Dancehall Music

While I can appreciate almost any genre of music, my favorite genre is dancehall reggae. Without going into a lengthy history, Dancehall music is the modern off-shoot of Reggae music. Dancehall, like reggae, is a Jamaican creation.

The Genre

Wheras Reggae music emphasises live, acoustic sounding instruments, Dancehall is primarily a sequenced, sampled, computer-based sound, much like modern day hip-hop. Dancehall is considered by some to be the Caribbean version of hip-hop (or vice versa). However, there are many differences between the two. Primarily, what makes a song a dancehall song is a Jamaican dancehall performer. Take a hip-hop beat and put a dancehall singer on it and it qualifies. But there is much more to the genre than that.

Unlike Hip-Hop where each song is recorded on it’s own Instrumental track, Dancehall producers create a ‘riddim’, and many artists perform different songs for the same instrumental. This makes dancehall some of the best club-music in the world. A DJ can seamlessly mix between songs on the same riddim. The result is a live DJ medley that flows from one song to the next. Have you ever been in a club and a song comes on with a wicked beat, and before you know it, it’s gone? Not so with dancehall. The riddim plays on while the selector juggles songs. Aspring artists that have a song on a hit riddim get more exposure than someone just making singles.

The Sound

Dancehall is a very experimental sound. Because the accent and style of the singer is so important to difining the genre, the riddims vary wildly. Precussion is the basis of most Dancehall riddims and it maintains a characteristic off-beat timing that I can only describe as Africanized. This deeply rooted sense of rhythm is translated to digital synths, samplers and drum machines. Some musical purists may say that dancehall is not art. Simple, repeating melodies and basslines are the norm. There is little use of live instruments, except when used as a sample. But the art is in the sum of the parts. The African beat is given new instruments, new forms of expression. For fans of beat-driven music, dancehall offers a huge creative pallet.

There are dancehall riddims that sound like fast reggae. Some that sound like Salsa. Some that sound like Techno, RnB or Hip-Hip. Some that borrow from rock, country/western. Some that incorporate African drums as well as Asian and Middle Eastern musicial styles and instruments. Yet somehow, there is a vibe in the rhythm that is still dancehall.

My Musical Journey

As a child, my first exposure to music was Bob Marley. Even before I had a real appreciation for music in general, Bob Marley’s songs played in our house often. My father was at the University of the West Indies in Jamaica when Bob Marley was a young singer who used to perform on campus. My dad said that boy would make it big. He then proceeded to collect several Bob Marley albums over the years.

The first songs that I remember listening to over and over again were “Axel F” (the theme of the Movie Beverly Hills Cop) and “Bad Boy Tune” (An early dancehall/dub song). Axel F is a techno instrumental with an infectious melody and ‘Bad Boy Tune’ had a futuristic, synthetic sound that I liked. As a teenager, I went on to listen to C & C Music Factory, Black Box, Snap, and other such techno/hip-hop groups as well as dancehall greats like Shabba Ranks, Cutty Ranks, Buju Banton, Super Cat, Tiger, Papa San, etc.

Around that time, we were able to get a decent computer to replace the decaying one, and I ordered a sound-card for it. In my deep explorations of free shareware software (not pirated. . .free), I came across .mod files. These were songs created by using instrument samples and note sequence data. Before long, I had downloaded a .mod creator program and I started playing around. It’s not easy to compose music by numbers, but my expereience with computers made it less of a chore. I created all kinds of weird, dark, techno-ish creations. It remained a hobby for years to come.

In college, I picked up the habit again due to the amount of young rappers on campus. Every so-often I’d come across a group of guys ‘free-styling’ on the corner. Rapping without written lyrics. I played around with making hip-hop beats for a while, but school and the other responsibilities of life made the phase a short-lived one.

Lyrics

Much later I moved back to St. Kitts and out of sheer boredom, I started playing around with the latest software. I found a program called ‘Fruity loops’. It was like a .mod program on steroids! I made mostly Hip-hop beats, but found that they strayed from the genre often. Some friends and I decided to get together with the young, aspiring artists of St. Kitts. I realised that making authentic sounding hip-hop in the Caribbean was an uphill battle, so I decided to switch to making Dancehall riddims. I studied the genre carefully, listening more to Jamaican dancehall instrumentals than the songs produced on them.

