When began recording their fifth album, they were in the middle of a contract dispute with , the upshot being that was their first record for under the auspices of . The band had recorded a batch of classic songs in Jamaica, then brought the tapes to London, where proceeded to remix them, adding rock guitars and keyboards to a handful of tracks (with the band's ultimate approval). No matter how convoluted its creation might have been, is a hands-down classic album that both defines and transcends the reggae genre while bringing it to a wider audience, and it started on his way to becoming a global star. As much as became the hero over time, is a group creation where the band, singers, and songwriters all worked together to create something greater than its individual elements. Yes, wrote most of the songs and sang them with a pleasing blend of warmth and strength, but without the soothing, empowering harmonies of and backing him, and the at once tight and elastic bounce and strut of the band driving him forward, the album wouldn't have been nearly as good. , too, takes lead on a couple of songs: the deeply soulful, -inspired "Stop That Train" and the fierce protest song "400 Years," which shovel coals onto the fire that blazes beneath much of the record's laid-back exterior. The album is a good mixture of songs like that -- as well as "Concrete Jungle" and "Slave Driver" -- that make the listener want to shout and fight, and those that are made for times when the lights get a little lower and thoughts turn to romance. "Stir It Up" is one of these, and its echoing guitars, bubbling organ, and shimmering synths pair with 's aching lead and the note-perfect backing vocals to create a wonderfully slinky baby-making jam. "Baby We've Got a Date (Rock It Baby)" is a little more insistent, featuring some almost strident female vocals, but the mood is similar. The only hitch is the wandering slide guitar, a slight misstep that could have been avoided if had left well enough alone. Another tiny stumble comes on "No More Trouble," which is the kind of vague, sloganeering song became more known for once he jettisoned the other two and took center stage. It's a pretty good attempt, though, and the funky clavinet gives the song some extra bite. Regardless of these faint faults, the album holds together incredibly well as a listening experience and features the original at their angriest, toughest, and most romantic peak. Anyone looking to check out reggae at its very best -- or before he became an omnipresent icon -- would do well to give a spin. ~ Tim Sendra