One welcome fringe benefit of the suburban ska-core riot: Suddenly there are decent work prospects for the often-overlooked pioneers of ska and reggae, the innovative Jamaican groove tenders without whom the "advances" of Reel Big Fish et al. would not have been possible. On Ball of Fire, several original members of the Skatalites – the elite studio ensemble founded in 1963 by the late trombonist Don Drummond – reunite for a casual, disarmingly sweet trip through the band's storied songbook.

The album is a nostalgia play through and through, but these rearranged versions of Skatalites instrumental standbys offer an interesting measure of ska's unlikely recent evolution and pointedly suggest that young disciples have picked up only the fast and frenzied aspects of the music. By keeping the emphasis on spare, relentlessly bubbly backbeats and executing with needlepoint precision rather than blowhard bluster, the Skatalites reclaim the subtle side of ska.

It helps that there are some real soloists doing the reclaiming. Unlike those Latin-jazz types who turn every eightbar break into an exhaustive exhibition of technique, Jamaica's improvisers savor their themes. They find crazy joy in repetition and care more about cultivating and furthering the rhythmic intensity than about hot-dogging through a catalog of impressive licks. Guitarist Ernest Ranglin (whose second solo album, Memories of Barber Mack, is out now) is particularly lyrical: He transforms the syncopated "Rock Fort Rock" into the soundtrack to some prowling cops and robbers caper, and follows the stately lines of "Eastern Standard Time" well out of typical ska territory and into a netherworld where gospel shouters, New Orleans parade drummers and the babbling ghosts of bebop trade secrets. Truly sublime. (RS 779)

TOM MOON