006 Cult Cargo: Belize City Boil Up
Samba Soul. Afro-beat. Reggae. What were once loose-fitting descriptions for American influenced homegrown R&B, are now but common parlance in the lexicon of genre classification. These regional movements all yielded monumental sonic innovations that returned to America with tidal force, eventually flooding the world with third world treasure. The music of Detroit and Memphis were quite possibly America's largest cultural export of the 1960s, spawning imitators with every radio wave that whispered "I've got sunshine..." or "Sittin' in the morning sun..." into the fertile ear of the uninitiated. For every Nigeria there were ten Ghana's, and every shiny Brazilian soulster had his counterpart in Peru, Argentina, and Columbia. Good news travels fast, and as the gospel of American soul hit the beaches of Trinidad, the Bahamas, and in this case, Belize, it was as though the Gods had not just spoken, but sung. A Cargo Cult is what happens when one culture begins worshipping the byproducts of another. Cult Cargo is the unexpected result of that devotion.
It is here in these sixty odd minutes that The Numero Group unveils a style of music completely unknown to the greater world before we dragged it from the beaches of Belize. The national dish of Belize is made with a diverse mixture of ingredients, pig's tail, potatoes, plantains, bananas, boiled eggs, yams, whole fish, thrown in a pot, and boiled to perfection. They call it a Boil Up. The music of this collection combines equal parts of R&B, calypso, disco, funk, reggae, bruckdown, soul, folk, and whatever else can be found back on the bottom shelf of the musical pantry. This too is called Boil Up, and it’s anything but leftovers.
Almost nothing was known of the records made in Belize between 1960 and 1980. A few bootleg compilations had lifted the Professionals break-laden cover of "Theme From The Godfather" while criminally ignoring their soul-cum-island-dancer "The Back Stabbers." The Soul Creations "Funky Jive" was a mid three figure single owned by few, though sought after by many before we turned up the remaining stock of that 45 in a dank basement under the Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn. That accidental discovery aside, Belize's CES label was a secret kept by time and a Belizean community that had moved away from phonograph records as soon as it was possible.
As is our habit here at Numero, we’ve taken special care in restoring these sixteen songs from their original analog sources. Paul Q Kolderie and Sean Slade at Camp Street (Radiohead, Pixies, Hole, Morphine), along with Jeff Lipton at Peerless Mastering worked side by side with us, scouring through more than thirty reels and thousands of feet of tape. Another hundred or so hours went into re-mastering, remixing and reevaluating, all in search of the perfect blend of passport stamped rhythms, second-deck cruise ship melodies, hotel pool calypso, soundtracks to movies not-yet-made, and anything else savory, or unsavory, enough to throw into the pot.
This is Boil Up. Serve it hot.
Chicago Sun Times - October 9th 2005
The national dish of Belize is the boil up, a mix of pigs' tails, potatoes, plantains, bananas, boiled eggs, yams and fish. The country's homegrown R&B is an equally heady blend of ingredients, including soul, samba, reggae, rock and jazz.
"Cult Cargo" was compiled by the same team that put together "Eccentric Soul: The Bandit Label." While that project was of interest primarily because of the fascinating backstory of the scandalous South Side label, this Belizean compilation stands on its own musically.
Of the half-dozen artists represented on these 16 tunes, the most interesting are those who put an original spin on American soul: The Web, the only group on the CD to have lived in the United States, provides the ultra-funky "The Same Old Me" and "Things Are Going to Work Out Right." There are some cool covers, too, notably "The Back Stabbers" by the Professionals and "Shame Shame Shame" by the Harmonettes.
Arthur - October 2005
Another start-to-finish classic from one of America’s very finest record labels, the Numero Group out of Chicago. This one is a collection of singles recorded between 1960 and 1980 in Belize. Amazing stuff, lots of covers of American soul hits, some reggae stuff too, all infused with this special feel. There’s a warmth—an ease—that’s absolutely seductive. You can just get glimpses of their accent. Numero specialize in upending every notion you have that there is, or has ever been, a meritocracy in pop. They prove that human achievement on this planet is continuous and happens wherever people have time on their hands. It does not take place in the easily circumscribed times and places and sequences that VH1 or self-appointed music experts like ourselves like to place it in. The energy is always-there-everywhere, it’s just a matter of whether you’ve found out about it yet. Remember M.O.T.O.? They’ve been going since 1988, they’re in our own country, and we only just found out about them. Think what’s been going on in other countries for decades! We don’t know anything! Admitting ignorance is the first step towards enlightenment. Numero are international cargo crate diggers of the first order. They should be awarded United Nations medals of honors for service in mankind.
