The perpetually funky Black Sound posted a disc that I was only drawn to as a result of its cover. The tripped out paisley lilt of the cover seemed to belie the music that it purportedly held. And if that wasn’t enough, doesn’t it appear that Lloyd Parks, heretofore unknown to this nerd, is wearing a powdered wig as if he’s a member of Parliament? Maybe that’s not him, but some historical figure that I’m not privy to. But either way, the bust and the design of the background are seemingly incongruous.

What does fit together are each of the melodies and rhythms on this slab. Counting Ansel Collins on keys, who apparently was involved in a few groups that Parks worked in at some point prior to this release, his playing lends a certain amount of laconic soul to the reggae offerings here. And while the other folks playing on this disc don’t appear to be too recognizable, each probably had a place in one of Parks’ ensembles - the Invincibles, the Termites amongst others. Even if the actual talent behind those instruments wasn’t enough, Errol Thompson oversees the recording. He’s not most associated with the engineering side of the recording process, but he does an ample job.

The disc, originally released in ’72 and then reissued two years later, is greatly focused on love songs, which isn’t to foreign to a roots style, obviously. Officially doesn’t have any stunners, it’s just a string of overly competent slow burners with more than a passing touch of US soul to it all. Even if everything is sung from the male perspective, the sentiment is still understandable no matter who you are. A few tracks come off a bit better than others, but it’s the lead off track the ends up being the most memorable and widely applicable.

“Officially” comes off as a plea for a union – or at least some confused dude looking for something solid. After missing his woman, she apparently returns home. And while that simple fact makes Parks feel better, he wants it all to be official. The song doesn’t go so far as to suggest marriage on the part of the singer, although the king and queen analogy does get tossed around. Any number of traditional sayings and phrase get worked off in the slow and bilious reggae track. The following offerings move around in roughly the same territory, though, until we get to “Slavery.”

With that title, it’s easy enough to guess what this track’s gonna be about. While most of the song is given over to a traditional retelling of troubled times, Parks eventually wonders something pretty unique. Instead of blaming his oppressors, Parks at one point asks what’s wrong with his plan. It’s an odd perspective to take – although it must have been broached at one time or another. If not for that odd line, though, the track would still be pretty notable for that Ansel Collins key line. Remarkable or not, though, the disc is a solid release. It might not be anyone’s favorite roots effort, but it more than subtly gets beyond much of the genre.