This record may have been more interesting had it come from Black Uhuru, Dub Syndicate or some other group that's made dub as predictable as April showers, but the uber- rhythm section of Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare aren't known for trying the same thing over and over again. The duo has worked with everyone from Bill Laswell to KRS-One to Simply Red's Mick Hucknell. They get around, and experimentation's their kind of town.

The problem is, as a rhythm section, they let themselves get pushed around a lot. Even though they can make Rastafied melodies that'll stick in your head all day, an overzealous collaborator can fuck it all up, and fast. Howie B. is more subtle than that. Perhaps his past collaborations with Björk and U2-- strong personalities to say the least-- have taught him where his unique production and mixing does and doesn't belong. In this case, though, deference is not good.

The pairing of a rhythm section known for letting others do the talking and a collaborator known for bringing out the best in enigmatic musicians leads to a small dilemma: nobody takes charge. It's the aural equivalent of three guys standing around saying, "You go first." "No, you go first." "No, I insist, you go first." Would somebody just go, for Chrissake?!

Then again, dub's trademark echoes, spliff- speed rhythms and shuffling waka- wakas aren't the stuff of musical assertion, and the first several tracks ease into an inoffensive reggae groove that's pleasantly void of incessant echoing. Instead, Howie B. slips in several sound frequencies that don't reverberate as much as they bounce. He also keeps much of Sly and Robbie's spot-on rhythm combinations intact through the first several songs. The most balanced moments come during the rubbery reverb of "Drilling for Oil" and the lazy- day strumming of "High Voltage Syndrome."

But about halfway through, it becomes the Howie B. Show. In many places the rhythm is so secondary to Howie's trademark muted sirens and transmission loops that Sly and Robbie may as well not even be credited. He doesn't push them around, though, he just replaces their rhythm with his own lack of rhythm. It's not all bad-- the hip-hop breaks and meaty bass of "Major Magic" is moodiness incarnate-- but too much can be shrugged off with an "Eh, I've heard better." Which is a problem that may be in the concept: if you want somebody to dig a dub album, don't take it away from its repetitive roots only to stop short of making it something altogether different.

-Shan Fowler