Black Uhuru

Believe me, Michael Rose isn't trying to fill anybody's shoes--he'd probably rather not wear shoes. The ululation and ragged sense of line are pure country, like Jamaican field hollers; lots of times the songs don't even rhyme. But "Youth of Eglington" lets you know right off that this is a country boy who reads the papers, and with Rose pouring forth and Sly and Robbie rolling that rockers riddim, you don't really care that it never gets any better. (Grade: A-)