- Smoke-Heavy Roots, Rebel Fire, and the Slow Burn of Revolution
A fierce, roots-deep protest record forged in 1977 Kingston and sharpened again in London’s charged atmosphere. This LP blends militant rhythm, razor-edged lyrics, and Peter Tosh’s undeniable fire — a vinyl document that still hits with the same voltage it had the day it dropped.
Peter Tosh’s “Equal Rights” didn’t just arrive in 1977—it marched in, fists raised, boots dusty, and eyes fixed on every injustice the world preferred to ignore. The album hits like a manifesto disguised as a reggae LP, equal parts groove and righteous fire. Even today, it feels less like a relic and more like a telegram from the global street.
England in the late seventies was a pressure cooker: unemployment up, tempers short, politics messy. Reggae had already slipped into the bloodstream of British youth, thanks to the Caribbean communities who brought sound systems, swagger, and a steady beat. By 1977, the UK was wobbling between punk’s snarling rebellion and reggae’s slower, deeper call for justice—perfect soil for Tosh’s message-heavy masterpiece.
Reggae at the time wasn’t background music; it was street reporting. The rhythms rolled slow, but the content burned hot. This was the era of “Police and Thieves,” “War,” and a hundred protest anthems echoing through Brixton and Notting Hill. Tosh stepped into that moment not as a visitor, but as someone amplifying an ongoing struggle.
Tosh had already broken from The Wailers with the sort of determination only a stubborn visionary can muster. “Legalize It” announced him as a solo force; “Equal Rights” cemented him as a man on a mission. Studio life in Kingston was its usual whirlwind of late nights, rewired gear, and musicians drifting in like passing weather.
The album grew from Tosh’s frustration with global hypocrisy—freedom preached but rarely practiced. You can hear him shaping each track like a piece of carved mahogany: patient, precise, and built to last longer than the politicians he was criticizing.
This isn’t mellow beach-bar reggae. “Equal Rights” walks with a heavier step, carrying shadows and sunlight in equal measure. The drums thump like a diplomatic warning; the guitars slice with that sharp, urban shimmer Kingston specialized in during the seventies.
“Get Up, Stand Up” sounds less like a cover and more like a sharpened blade. “Downpressor Man” stretches out in a slow, ominous crawl, practically daring the world to look away. “Stepping Razor” cuts even deeper—a swaggering strut of pure confidence. And the title track? Still one of the cleanest distillations of Tosh’s worldview: equality served hot, uncompromised, and preferably today.
While punk bands in London were yelling at the system, Tosh was calmly dismantling it with basslines. Compare this LP to The Clash’s debut or Marley’s “Exodus” and you’ll hear three different rebellion frequencies—Tosh’s being the slow flame that burns long after the frenzy fades.
In the reggae landscape, few albums that year carried this much gravity. Others brought joy, romance, or spirituality; Tosh brought homework for the conscience.
“Equal Rights” didn’t spark riots, but it definitely raised eyebrows—especially among people allergic to protest. Some listeners insisted Tosh was “too political,” which is like accusing a fire alarm of being too loud during a blaze. The messages were the point.
Yet the same sharpness that unsettled some listeners made the album a secret treasure for those who wanted their reggae with teeth instead of sunscreen.
Tosh’s solo path was fueled by equal parts conviction and frustration. Life after The Wailers meant no buffer, no compromise, and no hiding behind anyone else’s halo. The musicians orbiting this project—Barrett, Dunbar, Shakespeare, Wailer—added depth and muscle, but the direction was unmistakably Tosh’s iron hand.
The tension of independence—freedom on one shoulder, pressure on the other—gives the album its stormy backbone. Every track feels like a man who has already burned the bridges behind him.
Critics praised the album’s clarity, even if they weren’t always ready for its anger. Fans embraced it immediately, especially in England where reggae was becoming less “exotic import” and more “local language.”
Decades later, “Equal Rights” stands among the essential protest albums—not just in reggae, but across all genres. Its echoes show up in hip-hop, rock, and anywhere lyricists dare to shout what others only whisper.
Reggae / Dancehall
Virgin V 2081
Standard sleeve.
Record Format: 12" LP Vinyl Stereo
Total Weight: 230g
1977 – England
Disclaimer: Track durations shown are approximate and may vary slightly between different country editions or reissues. Variations can result from alternate masterings, pressing plant differences, or regional production adjustments.
This front cover of the 1977 Virgin England LP edition presents a striking six-panel grid, each square repeating the same high-contrast portrait printed against a textured brown backdrop. The artwork uses repetition as a visual drumbeat, echoing the album’s uncompromising themes. The portrait shows a man in profile wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses and a beret with a small white button, rendered in crisp black-and-white that stands out sharply against the surrounding earthy tones.