Entertainment Weekly - October 21st 2005
Discovered in a Brooklyn basement, these ultra-obscure recordings (originally released between 1960 and 1980) document Belize's breezy, rhythmically supple take on Stax-style soul, Latin funk, and roots reggae. Yes, this tiny Central American country is a darn funky place. Who knew?
Time Out Chicago - October 19th 2005
Both American and Jamaican music found their way into plenty of unfamiliar places in the 1960s and ’70s, but Belize might stand as the most overlooked. Like some aberrant beauty mark on the geography of Central America, Belize’s tiny coastline yearns for Jamaica, perhaps explaining why even though the country shares its remaining borders with Mexico and Guatemala, Belizeans identify as Caribbeans—not Central Americans.
Chicago’s the Numero Group, the Midwest’s premier coterie of dusty-vinyl fetishists, has uncovered Belize’s previously unexamined role throughout these decades on its new comp, Cult Cargo: Belize City Boil Up. As the refreshingly unsnobbish liner notes explain, the recording of Belizean music didn’t begin in earnest until after the destruction of Hurricane Hattie in 1961, a silver lining that bodes well for New Orleans. Already established Belizean musicians like Lord Rhaburn, whose influence is forever solidified here, landed on their feet in the United States, and only then did they acquire the financial and technical independence to record and release records of themselves and their fellow countrymen.
The 16 tracks chosen for Cult Cargo make the case for Belize’s importance not just by their quality, but also for the idiosyncratic twists they give to everything from ska and Stax soul to Latin jazz and Joan Baez–style folk. The tempos, even on the blaxploitation funk of “Disco Connection,” are noticeably faster than their American and Jamaican equivalents. Calypso rhythms—like the clattering percussion that dances in the background of the Professionals’ reggae version of the O’Jays’ “The Backstabbers”—are subtle evidence of the unique Belizean take on such tunes. Once you realize Otis Redding had imitators who are equally convincing in heavily accented English, you’ll never hear his music the same way again.
Pitchfork - October 27th 2005
Belize is not a nation that gets much attention from the rest of the world. A slice of Central America's Caribbean coast smaller than Vermont, it's a former British colony that only gained its independence in 1981. But Belize has a vibrant, diverse, and well-mixed culture that whips together influences and people from across the Caribbean, as well as Europe and Africa. The traditional dish of the country is something of a metaphor for its population: It's called the "boil up," and it essentially involves boiling whatever's on hand-- whole fish, plantains, pork bones, pig's tail, whatever-- together in one pot.
Taking things one step further, the boil up also serves nicely as a culinary analog to the country's musical output. Though it's a part of the mainland, Belize is essentially a Caribbean country, and its close ties to Jamaica and Trinidad & Tobago are apparent on even a cursory listen to the limited recorded output of the local and ex-pat Belizean musical community. And of course, like any Anglophone country, Belize was hit by the soul and funk sounds of the U.S. in the 1960s and 70s. The exuberant embrace of all of these influences is excellently chronicled on Belize City Boil Up, the latest from Numero Group and the inaugural release in what figures to be a series of similarly themed Numero compilations called Cult Cargo.
The bulk of the music on the disc was actually recorded outside of Belize, either by bands formed in the Belizean communities scattered in large American cities, or by Belizean groups touring abroad in Brooklyn and Jamaica. Compton Fairweather's CES label, originally founded as an electronic security system installation company, served as the official curator of the country's music, releasing nearly everything in the United States. Unfortunately, not many people outside of Belize were listening, and the music has languished in obscurity.
This set of 16 scraped-together tracks has an aura of the impossible about it. How could this music possibly have existed for so long without being heard by anyone other than a handful of absurdly dedicated crate-diggers? Lord Rhaburn's "Disco Connection" is outlandishly danceable, a white dwarf of precision instrumental funk with incredibly sophisticated production that hints at dub, as well as some genres not yet invented at the time of its recording, like house. The reverb on the saxes is majestic, and the bassline has an indescribable humidity to it, burning front-and-center in the mix. Rhaburn was a towering figure in Belizean music and one of its most prolific recorders. His other three songs here run the gamut from roots reggae to deep soul and strutting surf rock with a funky Muscle Shoals undercarriage.
Also clocking in with four tracks are the Professionals, led by Jesus Acosta, who first appear as a hardcore calypso band with a wonderful take on the traditional "Guajida" (also known as "Guarija"), opening it with a bright, rugged sax melody that oozes sexuality. They flirt with psychedelia on "A Part of Being With You", morph the O'Jays' "Backstabbers" into horn-drenched reggae, and reinvent the theme from The Godfather as a spooky breakbeat masterpiece. The Web were actually based in Brooklyn, and their "Things Are Going to Work Out Right" is one of the most impressive songs in this boil up, beginning as a bluesy soul ballad slathered in Philly-smooth horns, only to explode midway through into a raucous funk workout stuffed with staccato horns, chicken-scratch guitar, and wailing Hammond organ.
