The 50 Best Dancehall Songs of All Time

From Lady Saw to Vybz Kartel, Yellowman to Sister Nancy, here are the riddims that reign
Image may contain Human Person Advertisement Poster Brochure Paper and Flyer

Photo by: Header by Robin Clare

WHO CAN MAKE THE DANCE RAM?
By Edwin “STATS” Houghton

“Top ranking” is a phrase so common in the lexicon of dancehall reggae, it could almost be punctuation. That’s not to mention related terms like “highly rated,” “strictly the best,” and “tougher than tough.” It is doubtful, in fact, whether there has ever been another musical genre or subculture so uniquely focused on rankings, ratings, and constantly updated scorekeeping of who is king, queen, or even “don of all dons.”

Competition may accelerate innovation in dancehall; it’s what makes the culture such a bottomless wellspring of new rhythms, choreography, fashion, and slang. But in celebrating the best of the best, separating the tangled ingredients that make dancehall so consistently brilliant—a fearless approach to sexuality, an experimental approach to sound technology, a military approach to lyrical wordplay, a joyful approach to resistance—is like cutting open the drum to see what makes it go bang.

Dancehall became a subgenre distinct from other styles of reggae around 1977, a time in Jamaica when deejays (equivalent to stateside MCs) were becoming as prominent as singers. In turn, the singers began adopting the call-and-response hooks and improvised couplets of deejays, creating a whole new hybrid style of singing they called “sing-jay.” Those vocals became a defining feature of dancehall, along with harder, sparer rhythm sections and an emphasis on “slackness” (raunch or decadence).

Another major driver of dancehall’s development, as a culture and artform, has been the competitive sport of soundclash. Soundclashes are gladiatorial face-offs between rival soundsystems, or mobile DJ crews who vie for the biggest crowd reactions (or “forwards”). Each attempts to fortify their position with higher walls of custom-built speaker boxes. Song selections are delivered with taunting microphone commentary in a war of words—something like a cross between a hip-hop DJ battle and a playground game. Some soundsystems are also record labels, and may bring affiliated singers or deejays to represent them.

Occasionally, notorious artists go head-to-head. Beenie Man’s 1993 face-off with Bounty Killer at Jamaica’s long-running Sting festival may be the single most infamous onstage clash, but the history books will also forever record epic match-ups like Super Cat versus Ninja Man and Vybz Kartel versus, well, everybody.

A global phenomenon that stretches from New York to Tokyo, clashes are planned as meticulously as any heavyweight bout or Olympic heat. Clashes have a clear winner and loser—which should make it easy to tell who is objectively, quantifiably the best, surely? All you have to do is follow the stats, add up the forwards that certain songs and artists get time after time to figure out who are the MVPs...just like any other sport, right?

Wronger than wrong.

Ferocious competition and constant upsets are, in fact, only two of several factors that make dancehall even harder to represent with a top 50 than other styles. Sheer mass also plays a part. Forty years of music is a lot to meaningfully assess, even before you consider that, for most of those years, Jamaica has possibly released more music per capita than any other place on earth. Literally a hundred thousand vinyl 45s have to be sifted through to arrive at a list of the “top ranking.”

Then there’s the more opened-ended question of “best” in what context? Even judging the best song on a riddim—or individual beat, on which multiple artists voice their own songs—can be a near-impossible feat. Clashes may provide clarity in the moment, but they are not the only space where dancehall comes to life. Before soundsystems clashed, they existed to make people dance. (Mostly outdoors, ironically; despite the name, instances when Jamaicans dance in an actual hall are vanishingly rare.) The spontaneous headtop gyration of a dancehall queen is just as valid an affirmation as a forward in a clash. And the clashes and dances of downtown Kingston are just the heliocentric core of a whole universe of interlocking circles that make up dancehall culture across a pan-Caribbean audience, a West Indian diaspora, and a global touring circuit. To truly be rated as one of the best dancehall anthems of all time, a boom tune must echo through all these worlds—and in some cases, rearrange their orbit, shifting the center of gravity and starting a whole new wave of dancehall evolution. This evolution is constant and, even now, the tonality of dancehall is being transformed again as Auto-Tune replaces echo chamber and digital files replace vinyl as the unit of meaning.

This is why we went out of our way to assemble a panel of dancehall experts who represent not just Jamaica, but also New York, Toronto, and Miami—not just journalists and critics, but also selectors, producers, musicians, and scholars with fluency in all the various eras and movements of dancehall. These are not just judges (though they know their forwards from their rewinds, trust) but also, in their own way, participants in dancehall’s body politic. So this is our top of the top ranking: the 50 Best Dancehall Songs of All Time.

Edwin “STATS” Houghton is the former editor-in-chief of Questlove's music site Okayplayer and a noted music journalist, cultural commentator, and dancehall selector.


