Give the music a chance

By George Davis

It's filthy, brilliant, ex-hilarating and I love it. It caters to base emotions, is un-inspiring, lacks substance, is brain-numbingly repetitive, makes a virtue out of getting involved in conflict, mocks fidelity, endorses polygamy, exalts fecundity, discourages respect for authority, is grossly insensitive to women who can't reproduce and men who can't fertilise, preaches murder, but I still love it.

It reserves legend status for those men who serve as the so-called 'family ram' and who have the mother, daughter, aunt and maybe a female cousin or two, under the 'whip', all at the same time. I love it because it's uplifting, inspirational, highly educational, intelligent, honest, hilarious and brutally frank. I love it because it's one of those things as evil as anything you would probably get from the devil himself, yet at the same time as pure as anything you could ever hope to hear from whomever you pray your god to be.

But despite the picture it paints of a Jamaican reality more grim and gloomy than what Lucifer's closet probably looks like, it's the ability of the thing to glow, to be iridescent and gloriously colourful to the extent that it puts Joseph's coat to shame that makes me love it so much. So there we have it. I have confessed to being a faithful lover of the music that's produced for and by the dancehall.

Those who despise it are drawn from social classes far removed from the low category that produces exponents of this fine art. And a fine art it most certainly is, for to have the ability to write, record and produce material that's gospel for the masses is not something you can study hard and learn. You either have it or you don't.

They don't listen at all

The despisers rarely, if ever, listen to the music. Possibly out of a fear that their ears will serve as a conduit to the kind of contamination that will cause a fatal infection to their very souls. Yet they criticise it. These despisers will not accept a critique of any book, if the critic has not read the tome in question. They'll dismiss a movie review from a critic who has not sat through the film he's giving an assessment of. They'll say it's a betrayal of scholarship to advance an opinion on matters you have never scrutinised or studied. Yet they abandon these sound principles when dealing with the dancehall, its culture and its music, as they saddle up and gallop off into the distance, riding their criticisms.

It's funny to hear the despisers speak of how swiftly they manage to switch the dial on their car stereo when the dancehall music segment begins on their favourite radio station. To them, time, down to milliseconds, is of the essence. For if they were to allow a song to play for even a minute, then not only would they be corrupted, but their vehicle would also be compromised and may need to be sanctified. There are parents who have burned frankincense and myrrh in their vehicles after learning that their teenage or young adult child had been blasting dancehall music in the family car, while out on the town on a holiday night.

The despisers are locking themselves away from under-standing much about Jamaica. They're denying themselves the opportunity to comprehend those forces which motivate the crime in the country.

Social ills

What are those factors that sustain the high rate of teenage pregnancy? What are those things that inspire recidivism in men who've spent years locked away in inhumane conditions in grimy prison cells? What motivates these men to continue committing crimes? Dancehall music is the window to understanding these things. The despisers can never understand why a 51-year-old woman, heavily tattooed and bleached down to her dermis, with no job and seven children, will go on television and demand that the government free 'World Boss'.

The despisers can never understand World Boss. How can they when they don't listen to his music? Yet they criticise him. Sigh. The conversation about the ills of society would benefit immensely if those who despise the things they clearly don't understand would only cut down on the sanctimony and listen. Selah.

George Davis is a journalist. Email feedback to columns@gleanerjm.com and george.s.davis@hotmail.com.