Charlie P – From Mi Born LP
After watching the quite enjoyable documentary, which follows UK reggae singer Charlie P as he returns to his hometown Southend-On-Sea to meet the band he first performed with as a youth, diving into the full album was a logical next step. To say From Mi Born, which is out now via OBF's Dubquake Records, doesn’t disappoint is an understatement. Skillfully backed by The Goldmaster Allstars, Charlie P shines just like the great child stars of Jamaica: Dennis Brown, Billy Boyo, and Beenie Man, through to Wayne J.
The extended opener “4 Policemen” is tough roots music, and sets the tone well. Over a mesmerizing bass groove, enhanced by mournful horns, young Charlie P finds himself in the back of a police car, and later before a judge, lamenting his plight while questioning his guilt. “Oh Jah” glides in on a brass hook, contemplative, propelled into hazier territory on the ensuing dub.
A vintage-sounding cut in all the right ways – with some exquisite horn solos – “Secret Survivor” highlights the fortitude needed to be successful: ‘every time I get knocked to the floor, I get up and fight once more; every time I get knocked to the ground, I get up and fight without a sound.’ A bit of a crooner, “One Time Girl” is balanced out nicely by the dread-inspiring bass line that supports the determination needed to pursue a love not yet realized. The skank is nicely layered, with a melodica shining through sweetly.
A full-on ska explosion, “Movin On Up” is not only lyrically credited to the singer’s late mother, but is also a very optimistic track, a beacon of hope amongst the challenges highlighted elsewhere on the album. The dub is wise indeed: the rhythm is allowed to dominate, with a lengthy drum and bass section, while the vocals and horns take turns reminiscing about the original. “Yuppy Girl” is a solid effort, a preview of Charlie P’s future, showcasing some different styles on the mic. Here, the horns plus the vocal do combine to give the track a slightly dated feel; that is a clear goal of the project though, not an inherent weakness.
“We Can’t Give Up” is the last vocal of the album, a straightforward ode to perseverance and a notable lyrical contrast to “Movin On Up.” The charm of the ‘youngest of the veterans’ during this era is evident here, as the aforementioned documentary also highlights well via archival footage. Heavy from the drop, “One Time Dub” flips the romance of the original into something deeper, darker, and ultimately more impactful.
The digital bonus tracks are both dubs, delightfully of standouts “4 Policemen” and “Secret Survivor.” The first propels the keys to the fore, and is arguably the most unhinged on the entire release, as far as effects go. The fact it’s a sprawling six minutes-plus is strictly a positive. More of a stomper, “Secret Survivor Dub” surely made the dances of Southend shake, and – like the LP as a whole – certainly stands strong today. Honestly, it’d be great if more of today’s reggae vocalists lifted the veil of their early years like this. It’s a nod to the past, obviously, yet more importantly is an enjoyable indicator of the power of youth, and the value of unexpected perspectives, that allow the genre to continue to thrive and develop.