Zungguzungguguzungguzeng!

Back in 1983, two years after the death of Bob Marley, Yellowman was the most successful performer in Jamaica. Born Winston Foster and brought up in an orphanage, he had overcome poverty and a tough childhood to become a dancehall deejay star, an albino who then sported bright yellow dreadlocks and succeeded thanks to his often bragging lyrics and extraordinary vocal skills, hardly pausing for breath as he chatted and chanted over the backing rhythms before breaking into an unexpected variety of songs.

This was the year when he gave a memorable performance at Pickett’s Lock, a large sports hall north of Edmonton which was surrounded by massed ranks of police. Unlike Marley, he hadn’t been allowed to play in central London, though he could have packed Earl’s Court. As I noted at the time, his audience was almost entirely Caribbean, for he then had little following among white reggae enthusiasts who might have been startled that he included Peter, Paul & Mary’s ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’ in his highly entertaining set.

This was also the year when he released the album Zungguzungguguzungguzeng!, now re-released for Record Store Day as a limited edition on suitably yellow vinyl. Joined by his sparring partner Fathead, and backed by Roots Radics and Hi-Times Bands, he recorded the set at Joe Gibbs and Channel One Studios in Jamaica, and it explains why the island loved him. It starts, of course, with the title-track, a song that most other DJs would have found hard to even pronounce. Half-singing, half-speaking over the repeated and rhythmic reggae riffs, he’s in exuberant form, urging his audience to ‘jump for happiness and jump for joy’ before heading off into the bragging, claiming ‘Yellowman have too much girlfriend… mi have a hundred and ten… all of dem have yellow children.’

Musically, the style rarely changes, with the slinky, sometimes raw riffs often dominated by the basslines and interspersed with dub effects. But he does alter the subject matter, with ‘The Good, The Bad & The Ugly (feat Fathead)’ dealing with his tough early life when ‘sometime we haffi sleep on the cold concrete.’ There’s more bragging, and a fine infectious dance riff on ‘Who Can Make the Dance Ram’ (the answer of course being that no other DJ can match his skills), while ‘Take Me to Jamaica (feat Fathead)’ is a rousing, dub-heavy tribute to the women of the island. Each side of the album features a religious piece, as if to make sure that his dancehall style will also appeal to a Rasta audience: ‘Can’t Hide From Jah’ is packed with such advice as. ‘I beg you, honour your mother and father.’ Yellowman was no Bob Marley, but he could certainly ram the dance.