Meet the Baudelaires: the Crown Princes of Scrappy Reggae
They're curators—in love with the earliest incarnations of reggae, rocksteady and ska: Toots and the Maytals, Jackie Mittoo, the Slickers, Desmond Dekker . . . and they carry that torch dangerously close to their hearts. They toss a little dub gasoline into that mix too, proudly fanning the flames with a wanton infatuation with Lee Perry, King Tubby and other dub pioneers to scorch up the dance floors. This, they say sardonically, is reggae before Bob Marley ruined it.
They're innovators—there's no war in Babylon and no crying children in their music. There are no cruise ships and no all-inclusive resorts, no palm trees and no cheap vacations in other people's misery. It's about scrapping and shagging, and winning and losing at both. It's about their love of life and reggae, and where and how their wicked obsession came to be.
This has made them the crucial vibrators—slicking up the dance floor with furious skanking beats and sweeping out your cobwebs with scarifying dubstorms. Singing of pain and love, glory and shame—facets of the same tainted diamond that is scrappy reggae.
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