Just about the only thing missing from SLF’s second annual Fourth of July Rooftop Bash was a view of the fireworks over the Hudson River (those pesky downtown Manhattan office buildings got in the way). But maybe that’s just another way to tell that this party was so off the hook that hardly anyone noticed- or cared.

Yes, for the second year in a row we threw a rooftop party so happening the only way it could end was by the boys in blue showing up to clear off the picturesque Brooklyn Heights rooftop late into the night. But that couldn’t put a damper on the evening either. With a gorgeous view of the sunset over Manhattan, SLF’s own DJ Trainwreck got things off to a rollicking start as people arrived with a set of rare grooves from all over the world (if I do say so myself!). The night progressed and the roof filled with the kind of diverse crowd that makes Planet Brooklyn the center of the universe- DJ ‘Lil Tiger kicked things into a higher gear with a set of raw funk and soul, our friend DJ Fndomntl rocked the decks with more funk, doped hip hop remixes and the People’s Champs rocked the roof with a live set of acoustic soul and funkified afrobeat. The drinks were flowing, the folks were mingling, the hot dogs were grilling….and our own legendary DJ Q-Mastah spun a set of old school reggae that would have torn the roof off if we weren’t all standing on it, airing a rare exclusive ‘Murderer’ dubplate for the coup de grace. The second People’s Champs set was probably what prompted New York’s finest to call it a night for us, but by then we were all grinning from ear to ear anyway and didn’t mind. Some of us scattered to bars on Atlantic for nightcaps, relishing a gathering that went better than we ever could have hoped.

Our next big bash will be on the Coney Island boardwalk in August, we’re working on a killer event so stay tuned….till then, see you at Moe’s every Wednesday for SoundLib, and Rose Live Music every last Saturday of the month for the Afro-Dub Sessions!

This is in response to Charles Isherwood’s article on the Broadway musical “Fela!” in the New York Times on Sunday, January 28, 2010. I took a special interest in his critical take on the show not only because I recently saw the show- which is set at Fela’s Lagos, Nigeria nightclub the Shrine- and not only because I have been a devotee of Fela Kuti’s music and life story for years, but also because in 2006 I had the unforgettable experience of traveling to Lagos, Nigeria with my band,  Aphrodesia, where  we played at the Shrine with Fela’s son, Femi.

Mr. Isherwood is to be commended for thinking so critically about the musical. Race is, as he notes in his opening paragraph, an incendiary topic, and those of us involved in any debate on it too often devolve into knee-jerk ‘reactionism,’ often fed by notions of political correctness and white guilt. Mr Isherwood’s thoughtful, lengthy critique in a major American newspaper should be taken by fans of afrobeat and of the musical as the highest compliment (he is also right to urge everyone- as I emphatically do as well- to go and see the show for themselves).

That said, Mr. Isherwood is wrong on the major themes of his article.

He’s right that “Fela!” the musical isn’t perfect. The plot is weak, and character development almost nonexistent. The plot could be accurately summarized as “Fela says he’s leaving Nigeria, then he changes his mind.” And although we are witness to the development of Fela’s life through flashbacks, there are no meaningful changes in the portrayals of the major characters through the passage of the show, as is often the case in Broadway productions.

But- and it’s a big but- that’s not the point. “Fela!” is instead a raucous, bombastic, thrilling and at times touching show that transports the audience to a specific time and place- Fela Kuti’s Lagos nightclub, The Shrine, in the late 1970’s. I am no Broadway musical expert, but I believe the show’s positioning of a radical figure like Fela as the hero, its use of Afrobeat, a previously little-known, stubbornly funky and uncompromising music, as the score, and its celebration of strikingly non-Broadway ideas of showmanship, such as African dance and the inclusion of the audience, is groundbreaking for the Great White Way. In essence, “Fela!” brings a new theatrical and musical tradition to Broadway, and Mr. Isherwood mistakenly judges it by his own standard.