We formed SoundCore Entertainment in the hopes of making something of our talents. Within our small island, we did a lot of work. We released a few songs on the local radio stations one of which “Sen it On” became a big hit on the island. We did an album for a talented local artist (Bamboo B) who became well known on the Island following it’s release. After a couple of years though, it became apparent to me that there was little to come of our work outside of St. Kitts. My career in network engineering was finally taking off, and I was unable to continue working on music.

The Jamaican Music Industry

Now that I am in Jamaica, the bug is biting again. While my job demands most of my time, it is difficult to listen to the radio and hear a new riddim every day and not want to create. Although Jamaica is the home of dancehall music, getting into the industry can be very difficult. There are so many aspiring artists and producers here that it boggles the mind. It is described as cut-throat and very competitive. I’ve been asking around about the industry, and have learned a great deal so far. I have seen many big dancehall artists in passing around Jamaica. I Just need to know the right people. I don’t know anybody yet, but time will tell.

Home Hunting.

The lease on my apartment is up on Sept 11 (Coincidence? I think not!). I had done a bit of apartment looking, but this was crunch time. Today I went apartment hunting! On the advice of everyone I talked to, I got up early, got a copy of the Sunday Gleaner and extracted the classifieds. I had the help of a good friend who has experience in the art and science of Jamaican home hunting. We circled attractive looking ads and started calling.

There was one in particular that was in a nice area and was just below my budget. I wanted it! It was a spacious studio with separate kitchen and bathroom. Just enough. There were lots of people viewing and I wondered if I would be selected. I expressed my strong interest and gave the lady in charge my information. I even offered to pay a bit more. She said she’d let us know. We went back to the car and started calling again. While we were still there, the landlady called us back and asked a few more questions. I figured it was a good sign. I went back to the car and to my utter dismay, the keys were locked inside.

Introducing the Auto Lock anti-theft mechanism. If unattended, the doors lock automatically after a minute or so. I had always dreaded the day when I would leave the keys on the seat and have them locked inside. I didn’t leave them on the seat. I left them in the ignition (off position). However, this had an unintended positive effect. While we were waiting for the locksmith, the other people viewing were leaving after giving their info, but we were waiting!

She called us back again and asked more questions.  Some excerpts: “We’re Christians. . . . ” – “You’re a decent guy right?” – “One viewer had a shirt that said ‘Don’t smoke crack, smoke weed’. haha! We would never rent to someone like that!” Ok whatever. She agreed to give me the apartment and asked me to bring the deposit ASAP. “You sure? Don’t change your mind on us,” they said. I told them that we were waiting for a locksmith for the car and that we’d get it as soon as he arrived.

I was happy! I had found a nice place, I fought for it and won! All I had to do is get her the money and I’d be done with it. We waited. The lady kept saying that people were calling her about the apartment, as if the locksmith could hear her and drive faster. Another lady pulled up, went in and about two minutes later, the landlady told me her “colleague” wants the apartment and that she’s giving it to her.

“But I thought we made an agreement.” I said.

She offered: “It’s not in writing”, “This is my colleague”, “I didn’t know she was looking for an apartment”, “I have people hounding me” and other assorted flavours of bullshit. Needless to say I was pissed! And this is what constantly disappoints me about some people who profess Christianity. What is it to judge someone when your own word is worthless? I continued my hunt but didn’t see anything suitable. I left my contact info with each of them. We decided to check out a place that seemed to fit the bill, although not in the area I preferred.

The price was within my budget, it was very well furnished and pretty much enclosed in an iron cage. The only thing I need is a TV and I’m set! I had someone else look at the place and advise me about the area. He knew someone who lived nearby and said that there had been no break-ins or other trouble in the neighborhood. It was the most comfy apartment I’d seen so far. I decided to take it. I will still be looking at other places even after I move in. I can get a deal in the area of choice with some patience. I’m just glad I won’t be homeless on the streets of Kingston come Sept 12th!

Dean’s Disciples.