Sasha

“Dat Sexy Body”

VP, 1998

50

Originally released in 1998, on Tony Kelly’s “Bookshelf” riddim, Sasha’s “Dat Sexy Body” was not an immediate hit. Sean Paul’s “Deport Them,” also on the riddim, had all dancehall ears at the moment. By comparison, Sasha was still only somewhat known for one raunchy 1992 underground hit, “Kill the Bitch,” which featured her DJing and rapping rather than singing. But as the “Bookshelf” riddim continued to grow, and as Sean’s song became a bonafide hit, “Dat Sexy Body” took on a life of its own, crossing over into the mainstream mix show market. Lyrically lusting after an elusive lover, Sasha leaves her DJ days behind, finds her groove, and boasts her way to international recognition: “I will rock you to the rhythm of the rain/And ride you like a getaway train,” she sings. This success led to multiple re-releases of the song along with several remixes, most notably one featuring reggaeton artist Ivy Queen and another with the international party starter Fatman Scoop. In 2008, Sasha turned her focus to gospel, and stopped performing her past hits, but you can still hear her dancehall come-to-Jesus on any good floor. –Max Glazer

Listen: Sasha: “Dat Sexy Body”

Tony Matterhorn

“Dutty Wine”

VP, 2006

49

Tony “Mentally Ill” Matterhorn first gained his appetite for dancehall while playing the western Kingston-based soundsystem Inner City, and went on to gain his footing with the Brooklyn crew King Addies. After being endorsed by the godfather of dancehall, Bounty Killer, he went solo. His flirtatious, dirty lyrics, coupled with his hardcore dancehall style, has made him one of the most entertaining and sought-after selectors around.

Upon its release in 2006, “Dutty Wine”’s accompanying head-rotating and hip-gyrating dance, became such a global phenomenon, it was banned in several countries for its potential neck and spinal damage. The British Virgin Islands took this one step further when they banned the song and Matterhorn from performing altogether. But the song has remained unstoppable: Nicki Minaj shouts it out in her “Monster” verse, and it continues to pop up on dance floors, the ultimate expression of women embracing their dancehall queendom. –Treasure Aaron

Listen: Tony Matterhorn: “Dutty Wine”

Damian “Jr. Gong” Marley

“Welcome to Jamrock”

Universal, 2005

48

This song’s initial line, the Ini Kamoze sample of, “Out in the street, they call it murder,” always elicits a huge response from crowds. It’s followed by the intensity of Damian Marley’s “Welcome!”—a boom that sounds like a radio finding the right frequency. The “World Jam” riddim (so named for Kamoze’s “World a Reggae”) pairs deep bass with echoed chords and the dub flourishes of straight reggae—and at the height of its popularity, this song could run a dance singlehandedly.

On the song, Marley sings about “tourists on the beach with a few club sodas” who spend their time in the walled-off resorts of Jamaica’s north coast. (Sandals is called out by name.) To these folks, Marley offers an alternate description of the country as a place where “Poor people ah dead at random/Political violence, can't done/Pure ghost and phantom/The youth dem get blind by stardom.” After its immense global popularity, “Welcome to Jamrock” has grown, ironically, into an entire reggae music cruise. –Erin MacLeod

Listen: Damian Marley: “Welcome to Jamrock”

Shabba Ranks

“Dem Bow”

Digital-B/VP, 1990

47

Released in 1990, “Dem Bow” may be the most danceable tune from Shabba Rank’s term as king of the hill. Employing a stripped-down version of the “Poco Man” riddim—an insistent marching beat augmented by clattering Afro-Caribbean percussion—it was a natural source of inspiration for the burgeoning reggaespañol scene in the Latin Caribbean. Found in translation, so to speak, “Dem Bow” became the DNA of several whole new scenes, including Puerto Rican reggaeton and its counterpart in the Dominican Republic (where the entire genre is known simply as “dembow”).

The substance of the song is the wordplay of Shabba’s homophobia (the “bow”ing of the title) with the bowing implicit in racist colonialism. “Freedom fi black people, come now/Dat mean say the oppressors dem: Just bow.” Love it or hate it, this is dance music with a lot on its mind. –Eddie “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Shabba Ranks: “Dem Bow”

Lady Saw

“Hardcore”

Rude Boy, 1994

46

Whether profane or sacred, Lady Saw is a woman who’s passionately beholden to extremes. Born Marion Hall in the Saint Mary Parish of Jamaica, Lady Saw adopted her now-infamous rugged moniker and brash sexual persona in hopes of keeping pace with the best and bawdiest male deejays. Then she ran laps lyrically around her competition, both male and female.

