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Food for thought. UB40 are one of Britain's most
successful ever bands. Though pop's innovative wing
has long since given UB40 their P45, they are now less
UB40 than UB40 million. Of course, having (presumably)
a wide property portfolio stretching from the West
Midlands to JA doesn't preclude you from getting into
a bit of a tizz about "five tons of megaton / sent
with love from the Pentagon" and stuff like that.
With a title like Who You Fighting For, you will
be entitled to expect, nay demand, righteous fervour,
and indeed, some might say the times demand it.
Reggae, at least in terms of roots, was never shy of
a little bit of protest 'ere and there, and UB40 are
nothing if not traditionalists.
As familiar as the Bisto waft of sunday roast, Ali
Campbell's keening voice tells of "Queen and Country /
Freedom Cry / God and Glory / Do or die / Propaganda,
spin and lie" finally demanding "Who you are fighting
for?". 'Who' being 'the youth' (remember them?).
Neat anti-war couplets abound throughout the
polemics of the title track, Plenty More, and War
Poem. However, as Boy George once proved, war,
war may be stupid, but to ram home the message in the
music, those riddims better be as revolutionary as the
sentiment. Otherwise you may as well be crooning about
"junelight turning to moonlight" (which Campbell
actually does on the Lennon / McCartney cover I'll Be
On My Way) for all the impact its going to have. With
their Bisto kind of reggae, it was always unlikely
that UB40 would reach the level of militant stridency
so easily attained by some of their musical
antecedents.
'Twas not always thus. Back in the days when nobody
could get a job on Maggie's farm, the eight members of
UB40 invoked an atmos of smoky tension allied to some
of the finest (and most underrated) protest-pop. They
deservedly jostled for angry chart space with the
likes of The Jam and the whole Two-Tone 'ting,
though compared to the original product of Studio One
and Trojan, the brummie boys were perhaps never going
to be anything more than particularly gifted artisans.
Still, tracks like Madame Medusa and The Earth Dies
Screaming had a particularly home-grown twist which
should have put them in the same credibility category
as Steel Pulse and Matumbi.
It's with this history in mind that sees Who You
Fighting For falling between the broadest of two
stools. While Sins Of The Others may skirt allegorical
prophecy ( and easily copped clich� - "in the land of
milk and honey/ the ship of fools go sailing) songs
like Gotta Tell Someone ("the girl of my dreams / just
told me she loved me") are more like the UB40 that
were awarded lucrative film tie-ins, and much more
like the UB40 that have turned somnabulence into a
career choice.
Elsewhere, there are strained attempts to show that
the boys are still 'down'. Bling Bling is a
reggae-lite examination of the favourite subject of
ageing, rich pop stars - yep, the all-round
shallowness of consumer culture ("diamonds and pearls
don't mean any thing"). Reasons is an uncomfortable
collaboration with Hunterz of the Dhol Blasters
that does neither Reggae or Desi any favours, with an
effect similar to finding your granddad playing Mortal
Kombat in his Levi's anti-fit.
The Status Quo of brit-reggae won't care of
course. They've been nailing that once vital
rock-steady beat into soporific submission for years
now, and strangely, a lot of people like it. It's
reggae as if Bobby Digital never happened, and though reggae's stellar past is thankfully now more
accessible than it ever was, some revivals are better
than others.
There is the odd compensation. Signing off with two
covers, Kiss And Say Goodbye (The Manhattans)
and Things You Say You Love (The Jamaicans)
gives Brian Travers ample opportunity to dip into the
Stax horn-chart book and decorate the soundscape with some
last-dance poignancy that this record doesn't really
deserve.
As for me, I've got a mediocre CD in me kitchen.
What am I gonna do?
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