Trevor Hall looks like Kurt Cobain's flower child cousin and sings like an aspiring reggae soldier. It's an odd combination, made all the more unusual by Hall's accent -- a fusion of Californian beach bum drawl and Jamaican slang -- and his reggae-centric lyrics, which include references to mango trees, eternal givers, and mansions in the sky. This isn't a dreadful album by normal reggae standards, and tracks like "The Lime Tree" are leisurely enough to avoid the overzealous performance that saturates many of the louder songs. Reggae isn't simply a genre, however -- it's a lifestyle, a response to anti-colonialism, a sound borne from a very specific environment -- and Hall possesses neither the pedigree nor the poise to make this album convincing.
Share this page
AllMusic Review by Andrew Leahey
feat: Krishna Das