The transitions that the JA music industry underwent over time – both musically and lyrically – didn’t always come off with some clear demarcation point. The difference between the ska and rock steady periods are rendered clear in musical terms, but lyrically there wasn’t a tremendous shift. Perhaps the most noticeable difference was a drawing down of religious fervor – the Old Testament at least. And since the shift from rock steady to reggae became most pronounced during the early ‘70s, by the second half of that decade JA was ready for a new music.

Subsequent to reggae’s dominance, the inventiveness of sparse dubs grabbed a hold of the populace. Along with that, though, would be a spate of deejay centric albums that made use of those versions in order for toasters to ramble off extemporaneous couplets touching on everything from physical possessions to woman and how to keep a hold on them.

Amongst the top tier producers working in this mold was Joe Gibbs. Contributing untold scores of compositions to reggae’s history, Gibbs eventually found himself working with Trinity, another graduate of the Alpha Boys School. While Trinity didn’t wind up being as well known as Dillinger or some of the other more visible toasters of the era, one of his records ended up being an important part of the shift from reggae to dancehall.

With the older genre being more concerned with the troublesome political climate of the island, Trinity’s Three Piece Suit side steps the heavy handed polemics and uses Gibbs’ productions for his own purposes. Each of the ten tunes on the 1977 released album utilizes some familiar rhythm. But what’s more interesting is the overt and concerted effort to speak on the subject of dollars, cents and clothing.

“Strickly Cash” finds Trinity lamenting bounced checks and the problems that follow. The song isn’t lyrically dense and clearly comes off the cuff. The slight story and endlessly repeated phrases, somehow, don’t wind up detracting too much from the entirety of these proceedings – but that’s in part due to Gibbs’ prowess behind the boards.

Most memorable, though, is the title track and its whirring sirens that announce the song’s beginning. Using “I’m Still in Love” as the basis for the version, Gibbs immediately has a familiar vocal break and horn melody to work with. Of course, with Trinity coming off as a dapper suitor, even as the toaster is necessitated to dialogue with the vocal sample about knocking down his door, the track reads as a player’s manifesto.

No one should fault Trinity for taking this particular point of view on relationships. But unfortunately, it disallows the album from being a classic. The lyrics might play well in some circles today, but with such a deep musical history to sift through, Trinity’s entry here shouldn’t be considered an absolute classic. Even that can’t remove the inherent listening pleasure that Gibbs imbues the disc with, but other toasters get over a far sight better. And if nothing else, Gibbs’ production values are powerful enough to stand on its own without the interference of any toaster – Trinity or otherwise.