings which some listeners may find slightly frustrating at first; expecting a sonic roller-coaster with bells and whistles when what they get is a nice, wavy boat-ride with the wind in their face and the sea in their hair.
"They Call I Black" seems to be reaching for crossover appeal in the way Seal bridged the gap between soul and pop music in the early nineties. It offers a different view of Ghetto Priest on three of the six tracks which depart from his reggae roots. Two of the tracks, however (and one remix), are firmly in his genre. - and one of those, the purposefully-striding "The Time Has Come", is a gem that will find a permanent home on my playlist.
- Mitch Phillips
Track by track
On the lead-off track, "Wrapped In Prophesy", Ghetto Priest delivers a serious, mortality-pondering lyric over a soupy, tech-noir backing track that reminds me of a Daniel Lanois (Peter Gabriel) or Trevor Horn (Seal) production - my favorite periods from both those artists. The mood is downbeat, lush, and hypnotic. I dig it. Good soundtrack material. At the same time, i can't help but feel this track could have benefitted from a lead on the way out. Instead, it slowly disappears into the horizon on a repetitive riff, choosing atmosphere over instrumental acrobatics.
In "Open Up", the feminine qualities in 'Priest's silky smooth vocal are immediately evident. He sings softly, like a concerned mother trying not to pique a troubled child, "Life keeps moving on / don't lose your faith / If you can't keep up with the pack / slow down the pace" - a philosophy which seems to have served him well. The contemplative mood continues, but this time perhaps in contrast to the song's uplifting lyric; 'Priest sings, "Open Up / Let Your Mind Fly / higher than high / don't look back / soar through the sky / touch the stars..." but it gains little momentum from the verse to the chorus, arguably playing against the message. That said, if you like your positive affirmations decidedly more laid-back, "Open Up" accomplishes this without suffering from what might otherwise sound cliche.
On "The Devil & The Deep Blue Sea", a slowly arpeggiated acoustic guitar accompanies the verses, but this time give way to more rhythmic density into the chorus. A well crafted pop song. (A dub remix of this track is also available on the mini-album, but was not reviewed here.)
Finally, 'Priest brings on some reggae vibe with "Bruised" on an otherwise very easy-listening pop record. A good track, with a few caveats; while Ghetto Priest's creamy Kahlua voice is very pleasant and pitch-perfect, the vocal performances here, including the back-ups, sound a bit "in-the-can"; they lack the verve and spontaneity of a first or second take. The harmonica solo, while a welcome contrasting texture, is uninspired and missing altogether in the outtro where it could have brightened an otherwise dull ending. I'd like to hear this cut live with a little more "Ghetto" and a little less "Priest" - if you can dig it. This one deserves another life.
"The Time Has Come", the second reggae offering on this EP, suffers none of that stilted energy; it's fresh and loose vocally but still retains the synth-heavy vibe of the overall production. And it opens-up in the chorus the way the track "Open Up" never does, allowing the life in the music to flow freely - which every good reggae record should.
"The Time Has Come" is the stand-out gem for me on the mini-album "They Call I Black" by Ghetto Priest from OnUsound productions.
Preferred context:
"They Call I Black" by Ghetto Priest is a good record for that contemplative evening drive home; a downshifting from a day's activity with a shot of pure-reggae purpose at the end to give you renewed confidence and hope. Sounds pretty good from my hammock, too.
- Mitch
Comments
According to Wikipedia, "I" replaces "me" in Jamaican English (and by association, Rastafarians) because "me" is felt to be objectifying whereas "I" emphasizes the subjectivity of the individual.