Working with some of the most talented if not internationally known producers before hitting it big was obviously a help to Jah Walton. And if that name resounds hollowly in most ear holes, it’s understandable. Under the name Jah Walton, there weren’t any hits, but as Joseph Cotton the deejay made inroads towards success in the United Kingdom.

Before that, Jah Walton engaged both Joe Gibbs and Harry Mudie behind the boards. Each of those folks, pretty extensively detailed on this here blog (HERE and HERE), count as innovators despite their relative obscurity. But there’s no question that riding pilfered rhythms was learned under the auspices of these two men as Jah Walton marched towards his eventual name change and its monetary accoutrements.

Arriving on the scene in the latter half of the seventies, there wasn’t too much room for a new star. And really there wasn’t any chance at changing the game at that late date – on the microphone at least. But with a combination of influences, even if it’s a bit confusing, Jah Walton issued Touch Her Where She Want It.

The cover of Walton’s album should elicit a bit of concern, not just by women, but by dudes that aren’t scumbags. It’s pretty clear that what’s being portrayed, despite the title of the album isn’t a savory act. What obfuscates purpose further is the fact that Walton’s album begins with a song detailing the way to live properly and to praise the lord.

It’s a hard statement to swallow, but religion, in some cases, seems to be a fad. That’s not meant to detract from real adherents of Rasta philosophy, but what else accounts for white dudes with dread locks. Either way, as a part of what reggae music became, Rastafarianism was an integral guide. Of course, every set of religious rules is subject to interpretation and bastardization. In any religion, actually, it seems that no matter how much lip service is given to total equality, women are very frequently disenfranchised – Orthodox Judiasm being an easy example.

Not to pick on any single set of beliefs, but it’s really just difficult to take Walton’s effort here too seriously based on the difference between the opening track and a few of the later works when coupled with that odd image on the album’s cover. That doesn’t detract from the quality of the music – nor does Skrewdriver’s idiotic political stance on race make its first album any less solid. So, if you can palette some nonsense for the sake of decent music, pick this one up.