In the hazardous world of reggae, Luciano is one of its most reliable players. He doesn't change. You can trust him to knock out track after track of the same roots driven, spacious, rastafari-bashing consciousness. He's a harmless and much loved stalwart of a genre that is prone to outbursts of volatility and confrontation.
But all this doesn't do much for his street-cred. With artists like Sizzla and Buju delivering fast and furious red-hot lyrics over drum & bass edged rhythms, Luciano's placid harmonies are unlikely to attract the excitement of 'the youth' he so often addresses. He's the soft and cuddly uncle who wouldn't hurt a fly. You're not likely to have 'Visions' blaring out of your bimmer, and perhaps not even out of your second-hand Ford Escort.
On the whole it's a somewhat dreary collection of tunes with one or two sparks of life. As always meticulously produced, not rushed out, as things sometimes are from JA recording studios, it leaves you with little in the way of originality but pleasantly soothed by Luciano's deep vocals and trademark serenity of sound. Produced in England by Stingray, the rhythms let the voice reign the space rather than contend with it, and Luciano reaches his celestial heights on the sweeter, more uplifting tracks like 'It's Not Easy' and 'Visions'. But there's nothing transformative here, and that's what Luciano so badly needs.
What made him stand out on his 1995 breakthrough album 'Where There Is Life', apart from a voice that sounded like cream being stirred slowly into hot chocolate, were the elements of gospel in the production that added a new dimension to roots music. Over the years (in which he's been releasing albums consistently) a laziness seems to have crept in, or an unwillingness to dare, and its boring us to tears. As he croons and 'oh goshes' through a list of mostly forgettable songs - 'Divide and Rule', 'Brother David' and 'Serious Time' are particularly yawn-inspiring - you get the feeling he'd be better digested twenty-five years ago long before digital took over. In a lot of ways, Luciano is a victim of his time.
It's strange but 'Visions' does not have the feel of a sanctioned album. It sounds more like a collection of pre-recorded material, an overview of Luciano, rather than an actual up-to-minute expression of where he's at right now. And that's what we want to know.