One of Mr. Isherwood’s major complaints, for example, is with the look of the show. In crafting a musical that looks (and sounds, thanks to the expert recreation of Fela’s music by a band that includes members of Antibalas) like Fela’s Shrine, the creators of “Fela!” have built a set that Mr Isherwood dismisses as an “African Disneyland.” Yet I found the set design to be one of the most transporting and authentic elements of the show. I should point out that the Shrine I visited and played with Aphrodesia was not the Shrine of the musical- that Shrine was bulldozed by the Nigerian government soon after Fela’s death in 1997. Rather, the Shrine we experienced was Fela’s son Femi’s recreation of his father’s nightclub, in a different neighborhood of Lagos, which he calls “The New Afrika Shrine.” But although the building is different (much bigger, and, we were told by more than one Nigerian, with a much better sound system), by all accounts the vibe and feel of the place is very much the same. And so I can only assume that the set of “Fela!”, looking much like the Shrine I saw, nails the look of the original Shrine. Mr. Isherwood writes that the set is covered in corrugated metal and “African gee-gaws.” Yet I wonder if he is familiar with the clash of cultures that make up the world of Lagos and much of West Africa, where African religious and cultural icons mesh with appropriations of Christian symbols and elements of western culture. Walk down the street in Lagos or Accra and you will find shacks housing businesses with names like “God is Great Beauty Salon” and “He Is Arisen Electrical Shop;” women in traditional cloth dress sell bags of water next to men in business suits talking on their cell phones. It is this world that gave birth to the Shrine, and so while “Fela!”’s set design may have looked contrived to Mr. Isherwood, to me it looked strikingly authentic. At the New Afrika Shrine the slapdash construction of corrugated metal was covered with objects like a giant map of the world with Africa colored in red and a giant slogan that read ‘Movement Against Second Slavery;’ one corner held a religious shrine to Fela. I can only assume the objects that decorated the walls of the original Shrine held a similar significance. An African Disneyland? No, Mr. Isherwood, that musical was named “The Lion King.” This is simply Africa.

Entrance Gate to the Afrika Shrine, Lagos 2006 (Photo by Ezra Gale)

Another of Mr. Isherwood’s complaints is that in walking and dancing among the audience the performers have broken the “Fourth Wall” that normally places performers on stage and audience members in the seats. I’m not enough of an expert on theater to say if this sacred separation of performer and audience is a European construct; I can say though, that the ‘call and response’ format of much West African music- so integral to Fela’s music and deeply influential in much of today’s pop music as well- is rooted in the involvement of everyone present. A singer ‘calls’ a phrase or sentence, the ‘response’ comes from everyone. Music in West Africa often serves a much more universal function than it unfortunately does here in America, where we are bombarded with background music nearly every minute of our day. As I found while I was there, there are songs to telegraph the news from the next village, there are songs for cooking fish without too much salt, and, as Fela proved, there are songs for calling your government a bunch of thieving oligarchs. All of these songs are meant to include the listener in a way that I would guess stands out from Mr. Isherwood’s previous Broadway experience. It is to this tradition that the practice of sending the dancers and performers among the audience, and of asking the audience to sing, and to dance, as “Fela!” does, belongs.

I think Mr. Isherwood’s critique reveals more about himself, and by extension white American attitudes towards race and Africa, than he does about the show. He accuses the show of ‘fetishizing’ the exotic with flashy song and dance, and yet I’d guess there’s nothing exotic about the song and dance in the show to most West Africans, and certainly not to the ones in the mileu portrayed in “Fela!” In tagging the music and dance in the show as belonging to a ‘spectacle of African culture’ that he says tilts too closely towards ‘minstrelsy,’ Mr. Isherwood makes the mistake he accuses the show of making- he assumes that the ‘ecstatic’ music and dance in the show is somehow beneath the dignity of these characters (it reminds me of the argument that music should be taught in schools because it helps kids with math, to which my response has always been, ‘Really? Maybe we should teach math because it helps kids with music’). I think the music and dance in the show is portrayed, accurately, not as light entertainment in service of some higher goal, but as that higher goal itself. And not incidentally, the music and dance (including the beautiful Nigerian women dancing suggestively all night long) portrayed in the show is pretty damn close to the Shrine as I remember it.

Fela!, Eugene O’Neill Theater, New York 2009

Femi Kuti, Afrika Shrine, Lagos 2006 (Photo by Ezra Gale)

Mr. Isherwood seems to believe the emphasis on music and dance is exploitative, but I’d bet Mr. Ishwerwood dinner at Sardi’s that not a single one of the approximately 150 million-plus Nigerians, given the chance to come to Broadway and see the show, would leave the theater feeling exploited. I bet they’d feel proud that this part of their culture and history was being so lovingly crafted and performed in front of such a mainstream American audience every night. I am reminded of my own experience in West Africa. We were a white band, playing African music, in Africa. Before we left we were bombarded with well-meaning concerns from friends about whether the Africans we met would be insulted by what we were doing, whether they would see us as exploiting their culture. But our experience once in Ghana, Togo, Benin and Nigeria was the opposite- people were almost universally thrilled that we were playing their style of music, that we had taken the time to learn it and that we obviously loved it so much we had traveled all the way to Africa to play it and learn more. The questions of authenticity, exploitation and cultural stereotyping and racism that had confronted us faded away as we met Africans who were- rightly- proud that their music and culture was strong enough to make such an impact on people on the other side of the world. We encountered a much more nuanced (and refreshingly blunt) view of race as well- of course, there is black and white, but there are many shades of each. For me, Mr. Isherwood’s critique represents these type of questions- well-meaning, but naïve as to what really constitutes the difference between exploitation and respectful tribute.

Mr. Isherwood says it “seems odd that the only character other than Fela Kuti who has any sustained dialogue is an American.” Actually, it’s not odd: it’s appropriate. Fela’s music was as American as it was African- a synthesis of James Brown funk, American jazz and African Rhythms. And that “brash woman” whom Mr. Isherwood declines to name was Sandra Izadore, who, meeting Fela when he lived in Los Angeles in 1969, introduced him to the politics of the American Black Power movement and the Black Panthers, forever changing his life, music and politics. Far from being the “festive window dressing” Mr. Isherwood accuses the women of Fela of being portrayed as, Ms. Izadore comes across as strong and independent in the musical. Fela is entranced by her, he woos her simplistically, and receives a stack of Black Power literature in return (this portrayal of Ms. Izadore seems correct- I’ve had the priveledge of speaking to her by phone once; she still lives and works in LA, working with community organizations and occaissionally producing afrobeat-themed concerts with local bands like the excellent Afrobeat Down).

I will leave for elsewhere a discussion of Fela’s problematic attitudes towards women (seek out Nkiru Nzegwu’s essay on this in the excellent collection of scholarly articles about Fela, Fela: From West Africa to West Broadway). But the sexuality that Mr. Isherwood seems to find gratuitous and degrading from Fela’s backup dancers and wives in the show (and it was clear to me that they were his wives in the show, perhaps Mr. Isherwood went to the bathroom during the scene when he marries them?) is an accurate portrayal of Fela and his son Femi’s show. The sexuality from the dancers is undeniable; it’s also proud, and I believe here again Mr. Isherwood is imposing his own views and standards uneccesarily.

The “Wives”, Afrika Shrine, Lagos 2006 (photo by Ezra Gale)

Mr. Isherwood discounts the political context given in the show by saying that “you learn more about the sociopolitical situation by reading the newspaper headlines in the video projections on the set.” Actually, Nigerian soldiers’ raid on his compound and the murdering of his mother by them is the main dramatic episode in the show. This event- a reference to the Kalakuta Raid of February 18, 1977- is put in its proper context as a reaction to Fela’s outspoken criticism of the government’s corruption. The episode when Fela was jailed for marijuana possession, but released after several days for lack of evidence (the creative details of which make for one of the more entertaining passages in the show, and which yielded his classic song, “Expensive Shit”), appropriately portrays a government furious at his dissent, yet fearful of confronting his enormous popularity. Yes, there are political elements left out- viewers will have to dig elsewhere to learn about the bloody Biafran War of 1967-70, a civil war estimated to have killed as many as three million people and which shaped the political culture of the Nigeria inhabited by Fela (and perhaps even more importantly, by his politically outspoken mother, too). Absent too is talk to the ethnic tensions within Nigeria between the Igbo and other groups like Fela’s Yoruba, which contributed to that war and were exacerbated by Britain’s colonial administration, itself touched on but not deeply examined in the show.

But a full revealing of these political complexities would turn the show into more of a lecture and less of an entertainment. And that’s what Mr. Isherwood misses in his critique- this is a show, and deservedly so. Fela knew that his politics had to be coupled with his music to gain traction with the population; likewise, the musical “Fela!” would be sorely off-base if it left out the sensual side of its main character.

The show is far from perfect- for that, the plot and narrative would have to match Bill T. Jones’ breathtaking choreography and the irresistible Antibalas-fueled live soundtrack. But what flaws it has do not stem from exploitation or racist assumptions about Africans and African culture.

As everyone should be aware, a tragedy of unthinkable scale happened last week in Haiti. Considering that New York City has the largest concentration of Haitians in the United States, it was easy to feel the impact of these these events here in New York. Last weekend was also Martin Luther King weekend and this year, the traditional king day of service – day of citizen action volunteer service in honor of Dr. King – had a different meaning with community organizations, non profits groups and volunteers mobilizing with the relief effort.

The music world also did contribute to the cause with many popular artists using their star power to raise awareness of the tragedy and encourage action. Wyclef Jean, probably the most famous Haitian American, raised millions of dollars through his Yele organization with a clever text message campaign. In France, dozens of French rappers and pop stars joined renowned singers Charles Aznavour and Youssou N’Dour to record a music video which will be widely broadcasted on national television.

On the local grassroots level, it was great to see many improvised benefit shows and parties pop up in New York. Since here at SLF, we’re all about partying for a good cause, we attended Giant Step’s 6th Annual MLK tribute party which was a benefit event for Doctors Without Borders in regards to Haiti. For the occasion, seminal NYC party veterans Rich Medina and DJ Spinna delivered the goods to a packed audience at the ever trendy club Cielo. With a groovy blend of soul, funk, classics and house, the duo did not fail to turn the event into an entrancing dance party and get everyone in a collective mood of celebration.

Overall, it was a fun party with a positive message and it reminded me of this spirit of solidarity and community which I think is partly what makes this city truly great.

The freedom to express ourselves, our identity and our culture through artistic expression is a right that is often taken for granted in our complacent society. Last Wednesday was the 61st anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and for the occasion, we attended “Music is a Human Right”, a musical event at Littlefield in Brooklyn. The event was organized by Austin Dacey, a human rights activist whom we had the chance to interview earlier that week (Read the interview here).

The event featured Haroon Bacha, a traditional Pashto singer who fled his native Pakistan under the pressure of the Taliban regime. Haroon comes from the north western part of Pakistan, a mountainous region which is home to the Pashtuns, a pacific muslim ethnic group. Like many other Pashto musicians, he has been the prime target of the Taliban’s tragic campaign against popular culture and musical expression considered un-islamic. Even though he is a star in his home country, Haroon Bacha was forced to escape persecution and find asylum in New York City where he now resides. The performance was a tribute to Anwar Gul, another notorious pashto musician who was murdered by a Taliban militia a year earlier.

The evening started out with a reception followed by a brief introduction of the performance. Haroon Bacha then took the stage accompanied by his musicians – masters of the tabla and rubab – and proceeded to play an extensive set of traditional pashto music in a typical formation.   Haroon’s sweet high baritone voice combined with intricate polyrhythms and melodies led the audience into a dancing frenzy. Halfway through his set, he paused and took the opportunity to speak about Pashto culture, peace and tolerance. The evening ended with a set from DJ Rehka of Basement Banghra fame. Overall, it was a very inspiring event and a evening of magnificent music which – as organizer Austin Dacey would say – should not be silenced!

