The Promised Land is yet another valuable collection of master performances from reggae music’s late-’70s glory years. Dennis Brown, who died just four years ago, surrounds his voice with all the sonic wonders dreamed up by classic reggae’s studio wizards: atmospheric dubs, reverb-drenched rim shots, skanky rhythms, off-beat guitar riffs, and skewed piano solos. But none of these sonic embellishments commands half as much attention as his baritone outcries. Brown was an untutored artist who — to judge by the leaps, screams, moans, and lullabies of "Emmanuel God with Us," "Well Without Water," "The Creator," "Oh What a Day," and the sweet, soulful "Together Brothers" and "Slave Driver" — sang his heart out, on instantaneous gut instinct, risking everything and often missing his line, his cue, even his theme but never settling for anything safe or gimmicky. He was more willing to sound goofy than glib, and goofy worked in the wacky context of dub technique. His fragile singing — and Castro Brown’s skanky dubs — remain as infectiously joyful today as when they were first recorded.