Shella Record

Shella Record - Director Chris Flannigan

The inspiration for this journey appeared in a thrift shop in small-town Ontario.  Chris Flannigan a Multi-talented artist was thumbing through a dusty rack of sad-looking vinyl (remember vinyl?) and a 12” 45 caught his eye. For 10 cents he was willing to take a chance. Bearing the local Monica’s label, the 45 was called, “Jamaican Fruit of African Roots” and its label called the singer Shella Record. Could be reggae? The title sounded well militant. Maybe it was a heavy roots tune from the 70s. So, Chris brought it home and have it a spin.

Sitting at home a few nights later, my husband and I got an anxious call from Chris. Had we ever heard of one Shella Record? Turns out Chris had been playing the record over and over since he brought it home and couldn’t get it out of his head. He felt compelled to find out who this mysterious woman was. The soulful vocals haunted him. The lyrics sent a powerful message about slavery and the African diaspora. And the rhythm- about as heavy as it gets.

The recording left us with just as many unanswered questions. Why had this obviously professional, polished vocalist recorded this 45 and then, never been heard from again? Or had she? Where could she be today? Is Shella Record even her real name?

Always ready for an adventure, Chris decided to take a big chance. He was going to go all out to find Shella and document his search with the hopes of creating a full-length documentary about both the pursuit and the world of reggae music.

This proved to be, indeed, a huge and uncertain undertaking. But Chris was possessed. With nothing to suggest he would ever succeed, Chris traveled relentlessly – around Toronto, to various parts of the US, and, inevitably, to Kingston, Jamaica,  tracing bits of the history of reggae along the way. As the track was produced by King Tubby,            Chris creates visuals to back a short digression on the development of dub music. He interviews a couple of reggae legends, guitar player, Earl Chinna Smith and the late producer, Bunny Lee. Until, well, I can’t spoil the end.

Because Chris is such a talented artist, he is able to compensate for the lack of actual footage through the use of cut-out silhouettes and some intricately constructed miniatures which I enjoyed even, more than the real thing.

Moving between a tongue-in-cheek approach and dedicated investigation, Chris covers a lot of documentary territory in one film (In one section, he visits a ‘psychic’ to get clues on how to proceed). Yet, there are moments of real emotion. You get to hear the song, “Jamaican Fruit of African Roots,” several times, many times in fact. It’s really the star of the film.

By Beth Kingston - Nov 2020