As I am writing this post over thanksgiving, I realize that we should be thankful for all the artists, musicians and individuals who helped shape our musical culture and affected many of us in a personal way. With the passing of Alton Ellis and Michael Jackson just to name a few, this year has been especially tough  and it reminds us why we should appreciate those who remain as living legacies of musical eras which must not be forgotten. Last Friday, I was fortunate to attend a dancehall party in Brooklyn called “Dance Gets Nice Again”.  The dance featured legendary selector Jah Wise from Tippatone Hifi, one of the most important sound system of the early reggae era. Held in a small venue called the Culture Barn – essentially someone’s garage – the party had an intimate feel with an eclectic audience of old timers alongside hip kids vibing to the sound of pure foundation reggae music.

The late 60′s were undoubtedly one of the most prolific period in modern Jamaican history. The blooming of the local recording industry and a string of international successes in the charts set the stage for Reggae to become a bonafide world class music. During this transition period, sound systems were naturally at the center of the action. As the dominance of the previous decade’s two giants – Coxsone’s Downbeat and Duke Reid’s Trojan – started to fade, a new generation of sound systems arose and  competed fiercely for the island’s sonic supremacy. Among these, Lord Tippatone Hifi emerged as one of the top two sounds, rivaled only by King Tubby’s Hometown Hifi. With Jah Wise at the control and Big Youth on the mic, Tippatone ruled the dances from its home turf of  Spanish Town to the island’s countryside where the sound would regularly travel.

Well into his fifties and with a deep musical knowledge that emanates from his enigmatic personna, Jah wise is the quintessential sound system man.  His record collection is legendary and he allegedly owns the world’s two most exclusive specials:  Bob Marley’s only known recorded dubplates in praise to  a sound system. Jah Wise first joined the Tippatone crew as the “boxboy” – the kid transporting speakers and equipment – before quickly becoming the sound’s top selector and eventually its ambassador. Besides his musical career, Jah Wise is also a renowned artist whose artwork  can be seen gracing many landmarks including the facade of  Lee Perry’s infamous Black Ark studio. He also appears painting Horsemouth’s motorbike in the 1978 feature film “Rockers”.

That night,  I had the opportunity to meet an individual  who has had a profound influence on an entire musical culture.  It was a humbling experience and this is what I’m thankful for this year.

If you recently had a similar experience worth to be thankful for, please share in the comment section.

Before the co-sponsored Sound Liberation Front event Booty Crisis at Public Assembly last Saturday, I got a chance to talk backstage with Planet Rump – the monthly party’s founders and resident booty shaker – about the Casio, breaking boxes (the metaphorical kind), and just getting down with your funky ass self.

SLF: How did Planet Rump come about?

Nasty Ness: We landed here on Earth.
Miss Strawberry: Crashed our spaceship.
DJ Tantric: It was an accident.
M: We’re from the Planet Rump, and we were going on a funky space odyssey, and then we ended up here. We were, like, what are we gonna do, we really gotta get back to Rump – it’s like the funkiest planet in the universe.
D: Then we saw there was a need for us.
M: We saw a lot of funky people, a lot more lame people, so we decided to bring the funk of the universe, channel it through our bodies…
N: Earth isn’t ready.
D: And it’s not about materialism, it’s not about something you need to have to bring the funk. It’s about harnessing the funk within you. You could be wearing some Tevas, you could be wearing some Keds, you could be wearing some Fruit of the Loom. It doesn’t matter because anyone can get funky with anything you want, and that’s how our music works.

SLF: Why Brooklyn?

N: Because this is where the trends begin.
M: And Brooklyn needs it the most. We got a lot of shoegazers here, a lot of too-cool-for-schoolers.
N: A lot of conformists.
D: A lot of people who just want to buy something to make them cool, but they don’t want to be cool on the inside.
M: But we know that this is the media platform of the world, and we just want to be at the center of it all. Get the message out there that love, peace, and funk are the only things you need.

SLF: Why use the Casio as your main instrument?

D: The Casio embodies pretty much the principle of you don’t need anything to be funky.
N: Keep it simple.
D: We play little baby toys from thirty years ago, and we can blow people’s minds away harder than someone with the most updated products of blah, blah, blah production. I mean, you don’t need to buy something to be funky.
N: You can be yourself.
D: And we’ve done a lot with those little toys.
M: That shit BOOMS!
(laughter)
D: And we work with some sound generation tools that don’t actually play notes. Like, we don’t even need notes. We don’t even need a scale or melody or whatever. Yeah, we do that a little bit, but creating bass tones generated out of some sort of nonsense…we’re playing in between the notes, and the sounds are cool. That’s what works with us.