In 1994, Saw made her album debut on VP Records with Lover Girl, and dropped the definitive single, “Hardcore.” She opens the track boasting about the numerous positions and ways in which she can please—and, really, intimidate—her lover. “Any way you want it baby/Gymnastic, acrobatic, slide back boogie…” To Saw, seeking pleasure was a calling that she sought brazenly and wholeheartedly. She’s made a successful career out of it for over 20 years, garnering a Grammy and numerous other awards in its lewd pursuit. These days, however, the pendulum has swung the other way for Saw: She’s given up her crown as the Queen of Dancehall, trading it in favor of the spiritual ecstasy of gospel music. –Deidre Dyer

Listen: Lady Saw: “Hardcore”

Super Cat

“Mud Up”

Skengdon,1987

45

“Mud Up” dropped in 1987, almost simultaneously with Admiral Bailey’s “Punanny”—so close, in fact, that some UK radio shows famously featured “Punanny vs. Mud Up” pick-your-favorite contests on air. Those songs can share the credit for rearranging the sound of Jamaican music for the following 10 years, at least. (And they share personnel credits, too: “Mud Up” was built by Steely & Clevie, who also ghost-built the “Punanny” riddim for King Jammy’s label.)

While “Punanny” has a surprising amount of space in its beat and four-note bassline, closely imitating the mixing board action of a live clash, “Mud Up” feels more like a missing link than a radical break. It employs lyrical Kumina guitars and a bouncing, constantly modulated digital bassline along the lines of “Sleng Teng,” but it’s punctuated by the same dotted crotchet drum pattern. Likewise, where Admiral Bailey’s chat is simple and staccato, Super Cat’s vocal on “Mud Up” is virtuoso, frenetic, unstoppable. It might, in fact, be the best example of Cat’s unique, never-take-a-breath flow, which consists less of verses or couplets than constantly mutating hooks. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Super Cat: “Mud Up”

Wayne Wonder

“Saddest Day”

Penthouse, 1993

44

Wayne Wonder is one of dancehall’s most enduring singers. He began his musical journey in the mid-1980s, under the tutelage of the legendary King Tubby, and sharpened his skills by singing live on soundsystems like Metro Media, making a name for himself throughout Jamaica. In the early 1990s, Wayne linked with Donovan Germain and recorded a string of hits for his Penthouse label—most notably “Saddest Day,” which helped define the sound of modern dancehall.

“Saddest Day” pairs Wayne’s pitch-perfect vocal and soaring bridge with a rugged riddim. His voice is full of pain as he belts out the heart-wrenching chorus: “The saddest day of my life, is when she left me with a broken heart/I was feeling the pain, the pain, the pain.” The result is a dancehall masterpiece that soothes the soul, and remains a landmark moment for Wonder. –Max Glazer

Listen: Wayne Wonder: “Saddest Day”

Pinchers

“Bandelero”

Jammy’s Records, 1991

43

“Hey gringos and pasero! I wan’ yuh to make way for the Bandelero!” These opening lines—sung in patois-inflected Spanglish by a melodic, bellowing, pitch-perfect voice—are amongst the most recognizable in dancehall. Released by the legendary producer King Jammy and the DJ Delroy “Pinchers” Thompson in 1991, “Bandelero” is one of the most influential songs done in the sing-jay style, before the hybrid approach to voicing influenced artists like Sizzla and Vegas.

“Bandelero,” with its braggadocio lyrics and country-inflected guitar riffs, is a warm and rousing warning shot, equal parts bad boy and feel-good. The title is taken from a 1968 shoot-’em-up in which James Stewart and Dean Martin attempt to evade both the sheriff and Mexican bandits. True to character, Pinchers would often appear onstage wearing a sombrero and matching cape. Thompson grew up deejaying on the Intrepid soundsystem in the Barbican area of Kingston. After “Bandelero,” he wrote several more Western-themed tunes, including “How the West Was Won” for Bounty Killer, which inadvertently sparked a major clash that drew in both Super Cat and Beenie Man. –Rishi Nath

Listen: Pinchers: “Bandelero”

Lady G

“Nuff Respect”

Anchor, 1988

42

The “Rumors” riddim, with its insistent hoofbeat and sparse, haunting horn blasts, sounds like a hunting party slowly closing in on its elusive prey. Gregory Isaacs’ ominous “Rumors” and J.C. Lodge’s sensual “Telephone Love” both ride it and match the original’s mood. However, Lady G (born Janice Marie Fyffe in Spanish Town, Jamaica) takes a different approach: She sings “Nuff Respect” over the same riddim but pins her vocals to the rolling bassline, scuttling innuendo in favor of direct confrontation.