The other three artists whose songs have been resurrected by this comp were sadly less prolific but no less remarkable in their skill. Most of these bands played thousands of shows and recorded only when they had the rare opportunity, and their discipline is readily apparently on the precious vinyl they did manage to produce. The Soul Creations offer a two-part funk instrumental called "Funky Jive", which is easily on par with anything the Propositions and other similar America funk acts of the era were turning out. The Harmonettes give up a smoking rocksteady take on Johnny Nash's "Can't Go Halfway", then outdo themselves by transforming Shirley & Co.'s slick disco smash "Shame, Shame, Shame" into a nasty, ragged funk song. The set is rounded out by an oddball song from Nadia Cattouse, a Belizean living in London: "Long Time Boy" is exotica pop full of whistling flute and wandering guitar that feels totally out of time and place. It could have come from anywhere, any time, perhaps even outer space.
Boil Up is possibly the most solid release to date from Numero Group, which is by this point one of the best and most thoughtful reissue labels in the country. If you like funk-- and especially if you feel you've already largely mined American r&b-- there's plenty to dig into here, and hopefully more where that came from.
Orlando Weekly - October 27th 2005
The best thing about Belize City Boil Up isn't the fact that it shines a light on a woefully underdocumented (and equally underappreciated) music scene. No, what makes this 16-song collection a winner is the fact that it's completely, undeniably and overwhelmingly funky. Central America might be a surprising place of origin for gutsy and gritty urban tunes, but there it was, right there south of Guatemala. Documenting roughly 15 years (mid-'60s through late '70s) of a music scene informed by Caribbean calypso, reggae, soundtrack-psychedelia, New York soul and a city-demolishing hurricane, this disc – like its name implies – is an aromatic and spicy stew concocted from wildly divergent ingredients. And damn, it's funky.
Now Toronto - October 6th 2005
By now you'd think that just about every lively 70s funk scene has been uncovered and documented, right? Well, there's still more to be discovered, as the astonishingly great Cargo Cult: Belize City Boil Up (Numero) collection proves. Island funk collectors may be familiar with the Soul Creations ' three-figure discolypso stormer Funky Jive, but there's much more booty bumpin' action where that came from - namely little-known party-starters like Lord Rhaburn , the Web , the Professionals and the Harmonettes . Heard of them? Neither have I actually, but you need to.
Rolling Stone - November 17th 2005
In 1961, Hurricane Hattie devasted the tiny Central American nation of Belize, sending thousands of refugees to the U.S. Over the next decade, Belizean musicians returned home and stirred up a seriously funky brand of island soul - melding melding the R&B they heard in the States with tropical reggae and salsa. Choice cuts: the Professionals' sick cover of "Theme From The Godfather" ; Soul Creation's "Funk Jive Part 1," which sounds exactly like you'd hope it would.
The Onion - October 19th 2005
Ah, the music of Belize. What? Never heard of any? The sixth release from the always-notable reissues label Numero Group hope to change that with 'Cult Cargo: Belize City Boil Up,' which compiles a cross-section of Belizean music from the late 60s through the disco era. Tracks by Lord Rhaburn, Soul Creations and others combine American soul with Calypso and other tropical rhythms. HOw fantastic does it sound? Suffice to say that a group called The Professionals finds a way to invest funk into the theme from The Godfather....
Tucson Weekly - November 17th 2005
In Belize, they call it a boil up: If it's food, toss everything into a pot and "boil it up"; if it's music, do the same. Belize's collective musical boil-up is a sun-drenched Caribbean mixture of R&B, reggae, funk and calypso, all overlaid with the long shadow of classic American soul music.
Saved for posterity by the savvy folks at The Numero Group, Cult Cargo: Belize City Boil Up collects 16 ultra-choice tracks from 1965 to 1977, every one a winner. The godfather of Belizean music was Lord Rhaburn, who represents with old-school reggae ("More Love Reggae"), sophisticated disco/funk ("Disco Connection"), a Caribbean R&B version of "Don't Fight It" and big-beat R&B blues with "Boogaloo a la Chuck." The Professionals bring stirring deep soul ("Part of Being With You"), a calypso-ska version of the O'Jays' "Back Stabbers" and a terrific take on "Theme From the Godfather" punched up with mariachi trumpets, tremolo guitar and creep-show organ. "Rated G" by The Web is as perfect a slice of ska-funk that you'll ever find; The Harmonettes' reggaefied cover of the disco classic "Shame Shame Shame" is at least as danceable as the original, and the Soul Creations' "Funky Jive, Part 1" more than lives up to its title.
