In the nine years that have passed since Deal's Gone Bad released their debut album Large and in Charge, the group have undergone dizzying alterations, with only guitarist Dave Simon and drummer Mike Corcoran now remaining from the original lineup. Every change, though, has brought the band a little closer to perfection, helping over time to solidify the group's grand vision and sharpening their musical skills, songwriting, and arrangements. (A trend that should not, however, be viewed as a slight to the invariably excellent work of now departed members.) Still, fans' impatience grew as the interim between albums lengthened, building into a whopping four years. It's obvious, though, that DGB haven't been resting on their laurels, for with The Ramblers they've crafted a flawless album, so much so that it's difficult to even know where to begin. The production is superb; clean, but not slick, capturing and distinguishing every note whilst creating a fleshy, warm sound. Rarely has a CD sounded so good, the music virtually glows, easy with analog, quite a feat with digital technology. Kudos to producers Corcoran and Karl Gustafson. If that's sublime, the arrangements are inspired. Forget the many stellar solos and grand basslines, those automatically garner attention, it's the small musical passages -- the three bars of organ swagger, the little drum fill, the guitar flourishes -- that demand notice by their very understatement. The closer you listen, the more of these subtle interjections you'll find, each immaculately timed, placed, and delivered, all beautifully coloring the songs. Dare one compare it to Jackie Mittoo's time at Studio One? Close, but Gladdy & the Allstars' stellar work across the early reggae age is more apt a comparison. And then there are the songs themselves, a diverse bunch but sharing one thing in common, their strong melodies, arguably the most powerful in DGB's career. Be it the plaintive "One More Day," the funky "Take Time," the reggae-soul of "Good Old Days," the rootsy "The Cost," the exuberantly infectious ska of "You Get the Keys," or the John Crow-styled "Rough and Ready," every track within is a standout. Finally, there's Todd Hembrook. Replacing a band's frontman is no easy task, and DGB didn't try. Instead, they found a vocalist who wouldn't complement their old sound, but would open new musical doors for them. Hembrook is a stunning singer, and his forceful Stax-ish vocals give the band brand new soul power, a strength that better balances DGB's long term predilection for the genre. See-sawing U.S. soul against Jamaican ska/reggae, the band twine the two together in ways even the island originators couldn't. It may be sacrilege to suggest, but at this point DGB may not just equal, but at times better than the Jamaican legends. At the very least they've unleashed an album that favorably compares with any from back in the day, and those of modern times, to boot. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
In the early years of the Jamaican music scene, pianos, and electric keyboards were integral to song's arrangements, but it was the brass that reigned supreme. A shift in this established order began in the rocksteady age, and with the rise of reggae the organ donned the musical crown, relegating the brass to the positions of musicians-in-waiting. This musical change is beautifully illustrated by Deal's Gone Bad's first two albums, which between them capture this dramatic shift in style. The band's debut set, Large and in Charge, was ska driven and brass riven, leaving their original organist Aret Sakalian very much in a supporting role. However, by the time the group recorded their follow-up set, Overboard, a new keyboardist, Julio Herrera, was in place, and with his arrival DGB's sound now began evolving in much the same way as the Jamaicans'. Inevitably, as the spotlight shifted to the organ, it dimmed around the brass, although, DGB's arrangements are a bit more egalitarian than their island counterparts, and on songs like "Stop and Listen," "In the Land Where No One Walks" and "Loverboy," the horn players are given plenty of room to strut their stuff. That latter number is a rousing boogie, a style reprised on "Honest Woman, Honest Man," where the keyboardist also gets to showcase his best barrelling style. A huge fan of Jamaican legend Jackie Mittoo, and like his hero incredibly stylistically adept, from R&B progressions to the showboating solos so popular in the early reggae age, Herrera stamps his imprimatur on every piece. His prominent performances gives much of the album a decidedly reggae flavor even when the rest of the band are playing ska; for organ, after all, is totally intertwined with early reggae, while piano was the keyboard of note in the ska age. The other notable change is that DGB have departed the bars (the lyrical setting for much of their last set) for the wider world, opening up their thematic vistas to great effect. What hasn't changed, though, is Mike Park's fabulous R&B flavored vocals, nor the band's ability to subtly bring that styling to even the most adamant of reggae arrangements. Deal's Gone Bad may have shuffled the deck, but they've retained a winning hand, whilst simultaneously exploring a fabulous new sound, which together will thoroughly satisfy trads, mods, and skins alike. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
Of all the bands to emerge from the midwestern third wave ska scene, none was so enthrall to the local bars than Deal's Gone Bad, and whose lives, to judge by their lyrics revolved strictly around drinking down at the local dive and hitting on the girls they met there. But it's not all "Good Times," one drink too many and you're "Mad at the World," and put enough heavyweight, beer sozzled, bad tempered types together and you've got a rumble that equal a pack of pachyderms put to full flight. And it's "The Elephants" that open this set with thundering finesse, and whose inspired lyrical metaphors are equal to the number's storming musical backing. "Pirates" is just as clever, even if the only sea these virtue-plundering buccaneers are sailing down is the gutter. It's amazing how the band can make the mundane so dramatic, everyday incidents take on grandiloquent proportion under their pens, emotions are heightened, slights are sharpened, and sexual encounters take on whole new dimensions. Lyrically then, their inspirations are a heady mix of pubby partying, the inevitable crying in one's beer, and the story weaving so integral to the blues and R&B. That latter style also emerges in their music, most obviously on the rocking "Dollar Down," where they showcase it in its purest '50s form, but also streaming through "Good Times," and rampaging in a jazzier fashion on "Elephants." Fabulous jazz brass flavors a host of numbers, coming to the fore on the instrumental "Curse of the Cur." But more uniquely, the horns are just as keen to swing and rock, most notably on "Pirates" and "Dollar Down" where the brass section pays homage to Val Bennett, Jamaica's rockingest saxophonist, while "Leaving Town" proves that trumpeters can rock as well as saxophonists. Slipping agilely from the high-energy skankers through mid tempo numbers, tipping their hats to Prince Buster, the Wailers, the Skatalites, and other legendary Jamaican bands of the '60s, Deal's Gone Bad is trad with a twist, American R&B refracted twice, first through Jamaican ears, and then the band's own. A sensational debut from one of the most intriguing bands on the scene. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide