SKA AND PUNK: Bulletproof Brotherhood
Rancid should get the ska-punk pulse hammering if anybody can. The Berkeley, California quartet is fronted by the guitarists and singers Lars Frederiksen and Tim Armstrong, who write the songs with bassist Matt Freeman and benefit from the kicking drums of Brett Reed. Most things that get rancid turn soft, so the appropriate term here is petrified -- all these guys' inspirations are hard, not just ska but the English soccer-cheer punk called Oi! and the jackhammer outburst of '80s hardcore punkers. "Out Come the Wolves," the group's third try, seethes with qualities no amount of imitation can grant, such as deadeye passions and red-hot humanism. Certainly one of the finest marks of reggae and ska in rock is that they often indicate a firmly idealistic impulse.Some canny perspective helps, too. Ska is only a very strong part of Rancid's style, and it may not be enough on its own to sustain a young group nowadays. Not that there aren't people trying. The chief outlet is New York's Moon/Ska, not only a record label but a distributor, storefront, and all-around promotional engine for ska. Founded in 1984 by a member of the Toasters (a group itself inspired by 2 Tone), Moon/Ska presents a flabbergasting catalogue of about 150 domestic and import CDs as well as singles.
Moon/Ska anthologies like the recent "Spawn of Skarmageddon" include tracks from 43 bands across the U.S., a tremendous testimony to the attraction of the ska style, but sadly, not much else. A better bet is "United Colors of Ska Vol. 2" from the German Pork Pie label (distributed by Moon/Ska). With a saner 20 cuts, the compilation shows more tunes, more varied arrangements, and a few sterling cuts from mediocre bands, like the Mudsharks' "This Is Why." And also two or three utter stinkers. Maybe the problem is that Moon/Ska and Pork Pie collections barely touch the real hotbeds of ska-and-reggae invention, Mexico and South America.
The Mexican ska-punks who might be closest to Rancid in attitude are Tijuana No, whose finest album to date, "Transgresores de la Ley" (RCA), preserves the fresh, funny irreverence that drained out of northern new wavers long ago. Eschewing too-cool irony, Tijuana No embrace kitschy sound effects and consciously melodramatic arrangements the only way they should be embraced -- wholeheartedly.
Brash as Tijuana No are, the most polished and inventive group working ska-reggae in Spanish may be Venezuela's Desorden Publico, whose new "Canto Popular de la Vida y Muerte" (Sony Discos) does not include a single dull track. Singer and songwriter Horacio Blanco has assimilated a small record store's worth of licks and arrangements, the only snag being his warm but never transcendent vocals. Even skeptics should come to love him and the band for their soulful minds. Without missing a beat, in fact adding quite a few, Desorden Publico slide from dub echo to bluesy harmonica, to tart electric guitar over garage-rock organ all in the course of "Rosas Azules." They set dreamy Latin accordion over the choppy proto-reggae blips of "Ay, Ay, Ay," fill out "Cachos de Vaca" with jazzy sax breaks, and even hint at lounge ballads in "Rumores." Desorden Publico sound like the true descendants of ska founders the Skatalites (though, incidentally, that group continues to tour with original members, hardly ready for the rocking chair). They extend the music's unpredictable rhythm conjunctions of fast beats behind slow horn solos, turn from gallows humor to suave seduction, and generally make the natty old cool of ska sound new again, not just for nostalgic tough guys at all.
