Sound Systems & Street Dances

Sound systems fostered the development of Jamaican music. Starting out as little more than a set of speaker boxes on wheels, the sounds would set up at different points around town or arrive in rural areas to feed a thirst created by the advent of radio in the country in 1939, which brought American popular music, whetting Jamaica's appetite for new sounds. Jamaica's musicians responded by bringing traditional mento and calypso rhythms to the R&B and pop tunes the people were demanding, ultimately giving birth to the ska, rocksteady, reggae, and dancehall genres. Jamaican sound systems have grown in conjunction with reggae music and dancehall, one giving voice in the street to the other's lyrical prowess and social commentary from inside the studio. While a number of different sounds vie for the top ranking at clubs and stage shows, historically they were the voice of the street dance, having replaced the African drums of yesteryear.

A sound generally comprises a few individual selectors who form a team to blast the latest dancehall tunes, using equipment that ranges from a home stereo system at max output for those just starting out, to the most sophisticated equipment operated by the more established names. Street dances like Passa Passa foster the development of DJ artistry, providing a venue for the different sound systems to flex and clash, like the ever-popular Stone Love, Renaissance, Black Chiney, or Razz and Biggy. These sounds grew on the coattails of King Tubby, among the biggest sound system personalities of all time. Sound clashes are held often, during which each sound attempts to outperform the other, with the ultimate judge being the crowd, which expresses approval with hands raised in the air as if firing a pistol, accompanied by the requisite shouts of "braap, braap, braap, braap!" or "pam, pam, pam!"

Street dances fill an important role in providing entertainment and an expressive outlet for Kingston's poorest. Dances are held for special occasions, including birthdays, funerals, and holidays. Many started as one-off parties but were so popular they became established as regular weekly events. Typically a section of street is blocked off to traffic and huge towers of speakers are set up. Sometimes the street is not blocked off at all, but the early-morning hours when these dances are held see little traffic, and what does flow is accommodated by the dancers -- who sometimes use the passing vehicles to prop up their dance partner for a more dramatic "whine."

While clubs across Uptown Kingston assess an admission fee, which varies depending on the crowd they are looking to attract, the street is a public venue where all are welcome. Uptown people might have traditionally preferred a bar setting, but Downtown people have resorted to creating the party on their doorstep. Increasingly, Uptown folks venture down to the poor areas on nights when dances are held to partake in a scene that doesn't exist anywhere else and has come to be acknowledged as an invaluable cultural phenomenon where DJs flex their skills to discriminating crowds.

In the past, noise ordinances became the favorite justification for police raids to "lock off di dance," but today the dances are for the most part tolerated by the authorities as harmless entertainment effective in pacifying the city's poor. Intellectuals like Jamaican poet Mutabaruka, who claims "the more dance is the less crime," have come to endorse and encourage these dances as healthy community events. Even though they are often held in areas obviously scarred with urban blight and associated with violence, like Tivoli Gardens and Rae Town, violence is not a part of the street dance. Rather, it is a place where people come to enjoy, decked out in their flashiest clothes (jackets and fancy shoes for men, skimpy skirts and tops for women) to drink a Guinness, smoke a spliff, perhaps, and catch up on the latest dances.

Regular patrons at these events welcome visitors from Uptown and abroad, but care should be taken to show respect and concede that you are clearly not on your turf. Plenty a "bad man" frequent these dances, and even if they are not wanted by the authorities, they tend to like creating the impression that they are and accordingly don't appreciate being photographed without granting their approval first. Parts of Downtown, especially along parts of Spanish Town Road, can be desolate and a bit dodgy at night, and many drivers use that as an excuse to proceed with caution at red lights rather than coming to a stop.

Any intended regularity to street dances struggles under the constant threat from police who have a mandate to lock off music in public spaces at midnight during the week and at 2 a.m. on weekends. Promoters complain that this doesn't allow them to recoup their investment in venue and liquor, and that street dances reduce crime by giving the youth a free venue for enjoyment, but such claims have fallen on deaf ears. Despite the challenges, dedicated party promoters keep at it and struggle through, even if they have to change venue or even move out of town and take their dance on the road, as was the case with "Dutty Fridaze." Other dances that began on the street were forced into the club by regular disruptions by the police. Some of the more regular dances around town include:

Uptown Mondays, put on by Whitfield "Witty" Henry (Savannah Plaza, Half Way Tree, cell. 876/468-1742)
Boasy Tuesdays (Limelight, Half Way Tree Entertainment Complex), run by dancer and promoter extraordinaire, Blazey (cell tel. 876/507-7254 or 876/354-0130)
Weddy Weddy Wednesdays (Stone Love HQ, Half Way Tree)
Giveaway Wednesdays (Russell Road off Beechwood Avenue) hosted by dancer Mumsel
Passa Passa (Spanish Town Rd. and Beeston St., Wednesdays starting around 2 a.m. )
Street Vybz Thursdays (The Building) put on by Vybz Kartel in a club setting, but one that sufficiently evokes the street dance vibe
Expression Thursdays (Limelight) hosted by Dance Expressions troupe
Port Royal Fridays (Port Royal) can heat up in the evenings after the fish fry shops cool down
Something Fishy (Rae St., Rae Town) on Fridays and Sundays; a regular oldies session is kept by the Capricorn Inn bar
Wet Sundaze (Auto Vision car wash at 8 Hillview Ave.)
Passion Sundays (Kno Limit Sports Bar, 1 Hillview Ave., Half Way Tree)
Bounty Sundays (Limelight, Half Way Tree Entertainment Complex) is hosted by dancehall icon Bounty Killer