Rasta Jamz (Razor & Tie, 2003)

For seasoned reggae fans out there, this album will likely have you running for the hills, screaming in pain.  The title alone makes me cringe; aside from the stupid, faux-jiggy "z" added to "jams," the whole use of the word "Rasta" interchangeably with "Reggae" is typical of the ignorant, culturally insensitive American corporate system that released this album.  Why not call the next Now That's What I Call Music compilation Christian Jamz?  The title aside, Rasta Jamz (eesh) is another colorfully packaged, mass-marketed collection of mainstream-friendly reggae (I use this term in the loosest way) hits, which, sadly for hardcore reggae fans, will continue to be released as long as the public continues to lap them up.  Still, I have to admit that Rasta Jamz does a pretty good job at representing the reggae that crossed over either to the pop or R&B charts (sometimes both) in the '90s (specifically between about 1993 and 1999).  This includes the first dancehall song that I can recall crossing over to the Billboard Top 10 -- Mad Cobra's "Flex" -- one of the first dancehall songs that I can recall hearing on the radio -- Chaka Demus & Pliers' "Murder She Wrote" -- and of course, the first dancehall Grammy winner and the face of dancehall in its early '90s attempted invasion of the US, Shabba Ranks.  Of course, though there are inevitable omissions from the '90s, most notably Jimmy Cliff's cover of Johnny Nash's "I Can See Clearly Now," Beenie Man’s unavoidable "Who Am I," and any of several Buju Banton songs, such as "Wanna Be Loved." (There are also other songs from artists included here -- Third World, Shaggy, Shabba -- that could’ve made it, but I'll give the compilers the benefit of the doubt that they wanted only one song per act.)  You could also argue for minor hits from artists like Tony Rebel, Cutty Ranks, Tiger, Johnny P, Red Fox, Rayvon, Worl-A-Girl, and Vicious, who were all part of that early '90s attempt by major labels like Columbia, East West, Polygram, and Profile to cash in on the dancehall sound.  Too bad America wasn't as ready for it then as it was when this album came out in 2003, with Sean Paul and Wayne Wonder tearing up the charts.  With that in mind, I'm a bit surprised that Rasta Jamz didn't extend the scope of their selection more into the 21st century, where they could've snagged No Doubt's pesudo-dancehall smash "Hey Baby," 311's lovers rock-ish "Amber," and other reggae-tinged hits.  Luckily, though, the compilers admirably avoided the Ace of Base trap to which other pop reggae compilations have fallen prey (although similar-sounding hit "Dub Be Good to Me" by Beats International would've been OK).  However, they trash any goodwill built up by including "I Like to Move It," a house/techno piece o' garbage that just happens to feature a dancehall DJ.  Many of the tunes on this album, of course, similarly don't have reggae beats, forgoing them in favor of hip-hop ("Take It Easy," "Wings of the Morning," "Dolly My Baby"), pop/dance ("Here Comes the Hotstepper," "Pull Up to My Bumper," "That Girl"), or R&B ("Slow and Sexy," "Flex"). If you didn't already, this really makes you appreciate the songs with actual reggae riddims ("Murder She Wrote," "Sweat," "Heads High," "Everyone Falls in Love," "Action," "Boom Shak A-Tak").  Certainly, the tunes that adhere more closely to the reggae sound have an overall better chance of being, well, good, although "Dolly My Baby" and "Take It Easy" are two of the best hip-hop reggae songs of all-time, and tracks like "Here Comes the Hotstepper" and "Flex" might bring back fond memories.  But stuff like "I Like to Move It," "That Girl," "Pull Up to My Bumper," "Shy Guy," "Informer," and "Slow and Sexy" will separate the uber-casual reggae listener from the serious fan, who would probably be sick of even the good stuff here after having heard it all hundreds of times before.