The mood is unabashedly buoyant and uplifting throughout; this is music made for dancing, after all. As sunny as the country it comes from, Belize City Boil Up goes from simmer to boil and back again, as rich and tasty as its culinary namesake.
XLR8R - December 2005
To prove that defenses against the global funk pandemic are as weak as ever, the brilliant muso-historical revisionists at the Numero Group present Cult Cargo, 16 infectious cuts of 60s and 70s funk, disco, and reggae from (get this) Belize. These tracks are deadly to the un-inoculated -- which, of course, is almost everyone. Where have you grooved to the Harmonettes' floor-shaking version of "Shame Shame Shame"? Unless you've dug in dusty Belize City crates, you've never experienced exceptional chunks of funk like Soul Creations' epic "Funky Jive." Heavily influenced by James Brown and JA, yet flavored with a heretofore little-known Belizean spice, and accompanied by Numero's signature excellent packaging and notes, Cult Cargo is biological funk warfare at its finest.
Chicago Tribune - December 11th 2005
Best Reissues Of The Year
It's impossible to go wrong with any of Numero Group's outstanding offerings. The Chicago-based imprint's collection of leg-twitching funk, simmering reggae, seductive calypso and tropical soul recorded in the '60s and '70s for Belize's Contemporary Electronic Systems is its coolest anthropological find yet.
NY Post - December 16th 2005
There's random bits of R&B, disco and funk, calypso and psychedelia, even a traditional guajira on the priceless gems from Belize uncovered in this indispensable compilation that traces the development of the tiny nation's recording industry from the '60s to the '80s. Sophisticated listeners in search of vibrant new emotions will enjoy the unusual combination of styles, as well as the decidedly eccentric version of "The Godfather" theme as performed by The Professionals.
Philadelphia Inquirer - January 1st, 2006
Various Artists
Cult Cargo: Belize City Boil-Up
(Numero Group ***1/2)
Some of 2005's tastiest musical revelations came from the intrepid Chicago reissue imprint Numero Group, such as their Yellow Pills: Prefill compilation of obscure American power-pop.
On Belize City Boil-Up, the label gathers homegrown treasures that made the small Central American country of Belize groove like the Caribbean equivalent of Memphis or Detroit during the '60s and '70s. Scene kingpins Lord Rhaburn and the Harmonettes were pouring on the guitar fuzz and horn stabs as if Stax and Motown had deployed them to spread the soul gospel.
Artists such as the Professionals looked across the Caribbean to Jamaica for inspiration, coming away with a harmony-rich reggae style heard on their cover of the O'Jays' "Back Stabbers." It's a sweet deal, but their roadhouse R&B treatment of the "Theme From the Godfather" is truly an offering you can't refuse.
Straight No Chaser - Spring 2006
Apart from the odd Stonetree compilation or Andy Palacio compilation most people are unlikely to have experienced much of the Belize cannon - limited distribution and a fleeting dalliance with phonograph format not helping matters. In fact, "Boil Up" is truly an apt metaphor for the rich but diverse range of music long served up by this tiny Central American community, much like the national dish that includes anything from yams to potatoes and bananas. Sound archivists at Numero follow on nicely from that wicked Capsoul compilation with a collection of key recordings from between 1960 and 1980, lovingly restored from original analogue sources and demonstrating a strong lineage to the calypso, reggae and island rock sounds of the Caribbean. That doesn't mean to say the proximity to the US and the migration inducing Huricane Hattie did nothing to inject the Belize output with R&B pulse. To that end, soul and funk heads will love the fierce groove of musical polymath Lord Rhaburn's "Disco Connection," the testified soul within the "The Same Old Me" by the Web, and both Soul Creations cuts, while reggae flavors come nicely through the "Backstabbers" cover by best sellers the Professionals and the Harmonettes "Can't Go Halfway."
Maxim - November 2005
Most people can’t find Belize on a map (it’s right there below Mexico), but this compilation suggests its musical traditions aren’t all that foreign. Classic American soul courses through Cult Cargo: Lord Rhaburn’s “Disco Connection” is a Curtis Mayfield–worthy funk vamp; the sensual growl carrying the Web’s “The Same Old Me” would do Otis Redding proud; and the Professionals’ take on “The Back Stabbers” imagines the O’Jays gone Caribbean. Reggae and Cuban jazz also loom large, especially in many of the tunes’ danceable rhythms, and although it’s hard to precisely define the “sound of Belize,” it’s not hard to listen to it.