Anti-Climacus

This is not a complain about reggae. Let's be clear on that from the beginning. Reggae's not really my thing, but at its best it's angry and political, it mutates readily into other genres (calypso, ska, and my personal favorite, dub, in which the bass is turned way up in the EQ and a lot of spring reverb is featured. Lyrics not necessary, though what lyrics there are will likely be subjected to tape echo. Glorious stuff), and it mixes well with punk (The Clash are the obligatory mention, but I always opt for Stiff Little Fingers, "Roots Radicals Rockers & Reggae").

But you will never hear any of this at undisclosed tropical island. Instead, you will be forced to listen to an endless diet of those two upbeat Bob Marley songs, various top-40ish songs translated into kettle-drum format, and a selection of radio stations whose organizing principle is so esoteric as to be fit for a Borges essay: how do Journey, Michael Bolton, and Taylor Swift belong on the same channel? (I have a theory about this: the radio stations play what they imagine rich old white people want to hear. It's an ugly mirror to look into). Anyway, with all this relentlessly enforced cheeriness, it's important to cut through the treacle. And nothing cuts through treacle better than Sonic Youth. Nothing quite like watching the waves roll in while listening to "Eric's Trip."

"Sugar Kane" because it's from the poppy Sonic Youth album, Dirty, and because the notable agricultural feature of undisclosed tropical island was sugarcane, now growing wild because it's no longer being harvested.