Johnny Osbourne, like many of his countrymen, immigrated to Toronto during the ‘70s. Osbourne’s relocation came after a short stint as lead singer of the Wildcats back in 1967 and upon his arrival in Toronto, the singer fell in with other transplanted Jamaican musicians who coalesced around Thunder Sound Studio. During his time in up north, Osbourne released a number of singles as well as recording an album with Ishan People, a group all but unknown down here in the States.

Moving back to Jamaica in ‘79, Osbourne began recording for the venerable Studio One honcho Coxsonne Dodd which resulted in the eventual release of an album titled Truths and Rights. Much in the same way that Blue Note afforded Madlib the luxury of raiding its vaults for his 2003 Shades of Blue, Dodd was able to make use of the previous fifteen years of music that Studio One had amassed for the singer to croon over. It was a culturally significant moment as well as a rich one musically.

Very frequently, Osbourne is referred to as one of the progenitors of dancehall. And while the man’s future releases might have leaned more towards that genre, Truths and Rights sounds like nothing more than a roots record. Not to dismiss the album or the genre, but for having such an overtly political title, there’s still lover’s rock (“Can’t Buy Love”) and songs touching on musical affinities (“Sing Jay Stylee”). Not necessarily heady stuff.

Jamaica’s musical tastes follow the country’s historical changes. Musicians in the ‘50s called for independence. As the ‘60s progressed music moved away from love songs and ballads to embrace political and religious themes dealing with equality, while the ‘70s continued this lyrical bent only to include an international tinge as time wore on.

Truth and Rights utilizes music from the past and works to incorporate the then current immediate socio-political and religious issues. “Eternal Peace,” for instance, calls upon the elders of Jamaica to work along side younger generations to promote a more unified nation. Even with his tone of reformation, there are a number of very clear antecedents to Osbourne’s recording. But forgiving that, the music that flies from this slab serves as a very clear indicator of the political and social tenor of a nation. Either way though, if you have Freddie McGregor and Sugar Minott as backing vocalists, it can’t turn out too bad.