'The Hawk inna de air ...'

If there is such a thing as love at first sight between human beings, with myself and Silverhawk it was love at first listen.

Not that I heard Silverhawk play live in those early days boarding at Munro College in St Elizabeth. The sound system came to us - for I was not the only one enthralled with 'The Hawk' - in the same way that Stone Love Movement became a legend, through cassetttes (remember those reels of tape in a plastic shell that allowed 60, 90 or 120 minutes of recording time?).

By 1987, when Silverhawk was soundly whipped by Kilamanjaro with Ninja Man delivering the unforgettable 'bad-wud special' live at Skateland in Half-Way Tree, I was sufficiently enamoured of Silverhawk to feel I was on the losing side.

Silverhawk was a novelty. In an era when there was King Jammys with its crew of Admiral Bailey, Shabba Ranks and Major Worries (among others, of course); Arrows with Chickenchest; Stereo One with Lt Stitchie and Jonathon Wolfman; Creation with Papa San and Metromedia with Peter Metro, Silverhawk was the sound system that had no deejays. Neither did Stone Love, but I got the impression that Silverhawk was a more die-hard sound system.

This was not least of all because of its willingness, determination even, to clash anywhere, anytime. Also, its dub plates were more hardcore. Take, for instance, the Silverhawk anthem done by Lecturer, which begins "oh Lord have mercy, ... we no want dem inna we party". And they had the ultimate, a Supercat dub, an exclusive if ever there was one.

Of course, the late Wycliffe 'Steely' Johnson, being one half of the Steely and Clevie music-production duo, could not have hurt in their getting an apparently inexhaustible stream of dub plates. And, as his name was called in the dubs, I associated Silverhawk with Steely much more than Clevie.

Went underground

It seemed that Silverhawk went underground after that beating by Jaro. The Hawk would fly up and play for a while, then go to ground and nothing would be heard about them.

I caught the next glorious cycle of Silverhawk live and direct, as a young undergraduate at the University of the West Indies (UWI), Mona campus, in the early 1990s. If I was a Silverhawk enthusiast, then there were some people in August Town who were fanatics, and that is where I first heard the sound system play live and direct, along with some friends from Chancellor Hall. The entry fee to the dance was $20; it was on the grounds of a premises which apparently also doubled as a goat pen because there were a lot of droppings underfoot.

It was the stereotypical 'zinc fence' dance, where the lawn was enclosed totally by the galvanised sheets. When the dance was over every single sheet lay flat on the ground, as the people in August Town beat them down with their bare hands to Silverhawk's selections.

In short order, Silverhawk was off the sound system circuit again and, as far as I know, have never entered even the now discontinued Easter Monday 'Death Before Dishonour' clashes in Montego Bay. Still, from nearly two decades ago, the name retains enough of a reputation among even people who have never heard them play to create a high level of anticipation for their participation in this year's Guinness Sounds of Greatness.

Was Silverhawk the greatest sound system ever? Hell, no! Of the many times I heard them play, they actually sounded like a top-notch sound system once. At times there was an annoying buzz from the speakers. Plus, they were not consistent enough to be considered in the ranks of the all-time greats.

Yet, Silverhawk had that indefinable, yet immediately identifiable and unforgettable quality called attitude. You got the impression that they would much rather go down fighting to the end in a clash than take the house down with juggling at a regular party. When you heard Silverhawk play, you knew you were listening to a sound system run by people who loved music and their sound as much as life itself.

Name is magical

The Silverhawk name is magical and the era they represent more then any other sound, the transition from live deejays on a sound system to strictly dub plates, is key to the development of the Jamaican sound system.

I have absolutely no idea how they will do in the Guinness Sounds of Greatness 2011. I don't know if the original crew that I knew of, Richie Poo and Ballsie, will be at the controls, if they have kept up with dub plates over the years and how they will deal with not being able to play some of their toughest dubs in a made-for-TV event in which curse words are not allowed.

But I do know that, for maybe the last cycle in my life, I will be happy to hear Silverhawk play one more time.