Jah Wobble's Invaders Of The Heart
Take Me To God

Cocktails of Mermaids

Where did we leave it?
Wandering around all "filled up," adding addition to addition.
The ghost of himself, he would confess years later to some journalist.
The glorious past, even legendary (P.I.L.) was indeed past.
He wasn't the bright star shining under the spotlight, even back in the day of the boom.
Imagine now, when everything was switched off and barely keeping afloat was the future real estate mogul Lydon, reiterating his proverbial litany with his hysterical and boisterous voice.

So, more his business than mine, I'd almost forgotten him, Jah Wobble.
An oblivion that lasted just long enough for me to be surprised when he reappeared before me, many years later, at the helm of Jah Wobble’s Invaders of The Heart! Not just pals from the local bar.
He had done many other things before. Things I would hear in delay (I'm always distracted and late, so I earn postdated surprises). And he would do more, even tackling Solaris and William Blake. They probably deserve more attention, so many are the ideas he weaves within, the elsewhere mixed around the sound of his bass. In short, was the bassist of P.I.L. becoming a sunny world alchemist?
Who knows... strange surprises, sometimes.

Anyway, here, in 1994, he didn't miss a thing. And this is a pop album.
In the meantime, the team he gathered for this mission is now well-tuned, and the morale of the Invaders is excellent and abundant (or was that the meal?)
The sounds are often a delight, abundant and meticulously crafted: the brilliant sparkle of the strings, the rubbery depth of the bass, electronics and percussion: everything flows smoothly, the production is excellent.
But most abundant and varied are the collaborations. Just scroll through the list of the legion of voices that join the party. Often more than one for each scene. And sometimes truly unpredictable.
Opening the door ("God In The Beginning") for example, alongside the host, is Andrea Oliver. And that's already another surprise: I had heard her voice in Rip Rig + Panic, and since then, I think never again.
In the unlikely "Amor," to the sugary Latinness, accompanied by little guitar and congas, of an explicit Ximena Tascon: ("Tu eres my ombre, pero non lo sabes, tu seras mi hombre") responds even more directly ("I just wanna make love to you") Spikey Tee. But since the concept might be unclear, in the subsequent dub extension of the same piece, reinforcing it is entrusted to Chaka Demus & Pliers.

And it is within this setting that I hear for the first time the voice of the Algerian Abdel Ali Slimani (and it's a nice preview of the "Mraya" album, recommended, which he will publish with Realword,) in the Arab-esque title track that Jah personally seasons also with keyboards and a Hammond B3.
But as soon as the reel, turning, presents a new backdrop, this time with ruins among grassy carpets and pointed painted mountains, there pops up a mandolin. And here comes the gallop of "The Sun Does Rise," which begins at a trot and implies a gallop when the choirs surround the voice of Dolores O’Riordan.
Her too, the singer of the Cranberries, you say?
Oh, yes, but she’s just one of the possible postcards.

In fact, the next track already transports us somewhere else, to hear the duet of Natacha Atlas and Anneli M. Drecker (Bel Canto). Who would have imagined those two together?

And we're only halfway through the party. But there's no risk of disorientation, no one feels uncomfortable: the space is welcoming, the guests are polite, the reel keeps turning. And just to interrupt the flow and break away a bit, this time it's a night scene, even slightly threatening, "Yoga Of The Nightclub" welcoming another unexpected guest: Gavin Friday. On the other hand, did you want to flood with light, maybe Caribbean, the one who was the singer of the Virgin Prunes?
Ok, I think that's enough.
In "Angels," on an African backdrop, there's also Baaba Maal. In "Raga," the Carnatic-style vocals are entrusted to the Anglo-Indian Najma Akthar.
Jah duets here and there but bids us farewell affably in person, singing the concluding "Forever.”

What do you think, did I like this album?
I remember listening to it then with a good dose of astonishment, and with fluctuating moods.
Then I must have decided no, since it certainly didn’t get worn out spinning in the player.
Why this page, then?
The other day, in a review on DeBaser, I read some phrases:
For my albums I rent Spanish mermaids with a ringing voice to rhyme heart and love.
My audience deserves cocktails with colorful umbrellas on round wicker tables, against a backdrop of light blue Bristol board and a plastic ivy climbing up the divide.

And it reminded me of "Take Me To God."
So today I listened to it again.
And I still can’t tell you if the thumb is up or if the stars are 4. Still uncertain if all the color and aroma abundance of this fruit salad of songs is a good example of "multi-ethnic" pop or the mishmash of a chef with too many recipes under their belt.
What I can tell you, however, is that when Jah Wobble’s bass sound finds its space, it’s always a pleasure to hear.
That you'll find, scattered, tasty bursts and in their own way, brilliant.
And that, as of today, on certain so-so days, I will take it for another spin.
Waiting to read on DeBaser a review recommending a different side, and perhaps the best album, of this chameleon armed with bass.