Lady G’s voice rumbles through the speaker as soon as the record begins: “Lady G respect people dem every time/So don’t spread no rumor,” and she continues marching on the riddim straight through. Her brilliant, succinct chorus nonchalantly brushes off the pervasive classism in Jamaican society: “True me live inna di ghetto/Show mi nuff respect.” Her words make “Nuff Respect” a vibrant and hypnotic defense of dignity—and those unconvinced by Lady G’s argument will be won over by her flawless delivery. –Rishi Nath

Listen: Lady G: “Nuff Respect”

Eek-A-Mouse

“Wa Do Dem”

Volcano, 1981

41

Before the sing-jay style even had a name, Eek-A-Mouse exploded on the Jamaican reggae charts with his first big hit, “Wa Do Dem.” The easy beat and effortless flow of his lyrics appealed to both uptown and downtown listeners, launching the career of the eccentric artist and the advancing dancehall producer Junjo Lawes’ pre-digital-era hit-making streak. Its lyrics are simple: The 6'6" Eek-A-Mouse alludes to the amusement he generates when walking around Kingston with his much shorter girlfriend. “We take a walk, go a Kingston Mall/Whole heap’a people just a start to laugh, because she too short and a me too tall.”

These days, the sing-jay style is ubiquitous. But in 1981, when “Wa Do Dem” first came out, the song created a sensation. People in Jamaica were genuinely confused: What was Eek-A-Mouse? Some called him a singer, some a deejay. Radio announcers and newspaper columnists debated the question at length. Eek-A-Mouse just called the style his “Egyptian slur.” As the dancehall aesthetic spread into commercial releases, sing-jay just about replaced all other vocal styles on the dancehall circuit. Eek-A-Mouse carried his unique style through over a dozen albums and countless 45s and, with his wild costumes and extroverted antics, became an international sensation. –Beth Lesser

Listen: Eek-A-Mouse: “Wa Do Dem”

Vybz Kartel

“Clarks” [ft. Popcaan & Gaza Slim]

Tad’s Records, 2009

40

Which artist currently in prison for murder is also Jamaica’s most creative lyricist of the past two decades? The answer is Adijah “Vybz Kartel” Palmer from Portmore, Jamaica, an artist as comfortable singing a dirge for the downtrodden as he is busting raunchy, breakneck raps. Kartel’s hit “Clarks” finds him revisiting one of dancehall’s favorite staples: the British-made desert boot. On video, however, he remains rebellious, wearing his Clarks with bandanas, white tees, and exposed tattoos, and without the Kangol hats and collared shirts of yesteryear. In spite of ZJ Chrome’s frenetic production, with its dense snares and cascading horns, Kartel’s vocals move through registers and cadences with uncanny control. He even uses his co-performers as props. “Where you get that new Clarks there, daddy?” a young Popcaan asks. “Clarks mi prefer,” Kartel responds in a low growl. By the end of the chorus, he’s shouting: “Everybody haffi ask me where mi get mi Clarks!” And we’re shouting with him. –Rishi Nath

Listen: Vybz Kartel: “Clarks” [ft. Popcaan & Gaza Slim]

Echo Minott

“What the Hell”

Jammy’s Records, 1986

39

Echo Minott recorded “What the Hell” in response to the troubling lack of control from local authorities in Kingston. Minott, who got his start in the legendary King Jammy’s studio, belts out that “Mr. Boy Blue” is causing a disruption in his domestic affairs: “Run go to di police go tell dem fi true/But what the hell the police can do?” For obvious reasons, the song was not immediately embraced by its subjects. The song was originally banned as “not fit for airplay” by the Jamaican Broadcasting Corp. but, in 1986, a cover of “What the Hell” by Lloyd Lovindeer became a hit on the Jamaican charts, assisted by Jammy’s “Punnany” riddim. Minott never commented on these remakes of his hit. He left Jamaica for some time, after constant hostile interactions with local authorities. –Treasure Aaron

Listen: Echo Minott: “What the Hell”

Buju Banton

“Bogle”

Island Jamaica/Mango, 1992

38

When “Bogle” dropped in 1992, the whole of Jamaica got dancing. With its honoring of the original dance king, Gerald “Bogle” Levy, and its instructional lyrics, Buju Banton had babies, grandmas, and everyone in between leaning back. The Kingston-based Banton is the quintessential dancehall artist, with numerous hits ranging from fun-loving odes to females to more serious issues like political violence and safe sex. “Bogle” remains one of the genre’s most popular songs about a dance move, and its instructions are a staple in the Jamaican music diet: “Fling your hands inna di air, then you rock, then you dip/Move to the drum and make your body kick/Step forward and come up back quick.”