Although I remember the hurricane itself very well, when I try to think of the aftermath of Hugo, there are just a few, faint memories. I remember frantically looking for someone who had a generator so that I could go over by them and play Nintendo. I was hurting! I have vague memories of sitting at home with my mother and sister and just talking by the light of candles and kerosene lamps. The Radio was “The Voice” that permeated the entire country.

The day after Dean passed, we went out to survey the damage. Dean had quite a party! The Trees were passed out in the road and some of the telephone poles were obviously hungover from the previous night. Dean Danced with the big trees. His motto: If you can’t blow it down, drop a big fat tree on it. It worked.

I was surprised to see that the wind had not destroyed some of the poorer areas that seemed so fragile. People had begun to clear the streets in their communities of branches and other debris. I have heard over the news that some areas were hit very hard. However, most of the people that I’ve spoken to say that Dean was fairly moderate compared to the likes of Ivan and the ugly Brown Mountains of Gilbert.

When I got to my apartment, I was reminded that Dean’s Dawn had just begun. Having been lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that my company’s building and the hotel were on generators, I realized that my apartment was not. Dean’s Dawn was becoming Dean’s Darkness. This is what really sucks about hurricanes.  But there’s something else that makes up for it. Something that’s worth the inconvenience.

People talk to each other.

People sit with candles and tell stories of their lives and of experiences they once had. People listen to opinions and points of view and debate just for the fun of it. The Beggars stock portfolio is up 30 points on the Nasdaq. When the infrastructure breaks down, people find time to get to know each other.  When there’s no power, every joke is funny. Everyone is a friend (well almost everyone).  For days people have had no choice but to talk to each other.  The spirit of Jamaica is almost tangible at this time. Jamaica is bonding and the radio DJ’s are providing the background music. I love it. I must commend the radio stations for bringing the news and giving us hours of great music.

Things are returning to normal and while many people still don’t have electricity, the tension of the dark Kingston night has been somewhat alleviated. That said, many areas are still reading by candlelight. I saw one area that had service turned on and sparks flew all along the wires like fireworks. I’ve heard of houses in Beverly Hills burning down due to sparking wires. Every now and again I’ve heard the loud BOOM of a JPS transformer. In some parishes damage to the electrical system is said to be worse than that of Hurricane Ivan. Some people may be without electricity for weeks.

Traffique

Jamaica got back to work quickly though.  By Wednesday New Kingston was churning again. And most of that churn was the traffic.  Jamaicans have their own special way of driving.  I call it Push Theory.  Push Theory states that if you jam your car in front of someone, they will stop to avoid hitting you, thus allowing you to pass unencumbered.  I must say that I have come a long way in Push Theory but today I watched masters practice their art.  WORST TRAFFIC EVER!!! I spent half an hour in one intersection that had no traffic lights.  If you want an idea of what that looks like, take a handful of matches and drop them from a height of three feet onto a flat surface.  Two and a half hours and two shortcuts later, I was finally home.  New experience of the day: I got called a ‘sodomite’ for not stopping to let someone pass.

Security

There were only one or two minor reports of looting, but crime is still a big concern. We are under a state of emergency which gives the police more power to enforce curfews, etc. But Jamaicans have no trust in the police and see it as an opportunity for them to abuse even more power. Elections are one Sept 3rd away so it’ll be a trying time for Jamaica. I have seen the way the people have bonded through Dean’s Destruction and I pray that it will be a stronger force than the division induced by politics.

Jamaica is wounded, but is healing. We’ll be just fine.

The Dawn of Dean

I remember my first hurricane experience quite well. It was Hurricane Hugo in St. Kitts. With a name like Hugo, you just know things are going to be ugly. For the first time, I saw wind. Like the invisible man who can be seen when wet, the wet wind gave me a glimpse of it’s form. It had mass. I saw it spiral horizontally down the street as I sat on the porch of our house where only a firm breeze could be felt. The wind had a voice.

On Sunday I watched the wind from the 11th floor of the Hotel, on a porch overlooking New Kingston with the Blue Mountains a backdrop and where only a firm breeeze could be felt. The wind was a ghost. To see a hurricane from this perspective is a sight to behold. Trees dance to the drone and howl and zinc is flung like confetti. Sheets of liquid wind sail over the land and smash into everything. Dean arm wrestled for hours with every building and standing object. Agile coconut trees wriggled their way out of defeat, but Mr. Satellite Dish was not so lucky. Neither was Mr. Water Tank.

