Stephen Marley starts 'The Revelation' late

Four tracks into Stephen Marley's The Revelation Pt 1: The Root of Life, it is sounding like a set to toss, very firmly, very far away. The accustomed topics in accustomed ways on accustomed rhythms have had a cumulative effect, and the middle finger of the right hand is hovering temptingly low over the eject button on the laptop, only the job requirements of having to listen to it all keeping the expressive digit from descending.

Not that Made in Africa, (featuring Wale and the cast of Fela), False Friend, Break us Apart (featuring Capleton) and Can't Keep I Down - in that order - are repulsive, especially the first, which treats with the eternally important issue of Africans at home and abroad respecting and retaining an African identity.

But the mundane lyrics, pleasant but not inspired melodies and predictable rhymes roll over the decent rhythms like a mighty flood, the guests not making much of a difference. On Made in Africa, we are treated to the blah couplet "oldest nation on this earth/know just what your're worth"; on Break us Apart, it is "so they take you from the root/and teach you their own truth/open up your mind/please don't be so blind".

getting better

That eject/reject finger quivers in rage (job requirements almost be damned) then comes No Cigarette Smoking. It is true to the truism 'better late than never' - and from there on, later is definitely much better than earlier on The Revelation. It even verges on great in Jah Army, where guest Buju Banton's extended deejaying on an old-school dancehall mixdown is a glorious demonstration of his near unique position of bridging the sound system crew and latest 'hot rhythm' dancehall divide.

The Gargamel's lyrics are ironic, considering that he is due for sentencing next week - but more anon. First, that No Cigarette Smoking is the tipping point for Stephen Marley's album. It is a familiar topic, but the entry point is excellent ("No cigarette smoking in my room/non-alcoholic beverage in my room"), Marley's almost languid delivery on bonafide roots reggae is enthralling and - surprise, surprise - guest Melanie Fiona's input makes it a love song.

Good stuff (no pun intended).

From there, The Revelation is a distinct improvement on that first quartet of songs. Even though Freedom Time has some of the predictable rhymes ("heard the news from a whispering tree/this is the time when men must be free"), the infectious ska rhythm carries the song very well. And Marley keeps the quicker time well, even as he retains his laid-back style, reworking a couple lines from his father's Crazy Baldhead to good effect.

Then comes Jah Army, reverb-heavy, mixdown dancehall which is deserving of superlatives. Jr Gong is a guest, but Buju owns this song. Remember those ironic lyrics? How is this for life imitating art?

"Soldier in Jah army

A long time de ... dem want me

Sen a bag a fly fi swarm me ...

Dem couldn't get the dread cause mi no fake

Dem lock mi inna jail

And talk bout dem no gi me no bail ... "

engaging track

At 6:26 Old Slaves is the longest track on the album. Like the opening Made in Africa, it is heavy on hand drums, and with a flute to boot. But it is a much more engaging track. His voice is given more range for expression and there is a striking couplet in "with the whip on your mind and your mind leads your soul astray/and you can see that today you are all just modern slaves".

Pale Moonlight is lover's rock, somehow instantly eerily reminiscent of Bob Marley - and for good reason, as the lyrics are credited to the Tuff Gong. She Knows Now is more lovers' stuff; Selassie is the Chapel is a worthy remake of the Gong's material; there is another guest appearance by Damian Marley on Tight Ship, which is a good image for a controlled, contained life. And Jr Gong gets in a neat statement on how people see reggae's first family:

"From we a lickle bwoy dem used to grudge we fi we Horlicks

Nuff a dem no hold no joy dem full a bare envy and malice

Nuff a dem a get bad mind and saying those arrogant Marleys"

Working Days is very good to a point. The lullaby to the hard-working persons works extremely well ("and these are working days and we are working people/labouring in the sun") - until Spragga comes in. Not that the superb lyricist flops the song, not with lyrics like "we clear out the land and we go plant coconut/cause no story nah go mek it when the landlord a knock", but the transition to a dancehall mix and Spragga's intense delivery is jarring.

Musically and stylistically, the singer's and deejay's segments are disjointed.

The Revelation Pt 1: The Root of Life closes with the gentle, acoustic, introspective Now I Know ("Grandma said I could have my dreams/at least if nothing else"), capping off an album that really starts late but recovers well, resulting in a good package overall.

- Mel Cooke

Track listing

1. Made in Africa

2. False Friends

3. Break us Apart

4. Can't Keep I Down

5. No Cigarette Smoking

6. Freedom Time

7. Jah Army

8. Old Slaves

9. Pale Moonlight

10. She Knows Now

11. Selassie is the Chapel

12. Tight Ship

13. Working Days

14. Now I Know