PROUDFLESH: A New Afrikan Journal of Culture, Politics & Consciousness

Sonjah Stanley Niaah

1. Title

This review wanted to be titled “Wake the Town and Tell the People the Truth! Dancehall Culture in Jamaica.” But that wasn’t to be. My intention was to adopt the “values and attitudes” approach of the day in order to reveal sources unacknowledged, debates about authenticity, quarrels with history, and so on. Needless to say, this book has sparked great, mostly unwritten, debate among Jamaican nationalists who on the one hand feel the book should have been written by a Jamaican, and on the other know that glory for the print belongs not only to the author but to all those who came before him -- whether in patches of work or oral transmissions -- who have contributed to the Dancehall enterprise and kept its light burning.

Instead, the title I have settled on is intended to foreground a central and oft overlooked aspect of Dancehall culture, one of the fulcrums, indeed spaces, around which it revolves. My intention therefore is to show how the author reinscribes a musical hegemony which abounds in popular culture and cultural studies of music generally. It is only in the last decade that dance research (and performance studies broadly) has moved from being marginal in the academies of the West (Desmond, 1997, pp. 1, 29); and in Jamaica, for instance, it still struggles for well-deserved notoriety. The situation is a little more complex still. A comparison of the attention paid to the dance stages around the world renders that paid to street events virtually invisible. It is with this position that I proceed to review Wake the Town and Tell the People.

2. Purpose

Stolzoff’s study is the first full-length book to announce itself as dedicated to Dancehall. Notably, it follows on the feet of some seven other publications on Reggae, and Dancehall to a lesser extent, in recent years. The book was conceived as a rebuttal to prevailing views about Dancehall –- a practice with a reputation mired in the debilitating political economy of Edward Seaga, and sexually debased lyrics in contravention to the standard set by the Rastafari-influenced roots and culture lyrics of the 1970s. It proceeds by grounding the history of Dancehall on the slave plantation through to its contemporary manifestation in Kingston’s urban ghettos and internationally. Echoing David Scott’s (1999) claim that a cultural history of Dancehall is still incomplete, Stolzoff proposes that Dancehall is more than “slackness,” naming the music-centred approach that has been taken in the study of the practice which privileges the role of producers and musicians “as autonomous creative artists.” He proposes that interpretations of Dancehall have to take account of the “Jamaican context of production, performance, and politics as well as the ‘foreign’ (transnational) influences.”

Organized into eight chapters, with a preface that rides the ‘riddim’ (rhythm) right ‘inna di dancehall,’ specifically a sound system clash between Stone Love, Metro Media and Killamanjaro, an introduction to the Dancehall sound, symbols and, to a lesser extent, space is achieved. The clash is effectively portrayed as an actual and symbolic manifestation within which Dancehall has been defined and defined itself. I use ‘defined,’ the past tense, because the sound system clash is now far less popular than it was from the 1960’s to the early 1990’s. It is the clash at the symbolic and literal levels that receives most of the analysis within the text, provides the tropes and grist for Stolzoff’s ‘cultural studies’ mill.

Using a theoretical framework built around a tapestry of insights and critique, surrounding works by Kamau Brathwaite, Dick Hebdidge, and Paul Gilroy, Stolzoff settles on Pierre Bourdieu’s ‘field of cultural production’ where power, place and embodied experience are elaborated to demonstrate the field of Dancehall’s production -- popular styles, artistes, aesthetics, technology and so on. He counters works like that of Tricia Rose (1994) and Carolyn Cooper (1993) which, for him, don’t fully grasp the phenomenological and existential dimensions of (Hip-Hop and) Dancehall that are blended in the spectrum of history, production and performative factors. They don’t take account of kinaesthetic genres, such as dance, that are outside the symbolic. Their brand of ‘cultural studies,’ Stolzoff argues, is characterized by an ungrounded interpretive scheme.

