An intriguing compilation, Black Man Time reissues the whole of 1977's The Best of I-Roy, then appends four songs cut with producer Roderick "Blackbeard" Sinclair in late 1984, which makes this sound a bit like a hits collection. It's not. Contrary to the Best Of's title, that album wasn't a roundup of recent singles, but actually all new material recorded with producer Alvin Ranglin at Channel One studio. The Revolutionaries, the house band that included Sly & Robbie, Sticky Thompson, Tommy McCook, Ansel Collins, and a host of other notables, laid down the rootsy accompaniment to the Studio One classics that were the basis for Best Of, with Heptones and Alton Ellis hits particularly heavily represented. There's a laid-back quality to Best Of that perfectly complements I-Roy's own, as the DJ was revered for his eloquence, not his exuberance. The Revolutionaries' pulsing beats and moody, atmospheric sound provided a marvelous backdrop over which the artist could ruminate, rhyme, and chatter to his heart's content. Little of the original vocals were left on most of the tracks, leaving I-Roy to toast as he saw fit, the exception being "Black Cinderella," which is a straight DJ version of the Errol Dunkley hit. Roaming from cultural and religious themes to love and pretty girls, the DJ was never at a loss for the right words. "Natty Dread the Lion" is worth the price of the record alone, "National Cry-Sis Inna de Yard" is equally impressive, while close to an entire sermon is packed into the intro of "Natty Dread Get Around." In contrast, "Sun Top Blouse" pivots between a fashion chant and a sensuous come-on, while love forces the DJ to break into song on "Love Is Universal." The seven-year jump into the last four tracks is not anywhere as noticeable as one would expect. By then, the DJ was running out of steam, but these four tracks give little hint of that, and were I-Roy's last truly worthwhile releases. Black Man Time includes a further boon for fans: an excellent six-page biography packed with information about the DJ. And while this may not include any of I-Roy's greatest hits, it still contains great music. ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
Crisus Time not only ranks among the classic DJ albums of its era, but is also notable for its appearance on Virgin, which assiduously promoted reggae to British audiences. That move paid off handsomely by allowing the label to expand beyond its original progressive rock constituency, and gave the artists a foothold outside of their Jamaican origins. Throughout the '70s, I-Roy flourished as one of reggae's top DJs beside equally jive-talkin' brethren like Big Youth, Dillinger, and U-Roy. This album is one of the definitive showcases for those abilities, in which his yowls, bays, and screams become as critical an element as the pulsing dub rhythms over which they bounce. Half the fun is hearing how I-Roy avoids painting himself into a verbal corner with his scattershot delivery; anything's grist for the verbal mill, such as using traditional nursery rhymes to underscore the title track's impatient urgency. Part toaster, part town crier, I-Roy moves from celebrating the joys of music ("Musical Injection") to simple sermons ("Love Your Neighbor") and pointed political comment ("Hypocrite Blackout"). "African Tak" and "African Herbsman" explicitly acknowledge the Rasta movement's pan-African nationalist roots, while "Don't Touch I Man Locks" warns outsiders not to disturb the dreadlocked hairstyles that remain its most visible manifestation. Although changing times and tastes would render his style obsolete, few stars burned as brightly as I-Roy at his peak, and here's the proof. ~ Ralph Heibutzki, All Music Guide
It was one of the most stunningly audacious concepts of all time. Versioning a song was one thing, and by 1977 an enormously popular one at that, but the idea of versioning an entire album was something no one had ever even considered, least of all versioning a masterpiece like Bob Marley & the Wailers' Exodus. But that's precisely what I-Roy did on Ten Commandments (aka Exodus Part II). But the DJ didn't stop there, as the title makes clear; he hung the set around the Ten Commandments, with each track representing one of God's laws, beginning with I-Roy reciting, singing, or toasting about the commandment itself. Some provide the inspiration for his toast, as with "Commandment 6"'s "Thou shalt not kill," which is set to a sublime version of "Natural Mystic." Elsewhere, it's the actual song that sets the DJ rocking, as on "Commandment 5," where he sings along to "One Love," reminds listeners to "honor thy mother and father," and delivers up a romantically seductive toast to boot. On "Commandment 2," grave images get short shrift, as the DJ calls out warnings to the Wailers' "Heathen." Not all the songs are cultural in intent: "Commandment 7" confusingly starts off with I-Roy stating he's giving listeners "number six," but delivers up the seventh ("Thou shalt not commit adultery"); however, that's the only biblical reference, as the singer skanks off on a "Jamming" shock attack. The same is true with the jumping "Commandment 1," where I-Roy celebrates toasting itself. This number is the sole one not versioned from Exodus itself, and substitutes a punchy "Put It On" for the more downbeat "Turn Your Lights Down Low." Contrary to later legend, Ten Commandments does not version the original album itself, instead boasting spectacular recuts by the low-profile band Chalawa. It may be sacrilegious to suggest, but the versions here are arguably superior to the originals, and most are far rootsier than what the Wailers created on their record. "Exodus" (aka "Commandment 4") absolutely steams across the grooves, "Heathen" is positively ominous, "Natural Mystic" is stomach-dropping heavy, and even "Three Little Birds" have bulked up from fluttering sparrows to soaring eagles. Pete Weston's superb production emphasizes the dread auras the band creates, giving the record a dubby depth that shook sound systems around the world. An incredibly popular album in its day, it's beggars' belief that Frontline, who released the set in the U.K., let it fall from their catalog and has steadfastly refused to reissue it -- a cultural crime if ever there was one. This album is a masterpiece that demands a new audience ~ Jo-Ann Greene, All Music Guide
Not as even as predecessors like Truths and Rights, but has some good moments. There's more than enough examples of I Roy's elementaryish rhymes; kids could jump rope to "Sister Nelly" and "Tiddele Bop," two humorous numbers that I Roy must have spent hours on in order to get the rhymes tight. The reading level of his lyrics rises on "Move Up Rasta Man," "Jordan River," and "Peace in the City," the first two in particular show advance poetic skills. A strong reggae skank, provided by guitarist Earl "Chinna" Smith, underlines every track. Far from classic, but one fans will want in their collection. ~ Andrew Hamilton, All Music Guide