Album Review: Clothes by General B
If you’re a fan of raw, unfiltered Dancehall with that unmistakable Jamaican swagger, General B’s 2002 album Clothes is one to check out. Released under Colin Fat Records, this project dives deep into the vibes of Reggae and Dancehall without trying too hard to impress. It’s not perfect, but it’s got soul—and sometimes, that’s all you need.
One track that sticks in my head is “Version Roast Bread Fruit.” The title alone grabs your attention, right? The beat has this laid-back groove, but don’t let that fool you—it’s sharp enough to keep you moving. What really makes it stand out is General B’s flow. He comes through with witty bars about everyday life, tossing in cultural references like breadfruit roast on a Sunday evening. You can almost smell the street food while listening. It’s clever, funny, and authentic—a vibe you won’t find in overly produced tracks.
Then there’s the title track, “Clothes.” This one hits different because it feels personal. The lyrics talk about style, identity, and how we express ourselves through what we wear. In a genre where bravado often takes center stage, General B keeps things relatable here. The riddim is catchy as hell, looping in your brain long after the song ends. I remember humming it for days, which says something about its replay value.
What stands out most about Clothes isn’t just the music itself—it’s the vibe. General B doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel; instead, he reminds us why Dancehall matters. It’s storytelling, rhythm, and culture rolled into one. Sure, some tracks feel a bit rough around the edges, but maybe that’s the point. Music doesn’t always have to be polished to hit home.
Here’s the kicker—listening to this album feels like overhearing a conversation at a roadside bar in Kingston. And honestly? That’s kinda beautiful. Who knew an album about clothes could make you think so much about life?
