Bim Sherman
Miracle

I already knew his voice.
I had listened to it somewhat absentmindedly, truth be told, (amidst dense clouds of smoke) in his Jamaican records, supported by the offbeat rhythm, soft under a yellow sun.
Or, later on, almost drowned in the magma of the OnU Sound productions, where dub expanses met the technological version of African, shamanic influences, in the very personal alchemy of Adrian Sherwood.

It was Sherwood who "brought him" to London. Sherman had already recorded numerous albums with various labels, working with the best names in the Jamaican scene. But it was the meeting with the young white Londoner, a sound mixer in love with reggae, that marked the turning point, I believe. A partnership that would prove indissoluble. A rather frenetic activity over the years: they had worked on his solo albums, dub versions, collaborations with Dub Syndicate, Groove Corporation and who knows what else…

I listened with interest to the records from Sherwood's label, which were redefining the sound of reggae, of dub, extending its boundaries, hybridizing it, subordinating technology to it, exploring its possibilities.
So I thought I already knew Bim Sherman's voice. Then, one afternoon, I heard it.
And I never forgot it.

1996
Adrian prepared things carefully, forsaking on this occasion the usual gear he’s known for, and made space in the center for Bim. Around him, fluid, perfectly measured, moved the sounds of Skip McDonald's guitar, Doug Wimbish's bass, "stable" mates. The offbeat rhythm disappears, and to weave delicate patterns, the tablas of Talvin Singh, a discreet guest. Discreet and precious too are the appearances, in the background, of the Studio Beats Orchestra Bombay, an Indian string section. On this almost intangible, (mystical?) backdrop probably made of the substance of a dream, stretches the velvet of Sherman's voice. Some of the best songs from his repertoire, stripped down and caressed until they reveal an essence so sweet it turns into honey, almost a balm you didn’t expect, that you didn’t believe you needed.

No, normally I’m not like this. Far from a poet, believe me. But that afternoon I heard Bim, and I cared for him.
I think it was a… miracle.

Jarrett Tomlinson, aka Bim 'Lion' Sherman, died of cancer in London on November 17, 2000, at the age of 48. While I listen to him, writing this poor “review,” I pay him my very personal respects. A paltry thing, in exchange for that little miracle, worked one afternoon almost ten years ago…