However, the damage done was not as bad as expected. Just before Dean got to Jamaica, the eye turned and went south of us. He turned his gaze away from Kingston and looked out to sea. Even Dean knows better than to look a Jamaican Badman in the eye.

The problem with hurricanes is that they last so long. You can only see it from one perspective, and after a while it’s just a TOTALLY AWESOME DISPLAY OF NATURE over and over and over again. Dean went on into the night bitching and moaning and throwing things. By midnight he had left and I rested, looking forward to seeing the damage the next day.

The Calm before the Storm.

Today was a glorious Caribbean day in Jamaica. Hot and sunny! The prefect day to go to the beach or for a long drive in the country. A little more traffic than usual, but a very pleasant day. But instead of going to the beach, Jamaicans went to the supermarket and hardware store in droves. Plywood, flashlights, bottled water, canned foods, people were stocking up on everything. Dean is coming and somebody’s pissed him off!

It’s hurricane time again. Somehow every year, the Caribbean seems like a set of bowling pins, waiting to be flattened by a ball of wind. This one, Hurricane Dean has his eyes set on Jamaica. This isn’t a good time for a hurricane (if ever there was a good time). Election fever is in the air and the destabilizing effect of the hurricane may spark violence.

The weather reporters are looking at this storm almost in awe of it’s physique. It’s a powerful storm that will do quite a bit of damage. Forecasts predict that the eye will reach us at about 2:00pm tomorrow (Sunday August 19th). I have been selected as part of the response team for my company. We will be bunkered in a hotel waiting for the storm to pass.

The Violence of nature Versus the violence of Man.

Jamaica is a violent place. The thugs are stone cold and have no fear. But tonight, every bad man hopes that Dean, the Don, will have mercy. There’s nothing like a hurricane ripping through your country to put things in perspective. By far the most affected will be the poor people of this country and one can only hope that mercy is granted even for their sake alone.

The Face of The War.

I recently made a short trip to the USA to attend my sister’s wedding. My first attempt at returning to Jamaica was foiled by Tardus, the demon lord of lateness. I had missed my flight and could not leave ’till the next day. I stepped outside, defeated, trying to figure out how to get back to my sister’s house.

While waiting for inspiration, I couldn’t help but notice the number of U.S. Marines and Army soldiers present at the airport. They were not guarding the airport or conducting an operation. They were passengers. Most of these soldiers looked like they’d be celebrating their 18th birthday at midnight en-route to war-torn Iraq. Some of them were even with Mom and Dad. It’s sad to think that poor young kids are being sent to secure the wealth of old rich men.

I asked one of them what was going on. He told me that he was on a trip to Bagdad. It was his second tour. He seemed remarkably clam and nonchalant for someone who had seen war, but then again, all I know about war is from the movie “Saving Private Ryan”. I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask him what it was like out there.

“Right now, it’s getting hot!”

Immediately, thoughts of insurgent attacks and urban warfare entered my mind and I thought. .. .”It’s STARTING to get hot?? Damn. I didn’t know the fighting was so heavy! And this guy is being sent back for more! What’s going through his mind?” I wondered if he had killed anyone or lost friends in battle. I wondered how a person can mentally prepare themselves for the possibility of being !VIOLENTLY DISASSEMBLED! by a bomb.

Then he said. . . “Yeah, in the winter time it’s usually cold and miserable. Now it’s getting into summer and it’s hot and miserable.”

He wasn’t talking about the fighting. This Marine, on his way to war halfway across the globe to rat-ta-tat and kaboom “The Terrorists”, would rather talk about the weather. So much for listening to intense, real-life, war-stories. I guess the number one rule about the war is: You do not talk about The War.

“Mi Hongry” – The Jamaican Beggar – Episode 2

So . . .I’m new to Jamaica and I’m looking for some cool people to hang out with. I’ve been tapping every resource, looking for people to help expand my friend circle. Lucky for me, a Kittitian friend of mine put me onto one of her Jamaican friends, R, from culinary school in US. I call her, we talk for a few hours and establish a nice little friendship. She’s a bit “eccentric” but that’s to be expected judging by the friend who introduced me to her.

