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The Real Rock (Elektra, 1990)

I always cringe when I hear someone call a dancehall DJ a "reggae rapper," but when Shinehead first burst on the scene, the name would've been appropriate. He not only rapped like a hip-hop rapper, he chatted inna DJ stylee and even sang to boot. As one of the pioneers of reggae/hip-hop fusion in the US (along with the likes of Boogie Down Productions and Poor Righteous Teachers), he performed any combination of the three styles over either reggae or hip-hop beats. Shinehead's second album, The Real Rock, unlike releases from BDP and PRT, favors the Jamaican sound over the American. Early on, though, silly hip-hop fluff is the name of the game, with three hip-hop tracks -- including a cover of Sly & The Family Stone's "Family Affair," the lame rock guitar-driven "Potential," and a DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince-like ode to video games sampling the theme to Super Mario Brothers -- and the title track, which utilizes the ubiquitous Sound Dimension riddim of the same name but has Shinehead delivering his old school rap with marginal success. Just when you're about to push "eject" or better yet "erase," though, the aptly titled "Good Things" arrives like a ray of sunshine. Along with "Till I Kissed You," it delivers a blissful lovers rock vibe that makes the album worth picking up in a 99-cent bin. The light dancehall of "Strive" and "Dance Down the Road" might even push its worth to $1.50. But no more.

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Praises (VP, 1999)

After the lackluster Troddin', Shinehead revives a seemingly doomed career with this strong set of electric, enjoyable tunes.  Shinehead largely abandons his sometimes overbearing hip-hop sound -- only "Bobo" has such a beat -- in favor of an endearing mix of lovers rock, dancehall, and roots.  This is probably for the best, for although hip-hop reggae was a springboard for his success, it actually isn't where Shinehead shines the brightest.  His tendency to break out into his old-school rapping style is somewhat outdated, and the whole hip-hop reggae sub-genre doesn't seem to promote the type of longevity that lovers, roots, and dancehall do.  Shinehead puts forth even more cover songs than usual here, as he seemingly strives to rival Sanchez by having more than one-half of the 14 songs here being remakes.  But, as Sancehz is so adept at doing, he manages to select an inspired group of tunes to re-work, and he invigorates them with likeable, emotional vocals and strong, vibrant musical backing.   "Collie Weed," for example, is a take on Crosby Stills & Nash's "Summer Breeze," its airy, relaxed melody perfect for a reggae remake.  His treatments of The Whispers' "Olivia" and Dru Hill's "Never Make a Promise" (and even, to a lesser extent, Monica's "Before You Walk Out of My Life") are similarly solid, the former incorporating an old-fashioned hiccuping lovers riddim and the latter a driving, funky dancehall bass line.  He takes a bit of risk in attempting a straight R&B version of Roberta Flack's ballad "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" -- not to mention his pointless attempt at the Jamaican National Anthem -- but, though a bit of an acquired taste, the supple congo drum sound is effective, and even more surprisingly, Shinehead's singing voice holds up relatively well (for a reggae singer) under the stress of the song.  Perhaps the best track, however, is in fact an original: "Their Plan," featuring a great rootsy melody and emotion-packed lyrics.   The lovers rock of Paul McCartney's "My Love" and the digital dancehall of "Hot" and "Roadblock" (featuring the chorus from Sammy Dread's "Roadblock" and a spastic Timbaland-esque drum beat) are also nice.