SLF: How do you get the ideas behind your songs? What’s the creative process?

N: We take our real-life experiences from going out and being ourselves every day and just enjoying life. We take real-life scenarios, and we make it something tangible.
D: We don’t really stick to any genre or anything. We’re just playing music. And we can embody anything about anything by just playing music. You don’t have to pigeonhole yourself into a certain box. We try to play across all boundaries, and some of our songs embody a lot of different elements of other types of music.
N: Like, why be negative? Why not just make something positive out of everything? Just put it on display and build your self-esteem.

SLF: Is that the whole idea behind Booty Crisis?

N: Hell yeah!
M: Definitely.
D: Booty Crisis is, like, the boundless booty party where you can have anything, and we’re sort of exposing people to things that they were sleepin’ on. Whether it’s Chico Mann or Hiro Tha Jap or DJ A-Ko from upstate New York. There’s a bunch of people out there right now dancing to a DJ from upstate New York, and they don’t know it.

Tayisha Busay

SLF: What’s the process of choosing the acts in the lineup?

N: If we don’t like them, then they don’t play.
D: It’s group knowledge, but we’re all specialists in different ways. So, we get to combine our strengths – sort of like a big net – and bring in people. If we can agree on it, see what the benefit is, and how we can draw people together with our own scene, then that’s what we do.
N: And that’s the most important thing.
M: It’s gotta be fun. It’s gotta be positive. It’s gotta be boomin’. It’s gotta be danceable. Electronic is what’s hot right now, and we love that.
D: Enough with the diva entitlement thing. We just bring people who wanna bring the funk.
N: If I can’t rock out to it, then I’m not gonna book ‘em. That’s it.

SLF: What’s the act tonight that you’re the most excited for?

Planet Rump: (in unison) All of them!
M: They’re all amazing.
N: I’ve been to all of their parties, and they all blew my mind.
D: And if we’re lucky, they’re all gonna be friends at the end of the night. We got Latin- Cuban-Afrobeat music. We got Japanese dance music. We got Israeli, Brooklyn-based dance music. We got us. And everyone’s gonna love each other.

Chico Mann

SLF: So, it’s gonna be one big group hug afterwards?

N: Of course, it’s already one big group hug. Everyone here is a friend. There are no enemies here. It’s all love.

SLF: What are your plans for Planet Rump in the future?

N: Planet Rump is more than just a group – we’re an entity.
D: It’s a movement. So, we’re booking acts and getting momentum with that. We’re cutting an album right now. One of our guests Chico Mann is a good sounding board because he doesn’t live in anyone’s world or anyone’s box. He’s a good person to talk about a lot of things like that. We’re gonna keep moving in a different direction. Use some different elements of different music, and see where it takes us.
N: As long as we keep having fun.
D: Nothing less than sexy.
N: If we’re not having fun, how could anyone watching us be having fun?

A show at the Amazura is like an expedition into another musical world, far from the spotlights of mainstream media. This time, I was able to rally a crew of hardcore sound system fans despite my usual inability to convince any of my friends to take the trip deep into Queens and shell out fifty bucks for events that usually start after most venues’ last call. With its smoky and stuffy atmosphere, deafening sound system and overbearing intensity, a major event at the Amazura literally requires mental and physical preparation.

Irish and Chin have been notorious for staging mega productions worldwide, the most legendary being their prestigious world clash series held in New York, London, Jamaica and Antigua. With “Reewind: past meets the present”, their concept was to combine a vintage rub a dub show headlined by the legendary King Sturgav Hifi with the star power of popular contemporary artists such as Capleton, Luciano and Beenie Man. The bill also advertised U-Roy, Brigadier Jerry, Charlie Chaplin, General Trees (all of whom were affiliated with the sound in its heyday) and Mighty Crown Sound who was entrusted with the task of warming up the audience. With such a stellar lineup, this was undoubtedly the most anticipated dancehall event of the year and it was clear that it was going to be a memorable night.