“Bogle” outlived its namesake, who was killed in 2005, and it continues to dominate as one of the top songs of 1990s Jamaican music. Banton is currently completing a 10-year prison sentence for drug charges; his homecoming, scheduled for 2018, is whispered about in Jamaica like the second coming. *–*Carleene Samuels

Listen: Buju Banton: “Bogle”

Half Pint

“Greetings”

Power House, 1984

37

“Greetings” stands up not only as one of dancehall’s greatest tracks, but often its siren song. Its opening line is frequently played by DJs and selectors to welcome people onto a dance floor: “Greetings, I bring, from Jah, to all ragamuffin.” Far from a one-hit wonder, Half Pint has a strong catalog dating back to his first recording, “Sally” in 1983, and he’s been covered by the Rolling Stones and Sublime.

However, the world will remember the singer for the George Phang-produced “Greetings.” It was released on the Power House label, which is also a fitting description for the pounding bass drum that anchors this back-breaking riddim. “Greetings” captures the raw energy and vibes of mid-1980s dancehall, a perfect snapshot just as the digital revolution was gearing up to drive the music forward in a new direction. –Max Glazer

Listen: Half Pint: “Greetings”

Elephant Man

“Pon De River, Pon De Bank”

Q45/VP, 2003

36

Dancehall dancers popped style over upbeat riddims from the early 2000s through the early 2010s. This time period was also host to Elephant Man in his prime, during which he consistently delivered records that gave dance crews their soundtrack—including “Pon De River, Pon De Bank.” In it, Elephant Man lyrically delivered the then-newest dance moves over the riddim, simultaneously bigging up dancers—“John, Bogle, Keiva”—and some neighborhoods in different parishes: “Spanish Town, Callaloo Bed, Tivoli, and Papine.”

Currently, dance-specific dancehall records are few and far between. While that won’t immobilize dancers and their crews, “Pon De River, Pon De Bank” chronicles an era when dancing records were being made much more frequently than they are now. What characterizes this song as one of the best records in dancehall was that it did the work of both uniting dancehall lovers through movement and also uniting dance crews of the diaspora (shouting out Ruckus, News Flash, etc.), allowing them to stay rooted in their culture. –Sharine Taylor

Listen: Elephant Man: “Pon De River, Pon De Bank”

Gyptian

“Hold You”

VP, 2010

35

“Hold You” sounds like a dancehall track designed for a spaceship hi-fi more than earthly soundsystems. The fuel powering the starship is less Gyptian’s infectiously melismatic vocal than it is Ricky Blaze’s odd, barely-there production. Almost entirely bassline, augmented by addictive piano plonks, the actual drum pattern works like a teaser for a more conventional dancehall beat that never shows up.

The result is a slice of dubby, ambient pop brilliance that has more in common with Massive Attack’s “Hymn of the Big Wheel” than it does with most dancehall tunes. The slow-burn appeal, however, proved prophetic. Hitting selectors’ inboxes somewhere around the top of 2009, “Hold You” was a sleeper hit by spring 2010 before seeing an official release that summer. It took until 2013 to be certified gold, by which time, the spaceship had orbited the globe several times, inspiring answer versions in patois, Spanish, and Hindi, not to mention a remix featuring Nicki Minaj. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Gyptian: “Hold You”

Sean Paul

“Gimme the Light”

Black Shadow, 2001

34

In Kingston, where countless songs are recorded monthly, it’s hard to get recognized. Before “Gimme the Light,” Sean Paul was already making a name for himself locally, but the song changed everything: it peaked at No. 7 on the Billboard 100 and brought international attention back to dancehall music, which it hadn’t enjoyed since the late 1990s. It also bumped Paul toward several more hit albums and duets with Beyoncé and Keyshia Cole.

“Gimme the Light” is on the “Buzz” riddim and produced by Troyton Rami, but it was the music video that generated the real buzz. Directed by Little X and choreographed by Tanisha Scott, it showcased choreography directly from the dancehalls of Kingston and drew fresh zeal from Caribbean youngsters living in the U.S., the UK, and Canada. International fans were ready for its clear-cut, understandable patois and catchy chorus—and if anything was missed in the lyrics, then the beat, the specific dance moves, and the vibe of the music video translated it all. Sean Paul was ready to light it up, puff puff pass, and chill: “Jus gimme the light and pass the dro/Bust another bottle of Mo,” he drawled. “Gal dem inna me sight and I gots to know/Which one is gonna catch my flow?” –Carleene Samuels

Listen: Sean Paul: “Gimme the Light”

Johnny Osbourne

“Ice Cream Love”

Jah Guidance, 1980

33

The sweetness of music is something often discussed with reference to reggae: “Sweet reggae music, di people dem love it,” as Little John once sang. Acting as an object lesson of “how di music sweet so” is Johnny Osbourne’s classic “Ice Cream Love.” Sure, the metaphor of love as a sweet dessert has been done before, but never as smoothly as Johnny Osbourne’s expressed preference for his warm chocolate fudge over chilly ice cream.

