Megawattage sound systems have blasted the electronically-enhanced riddims and tongue-twisting lyrics of Jamaica's dancehall DJs across the globe. This high-energy raggamuffin music is often dismissed by old-school roots reggae fans as a raucous degeneration of classic Jamaican popular music. In this provocative study of dancehall culture, Cooper offers a sympathetic account of the philosophy of a wide range of dancehall Shabba Ranks, Lady Saw, Ninjaman, Capleton, Buju Banton, Anthony B and Apache Indian. Cooper also demonstrates the ways in which the language of dancehall culture, often devalued as mere 'noise,' articulates a complex understanding of the border clashes which characterize Jamaican society, and analyzes the sound clashes that erupt in the movement of Jamaican dancehall culture across national borders.
Jamaica produces some of the world's most unique music, and Kingston is the powerhouse at the centre of the industry. Only recently has this fact come to my attention, and I'm surprised that it took me so long. If you hear music blaring from a car in London, anywhere from Harlesden to West Norwood, there's about a 70 percent chance it's dancehall. This book has helped me begin my studies into this music and its culture, albeit mainly for dancehall's most controversial period in the 1990s.
Cooper emphasises how misunderstood the music is. She tackles the bad press in the UK and America about how 'awful' dancehall is: misogynistic, homophobic, violent, etc. She lauds artiste Lady Saw for her matriarchal force in the dancehall, harking back to African tradition. While not defending Buju Banton's notorious homophobia, she does point out that the extreme violence that's incited in his song “Boom By-By” is largely metaphorical. She also makes the pertinent point that this music is created in the culturally very different world of Jamaica, so this attitude towards the music is perhaps not as culturally sensitive as it could be.
I loved the sections of the book to do with roots reggae's legacy in comparison with dancehall. Inside and outside of Jamaica, a central question is asked: how did the peace-loving and wholesome roots become the violent dancehall? Cooper says this question is flawed from the outset, reiterating that the violence heard in dancehall is usually a metaphor, or 'lyrical' to use the local phrase. She places Bob Marley back onto a continuum with the present day music of Jamaica by dispelling the myth of his one track lovey-doviness, quoting 'violent' and incendiary lyrics of his.
This book fleshed-out a lot of my thoughts, and has given me many new insights. Whatever one's position on these issues, dancehall is undoubtedly a fascinating cultural phenomena, and this book makes a great introduction.