The Special AKA V's The Selecter - Gangsters 7”

This really does not need any introduction; it is the debut Special AKA / The Selecter single on 2Tone Records. Clicks and pops remain for authenticity and additional listening pleasure.

The Selecter - Celebrate The Bullet

Without question, the song writing, performances, and production on Celebrate the Bullet are all top-notch (and the band felt they had much to prove, as they were unhappy with their debut album, which they thought was rushed--indeed, it was only a matter of three months from their entering the studio until it hit the shops). From the second you put it on, Celebrate the Bullet is instantly recognizable as a Selecter album--though they explore the more mid-tempo ska and reggae-ish aspects of their sound here--which may have disappointed those expecting the same frenetic ska pace of their debut (plus their timing was off; by the time Celebrate the Bullet was released--ska was out, the New Romantics were in). Most notably, The Selecter's lyrics this time out are much more sophisticated, and vividly convey the apocalyptic fear and dread of that period, when the threat of nuclear annihilation seemed more inevitable than ever with the election of cold warrior Ronald Reagan in the US, whose rhetoric and policies toward the USSR at the time only served to ramp up the friction between the superpowers. All in all, Britain--if not civilization itself--seemed to be teetering on the edge of the abyss, with everyone seemingly powerless to stop the plunge into darkness. Ska and reggae have a long and commendable history of speaking out against social injustice, which The Selecter uphold brilliantly on Celebrate the Bullet. It's just a damn shame that more people didn't tune in to receive the music and the message.

Too Much Pressure

By 1979, Jerry Dammers had finished flailing through music fashion personas, ditching his Mod and flower child proclivities and turning into a toothless skinhead, one who would lay down the first songs that soon enough would give birth to checkered wonders The Specials. His subsequent start-up of 2-Tone Records would unexpectedly kick off an explosive revival of Ska in England, and on a lesser level, the world. Along with Madness and Bad Manners, The Selecter rounded off 2-tone’s second squadron, headed up by the genre’s vanguards, The Specials and The Beat.

Compared to The Beat’s Lionel Martin and his searing sax fireworks, or The Specials’ raw punk and dub slants, The Selecter were a leaner, simpler outfit, splicing guitars and horns into songs that were primarily carried by roiling organs and a driving bass. Though their music challenged decidedly less boundaries, lead singer Pauline Black was the ace up the band’s sleeve. Her trilling soprano and an undeniably sexy presence softened the edges of where skinhead and punk cultures could flock to, still fresh and reeling from the gaping vacuum left in the post-Sex Pistols age. The early 80’s also saw Black become the poster-girl for London’s street fashion. Decked out in Harrington jackets, pork pie hats, skinny ties and combat boots, 2-tone kids looked cleaner and less fucked-off than punks, and aside from lyrics that occasionally lost subtlety and tumbled into politico rants, their music stuck close to the original Caribbean Ska formula - uplifting protest songs.

Three Minute Hero, one of the band’s staples kicks off Too Much Pressure, and the album proceeds to sprint through one hooky rave-up after another, barely losing steam through its forty-minute run. Missing Words is a gem, and one of the best songs to have come out of that frenzied revival. Showing Black’s affectations of the new-wave scene, which was only in its budding stages at the time, the song sees her marry Ska’s harmonies with the kind of strong euphonies new-wave’s dancier material favoured. Danger is similarly dazzling, swaying effortlessly between a throbbing Hammond, cracking guitar-work and an infectious sing-along hook. They Make Me Mad’s sudden tempo shifts and the title tracks’ male-female dictum interplay all capture 2-tone emblematic angles. Underneath all the thrashing it was doing against early Thatcherisms, it was music to bop to.

A superfluous cover of Justin Hinds and The Dominoes’ old Ska standard Carry Go Bring Home, and an overtly kitschy take on James Bond sag the album’s second half somewhat, but never enough to trip up flow.

Too Much Pressure’s significance remains, an essential document of music that sieved fermenting social unrest through songs as agitated as they were captivating.