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In a 2004 interview with Peter Levi, Leonard Dillon - the Ethiopian - said that "reggae music is a cry of a people... who is not having life to the fullest... the crying for help... is in the music." I've had various acquaintances in the past tell me that reggae to them meant the summer time, to good vibes and so on. I don’t try to necessarily disabuse them of that touristic notion, and instead point them in the direction of the artists I hold in high esteem. None fit the bill more so than The Ethiopians/Dillon.

Dillon grew up in the countryside, where his grandparents keenly instilled in him knowledge of his and his forefathers’ African origins. He talked of this memory with grace and I believe it provided him with a clear line and strength from which to choose his artistic direction. The rocksteady era was a time when hit-making in Jamaica frequently pulled from a boilerplate of urban American influences (Soul and R&B). But Dillon’s instinct remained primarily Jamaican. This is not to ignore the folk and “roots” influences already well-established throughout ska’s bursting period, but the burgeoning rocksteady of the mid-‘60s offered up clear pop idioms to work within. The choice to thus retain linguistic and thematic nativisms, as Dillon did, made his songs stand out (though rarely cash out).

Returning to Dillon’s “crying for help” description, it strikes me that in his rendering of those realities, it was never a dire and helpless cry. In all the folk musics around the world one hears of the struggles, the disappointments, the laughter in the face of everything. Some of most exuberant music imaginable comes from such sources, and that is precisely the essence of The Ethiopians.

Just look at that pic of Dillon and Stephen Taylor – his long-time vocal spar - in their prime: a confidence and clever brashness permeates it, with not a brooding moment in sight. Theirs was not a proto-revolutionary sound. The unusual harmonies that Dillon and Taylor crafted could at times be almost comical; in fact, a jestering tone (“Well Red,” with its mockingly direct statement of turning towards Africa and Rastafarianism, or “One Heart”) was perhaps one of the emotional strategies they developed to deliver their message. That they could sing beautifully like the other more US-influenced rocksteady vocal groupings should also be in no doubt after you hear the likes of "Train To Glory" or “Look Pon It.”

The fourteen tracks we’ve assembled in homage do stick to The Ethiopians’ core creative output from the mid-’60s to the early ‘70s. The tragic death in 1975 of Stephen Taylor did Dillon in for a period, and he recovered slowly, in measures. Coxson Dodd helped lure him out with old Studio One rhythms (“Empty Belly”) and Dillon delivered as ever. Dillon could write catchy songs, there is little doubt of that. But they weren't pop gimmicks he was penning. They were complex expressions and devices which related an ongoing exploration of his identity and the struggles of the Jamaican peoples as he saw them. That he also exhibited uncommon grace is what pushed his talent into the realm of unforgettable. — Mark Williams