The Comedy of Errors: Poison Chang - Gone Clear (12 June 1992)

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I used to have a boss whose foreign holiday destination of choice either took him to Cuba or Barbados.  He was always very conscientious about bringing back presents for staff, usually stuff in which the thought counted above all: gonks, keyrings, local sweetmeats etc.  I wasn’t complaining given that I have always been shockingly poor at doing this sort of thing.  I once had a colleague who came back from a long weekend in The Yorkshire Dales who had brought back biscuits for people to help themselves to in the kitchen.  Given that she had been away and back in the time it took me to blink, I was both touched and annoyed at this thoughtfulness, because it showed up to me a failing in myself.  I simply couldn’t fathom going away and remembering to buy something for colleagues; family members, sure, but not work colleagues.  I finally remembered to bring something back for colleagues from my honeymoon in Portugal a few years back, but given that I now work in a remote role, I have a nasty feeling self-absorption will claim me again.
Anyway, in 2007/08, my former boss, Andy, came back from a Caribbean holiday with a present specifically for me.  It was a CD which he excitedly told me had seen 15 different reggae/dancehall artists brought together to offer their various interpretations over the same backing track.  I gratefully thanked him and put the CD on expecting to be bowled over by the different depths and idiosyncrasies which each artist would bring.  I can’t remember who any of them were or the name of the track they were all toasting over, but the flaws in the idea soon made themselves apparent. By the seventh take on the same tune, my attention had flagged and by the end of the CD, I had completely tuned out. Still, as usual, it was the thought that counted.  Nevertheless, in reggae culture the idea of recycling riddims or producing whole albums with the same piece of music backing a different artist in each cut is not considered particularly unremarkable.
In 1992, John Peel played Anthony Red Rose’s updated version of Tempo, which utilised something called the Fever Pitch Riddim and it stuck with him so deeply that he included it in the 1992 selections of The Peelenium.  However, there could have been any other number of contenders for a place on the list given that Tempo was lifted from an album on Montana Records  called The Pitch - Boglemania in which there were 11 different takes on the Fever Pitch Riddim.  Some increased things to a faster pitch, others took things a little slower. I don’t think I heard Peel play Priceless Body by Daddy Woody or Ram Dance Daddy by Nardo Ranks.  I’m sure if you listen to the riddim long enough, then we can all have a crack at toasting something over it.

Poison Chang used the riddim to bemoan the problems with having a girl in every port and the effect on his wallet with trying to keep them all in clothes regardless of whether they wear linen, sequins or booty shorts (batty rider).  In patois, ‘Gone Clear’ refers to any situation which has gone catastrophically wrong and it sounds here as though Poison Chang is having problems keeping his different women happy emotionally, sexually and materially.  Given the wide variety of locations where these women are dotted about the whole thing comes off as almost a ragga-like take on the
Marc Camelotti farce Boeing-Boeing in which the lead character has to balance relationships with American, German and Italian air-hostesses  Maybe Poison Chang should have taken advice on how to pull off this kind of juggling act from Kid Creole?  He might lack The Kid’s effortless self-confidence, but he does a brilliant job of making sure that this recycled riddim never risks becoming reheated leftovers.

Video courtesy of Jarrett Mc