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 cliché - "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?

share:  Facebook | Digg | del.icio.us | more

Mercury Prize 2009 nominees