Dancehall
Dancehall is a genre of Jamaican popular music that originated in the late 1970s.[4][5] Initially, dancehall was a more sparse version of reggae than the roots style, which had dominated much of the 1970s.[6][7] In the mid-1980s, digital instrumentation became more prevalent, changing the sound considerably, with digital dancehall (or "ragga") becoming increasingly characterized by faster rhythms. Key elements of dancehall music include its extensive use of Jamaican Patois rather than Jamaican standard English and a focus on the track instrumentals (or "riddims").
This article is about the genre of music. For other uses, see Dance hall (disambiguation).Dancehall saw initial mainstream success in Jamaica in the 1980s, and by the 1990s, it became increasingly popular in Jamaican diaspora communities. In the 2000s, dancehall experienced worldwide mainstream success, and by the 2010s, it began to heavily influence the work of established Western artists and producers, which has helped to further bring the genre into the Western music mainstream.[8][9][10]
History[edit]
Lead[edit]
Dancehall is named after Jamaican dance halls in which popular Jamaican recordings were played by local sound systems.[11] It both refers to the music and dance style.[12] It faced criticism for negatively influencing Jamaican culture and portraying gangster lifestyles in a praiseworthy way.[13]
Early developments - Early 1970s[edit]
Dancehall music, also called ragga or dub, style of Jamaican popular music that had its genesis in the political turbulence of the late 1970s and became Jamaica's dominant music in the 1980s and ’90s. It was also originally called Bashment music when Jamaican dancehalls began to gain popularity.[12]
They began in the late 1970s among lower and working-class people from the inner city of Kingston, who were not able to participate in dances uptown.[14] Social and political changes in late-1970s Jamaica, including the change from the socialist government of Michael Manley (People's National Party) to Edward Seaga (Jamaica Labour Party),[7] were reflected in the shift away from the more internationally oriented roots reggae towards a style geared more towards local consumption and in tune with the music that Jamaicans had experienced when sound systems performed live.[15]
Themes of social injustice, repatriation and the Rastafari movement were overtaken by lyrics about dancing, violence and sexuality.[7][15][16] Though the revolutionary spirit was present in Jamaica due to this social upheaval, the radio was very conservative and failed to play the people's music. It was this gap that the sound system was able to fill with music that the average Jamaican was more interested in.[17] Alongside this music was the addition of the fashion, art, and dance that came along with it. This made Dancehall both a genre, and a way of life.[18]
In contrast to roots reggae, which aimed for respectability and international recognition, dancehall did not hesitate in dealing with the day-by-day realities and basal interests of the average Jamaican—especially that of lower classes—and observing society in a provocative, gritty, and often vulgar manner. Since this put spreading via radio out of the question, dancehall initially gained popularity only through live performances in sound systems and specialized record dealing.[19]
Dancehall's violent lyrics, which garnered the genre much criticism since its very inception, stem from the political turbulence and gang violence of late 1970s Jamaica.[18]
In the early days of dancehall, the prerecorded rhythm tracks (bass guitar and drums) or "dub" that the deejay would rap or "toast" over came from earlier reggae songs from the 1960s and 1970s. Ragga, specifically, refers to modern dancehall, where a deejay particularly toasts over digital (electrical) rhythms.[18]
Origination from the DJ scene[edit]
Sound systems and the development of other musical technology heavily influenced dancehall music. The music needed to "get where the radio didn't reach" because Jamaicans often were outside without radios.[20] Yet they eventually found their way into the streets. However, because the audience of dancehall sessions were lower-class people, it was extremely important that they be able to hear music. Sound systems allowed people to listen to music without having to buy a radio. Therefore, the dancehall culture grew as the use of technology and sound systems got better.
