My son played this album for me last night -- as a birthday present -- and it's hard to imagine a more welcome gift. That Jackson is still willing and able to create songs this fine seems like a miracle. Shouldn't he be back in Jamaica by now, sipping coconut milk under a palm tree and soaking up the rays?
All the clarity and cool grace of his takes on matters of the heart are perfectly in place, as always. The straight ahead honesty about the ongoing class war that finally seems to be turning its focus inward toward the homeland. The vision to imagine something better, and put it into simple, stirring words over gorgeous progressions.
And he takes us to places we haven't quite reached with him before -- in "The Arms of Night," and "Live Nude Cabaret:" Remarkable insight on the dance between desire and the power of the sacred. It's masterfully built, and flat-out exquisite to listen to.
The band is tight, fluid, and inspired, the mix impeccable, the singers behind him sound like angels. As for me, I'm going to check his tour schedule and get in a room somewhere with these people while I still can.
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