CONTRARY to their idle moniker, New Yorkers The Slackers are in fact one of the hardest working (OK, only) "imaginary Jamaican rock and roll" bands in the business. The mean-looking ska, reggae, rocksteady, garage, soul and jazz splicing crew of six
has released 11 studio albums in 15 years, and toured everywhere from the Bronx to Brazil, sharing stages with such legends as Joe Strummer, Jimmy Cliff and Toots & the Maytals along the way.
Honest graft is probably the only way that a group could make a living out of an amalgamation of musical styles that, while wonderfully idiosyncratic, is as altogether unfashionable as theirs – a fact not lost on flat-cap-sporting singer and organist Vic Ruggiero, who quipped that the band could "hardly be accused of cashing in".
Their laid-back Motown-meets-Kingston spirit is still totally endearing, and the diversity of their canon kept an hour-long set fresh at every turn – be it during Everyday Is Sunday, a sunny homage to the guilty joy of unemployment set to a gently clicking ska rhythm, or the choppy reggae of Self Medication and soulful pop of Married Girl.
The band cranked up the tempo a few notches for a skank-heavy closing number that saw horn players David Hillyard and Glen Pine infiltrate the crowd to dart back and forth along the front row, honking at such cheek-bursting volume as to still be audible above the rest of the band in full swing.