3. Major Highlights

The first half of the book - chapters two, three and four - establish a history of Dancehall from slavery to World War II, consistent with my own understanding of its origin at the inception of the so-called New World. Indeed, though the enslaved arrived with their memory and their Gods, the contingencies of space, history and politics have blended to form the New World intricacies of Dancehall as a modern, postmodern and postcolonial enterprise. Clearly established is the role of the dance historically as crucial in the regulation of social relations, and the maintenance of cultural identity of the slaves, inasmuch as it plays that role for ghetto youth today. The rise of the sound system from the 1950s to the 1960s, the decline of big bands, the roles of migration and technology in the evolution of the practice, strategies of record acquisition, the class influence and the driving force of competition in the early era, are traced using interviews and secondary sources. Also, the art of selecting, trends in fashion, the studio as the new arena of the DJ, and the development of the Jamaican music business are highlighted. So too is the part played by growing social violence (gang violence in particular) and its nexus with the politicisation of Kingston’s inner cities accounted for in contextualizing the sound system and its role in the political “tribalism” of 1960/70s Jamaica. This is, therefore, a highly music-centred focus from the outset.

The re-emergence of sound systems to a central place within the dance space, by the early 1970s, saw the rise of Stone Love, Metro Media, Killamanjaro, and Gemini. Their ampage being of great sonic, magnetic and kinetic proportion compared with the early sound systems, they swept Dancehall into a new era of performance where the famous ‘clash’ concretized the role and skill of the selector as the prominent figure in Dancehall. A highlight of these developments, according to Stolzoff, is that new performance modes emerged along with trends in the music toward materialism, hedonism, and gangsterism ushered in with the 1980’s, sidelining the spiritual and protest music of Reggae. For example, where rub-a-dub faded, ‘juggling’ took over as a key performance mode (p. 109). Stolzoff questions why this new era of Dancehall music emerged. He points to the lack of research done to explain why Dancehall fans accepted “the new style, and what political, economic, and cultural forces were at play in the move away from roots reggae” (p. 109). He says that “slackness” on the part of the DJs was explained as “bad taste, lack of originality, and to greed of new producers who fall far short of the musical creativity of their counterparts in the 1960s and 1970s” (p. 109). He further argues that the shift from one musical style to the next is complex; factors such as the downfall of Manley’s government, the appeal of the Seaga management, the death of Bob Marley, competition within the Dancehall field, and the celebration of the local, all have to be considered. Two new factors are introduced in the scheme (highlighted by, among others, Gilroy [1987] and Skelton [1998]); and essentially, Stolzoff in his attempt to uncover other spaces and explanations takes us no further in answering the complex questions posed about the new post-1980 era in Dancehall.

Further, there is the assertion that “the celebration of fashion and the erotic display of the female body became important to the dancehall event. The body was now the site of increasing degrees of adornment” (p.110). This change is attributed to the advent of the era of “slackness,” thus re-inscribing the very characterization that the book is aimed at questioning. It is also significant that after acknowledging the shift to new dance moves, fashion styles, other techniques of the body, and the role of women, after recognizing that narrow approaches to the perception of Dancehall as a “place of carnivalesque licence” (p. 88) takes us no further in understanding, and after denouncing the anti-historicist, anti-empirical, structuralist approaches to the study of Dancehall, the author uses eight pages to explain new trends in dance, fashion and the role of women. With respect of these large and central issues, Stolzoff writes that where “bubbling” was the old standard of “erotic dance,” new dances “focussed on the erotic element to a new degree,” so much so that a borrowing of techniques from go-go dancing, for example, was commonplace. Dance moves such as the Butterfly and Head-top popularised by Dancehall model Carlene Smith are mentioned.

The observations related to dance are not problematised in the discussion of the new era of Dancehall even as they probably constitute some of the best avenues from which patterns and values within Dancehall can be traced/discerned/forecasted. Not taken into account are major questions: What do these movement patterns say about Dancehall identities; what kinds of identities, agency and spatialities do these dances construct; and what is their relationship to traditional forms of movement? The total number of references to dance or dance styles in the entire text is seven. How is it justifiable that such an important element of Dancehall warrants less than six pages in a 298 page book on Dancehall culture in Jamaica? With over forty major dance moves (with at least 35 at the time of the book’s publication), a host of dancers within the space, and the role of the selector and cameraman in conducting or managing the flow and tempo of dance moves, this aspect of the culture warrants treatment as a central feature.