The loping and lovely “He Prayed” riddim carries Osbourne’s soulful tone on this 1980 classic. This track has a 1970s rockers feel, which is to be expected given that the original “He Prayed” was an early ’70s Studio One production. The symbolism of the undesirability of ice cream—“It’s too cold, can’t you see”—served Osbourne well later in his career, too; he extended it to describe the cold tones of an “amateur” sound system in “No Ice Cream Sound,” recorded for King Jammy over a decade later in 1992. –Erin MacLeod

Listen: Johnny Osbourne: “Ice Cream Love”

Beenie Man

“Girls Dem Sugar” [ft. Mýa]

Virgin, 2000

32

Once you hear that “Zagga zow, ziggy zow, zagga zow” line, the doors of nostalgia bust wide open. Though a track of the same name appeared on Beenie Man’s 1996 album, Maestro, the version from his 2000 album, Art and Life, helped propel the artist into mainstream light. Its new producers, the Neptunes, blended in Mýa’s smooth vocals, creating the perfect amalgamation of dancehall and R&B.

Though many debates from cultural commentators surround the appeal of dancehall in international markets (both on and off the island), the record was a good display of the genre’s international crossover potential: It managed to place on Billboard’s Top 100 and the UK’s Top 40 charts. “Girls Dem Sugar” afforded two artists with different musical styles to not only be canonized on future summer BBQ playlists, but also to create a record that united two genres and showed off the versatility of dancehall. –Sharine Taylor

Listen: Beenie Man: “Girls Dem Sugar” [ft. Mýa]

Baby Cham

“Ghetto Story”

Mad House, 2005

31

When Baby Cham (or just Cham, as he goes by now) began, “This is a survival story!” at dancehall events back in the mid-2000s, this single line would be met with an enormous forward: banging of walls, lighters flashing, shouts of approval. The sparse Dave Kelly riddim demonstrates the producer’s brilliance, and soundtracks Cham’s bildungsroman of a tune.

“Ghetto Story” is not a rags-to-riches Horatio Alger tale. Yes, it’s about someone growing up in inner-city Kingston, but it tells a tale of corruption and the power of gun. These factors are what cause Cham’s narrator to end up on top. The power of this message is underlined by the chilling hook: heavy chanting in the background and a chorus of onomatopoeic gun sounds. By suggesting this is a “Ghetto Story,” Cham provides strident commentary, demonstrating how “Jamaica get screw through greed and glutton/Politics manipulate and press yutes button.” –Erin MacLeod

Listen: Baby Cham: “Ghetto Story”

Sugar Minott

“Herbman Hustling”

Black Roots/Taxi, 1984

30

In 1984, the way music was made in Jamaica was undergoing seismic shifts. While the landmark “Sleng Teng” riddim was still an event on the horizon, independent producers and musicians were already experimenting with pre-programmable instruments. One of the most critical efforts of this era was Sugar Minott’s “Herbman Hustling.” Voicing over a driving sequencer-generated version of the familiar “Heavenless” riddim, Sugar sings about watching his friends in the ghetto struggling to make a living hustling herb.

The effect was electric. Sly Dunbar’s sequencing technique took all the swing out of “Heavenless” but left a pounding, relentless beat that shocked fans not yet acclimatized to the harsher, grittier sound of the “computerized” rhythms. When Minott heard the raw cut, he was fascinated and decided to try voicing the same lyrics he had recorded for the Wackie’s label in New York in 1983, this time over a much slower, mellower beat. The new Taxi Records release was a bold move, but it worked—and it helped open the door for more digital experimentation. –Beth Lesser

Listen: Sugar Minott: “Herbman Hustling”

Ini Kamoze

“Here Comes the Hot Stepper“

Columbia, 1994

29

Ini Kamoze crossbred hip-hop culture and dancehall, and America loved it. In 1994, four years after his joyful, sublime, Phillip “Fattis” Burrell-produced hit “Hot Stepper,” the Brooklyn-via-Jamaica Kamoze enlisted the rising hip-hop producer Salaam Remi to work on a radically different version of his song. Remi sampled “Heartbeat,” the 1981 disco classic by Taana Gardner, and Kamoze rewrote accordingly. “Here Comes the Hotstepper” became a sensation, rising to No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

Lyrically, “Here Comes the Hotstepper” drifted far afield from the coherence of the original; it’s an eclectic, sometimes zany sequence of hip-hop cultural references, folding in the movie Colors, Nike’s Bo Jackson campaign (“I know what Bo don’t know”), Das Efx, Kris Kross, and Homey D. Clown. In the chorus, he interpolates a Cypress Hill chant and ends with the non-sequitur, “Still love ya like that.” Its most lasting contribution: It demonstrated the power of combining dance grooves with hard-edged vocals, something rappers like Notorious B.I.G. would do years later to devastating effect. –Rishi Nath

