WHERE THERE IS LUCIANO July 1996 Reggae's new dancehall king is as conscious as they come. BY GABE KIRCHHEIMER Where There is Life is no ordinary dancehall-reggae album. Because Luciano is no ordinary singer. Through his religious Christian upbringing in Jamaica's Manchester parish to stints with various Kingston producers, Luciano (meaning bearer of light) has maintained his firm spiritual vision. The Bible, Rasta, Aristotle and Eastern thought all played their part in shaping this dancehall prophet. Since joining Fatis Burrell's Xterminator Crew, he has found musical freedom. And Island Records, reggae's premier insignia, has now found Luciano. Where There is Life, Luciano's first major-label effort, is more smoothly produced and musically adventurous then One Way Ticket (VP) or Moving Up (RAS). Life doesn't have the hard edge of his wicked DJ remix versions, big dancehall singles like Bob Marley's "Crazy Baldheads" (with Beenie Man) or "Psalm 24" (with Mutabaruka). But the signature quarter-note hi-hat can still be found floating above double-time rhythms below, bracketing beautifully articulated lyrics. There are also female R&B backup vocals, an African rhythm track and a clear gospel influence. The entire disc is actually one phat prayer, containing cuts like "Lord Give Me Strength," "He Is My Friend" and "Heaven Help Us All." A year ago, Luciano stunned his fans by announcing that God had revealed he must stop performing and go into the mountains of Jamaica to meditate. But he has returned to the stage, stronger than ever. While visiting New York in February, the ebullient Luciano explained his music, motivations and the movement away from dancehall "slackness" (bawdy lyrics) back to roots and culture. "We really want to focus on those riotous spirits out there, and those riotous spirits are the lovers of dancehalls," he said. "In every aspect of life you have seasons. You have seasons when the ganja crop comes in, when mango comes in. There was a period when reggae music was spiritual and on top, held and respected for its spiritual essence, which is love. But, after Bob Marley, there was a decadence, and people become less interested in the culture. So I say, whatever reflection we see happening in dancehall music, derogatory it may seem, it's a reflection from the minds of the people who are part of the ghetto system. So the people who are suffering and experiencing gunshots and bloodshed from day to day, we really couldn't expect better from them. "I feel remorse for the souls that have suffered and died--throughout slavery, throughout the manipulations and abuse. But I realize, it's not only one race that has a problem. It's not a black or white situation, it's the whole human race that is mesmerized by this love for vanity and material things. So, the essence of my music is love. "Really and truly, in every human being, there's this part crying out for righteousness, crying out for peace, crying out for serenity. All the human being needs is a little help, a little push. `It only takes a spark, to get the fire glowing....' " Speaking of sparks and fire, Luciano was happy to expound on the role of cannabis in his life. "I'm a man from the country," he explained. "I grew up loving and appreciating nature, never wanting to destroy or pollute Mother Earth. Many people want to say ganja is drugs. But I say ganja is an herb like any other plant that has grown in Mother Earth. Now, anything that is invented to try to imitate this thing is drugs. But I say ganja is a natural herb. And I use this as a spiritual sacrament. When I want to reach heights and regions, I light up my herb. So if I should say, `Excuse me while I light my spliff,' feel no way!" he laughed, as he lit up. "I realize, I have to be humble," he said, getting back to his mission. "I sing about love and respect. `Imagine if everyone you see knows what they're living for....' See, I'm actually helping people to imagine, if they can visualize it, a world in which there really is tranquillity and oneness and peace. It starts from within the mind." At an inspired show in March at Harlem's landmark Apollo Theatre, Luciano--part singer, part preacher--turned the tables as he read from the Bible, got down on his knees to pray and sang a long list of hits, driving the energized crowd wild. "What could I say that Bob Marley didn't say, that Peter Tosh didn't say?" he asked the audience, who shouted for more. Where there is Luciano, dancehall may never be the same again.