The author mentions that men’s fashion changed from a more “hippie, African-inspired garb of the roots era to flashy suits, abundant jewellery and hairdos made popular by American rappers” (p. 110). However, one could also argue that dress modes replacing the more ‘rootsy’ are also African inspired. How is Africa defined here? In other words, to which Africa are we referring? An account of Dancehall that acknowledges cycles of stylistic and performative revolutions offer a more objective view than those limited to possibilities in the “slackness-capitalist-materialist” explanations. Perhaps it is only from truly taking a longer historical view of Dancehall (that is, long before 1985), talking to other actors like dancers and patrons not usually given faces or voices that might reveal deep cultural trends/values/explanations.

Dancehall, Stolzoff acknowledges, remains “a space of diverse and competing styles.” However, based on the sustained influence of Rastafari on the music (the analysis is again a music-centred one), conclusions are drawn about the urban “slackness” component and its emphasis on women and fashion as being secondary to themes related to “culture,” Rastafari, rude boys and competition or clashing [2] among sound systems (p. 111). Bearing in mind that different moments in Dancehall history will reveal different performative and social currents, this claim is not problematized. Neither can it be substantiated on the basis of top ten hits over the last fifteen years, nor an inventory of dance events and their characteristic themes. It is the author’s opinion; he claims that after the so-called “slackness” era, the period now dubbed the “Rasta renaissance” assumed prominence by 1993 with the appearance of artistes like Garnet Silk, Tony Rebel and others. The period since then has seen the conversion of artistes like Buju Banton, Capleton, and less senior artistes on the scene like Anthony B, Louie Culture, Luciano and Ras Shiloh. On the other side of the coin there is also the influence of Hip Hop on Dancehall music in the recordings of Beenie Man and Bounty Killer as DJs who maintain different trends in Dancehall by their ability to cross subgenres of Rasta roots, gun lyrics and “slackness” in their recordings. All these are music-centred discussions that serve to debilitate the authors expressed intentions.

Stolzoff’s discussion of venues and physical space generally takes a historical look and is introductory. He highlights the fact that all dance venues were not like lodge halls. I take his glance a little further here by naming some of the other venues. From his research, lodge halls were the main venues and some events had no established ‘yard’ and were held in abandoned spaces, renovated buildings or homes. In addition to these, my own research has shown gully banks, streets, bars -- such as Nanny’s One Stop (1950’s), Cherry’s Hot Spot (1980’s), Dawn’s HQ (1980’s), and Frontline Pub (1980-90’s) – located on Kingston’s lanes and streets as hosts/initiators of this dance activity. By the 1960’s dance halls as well as popular street venues with swinging dance events could be found across the urban Kingston nightscape.

Even with an acknowledgment of a longer history with which to view Dancehall, no comparison of the spaces used and character of events on the plantations or in the contemporary urban scene is done. There is no mention of nomadism as part of the character of the practice; the philosophies outside clashing, such as success and the celebration of life and death; or siege as part of the State response to Dancehall.[3] A typical venue is an uncovered area, much like it was on the plantations of the West Indies. Examples include the various street addresses -- corner of this street or that street, -- and others like House of Leo where sound systems like Stone Love Movements called home on a Thursday night between the late 1980’s and early 1995. Though club venues have featured in the history of the culture and within contemporary Dancehall, they have not been as popular as open-air venues, and have not been dedicated solely to Jamaican music. For instance, one night might be dubbed `Dancehall night’ as a way of attracting patrons. They have also remained less accessible to the working and lower class majority.

Chapters five and six begin the second half of Stolzoff’s text which details the production arena of Dancehall through the career path of a Dancehall entertainer and the recording studio as distinct and central space. The DJ is seen to embody the highest level of Dancehall production. One studio is the focus and the political economy of Dancehall is shown to include among others, vendors, hagglers and hustlers; Dancehall artists (DJs, MCs, dancers etc.); record producers & promoters; sound system and recording studio owners; artist management and record companies; record distributors, sellers; and venture capitalists and large companies. Largely, focus on development of the sound system culture and the production of Dancehall music are the most extensive aspects presented by the book. Stolzoff looks at the motivations for a career in Dancehall as ranging from a “constellation of psychological, cultural, social, political, religious and economic factors,” and not only economic or material factors. Dancehall is seen as a “survival strategy” that promises alternatives for many.