Listen: Ini Kamoze: “Here Comes the Hot Stepper”

Capleton

“Tour”

African Star, 1994

28

Before Capleton’s “Tour,” cultural criticism stayed in its reggae lane, for the most part, and dancehall was awash in lyrics about guns, sex, and violence. When this song dropped, there wasn’t a person in Jamaica who wasn’t doing the Pepperseed dance and thinking, “Yes, Jamaica needs change.” Slack lyrics were at an all-time high, so this song had perfect timing in its questioning of everything that was happening on the island. Like a Western movie when the main character left town only to come back and see it decimated, Capleton returned from tour to straighten things out. “It seems like the people dem nuh love God nuh more/If slackness a the sickness then culture a di cure,” he sang, the doctor the times needed. –Walshy Fire

Listen: Capleton: “Tour”

Sizzla

“Just One of Those Days”

VP, 2002

27

“Just One of Those Days” is one of many hit songs that Sizzla has delivered since he began recording in the mid-1990s. He came on the scene with a fierce energy, effortlessly straddling the worlds of the hardest hardcore dancehall and more conscious roots music. Producers have struggled to complement his raw energy; his early hits were rootsy anthems that paved the way for a generation of artists, but nothing captured his musical essence quite like 2002’s Bobby “Digital” Dixon-produced album, Da Real Thing.

On an album full of classics, the “Queen Majesty” riddim-riding “Just One of Those Days” stands alone as a timeless anthem for heartbroken lovers. Sizzla’s voice is gently married to the music as he reminisces over a lost love: “Dry cry even tears/Even my heart cries, but who cares?/Whose fault? No one but myself.” As he abandons fiery delivery and for delicate emotion, he hits a new level. –Max Glazer

Listen: Sizzla: “Just One of Those Days”

Terror Fabulous

“Action” [ft. Nadine Sutherland]

Mad House, 1992

26

Rough and sweet: the ultimate dancehall combination. Terror Fabulous and Nadine Sutherland’s playful, infectious duet followed the lead of “Telephone Love,” released a few years earlier, and perfected it, becoming the standard by which male/female dancehall duets are judged.

The rising star Terror Fabulous’ rough-and-raspy vocal calls, matched with the beloved former teen queen Sutherland, was a sweet and soulful union. This song hit during the height of U.S.-based record companies signing and bankrolling Jamaican talent, dropping as a single in 1992 and helping secure the major label release of Terror’s 1994 LP Yaga Yaga. In a time when videos mattered and rotation on music cable station playlists was the holy grail, “Action” was one of the few dancehall hits to be given a big-budget music video treatment. Jamaicans at home and abroad were thrilled to see Kingston and in particular, Half Way Tree Square and local dancers bringing authentic Jamaican culture to an international audience. With production from Dave Kelly, arguably the top producer of the Golden Era of Dancehall, “Action” is now a staple, a must-play at any dancehall session worth its door price. –Carleene Samuels

Listen: Terror Fabulous: “Action” [ft. Nadine Sutherland]

Tanto Metro and Devonte

“Everyone Falls in Love”

Penthouse, 1997

25

Tanto Metro and Devonte are direct descendants of Chaka Demus and Pliers, and all of the dancehall duos that have come before, combining the voices of a sweet singer and a rough DJ to deliver their musical message. Probably only “Murder She Wrote” stands above this love song as an example of two Jamaican artists joining forces to make the world dance.

Produced by hit-maker Tony Kelly under the Penthouse label, “Everyone Falls in Love” captures dancehall at its best—a fun, melodic cruise through the islands in song form. Both artists had been on the scene for years in Kingston, cranking out local tunes for the Shocking Vibes label and others—but when they linked up for this 1997 smash, Metro and Devonte helped propel reggae, dancehall, and the sound of Jamaica even further onto the world stage, on the beat of a universal truth: “Everyone fall in love sometime,” they crooned. “I don’t know ’bout you, but it ain’t a crime.” –Max Glazer

Listen: Tanto Metro & Devonte: “Everyone Falls in Love”

Tanya Stephens

“Yuh Nuh Ready Fi Dis Yet”

Mad House, 1996

24

Sex and dancehall have always been great bedfellows; the prideful boasts of the former often lend necessary swagger to the latter. Fittingly so, Tanya Stephens has always been at ease providing the lady’s perspective in song form. While artists like Lady Saw and Spice rely on the bombastic, directly confrontational approach, Stephens rests on the didactic end of the spectrum, the consummate teacher ever-flowing with words of wisdom. Her approach is never heavy-handed, but her lessons are always crystal clear.

