Kingston is the World || Dame Martin

Stacks of speakers printed with “Reid’s SoundSystem” hug the back wall of the Treasure Isle Liquor Store. They blare with the warm sounds of U.S. rhythm and blues, rock and roll, and the early roots of Jamaican music, ska. These waves of sound fill up West Kingston’s humid air. The sky is clear and dark, and all anyone can focus on is dancing to the walking basslines and upbeat grooves the selector, or disc jockey, has chosen for the crowd. As this selector, with the name of Arthur “Duke” Reid, puts on another forty-five, the crowd begins to go mad with excitement–banging the wooden walls and causing a ruckus (lick wood in Jamaican Patois). All of the pent-up anger and frustration of being oppressed and colonized by the British went into partying until the sun rose. Or until Reid raised his ring-covered hand and let off shots from his .45 or .22, given the day and how rowdy the rude boys were getting. By firing a single round, the retired policeman, and soon-to-be producer of Trojan Records was able to cause a domino effect that no one could have predicted.   

Reid was not the originator of the sound system or its culture. Rather, he was the so-called king of it; a flamboyant tough guy sporting a crown and cape with a belt of ammunition. He stood out against his very competitive peers. He was Clement “Coxsone” Dodd’s biggest competitor, who founded Studio One Records and ran a rival sound system. These two entrepreneurs pioneered the sounds of their beloved island through its independence.  

One night in 1968, a simple engineering error at Treasure Isle Studio was about to spread Jamaica’s sounds globally. Well, eventually. Operator Ruddy Redwood cuts a dubplate (an exclusive phonograph recording used to one-up other sound systems), but engineer, Byron Smith, mistakenly leaves the vocals out of the mix, birthing the “version”, a track a deejay can toast (melodically talking and chanting) over. This created the genre of “dub”. Dub was far more hypnotic and hazy than the reggae, rocksteady, and ska tunes it was being engineered from. Engineers would bathe these pre-existing songs in effects, like horns and sirens, and reverb. They would manipulate which tracks would be focused on within the mix through the sound channels. Sooner than later, engineers like King Tubby, Lee “Scratch” Perry, Scientist, Joe Gibbs, and Prince Jammy were the real rockstars of Kingston. They perfected their sounds like a group of mad scientists, no pun intended. They made sure every drum beat, every guitar note, and every echoed vocal was just right. Most importantly, they made sure the bassline was chunky, rhythmic, and vibrating in each of their respective sound systems, guaranteeing the rude boys would lick wood. Dub is the music of the studio, and sound systems, in the words of producer Bunny Lee, are “the people’s radio station.”  

Over half a million people who lived in the British Commonwealth moved to the United Kingdom (mainly London) between 1947 and 1970. This included the West Indies, the subregion of North America where Jamaica is located. A majority of these Caribbean migrants were recruited by the British government to help restore the economy after World War II. This became known as the Windrush generation, and they took their sound systems with them.   

In 1965, another large wave of Jamaican migrants stepped foot on U.S. soil, as Britain began to restrict immigration. And just like in the U.K., they brought their sound systems.  

Within the decade of its birth, Jamaican sound system culture was heard everywhere around the world. Everybody wanted to join in, especially the working class who needed to get their aggression out. White punks would join these local sound system parties and start skanking (a style of rhythmic dancing) with a predominantly black crowd. This gave Britain a new style of music, “two-tone.” It was a combination of British punk rock and Jamaican ska and rocksteady. It was a way of unifying both racial groups.   

One August day in 1973, back in the U.S., New York City was having a sound system party of its own; this time called a “Back To School Jam.” This rec room party happened on 1520 Sedgwick Avenue–a 102-unit apartment building–the residence of a young Jamaican immigrant named Clive Campbell. After disobeying his father’s orders and playing with the family sound system, he proved to his father he could be a DJ. This led to the sound system party, but instead of reggae and dancehall the crowd wanted something funkier, something more aggressive. Clive, now going as “DJ Kool Herc”, selected U.S. soul and funk tracks. Instead of playing the whole tune out, Herc improvised. He wanted the crowd to be energized, so he began playing the funkiest parts of these tracks, usually the drum break (solo). To keep the energy charged, he transitioned track to track by syncing the two playing through the rhythm of the drum breaks, also known as the breakbeat. He would loop these sounds continuously through the “Merry-Go-Round” technique. The breakbeat would become the backbone of hip-hop, with DJ Kool Herc being the founding father.   

The breakbeat would find its way to the U.K. as the 80s rolled in. The clubs were blasting with acid techno and acid house, subgenres of EDM characterized by pounding beats and the screeching synth notes of the Roland TB-303 synthesizer, among other forms of electronic dance music. With the addition of the breakbeat to the U.K. rave scene, producers and DJs were able to make dance music more aggressive, energetic, and uptempo, giving crowds the styles known as hardcore and gabber in the 90s.   

Around 1991, a child was born from the sounds of acid house, hardcore, reggae, and dub.   

Jungle.  

Jungle music was the creation of British Jamaicans who wanted to take a spin at making electronic dance music. It was loud, fast, aggressive, dark, playful, and had wicked drums with fat basslines. The raves loved jungle, but the British public radio stations were not a fan, refusing to play it. Fans of the music had to tune into pirate radio stations to get a taste.   

Jungle music has never died since its birth. Its impact is undeniable in the modern EDM scene. It gave audiences a look at the black working-class experience and also provided clubs with some of the best tunes to ever exist; notably from DJs like Goldie, LTJ Bukem, Shy FX, and Rebel MC (Congo Natty), among many others. These artists were rock stars in their own ways. Unfortunately, there was a period of gentrification: drum and bass, a stripped-back version of jungle that was predominantly made by white DJs. To this day, there are debates about whether a track is jungle or drum and bass, creating confusing racial tension in the genres. One thing is true though, sound system clashes are still happening around the world, and so is jungle. The people who enjoy this branch of Jamaican culture are of many different ethnicities, races, financial backgrounds, and personal histories. They’re all there for one reason: to dance.