After observing dozens of dances, Stolzoff postulates two “ideal” (three really, as discussed earlier) types of sound system dances where “an implicit structure that informs the temporal flow of the performance through certain standard elements” can be observed. These are the “sound system clash,” where the aim is competition, and the “juggling” dance in which sound systems play non-competitively (pp. 194-5). The author distinguishes between the typical dance event and the “performance modes,” many often visible in the playing of a single song. These include “juggling,” “clashing,” “reality,” “culture,” “sacrifice,” and “war” (pp. 210-12).

By far one of the most useful sections of the book, especially for those who have never attended a dance, is the event treated in the latter half. Stolzoff’s ideal sound system dance is captured in detail. For example, times of arrival, the psychological edge gained by the sound system that arrives first on the “battlefield” (p. 198), the pre-dance period and the way patrons and vendors enter the space are critical. The creativity of the sound clash, its symbolic violence, community participation and judging are the main focus; the setting up of the sound system and the kind of music played prior to the start of the dance are highlighted. However the sound system clash as the main focus. According to Stolzoff details the way the selector on the inside uses the time before the dance to arrange a musical repertoire that will form his ‘ammunition’ during the night. Essentially then, the sound clash is “one of the most creative forces in dancehall culture.”

It drives stylistic innovation by generating massive record production for upcoming...events as well as being instrumental in maintaining a hierarchy among sound systems. The selector’s strategies of moving the crowd in favour of his sound during a clash is a highly refined and complicated affair (p. 201).

Though this historically important feature of Dancehall is captured, there is scant mention of the role of the juggling dance, factors for the demise of the clash, or the takeover of the current Dancehall scene by the juggling dance which started to manifest by 1993. In this post-1999 era of ‘Dancehall nice again,’ with a proliferation of dance moves, dancers, new events by day and night, the clash remains an international feature but virtually invisible in the Jamaican scene.

Stolzoff’s elaboration of “performance modes” in the latter half of the book reveals “juggling,” “clashing,” “reality,” “culture,” “sacrifice,” and “war” as key modes. In reading this section, I couldn’t help but remember the typically traditional ancestral forms of worship in Africa and other ancient civilizations where rituals included those for different life processes such as birth, death, puberty, marriage, war and the importance of sacrifice in all these. These deeper continuities interest me. It is only in Stolzoff’s explanation of one performance mode – “the culture dimension”[4] (p. 211), a mode that “calls attention to Dancehall as a sacred ritual,” that ritual is mentioned. On deeper analysis, this could be extended to all the other modes, particularly as the distinctions drawn to explain them are shady. Further, a look at the Dancehall through types of events as another classificatory scheme, such as the birthday bash and anniversary dance, reveals this ritual dimension in its celebratory mechanism.

It is the mode of “juggling” that has most insight for me but becomes problematic as the extension of its profoundness is not seen. Stolzoff admits that juggling in certain recordings, such as girl tunes, “emphasize the Dancehall as a theatrical space of enjoyment, dancing, and sexual expression” (p. 211). If he had left out the “sexual” at “sexual expression,” the statement would have been just as powerful since the power of the statement lies in the space Dancehall creates, that space being theatrical, based on ‘style an fashion,’ the latest in music, dance, and sartorial aesthetic. There’s no need to specify what sort of expression there is at any given moment; instead, an appreciation for the space and what it might churn up at any given moment is closer to the objective historical reality.

An overall assessment of the performance modes identified by Stolzoff reveals that they do not adequately cover the nature of dance events which colour the Dancehall calendar. There is a neglect of unique attributes and types that tell us of what is venerated, celebrated, discussed, or ridiculed in the culture. This continuum I refer to as celebration in its broadest sense.

Finally, conclusions about Dancehall are drawn from its parallel within Jamaica’s contemporary social crisis. Its importance to Jamaican popular culture and its role in the “formation of a distinct lower-class culture for more than two centuries” (p. 227) is highlighted. “The Dancehall” he says “has been an important medium for the black masses to create an alternative social universe of performance, production, and politics.”

Essentially Stolzoff positions Dancehall as a meta-cultural construct by way of its key role in understanding Jamaican society’s contemporary crisis. He concludes the book by discussing the power of Dancehall culture, its centrality to “cultural creation and inter-social negotiation” (p. 228); and asks crucial questions about Dancehall’s calling into question the moral, political, and economic leadership of the society. He further questions whether Dancehall is socially beneficial, unleashing creative potential or a constellation of negatives tending to implosion or destruction via received notions of “‘indiscipline’, lawlessness’, ‘vulgarity’, ‘slackness’, and ‘violence’” (p. 228). One might ask whose categories are these anyway. The outsider’s? The producers of Dancehall culture? The consumers? Who?

