It's life, it's love, it's joy, it's everything.

By the time you read this, Valentine's Day will have passed.

But fear not young lovers, for I design these thoughts to endure, like true love itself. Chocolate lays a credible claim to the title but for my purposes here, Cupid's award goes to another. Music, the food of love.

Anyone who ventures to this page will know within short order that, by "music," I refer to Reggae. The Jamaican sound calibrated to cardio, programmed to pulse and honed to the beat of your heart. That same organ used as the universal symbol for love.

Being a multi-faceted industry, well past infancy, there's a wide selection of Reggae extant. Genres and sub-genres, good and bad. Bad, "good" stuff and yes, even good, "bad"stuff. But the best of the product soothes the sensory like inevitable breeze, biding-up with the natural world.

There's Reggae for every occasion. This Valentine's Day is when I'll remember first hearing this new work from Tarrus Riley.

Reggae chromosomes regenerate themselves. Progeny of the music-form routinely carry on batons of their forebears. Tarrus has a foundation pedigree, which is hardly unique (Reggae heads will get the insider pun), but it's the select few who supersede the benchmarks of their lineage.

At once traditional and modern, experimental and respectful, the man also known as Singy-Singy, has found a commercially viable groove which will have broad appeal and attract new fans. Skit interludes and unaffected chat marry a contemporary approach to classy Rock Steady riddims. The glue is Riley's vocal excellence and topnotch Dean Fraser production.

A very early contender for next year's Grammy. This is one to seek out if you want to experience the feeling "upful," which no music delivers more comprehensively, for the whole soul, than Reggae.