Mentally Disturbed (Greensleeves, 2001)

Over two years after their smash hit "Haters" dropped, Ward 21 finally releases its debut album, which collects older hits like "Haters" and "Judgement Day," along with a host of new songs, to create a now seemingly standard (for modern dancehall) 20-plus track onslaught (see the debuts of Sean Paul, Mr. Vegas, Lexxus, Baby Cham, T.O.K., etc.).  I've always found Ward 21's style to be fun and refreshingly novel, particularly when lead vocalist Kunley (I believe he's the one of the quartet that's the lead) rips the mike with his robotic baritone flow, reminiscent of hip-hop MC Timbaland.  Even musically, the group is a bit like Timbaland: up-tempo, futuristic digital party music.  But on Mentally Disturbed, with 22 tracks, you get a fuller sense of where Ward 21 is coming from, and it's not always so appealing.  Hyper-machismo is the name of the game on this album, creating a barrage of misogyny, homophobia, and violent lyrics.  I would expect such repulsive slackness from a group like T.O.K. -- whose "Chi Chi Man" isn't only a gay-bashing disgrace, but one of the most irritating songs of the year -- but somehow I expected a bit more from Ward 21, perhaps because they can be quite brilliant musically.  But when you hear disparaging terms like "chi chi man," "batty boy," "fassy boy," etc. like, 500 times, it tends to become a bit "disturbing" (pun intended).  Don't these guys have anything better to talk about?  Apparently not.  It's truly a shame, too, because some of the material on Mentally Disturbed is exhilarating, masterful examples of where dancehall can go. . . if you don't pay attention to the lyrics.  "Haters," of course, has a classic, simple structure that makes it an all-time party-starter.  Likewise, frenetic dancehall tunes like "Anything-A-Anything," "Pain 21st Century," and "Judgement Day" excel, while a few hip-hop beats produced by "Jam 2" James (son of executive producer King Jammy) on "Thugga," "The Illness," and "President of Hoochie Land" actually blend quite well with Kunley's vocal style and sound like they could very well cross over and catch on with the hip-hop heads.  Still, as with much of today's hip-hop, Mentally Disturbed contains way too much immature, ignorant posturing and prejudice.  To paraphrase "Ganja Smoke" -- which chants "Smoke the weed . . . 'til my eyes bleed" -- after 22 tracks, I felt like my ears were bleeding.

U Know How We Roll (Greensleeves, 2003)

 While it doesn’t contain as many popular hits as its predecessor, Ward 21’s sophomore album (I’ll resist the urge to call it sophomoric) turns out to be a more satisfying overall experience.  The hip-hop edge is toned down, and the tracks don’t feel quite so repetitive and punishing on a sensory level (or maybe I was just in a better mood when listening to it).  While I can’t say that U Know How We Roll is necessarily more mature (OK, it is pretty sophomoric) than Mentally Disturbed, it feels more cohesive and more complete, with perhaps a tad more forethought (and self-restraint) put into it.  This album feels unique within the increasingly competitive world of modern dancehall; as a multi-DJ act, Ward 21 naturally stands out, but they often take it to the next level with their playful lyrics (sort of like a dancehall version of The Pharcyde), as exemplified on “Rhyme.”  In this infectious, fun song, each line foreshadows an obvious follow-up rhyme, only to throw in a completely different word, providing an aural jolt that demands attention:

Da one yah name rhyme
Have a new style and it rule every...thing
Sometime mi DJ, sometime mi....rap
Want a fat gal fi come sit down inna mi...chair
If a gay club, I nah go in...side
Haffi have a gal fi gimmi di wickedest...slam

And so on and so on.  As amusing as their lyrics can be, however, Ward 21 often reverts to sexual, violent, and homophobic lyrics – something that deadened my ears to their previous release – although it feels somewhat less the case here than on Mentally Disturbed (or perhaps it just didn’t bother me quite as much because the songs themselves are stronger).  Two songs in particular almost bring U Know How We Roll to a screeching halt.  “Crime” and “Hey Gal,” which are unnecessary re-workings of “Rhyme” and “Petrol,” respectively, which throw in violent (in the case of “Crime”) and graphic sexual (“Hey Gal”) content to spice things up, I suppose.  Making a crafty, fun track like “Rhyme” into a gun-toting thug song is itself a “crime,” and “Petrol” already had violent lyrics to begin with, so why bother substituting them with even more offensive sex talk?   Anyway, there are other tracks with vulgarities (“Coochie Zone,” “Third Leg”), but they’re done with a much more lighthearted air and thus aren’t as disturbing as these two.  The only other song that I dismissed is “Shotta to a Shotta,” which calls for peace, although it immediately follows the boastfully violent “Crime” and although earlier in the album on “Petrol” they chat about shooting someone in the face.  Such is the quandary of listening to modern dancehall acts like Ward 21; their energy is intoxicating, their rhythms are fresh and wild, and their vocals are edgy, but sometimes what they say can just turn me off.  Maybe if they were just a bit more subtle with their message (I think that their pal Bounty Killer does it pretty well), I’d feel like their potential wasn’t quite so unfulfilled.  That said, U Know How We Roll, for the most part, is filled with jams that can jump start a party (or your car stereo system).  “Rhyme,” “Style,” “Hotta Than Them,” “Run di Business,” “Nah Climb,” “Badda Than Dat,” and the Indian-themed “Where We Come From” are catchy, colorful dancehall nuggets, while “Reggae Pledge” and “Petrol” revert to an appealing old school flavor, and a couple of inventive tunes add elements you don’t normally hear inna di dancehall: a melodica (“Third Leg”) and a soft acoustic guitar combined with African drumming (“Something About Her”).