4. Overall Contribution?

Perhaps the most essential ingredient of the text is its illustration of the centrality of the sound system to the development of Dancehall and its culture. The book ultimately achieves an in-depth look at Dancehall in historical, economic, political and performative terms, even trying not to “condemn” or “celebrate” (p. 246). One of its strengths lies in the definition of cultural production after Bourdieu’s work, specifically the detailed look at the recording studio. Still, while the empirical research focuses on travelling with Killamanjaro, a major sound system, the outline of the trajectory of a DJ is also given much attention within a narrative that reinscribes a musical hegemony from which it tries to depart. Call it what you will, the book is more about the development and modus operandi of the sound system than it is about the intricacies of the Dancehall performance space.

While Stolzoff expands the map of Dancehall through exploration of its field of production, albeit music-centred, some aspects of the complex relationship between performance, production and consumption are never explored. For example, the DJ and selector are not the only critical producers; nor is their role only that of a producer. Their roles in the production of Dancehall are not to be separated from their roles as consumers. They buy or acquire records and rhythms, listen to them in the course of their respective crafts, in the process of, on the one hand, creating a record on a particular rhythm or the performance in front of a live audience; and, on the other, playing a blend of records/CDs to please an audience. Through performance, certain relationships to the field of production become hidden. Similarly, due to the fact that the role of the DJ has overshadowed the role of other producers within Dancehall, the role of the dancer as a producer has been downplayed. S/he is a volitional (after Simone de Beauvoir) “object” consumed by others as well as the repertoire of movement (created or executed). The dancer, thus, adds to the inventory of products within the dance space.

Stolzoff outlines the Dancehall as an active force, powerful and pervasive in its reach and influence, be it through the music or system of signifiers. Centred on the lower class Black youth who define themselves through the alternative medium of the Dancehall laboratory, Stolzoff suggests:

[p]erhaps the human body is where the most significant symbols and practices of dancehall circulate...Through fashion [cycles], speech, and techniques of the body, ghetto youth mark their participation in dancehall and assert their control over the public space they occupy. Styles of clothing, haircuts, and jewellery worn....have come to signify a subordinate and oppositional position within Jamaica’s race-class hierarchy...While dancehall culture is focussed on music and performance, it also has given rise to an aesthetic that transcends the boundaries of music, strictly speaking...There are well established genres of dancehall theatre, cinema, choreography, fashion design, and modelling (p. 2).

In the strictest sense, Stolzoff’s project deals scantily with the above claim, instead centring on Dancehall history, politics and production. Arguably, his focus on the production of Dancehall (music and musical experience) overshadows the potential to excavate some of the significant products of actors including dancers, ethno-choreographers, central to Dancehall fields of production and performance. Juxtaposed with the inadequate attention paid by Stolzoff to these “techniques of the body,” G. White’s (1984) examination details the dance, that central field of practice in which dancers, their movement, the typical dance event, patrons, and vendors converge, exposing a whole mode of entertainment with a recognition of the dance event as the embodiment of Dancehall (rather than the sound system and the DJ). I speak of White’s work because it acknowledges this true centre within the practice -- that of the dance event.

Among the recent texts on Jamaican music – for example, Chen and Chang (1998), Potash (1997), Barrow and Dalton (1997), Foster (1999), Thompson (2002), and Katz (2003) – Wake the Town and Tell the People constitutes the first expansive study of sound system culture. In particular, its attempt to outline Dancehall as culture -- music, morality, economics, violence and politics -- surpasses other published contributions. Clarity about the fact that Dancehall is not just rooted in the culture of the inner-city but a phenomenon with a history and connections to other historical trajectories is seen and establishes a common genealogy with plantation dances. However, the text omits some key components: the poetics and meaning system of Dancehall seen in the significance attached to, or philosophies around, space, dance, fashion, and the body remain undeveloped.

