Throughout his 13-year career, cultural reggae artist Buju Banton has survived threats to his career (notably the international controversy caused by anti-gay record 'Boom Bye Bye') and his life (he was almost gunned down in London). Yet he's consistently turned adversity into great records, most significantly his opus 'Til Shiloh' (1995). But with age has come contentment.
At this stage of his career, Buju is like a boxer who's become world champion, earned sufficient money and secured his legacy. He has literally nothing to prove. Except, perhaps, for one thing. 'Til Shiloh' changed dancehall music by initiating the resurgence of positive lyrics in the genre. Internationally, 'Boom Bye Bye's' impact prevented the album from re-establishing roots reggae as a relevant commercial force again. This bugs him, and probably explains why 'Friends For Life' lacks the radical political content one would expect from an artist like Buju.
'Friends For Life' is an album dedicated to his fans; one would assume, by its content, largely his female fans. The majority of the tracks refer to women in one way or another. Generally in a tender manner, whether he's requesting a 'One To One' or feeling in a 'Pensive Mood'. As a result, conscious tunes are less prominent; and also non-specific thematically. Traditional Rasta themes like calling on the poor to stand up and defend their rights ('Up Ye Mighty Race') or showing faith in times of darkness (on the beautiful spiritual 'All Will Be Fine') take precedent.
Melodic hooks replace the catchy punch lines prominent in Buju's early work. Live instrumentation replaces thumping digital beats. He sings now more than he DJs. And lyrically it's not so much about sex anymore, but relationships. The themes lack complexity, hence the album articulates on a level comprehensible to an international audience. Musically, 'Friends For Life' is also a rich album as it employs a variety of rhythms ranging from R&B ('Good Times' featuring Beres Hammond and Fat Joe) and soulful reggae (the lush 'Maybe We Are') to African (a cover of Peter Tosh's 'Mama Africa') and dancehall (underground hit 'Mr Nine').
'Friends For Life' is highly spiritual, responsible and graceful. But it lacks fire. Whereas 'Til Shiloh' struck the ideal balance between dancehall's uncompromising attitude and internationally palatable messages, this album lacks the innovatory lyrical content needed to capture as broad an audience.
