Bullwackies played a major role in the history of Jamaican music as the first to set up a reggae recording studio in New York City, a hub for newly arrived West Indians in the late 70s, most specifically Jamaicans fleeing political tension and increasing violence back home. Among them was Lloyd Barnes aka Bullwackie or Fada Wackie.
Bringing his experience as engineer for Duke Reid’s Treasure Isle and knowledge from mentor Prince Buster, Wackies brought authentic yard vibes to the Bronx, where he set up his studio and accompanying record store. His sound stood out from other reggae producers of the time. Lo-fi textures were met with eerie harmonies and that behind-the-beat, head-nod swag. While he worked with both well-known (Sugar Minott, Leroy Sibbles) and unknown (Jah Batta, Chris Wayne) artists, he always achieved that unique vibe no other producer could.
When I worked at the infamous East Village reggae record store Jammyland in the late ’90s, Wackies himself would come in to restock our shelves and handle b-i. Armed with the reddest eyes I’ve seen to this day, he carried himself with a casual yet certain sense of pride— the original NY dub ambassador. One of my most distinct memories while working there were the Japanese DJs who would come in to Jammyland with suitcases in hand, explaining they had come straight there, before checking into their hotels, with three-page-long lists of records that always started with 40 Wackies titles. It was clear: Japan loves Wackies!
Fast forward to 2013, skate gear kingpins Supreme have come with a Wackies collection, celebrating the label’s most visual releases like Horace Andy’s Dance Hall Style, the Lovejoys’ Lovers Rock Reggae Style and, of course, the label’s iconic Lion of Judah logo. While you’re likely to see kids wearing these tees who have no clue what a “Wackies” is, maybe a handful will go as far as googling the name. For their benefit, and your listening pleasure, we went ahead and picked some of our favorite Wackies joints from the iconic label’s archives.
—DJ Gravy
Sugar Minott, “Wicked Ago Feel It”
In the early 1980s, while Sugar Minott was recording with many of the top producers in Jamaica, he was also recording in the Bronx with Lloyd “Bullwackie” Barnes, who provided a rockers reworking of Studio One’s Real Rock riddim for Minott to warn the “wicked” that what they sew, they shall soon reap “inna dis time.” The song was released in 1982 and did well enough that Wackies released an LP by Minott by the same name in 1984. —Kieran Meadows
Wayne Jarrett’s “Bubble Up” rides over a version of “Rockfort Rock” so smoky you may barely recognize it, as your attention is swiftly demanded by the intro’s choppy flute riffs and echoed out adlibs. Dirty synth bubble bombs enter the mix soon after the vocals, and the combined elements start melting your senses. Whether you smoke or not, this is a truly blaze-worthy Wackies dub track. —DJ Gravy
Love Joys-All I Can Say
Cousins Sonia Abel and Claudette Brown recorded two LPs for Wackies in the early ’80s, and were never really heard from again (though Brown is quoted in this 2009 New York Times profile of Wackie’s). The girls lived in London, prior to landing in the Bronx, and they brought with them to the U.S. the haunted vocal melodies and female-driven energy of the UK’s lovers rock movement. Although “All I Can Say” appears on the album Lovers Rock Reggae Style (one of several Wackies albums which Supreme pays homage to in its capsule collection), it’s a weighty, conscious tune that sublimely evokes the forlorn vibe of the early ’80s Bronx. —Jesse Serwer
This obscure 1983 tune —actually the B-side of the original 12 inch released by Wackies— features Sugar Minott (although he is officially uncredited) doing a sort of call-and-response thing at the mic with deejay Jah Batta. The pair do their thing over the very tough Informer riddim, which showcases the trademark Wackies sound: heavy rolling bass and that lo-fi and dubbed out reverb/echo effect, along with some choice stabs on the organ here and there. —Kieran Meadows
Noel “Junior” Delahaye was an engineer on classic Wackies recordings like Horace Andy’s Dance Hall Style, and he also recorded a brilliant LP of his own for the label, simply titled Showcase. The whole album is dope (especially the working-class theme “Working Hard For The Rent Man”) but it’s hard not to start with the opening track “Love,” with its distinctive organ melody on the Hammond B3. —Jesse Serwer
