I have been searching, somewhat in vain, for a decent black-and-white checkers sticker to put on my electric bass. If you know where I can get one please direct that my way.
Popular music comes and goes; what is the newest biggest trendiest thing one day disappears the next and is henceforth forgotten. The Specials struggle to break two million monthly listeners on Spotify, which isn't bad, but lags behind a lot of other—for lack of better word—less influential bands. I discovered them only though the video for "A Message to You Rudy," which is a cover and far from the Specials' best work, appearing periodically on my YouTube recommended. I clicked on it on a whim, and to be honest, I was not all that impressed. It took the titular song of this book, "Too Much Too Young," to get me thinking that the Specials were a legit band and to explore more. And boy am I glad that I did. Now I'm absolutely obsessed.
The Specials introduced me to the world of 2 Tone Records, a short-lived independent record label that was less a record label and more a musical collective. It was the brainchild of one Jerry Dammers, the keyboard player, chief songwriter, and de facto leader of the Specials. When he founded 2 Tone Records, he didn't do it to cash out—he wanted a label that stood for something to go on the Specials' records.
2 Tone came together under a vision of antiracism, antisexism, and nonviolence. The sound of Specials and other 2 Tone bands—Madness, The Selecter, The Beat, The Bodysnatchers—represented this ideal of racial unity. Where ska/reggae had been seen as "Black music" and punk as "white music," the 2 Tone sound was the love child of the two. Though the 2 Tone collective fell apart rather quickly, as band after band broke up in quick succession (The Specials and the Bodysnatchers in 1981, The Selecter in 1982, The Beat in 1983, leaving only Madness standing, though they left the 2 Tone label years ago), its influence lived on. Where once the neo-Nazi National Front and British Movement had once captivated British youth, 2 Tone preached love and unity to the skinheads who went to their shows and turned that all on its head.
As a second-gen immigrant, I've always struggled with that elusive sense of belonging. Sure, you can say it's just music, but 2 Tone has always made me feel welcome. It's been 40 years since the label died, but when I listen to that music, I feel like I'm right there, that this is my culture.
Of all musical movements, and I love and cherish many of them, I hope 2 Tone doesn't get forgotten. This is why I'm so happy that this book exists. As far as music history goes, documents on 2 Tone are few and far between: the largely forgotten Dance Craze rockumentary (which got revived in 2023) and a handful of musician memoirs. This is the definitive history that I've been looking for.
Daniel Rachel forgets no one, and I really mean no one. Beyond the OG 2 Tone bands were a handful of obscure groups that Jerry Dammers signed after the Specials imploded, but while popular memories may have forgotten them, Rachel has not. The Swinging Cats, the Higsons, the Apollonaires, the Friday Club—I mean, have *you* heard of any of these guys? I haven't, and I am a snob who prides herself on knowing bands like That Petrol Emotion and The Wild Swans. (Bonus points if you know who they are.) Rachel gives them the attention and screentime they warrant as members of the 2 Tone family in this book, an indicator of his thoroughness in his research.
Most of the book is dedicated to the Specials and their aforementioned contemporaries, and it's such a detailed, thorough account that often I forgot that Daniel Rachel is there at all. He gets everybody's point of view, and I really mean everybody. The producer? You bet Rachel interviewed him. The sacked manager? Rachel tracked him down too. Even the bass player! I mean, who better to tell the story of 2 Tone than the people who created it?
It's a work of nonfiction, but it reads as smoothly and as engagingly as a novel. You feel as if you were there, dancing under the strobe lights to a characteristically chaotic 2 Tone gig. You feel the tension in the room as the bands begin arguing and falling apart. You—or at least I—mourn as this brilliant movement draws to an end. The thing that separates good nonfiction from great nonfiction is the same thing that separates good fiction from great fiction, the connection between the reader and the characters. Good nonfiction informs me on the subject; great nonfiction draws me into the scene, puts me in the people's shoes, makes me feel as much as great fiction does.
Y'all, this is a great and truly important piece of music history. If you don't read this book you should at least check out the Specials, the Selecter, the Beat, Madness, and the Bodysnatchers on Spotify! (I'll stop myself right here before I yap until the end of time about all my favorite songs.)