There are many things that I won’t ever understand about the Jamaican recording industry. And that’s fine. But I’ll always wonder why the singer of “Aramagideon Time” is alternately credited as Willi Williams and Willie Williams. It doesn’t matter, but being a bit obsessive about grammar, I’ve always noticed the name that he’s been billed under.

Anyway, that has no bearing on his music or his career. But that aforementioned tune - “Aramagideon Time” – is really what his legacy will be tied to. Being released in 1978, the album that goes by the same name as the hit found an audience in the form of Brit punkers the Clash. And by this point, that band had already recorded with Lee Perry while putting down a version of the Junior Murvin classic “Police and Thieves.” But the inclusion of the Williams track served to spread the acclaimed voice of the man to Britain.

At the time, Williams had already been splitting time between living in Canada and working with another ex-pat, ex-Skatalite’s keyboardist Jackie Mitto, and recording in Jamaica. But even this momentary boost in cultural impact didn’t make Williams a star – which it probably should have. By this late date in reggae, Marley had already departed and the ever expanding Jamaican diaspora would have embraced a well backed, talented musician. It was not to be so.

That, though, didn’t mean an end to Williams’ career. Instead he continued recording in the same vein even as the momentary clamor around reggae eventually subsided. But his stardom persisted in certain circles and he most certainly maintains a relatively high profile in Jamaica. But because of this, the two volume From Studio One to Drum Street compilation was delivered.

Coming out a few years back, the disc was released around the same time that much of the Soul Jazz reissue campaign was unleashed. Good timing. But even beyond that, much of the work represented herein is of as high a quality as anything being recorded today. Covering much of Williams’ career, from the ‘60s through the ‘80s at least, the collection finds the singer working in various settings. Of course, most frequently Williams is remembered for politically charged polemics, but as a producer he was much more.

Part of what makes Jamaican music so interesting is the idea of a recycled beat – or at least a repetitive, extended one. And in showcase style, “The Unification” is given over to Williams’ vocals as well as a healthful dose of dubbed out instrumental passages. That track, though, is the longest represented here. And even as the two minute, soul influenced tracks come around, there’s no way in which to dismiss Williams’ work in any context.

There’s even a touch of African influenced drumming on “Black Beauty.” And while the track’s fidelity might be called into question, the way in which its rhythmic simplicity is complemented by an all too basic piano and trombone line easily sits the track in a class by itself. Williams isn’t the only person to work within the disparate modes that Jamaican music comes in. But he seems to do them all well.