For those uninitiated into the world of reggae and dub pioneer Lee “Scratch” Perry, King Scratch is as good an introduction as you’ll find. Often framed as an eccentric or, worse, a kind of idiot savant, Perry didn’t just make some of the more unusual-sounding reggae of the ’60s and ’70s—he helped evolve Jamaican pop from its foundations as dance music into something more like art. As a producer, he was both precise and extremely stoned (Bunny & Ricky’s “Bushweed Corntrash,” Junior Murvin’s “Police and Thieves”); as a performer, he was both a cutup and a mystic (“Soul Fire,” “I Am a Madman”). And if you think any of this means his music was less elementally funky than his more pedestrian peers’, it wasn’t.