Shalome renegades!
Everyblogger knows that The Late Great Bob Marley was the maestro of cryptic lyrics like "no woman no cry," "iron, lion, zion," and "natural mystic"-- phrases whose multiple implications can only be comprehended all at once, in a flash. That these epiphanies are immediately submerged into the unconscious of the listener enhances, rather than detracts, from the power of their message and the genius of the art form.
But, hey, that's Bob Marley! And we're here to spotlight a different-- but related!-- prodigy: White Rasta, Rod Deal. Call us "alternative," but in our view, nothing says "timeless reggae anthem" like bouncy narratives about growing ganj in the backwoods of Northern California, the outrageous dangers of herbicides, and fleeing from feds swooping down to bust your scene in HELICOPTERS. Lyrics like "Oh lord, they're coming for my herb, I grow the herb superb" and "I'm an heeerb smoker, I'm proud to be a marijuana man" may lack the mystique of other, more "mainstream" reggae classics, but what they lack in subtlty, they more than make up for in expository punch! Rod proved white men can Jah, and we'd like to take this moment to light our sage chode in recognition of a legendary voice which lives on. Nothing gets AH HOLE wet like skanking when the Ideals go dub (Oh Lord!), we miss you, Rod.