In Jamaica, sound systems were more than just entertainment, they were literally community institutions at the center of local economy and popular culture. Ever since the early Ska days, they have been the driving force behind the birth and evolution of the Jamaican recording industry and played a crucial role in developing artists from local poor communities. With the explosion of Dancehall in the wake of Bob Marley’s Death in 1981, a new generation of sound systems spearheaded by the likes of Stone Love, Killamanjaro, and King Jammy’s took center stage and dominated the Jamaican music industry over the next two decades.

During the  Dancehall era, sound system performances known as  “Rub A Dub” dances were widely popular. These dances  typically featured multiple deejays (the Jamaican equivalent of MCs in hip hop culture) consecutively showing off their lyrical skills in an attempt to seek out respect and recognition from the often unforgiving crowd.  Spontaneous and competitive by nature,  they were good indicators of raw talent and became the location of choice for scouting and developing new artists. Being a feature deejay on one of the island’s major sound systems was a sure path for popular success and an eventual recording career. To this day, most well known recording artists begin their career by earning respect and proving themselves  in the “Zinc fence jungle”.

King Sturgav Sound System, also known as Sturgav Hifi was the brainchild of the illustrious deejay U-Roy. Also known as “the originator”, he is widely credited for pioneering and popularizing “toasting”, a vocal style which consists of jive talking and rapping over popular records during sound system dances. After a stint deejaying on Duke Reid’s Trojan Sound in the late 60s, he gained notoriety later on King Tubby’s Hometown Hifi- Tubby’s sonic experimentation and dub aesthetics proving the perfect support for the development of his unique vocal style. By transforming the art of animating a sound system dance into a musical form in its own right, U-Roy laid the foundation for an entire new generation of artists and became a major influence on the early rap scene (Disco/Electro/Break Beat) and the later American hip-hop movement. When he created Sturgav sound, it became defacto one of the top deejay academies on the island.

With so much history in perspective, I had very high expectations for this event. When we arrived at the Amazura, the place was already packed which was a pleasant surprise given the relatively early time (by Jamaican Standard). The night started with the incomparable Mighty Crown from Yokohama, Japan. The “Mad Japanese” definitely have a knack for captivating a crowd with their wicked selection, unique charisma and flawless execution. It is not hard to understand why they are considered one of the best sound systems in the world today, and since they were just the opener it was an indicator of the high caliber of the event.

In front of an enthusiastic crowd, King sturgav then took the stage. For the next three hours, the audience witnessed an overwhelming array of artists consecutively blessing the mic. Beenie man announced himself as the host for the night, controlling the mic and interacting with the audience while General Trees kept patrons smiling with his comical interjections and entertaining performance.

Since I am used to seeing Capleton perform with a live band , I was curious to see how his style would translate in a sound system format. Capleton has an aura few other artists carry. I caught his expression while he was standing backstage before his performance, staring at the crowd in deep concentration. Minutes later, he brought the entire place down with renditions of his anthems Jah Jah City, Who Dem, That Day Will Come and countless others over foundation riddims. Without surprises, the prophet did not fail to mesmerize the crowd with his notorious intensity and charisma.

To my surprise, I learned that U-Roy, Luciano and Charlie Chaplin were not going to be present due to visa issues.  There was a lot of disappointment in the crowd. The last part of the event still featured standout performances by Brigadier Jerry and Sugar Minott, who came as a surprise guest. Both artists unleashed a series of forwards when performing their respective trademark hits.

Despite the absence of a few key performers, it was still a night of historic proportions and above all a night of great entertainment by some of the industry’s most prominent figures. It was all about class and respect between artists in honor of sound system culture and history.  The event as a whole left the crowd ecstatic and it was nice to see that it was relevant to a younger audience as well. I can only hope to see more of this type of productions in the future. In the meantime, I will be going back to listening to bootleg rub a dub tapes on my iPod, longing for my next journey into sound system culture.