By Peter Nicholson

MANY PEOPLE'S FIRST and last thoughts on dub are merely what it spells backward and that the two go hand in hand. Fair enough, but for some, dub music is much more than the soundtrack for bong hits. It is a practice, a way of reimagining sound and thereby reality. My own introduction to dub came via the Clash's Mikey Dread-produced Sandinista!, an album I purchased on a torturous family stay in Europe. The disc allowed me to spin off into space night after night with the aid of "One More Dub," no ganja necessary. Those sonic slices of infinity were the perfect accompaniment to the other songs' more explicit ideology, glimpses of a world beyond the harsh realities of global political oppression on "Washington Bullets." Twenty years later, dub's producers and effects have spread beyond the world of electronic music. The ghostly glitch of Pole shows shadows of Lee "Scratch" Perry, Notwist dally with dubby bass lines both in the studio and onstage, and according to Aaron Dysart, a.k.a. Eastern Dub Tactik, "Gorillaz have proven that Americans from preschool to middle age are open-minded to the sounds of dub."

Dub continues to open my ears and mind to a world of possibility, where echoes excavate hidden truths and reverb rides off into the sunset. The cornerstone of dub is sonic manipulation via the mixing board and effects, a practice that challenges the accepted standards of song structure and explores the possibilities of infinite change. As one sound multiplies, the listener is able to simultaneously appreciate both the essence of the moment and the variations catalyzed by effects. Perhaps more than the initial instruments and composition, editing and processors are the foundation of many artists' unique sounds, 12 original instances of which have been compiled by local DJs Sep Ghadishah and Ron Nachmann for Babylon Is Ours: The USA in Dub (Select Cuts). The album is a kaleidoscope of dub styles coaxed into existence by crews around the country, like New York's Cosmic Rocker and Zeb and Portland, Ore.'s Systemwide. Far from a strictly bicoastal affair, the CD includes tracks from Tennessee (Eastern Dub Tactik's tabla-spiced "Set Your Soul on Fire") and Texas (Sub Oslo's outstanding, live "Prisoner of Dub").

One of Babylon Is Ours' highlights comes from the East Bay duo Ben Wa, whose "Ether Real" is a perfect marriage of crystalline chimes, relentless bass, and enveloping keys. As we chat about production techniques, our discussion begins to echo the deep discontent of Sandinista!. Dr. Ware and Butthouse are serious about their dissatisfaction with the state of U.S. affairs and their desire to replace the Bush regime. In fact, when listing their current projects, they mention a collaboration with MCM (of MCM and the Monster) but are more eager to discuss a Web site they are developing, www.undothecoup.org, which aims to be something of an activist clearinghouse. Says House, "We hope to have a matchup method for putting volunteers together with bands to do voter registration at their shows, if [the bands] are willing to put two people on the guest list."

Their work echoes the compilation's debut – at the March 15 rally in San Francisco's Jefferson Square following an antiwar march. Nachmann relates joining a crowd including Black Bloc activists wearing ski masks, and handing a copy of Babylon Is Ours to a DJ running the sound system. "The atmosphere that it created put the whole thing on edge: It relaxed people, but you could see people being fueled by it. You could see it in their eyes.... What's good about the music is that it can be used as a soundtrack either way – for getting high and just leaving the world behind or potentially for facilitating change."

The album came about when Ghadishah and Nachmann noticed a rise in the quality and quantity of domestic dub during their respective work with the Elbo Room institution Dub Mission and electronic music magazine XLR8R, and they decided to commission exclusive tracks for an album. Three years later, their labor of love is in stores, and they're celebrating with two nights of live performances. "Three years can be a long time. There were times when I was like, 'God, I had no idea!' I certainly had no idea it was going to take this long," Ghadishah says, widening her eyes in exasperation. But she has some experience with perseverance, having run the weekly Dub Mission for more than six years. With characteristic modesty, Ghadishah claims little credit for its longevity but is quick to praise resident DJs like Vinnie Esparza and Ludichris, as well as a dedicated audience.