It is unfortunate that Stolzoff, in his representation of Dancehall’s field of production and its role in Jamaican social and political life, fails to adequately represent those very things he highlights as sadly missing in Carolyn Cooper’s work. His work is caught up in the production of culture while neglecting some crucial driving mechanisms within the culture. Its focus on the dub market and the trajectory of a DJ puts his book within the category of music-centred approaches to Dancehall, with only a glimpse of the rest of the field. It hinges on the art of the DJ/selector who sets the event’s pace with musical repertoire, rhythm and tempo. While Wake the Town and Tell the People is an adequate introduction to the historical, political, and productive arena of Dancehall, it doesn’t deal effectively with certain actors within this field, not to mention significant symbols and practices that revolve around ‘techniques of the body,’ psychic and physical space, and aesthetics.

Bibliography

Barrow, S., & Dalton, P., 2001. The Rough Guide to Reggae: The Definitive Guide to Jamaican Music, From Ska through Roots to Ragga, London: Rough Guides Ltd.

Chang, K., & Chen, W., 1998. Reggae Routes: The Story of Jamaican Music, Kingston: Ian Randle Publishers.

Cooper, C., 1993. “Slackness Hiding From Culture: Erotic Play in the Dancehall.” In Noises in the Blood: Orality, Gender and the ‘Vulgar’ Body of Jamaican Popular Culture, Warwick University Caribbean Studies Series, London: Macmillan Press.

Desmond, J., 1997. Meaning in Motion: New Cultural Studies of Dance, Durham & London: Duke University Press.

Foster, C., 1999. Roots, Rock, Reggae: An Oral History of Reggae Music from Ska to Dancehall, New York : Billboard Books.

Gilroy, P., 1987. There Ain’t No Black in the Union Jack, London: Hutchinson.

Jahn, B., & Weber, T., 1992. Reggae Island: Jamaican Music in the Digital Age, Kingston: LMH Publishing.

Katz, D., 2003. Solid Foundation: An Oral History of Reggae, London: Bloomsbury.

Potash, C., (Ed.) 1996. Reggae, Rasta, Revolution: Jamaican Music From Ska to Dub, New York & London: Schirmer Books & Prentice Hall International.

Scott, D., 1999. Refashioning Futures: Criticism After Postcoloniality, Princeton, NJ: Princeton U. Press.

Skelton, T., 1998. “Ghetto Girls/Urban Music: Jamaican Ragga Music and Female Performance” in Ainley, R., New Frontiers of Space, Bodies, Gender, London& NY: Routledge.

Stolzoff, N., 2000. Wake the Town and Tell the People: Dancehall Culture in Jamaica, Durham: Duke University Press.

Thompson, D., 2002. Reggae and Caribbean Music: The Essential Listening Companion, San Fransisco: Backbeat Books.

Rose, T., 1994. Black Noise. Hanover, NH: Wesleyan Press.

White, G., 1984. “The Development of Jamaican Popular Music, Part 2. Urbanization of the Folk: The merger of traditional and the popular in Jamaican Music.” ACIJ Research Review 1.

References

[1] This line is from Elephant Man’s recent “Signal di plane” song from his Good to Go album, VP Records, 2003.

[2] Clashing was far more popular in the period during which Stolzoff’s research was conducted, the early period around the development of the sound system in the 1960’s, and from the late 1980’s to mid 1990’s. By the time Stolzoff’s text was published, the clash was no longer the most popular performance mode of dance events. Today, it far more popular at other levels -- clash between patrons and the police force, clash between DJs, clash between the State and the Dancehall space. It is therefore important that the specific period of the research be taken into account, that generalizations are not made on the basis of 4 years of research, and that cycles of ‘culture’ and so-called ‘slackness’ (as well as other themes) be taken into account. It is far more pertinent, therefore, to speak of types of dance events in the range presented rather than ‘performance modes’ in the way Stolzoff presents them.

[3] See “Kingston’s Dancehall: A Story of Space and Celebration” in Space and Culture 7:1, January 2004, by this author.

[4] Stolzoff explains the ‘culture dimension’ as a performance mode more fully by calling attention to how “selectors invoke God or talk about blessing the dance...[this in order] to establish the dancehall as a space of order and nobility that stands in opposition to the disorder of everyday life.” The other mode that comes close to the culture mode is that of sacrifice in its symbolism.

Copyright © 2004 Africa Resource Center, Inc.

Citation Format

PROUDFLESH: A New Afrikan Journal of Culture, Politics & Consciousness: Issue 3, 2004