So after a couple weeks of intermittent phone conversation, we decide to go to the beach on the Sunday before my birthday. “I’ll bring my best friend . . . . hint hint.” Sounds like fun. I’ll get to meet someone new and that’s usually a good thing.

So after waiting all day for her to go get her hair done and then going in circles to find her best friend’s house, I finally get to them. Initial conversation was the usual. . .”Hi:Hello:Nice to meet you: Oko-what?: Akuloo? hahaha!” We start driving out of the area and my friend R looks at me and hits me with this gem, “Mi hongry!”

At this point an alarm bell goes off in my head. You know when your alarm clock rings and you lazily hit snooze and wait for the next alarm? I hit snooze on this one.

We get to the mall and I stop at Island Grill. It’s the healthiest fast food you can buy in Jamaica. Grilled jerk chicken. . yummy! “Me no waan eat a Island grill.” She wants Tokyo Express. I prefer not to eat Chinese these days, So I decide to get food at Island Grill and tell her she can get Tokyo Express.  She and her friend go and sit down at a table.

I think to myself, “Okay. . .it’s obvious that she wants me to buy lunch for her and her friend. Which I really have no problem with, but when “Mi Hongry.” is her way of saying “Let’s do lunch” it leaves a bad taste like morning breath.  Speaking of which, my snooze button is working better than ever so I’ll just get them what they want when I get out of the line.”

I get to their table and they’ve got the real Jamaican screwface on. Like someone killed their cat, and stole the fur. “Hey, you alright? . . . . . . .ummm. . . . . .Are you still getting Tokyo Express?”, They ignore me, say a few words to each other and leave the table in the opposite direction to Tokyo Express. So I slap the snooze button again and eat my jerk chicken alone. Yummy! Good fries too!

Happily fed, I call to find out where my not-so-lovely companions had gone. R’s best friend (the one with the totally different voice) answers the phone.

“Hello”

“Umm. . .is this R?”

“Yes. This is R.”

“You don’t sound like R”

“This is R!”

*SNOOZE*

“Where did you go? Where are you?”

“I’m on my way home! I thought we were going to go out and you would treat me good and buy me some food and you giving me this bullshit? I gone home.”

“WHAT???? I thought we were going to Tokyo Express to get you something to eat! ”

” *pause*. . . . . . . . . . . . .anyway, we’re at Wendy’s. Can you come?”

*SNOOZE*

I drive the long walk to Wendy’s *SNOOZE* and meet R at the front of the line *SNOOZE* and ask her why she put her friend to cuss me. The stare she gave me was shockingly blank; like a blank cheque on an overdrawn bank account. Blank like that last square of toilet paper on a shitty day. I stood there transfixed . . . this was unattractiveness perfected. Mind and Body were now in sync. I could almost smell the fresh mountain air wafting through her head.

*S-N-O-O-Z-E*

I told her that I really didn’t have time for her childish behavior. She left me standing there, got her food and came back to me saying, “You see what you just did? Don’t do that again. You were loud! Don’t embarrass me!”

At that point, my snooze button broke and I left. It was the day before my 30th birthday and I caught myself in a mental sword-fight with a no-bullet gunslinger. Lucky for me, my *DELETE* button still works.

The next day, I watched a movie with a lady who is a software systems analyst and graphic designer. Jamaica: A land of extremes.

Thirty Years, Thirty Fears, Thirty Beers!

Okolo = The Big Three Oh. Count them if you don’t believe me.

I quietly turned thirty on Monday. Like Jamaica, the age of 30 is one of those things that I was always apprehensive about reaching until I got here, then I looked around and realized that it’s not so bad. The twenties have been a rough climb with plenty of slips and scraped knees. The jagged edges of life make for a treacherous path to success. I’ve had many adventures, and I’ve seen and done things that I look back on with pride.

It’s ironic that on this birthday I feel both old and young at the same time. My twenties are behind me and all the experiences have made me wise, yet I am entering a new era, in which I am still just a youth. Just when you thought you had life all figured out, it shows you something new.

I spent my birthday with friends of friends. No clubbing or parties this time around. I watched a good movie and had enlightening conversations over red wine. I made some new friends and felt that it was a great way to bring in the new decade. Jamaica continues to show me new things every day.