Chris Wayne and Abbashanti Band-Craven Choke Puppy Dog
‘A ruff and tuff cut by Chris Wayne of the Youthman Promotions crew from his LP Freedom Street, a joint Wackies and Sugar Minott production. It was released both on the stateside Wackie’s label and by Tachyon, a Japanese label that worked with Wackie’s extensively for the Japanese market. Over a one-off ethereal computer riddim we are warned of the consequences of biting off more than you can chew, using the classic ‘craven choke puppy’ Jamaican proverb that Bob Marley also drew inspiration from. —Spliffington
Is “Wack Rap,” which featured otherwise unknown MCs Solid C., Bobby D., and Kool Drop rhyming over a funky riddim laid down by Wackies Disco Band, essential? Perhaps not. Notable? Most definitely. With its studio and record store on White Plains Road in the Bronx, Wackies had a front-row seat to the earliest rumblings of hip-hop, a culture created and mapped out by Caribbean people living in the Bronx. So it’s not entirely surprising that, as the recorded hip-hop era kicked off following “Rappers Delight” in 1979, Wackies would enter the fray with one of the earliest releases to ride the wave. —Jesse Serwer
Much less well-known on the Revolution riddim than Dennis Brown’s “Revolution” or Barrington Levy’s “Black Roses” -— but almost as classic — is this combination tune, which is the perfect breaking-the-ice soundtrack for meeting someone new in the dance. Since the Wackies label and recording studio was located in the Bronx — which in 1983 was still the epicenter of a relatively new genre called hip-hop — it’s not surprising that Lover D does some rap-cadence toasting for a few bars in the middle. The cultural exchange that went on was likely more common in the other direction as Wackies had an undeniable influence on the burgeoning hip-hop movement. —Kieran Meadows
(Bonus: The B-side of this release features an instrumental by the in-house band Wackies Rhythm Force including Saxman Jerry Johnson playing a melody derived from the theme from the classic western The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.)
Horace Andy – Spying Glass (aka Live In The City) and Money Money (Dancehall Style)
This steppers track from Dance Hall Style (a version of which was also released under the title “Live in the City” on Exclusively, Horace Andy’s second, lesser-known LP for Wackie’s recorded during the same sessions) seems very autobiographical. While it appears to be taken from his own experience, it’s a warning to other up and comers as well. If this was a current tune, it would definitely have the word “pree” in the title!
Notably, the track proved to be a major inspiration for ’90s trip-hop act Massive Attack, who re-recorded the song for their 1994 LP Protection with Andy on vocals, introducing the singer’s distinctive voice to a new generation of fans. —DJ Gravy
Andy’s Dance Hall Style is the quintessential Wackies release—and, like a lot of Wackies’ full-length releases, it really is an album that needs to be heard front to back for the full effect. In other words, every tune from the seven-track set should be here. But after the aforementioned “Spying Glass,” it’s “Money Money”—a new version of an already classic tune Andy had cut with Bunny Lee in the early ’70s, rendered into a completely new song by Wackies and his session players. The photo-finish, close-second honorable mention goes to Andy’s cover of Lloyd Robinson’s classic “Cuss Cuss” —Jesse Serwer
Honorable Mention: Bullwackies All-Stars, “Stil Dubbing”
“Signature sound” is perhaps what best describes “Always Dubbing,” a specialist’s take on a roots dub from the 1977 Bullwackies All-Stars African Roots Act 1 LP. Pablo Moses’ “We Should Be In Angola” is about as roots as they come, from the very first line: “Fighting down here in Jamaica is a shame my brother, Destroying our culture by killing one another.” Somehow the dub matches that sentiment of greatness and catharsis. It is excellently balanced with an almost rolling bass and pointed but never jarring stabs from the rhythm section. The bass is so present that when dropped out of the mix it still plays in your head on repeat. Deep. Still, it feels crisper than many modern dubs and that spring reverb is definitely not a plug-in.
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