Here comes the sun Little darlin’!

Oh, yeah…you may hear me screaming for miles around, as I use giant amplification systems and nearby buildings as giant soundboards for broadcasting my general happiness that the sun is here. Now, I know it’s only in fits and starts – but I can feel my seemingly ever decreasing solar cells recharging. Ladies and gentlemen, I have spent time in the garden, and I saw that it was good.

It only means one thing – more reggae influenced music is about to flood my hearing channels and, by Christ, I’m looking forward to it. It won’t be long now until I break out Sublime and I always like that time of year…usually about the same time I get my 1 and only surf in too.

Best way to describe Sublime, are Californian, surfer-punks who just can’t get enough of the reggae. Now with a cult like following, following the death of much missed vocals and guitarist Bradley Nowell, the entire beach scene around the world holds a flame for Sublime, and the anti-hero frontman.

Beach parties start around this time the year around our parts, you can hear ‘em at night, bottles clinking on the beach, the faint glow of the top of a shoddily constructed fire above the smoke infested dunes of any of many South Wales coastal townships.

You’ll hear the sounds of that annoying, dreary acoustic sap Jack Johnson blaring from any number of car windows, and sand filled stereos and all the other JJ sound-a-likes for that matter – don’t let them infect you with their general mediocrity.

You shouldn’t say ‘Oh, that’s nice…that’ll do’ ‘coz it wont!

You should be saying ‘Yes! That’s the Hammer! It’s this, all night or nothing you f*kers’.

And you should mean it too. Jack Johnson is never gonna make you say any thing remotely like that. If I’m going to a beach party, I wanna go to a beach party.

The difference is this:

A Jack Johnson beach party consists of 10 or 15 people huddled up in puffer jackets on the beach passing a bottle of Cinzano, round a small fire with someone threatening to pick up an out of tune acoustic guitar, and play along to the master of banality hoping to get a sing along going.

A Sublime beach party has a lot more people, some naked or at least close to it, there will be a couple of burned people from jumping through the (properly constructed)inferno of a fire, there will be people dancing, drinking casualties, interaction, smiles, singing, joviality…and everyone will have their own bottle of Cinzano.

I know where I’d rather be…but I’d swap the Cinzano, for sure.

B. Minor