Criticisms[edit]
Cultural elements[edit]
Dancehall combines elements of materialism and stories of hardships of Kingston, Jamaica.[55] This is seen in the use of gun talk by artists like Buju Banton and Capleton, or the sporting of bling-bling by "Gangsta Ras" artists like Mavado and Munga.[56] The term Gangsta Ras, which combines thuggish imagery with Rastafari is according to Rasta critics, an example of how in dancehall, "the misuse of Rastafari culture has diluted and marginalised the central tenets and creed of the Rastafari philosophy and way of life".[57]
Kingsley Stewart points out that artists sometimes feel an "imperative to transcend the normal", exemplified by artists like Elephant Man and Bounty Killer doing things to stand out, such as putting on a synthetic cartoonish voice or donning pink highlights while constantly re-asserting hypermasculine attributes. Donna P. Hope argues that this trend is related to the rise of market capitalism as a dominant feature of life in Jamaica, coupled with the role of new media and a liberalized media landscape, where images become of increasing importance in the lives of ordinary Jamaicans who strive for celebrity and superstar status on the stages of dancehall and Jamaican popular culture.[58]
Another point of dissension of dancehall from reggae, and from its non-western roots in Jamaica, is on the focus on materialism. Dancehall has also become popular in regions such as Ghana and Panama. Prominent males in the dancehall scene are expected to dress in very expensive casual wear, indicative of European urban styling and high fashion that suggest wealth and status.[59] Since the late 1990s, males in the dancehall culture have rivalled their female counterparts to look fashioned and styled.[60] The female dancehall divas are all scantily clad, or dressed in spandex outfits that accentuate more than cover the shape of the body. In the documentary It's All About Dancing, prominent dancehall artist Beenie Man argues that one could be the best DJ or the smoothest dancer, but if one wears clothing that reflects the economic realities of the majority of the partygoers, one will be ignored, and later Beenie Man returned to perform as Ras Moses.[61]
Guns and violent imagery[edit]
According to Carolyn Cooper in Sound Clash, written in 2004, dancehall music and its following were frequently attacked for frequent references to guns and violence in lyrics, with Cooper responding by arguing that the emergence of firearms was less a sign of genuinely violent undercurrents in dancehall and more a theatrical adoption of the role of guns as tools of power. That ties into the concepts of the badman, a defiant, rebellious figure who often use a gun to maintain a level of respect and fear. Said concepts, Cooper argues, originate in historical resistance to slavery and emulation of imported films, specifically North American action films with gun-wielding protagonists.[62]
Adding to the concept of gunfire as theatrical element is the use of gunfire as a way to show support for a performing DJ or singer, which eventually gave way to flashing cigarette lighters, displaying glowing cellphone monitors, and igniting aerosol sprays.[62] Gunfire as a form of cheering has extended beyond dancehall culture with the phrase "pram, pram!" becoming a general expression of approval or support.[62]
However, Cooper's assessment of the presence of guns in Jamaican dancehall is not wholly uncritical, with a discussion of Buju Banton's 'Mr. Nine' interpreting the song as a denouncement of what Cooper describes as gun culture gone out of control.[62]
Part of the criticism of Jamaican dancehall appears to be the product of cultural clash stemming from a lack of insider knowledge on the nuances of the music's content and the culture surrounding said music. This struggle is something ethnomusicologists struggle with, even within an academic setting, with Bruno Nettl describing in The Study of Ethnomusicology how "insider" and "outsider" viewpoints would reveal different understandings on the same music.[63] Indeed, Nettl later mentions growing questions of who ethnomusicological studies benefited, especially from the groups being studied. And even then, in May It Fill Your Soul, Timothy Rice mentioned that even insider scholars required a level of distanciation to scrutinize their own cultures as needed.[64]
Women's message of power and control[edit]
Dancehalls are used to communicate messages of women's power and control in a protest against their gendered experience embedded in Jamaican culture. Danger, a dancehall queen and the winner of the International Dancehall Queen Competition in 2014, expresses her power through dancehalls as she explains: "We are queens, we are not afraid to go out there to do what we want to, demand what we want, and to live how we want, and represent women all over the world and to let them know it is okay to be yourself and that it is ok to not hold back" [81] Raquel, also known as Dancing Princess, describes her ability to communicate through the dancehall: "What you've lived, what you feel, put it in the dance. That's what dance is, expressing with your body what you feel and who you are. (...) dancehall is the way of the woman to say no, I am a woman respect me."[82] As evidenced by these women, dancehall is a space that allows for women to be empowered and to communicate their liberation from the boundaries imposed on them. Rather by negotiating their own boundaries in the dancehall, by taking control of their bodies, and by communicating their power, they are demanding respect when confronted by those who do not believe they deserve it.
