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Launched to mark Greensleeves' 30th anniversary, the campaign to reissue the English label's classic vinyl releases on CD continues despite a turbulent news cycle. Case in point: this compilation, which brings together two major pieces of Jamaican dancehall from the Volcano era.   Reactions (0)    The year is 1982, a year after Marley's death, and the new sound of the Jamaican dancehalls, popularised on the island from 1979 by Henry "Junjo" Lawes and the Roots Radics, is fashionable internationally. As proof, recordings of local sound system dances, which had been circulating in the diaspora on cassette, were now being released on vinyl, like the live albums of Disco Aces, Gemini or Junjo's unmissable Volcano. Greensleeves was not left behind, thanks to a fruitful partnership with the Volcano label and a serious ace up its sleeve: Yellowman, the undisputed star of the dancehalls. The albino deejay was the label's best-selling artist, and would remain so for a long time. Always close to what was happening in Jamaican sound, but also to its English audience thanks to well-marketed records, Greensleeves thus had a solid base at the time from which to organise the dancehall frenzy and sign numerous artists pulled along by the Yellowman locomotive. It was in this context that two volumes titled "DJ clash" came out on the label, one red, the other green (quite a symbol: these are the colours of Jamaica's two great political parties). The red one pits two deejays from Yellowman's generation, Toyan and Nicodemus, against each other, and the green one two teenagers, precocious stars Billy Boyo (Junjo's brother-in-law) and Little Harry (who caught Yellowman's attention at a deejay contest in 1981). "3 the hard way" For this CD version, Greensleeves opted for a "two in one", folding Nicodemus's tracks into the green volume, which thus becomes "3 the hard way". The choice may seem puzzling, since the recordings are different: the Roots Radics at Channel One for Nicodemus, the High Times band at Joe Gibbs for the young deejays. There is also a difference in calibre: at 25, Nicodemus is the father figure, with an already very accomplished style; the Shaolin plat featured here illustrates it perfectly. The deejay would go on to a fine career until his death in 1996, whereas the two youngsters would only enjoy fleeting fame. Finally, puberty obliging, Nicodemus drifts more readily towards slackness (very relative compared with what is done today). One thing in common, though: the production oozes dancehall, whether through the resolutely rub-a-dub mixes of the riddims, nice and heavy (Stop that train, Dirty Harry, Boxing, I'm not getting crazy or I can't hide, to name a few), or through the vocal takes: the rhymes tumble out, sometimes jumping from one subject to another, and you can feel that the lyrics were worked out live and laid down on disc regardless of stylistic imperfections (notably for Billy Boyo, the youngest of the three). You can picture the crowds going wild at the well-aimed "punch lines". Chronicles of life These lyrics, reeled off by the mile, in a resolutely modern fashion for the time, are the very essence of dancehall, the reflection of a more introverted society, eaten away by violence, looking for an escape here and now. Like the original sleeve, with the two kids posing in front of a Benz, this is a long way from formatted roots. And all the better, because with more than 20 years' hindsight, these lyrics have real documentary value: the verses are so many living snapshots of scenes from Jamaican life, often treated with humour. The attentive listener will pick up a wealth of information: places, fashionable car models, clothing and shoe brands, dishes, foods, drinks... Dancehall itself is their favourite theme, tinged with narcissism as on the explicit Hail Nico dread, Harry on the go or Billy Boyo in the area. The more constructed songs are all the more interesting: Leggo me queen by Little Harry (a pastiche of Josey Wales's Gateman) or Birdman hunting, in which Nicodemus tells the "gunmen" practising on birds "if you don't eat the bird, don't shoot him". Though he is the least technical of the three, Billy Boyo shows real talent as a storyteller when he evokes going back to school, his timetable, and reciting his sums (Going to school), or when he relives his trip to England (Check in): he also dwells on Michael Fagan's intrusion into the Queen's bedroom at Buckingham Palace in June 1982, an event that caused a scandal across the Channel. Dating from the golden age of the formidable Greensleeves catalogue, this snapshot of dancehall well deserved a CD edition, despite the uncertainty hanging over the label's future. It is also a tribute to the people behind these recordings, most of whom have since passed away. Crucial. Report written by Benoit Georges Tags : Historique (17), Greensleeves records (21)   Reactions (0)

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