Across each panel, the thick block lettering PETER TOSH and EQUAL RIGHTS sits like a headline, bold and uncompromising. Between the repeated portraits, small green cannabis leaf icons punctuate the design, adding both symbolism and visual rhythm. Thin dotted white lines divide the panels, evoking the aesthetic of a printed poster sheet freshly torn from a press run.
The overall layout carries a rebellious, street-poster energy—repetition, grit, and attitude fused into one. This photograph comes from a personally owned copy, and slight color variations or surface wear may reflect age, handling, and the physical life of the vinyl itself.
The back cover of the 1977 Virgin Records England LP edition of Equal Rights unfolds like a dense, tactile collage of text and imagery printed on a warm brown cardboard-like background. At the top, the tracklists for Side One and Side Two appear in crisp red lettering, followed by a block of detailed acknowledgements, studio credits, mixing locations, and production notes. The typography has a vintage, utilitarian look that reinforces the album’s politically charged identity.
Scattered across the lower half are several color photographs arranged as if pinned or taped onto the surface. A central image captures Peter Tosh onstage, mid-performance, gripping his guitar under vivid yellow and red lighting. Nearby photos show Sly Dunbar at the drum kit, Robbie Shakespeare lit dramatically in profile, Bunny Wailer singing into a microphone, and Al Anderson immersed in performance. These candid, expressive shots bring life and personality to the otherwise text-heavy layout.
A small bright-green cannabis leaf icon sits on the left side—an unmistakable visual nod to Tosh’s activism. The mixture of liner notes, credits, and performance stills creates a documentary-style atmosphere, presenting not just an album but the world behind it: the musicians, the sessions, and the movement the music belonged to.
This close-up of the Side One label from the 1977 Virgin Records England LP edition of Equal Rights is printed in a vibrant red gradient that subtly darkens toward the edges. Dominating the top portion is the classic Virgin Twins logo: two mirrored, seated female figures facing outward yet connected at the hips. Their soft, hand-drawn outlines and muted cream tones echo the label’s early psychedelic visual identity.
Beneath the central spindle hole, the text layout is clean and authoritative. The album title Equal Rights appears in bold uppercase, followed by the performance credit Peter Tosh with Words Sound & Power. Four track titles—“Get Up, Stand Up,” “Downpressor Man,” “I Am That I Am,” and “Stepping Razor”—are listed with exact timings and composer details, set in tidy center alignment reminiscent of traditional 1970s label typography.
To the right sits the catalog information: V 2081 with the matrix code V 2081-A. Curving around the outer rim, fine-print legal text asserts rights and reproduction restrictions. The entire label is surrounded by the glossy black vinyl surface, whose faint grooves and reflected light add depth and authenticity—capturing the tactile reality of a well-preserved original pressing.
"Bush Doctor" is the album by Peter Tosh. It was released in 1978. A British record retailer banned the album upon its release because of a scratch-n-sniff sticker on its cover, that apparently smelled of ganja (marijuana)
- Bush Doctor (1978, Italy) - Bush Doctor (1978, EEC Europe) - Bush Doctor (1978, Germany) - Bush Doctor ( 1978 , Netherlands )
“Equal Rights” hits like a manifesto carved straight into vinyl. Tosh fires his sharpest lyrics over deep, militant grooves powered by Sly Dunbar and Robbie Shakespeare. A defining roots-reggae milestone, the album blends grit, conviction, and hypnotic rhythm into a fierce political statement that still lands with full force.
In the world of reggae history, Peter Tosh's debut solo album, "Legalize It," stands as a seminal work that not only marked a significant moment in the artist's career but also carried profound cultural and social implications. Released in 1976, this iconic 12" vinyl LP album remains a cornerstone
- Legalize It (1978, EEC) - Legalize it (1978, Holland)
Peter Tosh's "Mystic Man" 12" Vinyl LP, released in 1979, stands as a testament to the artist's profound impact on the reggae music scene during that era. Produced by Peter Tosh himself, the album showcases not only his musical prowess but also his prowess in the role of a producer.
- Mystic Man (1979, Italy) - Mystic Man (1979, USA)
"No Nuclear War" marked Tosh's final studio album before his untimely death in 1987. The album's title track, "No Nuclear War", stands as a poignant and prophetic anthem against the threat of nuclear conflict. Tosh's lyrics convey a sense of urgency, denouncing the devastating consequences of war
No Nuclear War 12" Vinyl LP