The day after my birthday, the first wave of political violence struck. I am not expert of Jamaican politics, but it the political issues surrounding the latest violent episode were explained to me buy a Jamaican. Today, we drove through Seaward Drive. This road is usually very busy in the day. On this day, we found ourselves alone on the road but for one bus. The bus driver changed lanes to let us pass in front of them, and that’s when we realised that the place was locked down (We should have known. A Jamaican bus man let us pass????). Not even a stray dog was on the road. A burning tire confirmed that things were not good in the area. When we got to the end of the road, Police were on vigilant guard. It was a 30 second reminder of where I really am. Welcome to Jamrock.

So once again, Jamaica shows me its good side and bad side. The adventure continues. I’ll be out this weekend enjoying more of the good side. More to come.

JA no like GAY! – much.

Jamaica is known for a number of things: Beautiful women, Reggae & Dancehall music, crime & violence, and EXTREME HOMOPHOBIA!!!!!!!

Don’t believe me? Here’s an example: Read about some of the anti-gay festivities in Jamaica here and here. Anti-Gay sentiments are a part of Jamaican pride and patriotism.

Imagine then, my surprise last night. Jolly me is surfing the net. I log onto www.vibesconnect.com, a popular social networking site (like Myspace) owned and operated in Kingston Jamaica. HEY! I have a new message. Cool . . . . . . . . . . .but . . . . . . . .who is this random guy sending me a message? Subject says “link”. I wonder. . . .is it Spam? Is he trying to get connected to the plethora of females on my friend list? Is he the boyfriend of some girl I sent a naughty message? Jehovah’s Witness? Eventually, curiosity got the better of me and CLICK!

“Hey mi don. You looking real nice. Sexy eyes, lips and skin tone.”

WHAT????????

Now i’ve become accustomed to being hit on by fat, middle aged white women with kids on Myspace. But never before have I been hit on by a man. And that’s saying a lot. I’m originally from Barbados, a place where transvestite prostitutes make a decent living. Jamaicans LOVE to talk about how Barbados is full of gays, but in all the countries I’ve lived or visited, I’ve never been hit on by a gay man until I came to JAMAICA of all places!

Not exactly a comfortable feeling. I had always been completely ambivalent to gays because frankly, I really didn’t care. I find the act disgusting, but I don’t really spend much time thinking about what men are doing with other men. I just don’t care. But damn. . . . that was gross! If that happened in real life, I would have freaked out. I guess I am homophobic after all. Yuck!

Apparently the good Lord saw my dismay and convinced a lovely young lady to call me out of the blue. I met her on the same site a few days ago. Let’s hope she really is a woman! 😮

Fame in Jamaica.

I had the opportunity to go out on Friday night with a couple of famous Jamaicans. I won’t say why they are famous because if I did, every Jamaican would know who I’m talking about. Let’s just say that they sing and have had plenty of local TV coverage.

It was an eye opening experience. Never before have I seen so many random women introduce themselves. Everything from “hi! Can I get a hug?” to “My 14 year old daughter LOVES YOU!”

And these women are the cream of the crop in Jamaica. Like the Lord himself took a blob of sexy and went wild with sculpture. Unfortunately, being a nobody in their presence isn’t as much fun. The girls have tunnel vision.

It was an interesting education in social dynamics. I’ve never been an overly image conscious person. Never felt the need to seek fame, but damn! Its like a different world. Before these guys hit it big, they were just regular guys, nothing special. In some ways I can relate.

For years I was without a car in St. Kitts. And as a result, I didn’t get that much attention from the ladies. Then I bought a ridiculously sexy car. Lo and behold, women who never gave me the time of day were all over me. Call me crazy, but it was a turn off. The car wasn’t me. I was the same person. I felt like these women were totally superficial and I was disappointed.

I stuck to the girl I had before I got the car and she was the only one I felt worthy of sitting in it. All the super fine women who no saw me as attractive became ugly to me. Likewise, I was happy to see that one of these famous Jamaican guys stuck to his old girlfriend who loved him before Jamaica did. Not as attractive as the ‘give me a hug’
girls, but with a sweet personality.

Sometimes I still miss my car though. 🙂