In 1996, Stephens garnered her first big hit with “Yuh Nuh Ready Fi Dis Yet.” Over the “Joyride” riddim—a mid-’90s dancehall staple beat produced by Dave Kelly under the Madhouse Productions label—Stephens poses thought-provoking questions about her male counterpart’s sexual prowess, poking at his masculinity and bloated ego. “Have you ever wonder wha’ make a girl cum?/A woman first fi satisfy before you say you’re done.” Stephens perennially schools her male subjects, ending each verse with the refrain, “Yuh nuh ready fi dis yet, bwoy!” Stephens’ character-checking verses most likely fell on the deaf ears of dancehall’s male demographic; their true fans were the females who used the tune as a rallying cry against the men who didn’t possess the stamina to match their own. –Deidre Dyer

Listen: Tanya Stephens: “Yuh Nuh Ready Fi Dis Yet”

Mr. Vegas

“Heads High”

Greensleeves, 1998

23

If Barrington Levy and Junior Reid were the archetypal dancehall singers of the late ’70s and early ’80s, Mr. Vegas can be credited with updating their distinctive “Waterhouse style” of singing for the late ’90s. Even more nasal and melismatic, liberally embellished with abstract scats (“sticky-di-di-dooo”), Vegas’ voice is instantly recognizable, occupying that rarefied sing-song register that threatens to be annoying right before it becomes completely addictive. As studio legend has it, his breakout hit “Nike Air” was recorded while the young singer’s jaw was wired shut after being hit with a crowbar during a dispute over stolen master tapes, forcing him to enunciate his melodic lines more like a deejay. Scoring an instant boom-tune on Jeremy Harding’s “Playground” riddim (the same that introduced Sean Paul to the world and underpinned Beenie Man’s biggest anthem), Vegas never looked back.

If “Nike Air” found Vegas testing out a fresh take on the sing-jay vocal style, he truly found his voice (and scored his signature hit) on the anti-oral sex diatribe “Heads High.” With the soaring, confident yet still tauntingly catchy hook “Heads hiiiigh/Kill them with the ‘no’/Just make a boy know you nah blow” sailing above Danny Browne’s equally addictive banjo and organ-driven “Filthy” riddim, kink-shaming never felt so anthemic. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Mr. Vegas: “Heads High”

Buju Banton

“Champion”

Penthouse, 1995

22

“Champion” was included on Buju Banton’s epic 1995 album ’Til Shiloh, a gyal tune that bigs up the appearance of all the ladies on the dance floor. The riddim, produced by Donovan Germain for a monster single, was just one of many Banton made on this essential label.

Borrowed by scores of pop and hip-hop artists (Selena Gomez, Eve, and Busta Rhymes), this song played on practically every urban station: The lines “Walk like a champion, talk like a champion” and everyone’s favorite, “Rapapampam,” became instantly familiar worldwide. Banton’s lyrics left little room for subtlety: “Buju B would be more than glad to take your hand/And lead you to the promise land/Mi 20 foot divan.” It aims to remind all of the gyal dem what makes them so irresistible, and it still gets them out on the floor every time. –Walshy Fire

Listen: Buju Banton: “Champion”

Barrington Levy

“Murderer”

Jah Life, 1984

21

This 1984 single on the New York-based Jah Life label (also often titled “Tell Them a Ready,” depending which version is played) nicely encapsulates Levy’s clout as the living blueprint of the dancehall singer. Along with Junior Reid, he led a wave of “Waterhouse-style” singers who cut their teeth live as much as in the studio.

The modular, freestyle couplets of “Murderer” represent a high point in the art form: “‘Cause them moggle inna them Jeep, want to kick out my teeth/Come into my lane they want to fly out my brain.” It’s punctuated by a haunting chorus that works as cultural commentary decrying injustice, and leaves little question who the real murderers are: “They dress up in a jacket and they dress up in a tie/Want to deprive I-man from my rights.” He also issues a bloodcurdling warning to an opponent in a soundclash. Above it all: Levy’s flights of dancehall scat are still the gold standard in badman authenticity. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Barrington Levy: “Murderer”

Bounty Killer

“Lodge”

John John, 1993

20

A true bashment anthem is recognizable less by its hook than by the chorus of whistles and wall-pounding it earns from an engaged audience. One of dancehall’s central paradoxes, in fact, is that the bigger a tune is, the less you actually get to hear it. By that upside-down measure, Bounty Killer’s “Lodge” may be the all-time biggest tune you’ve never heard.

It’s rare for the 45 to play past the treble-heavy opening clarion call of Jammy’s “Sleng Teng” riddim and Killer’s blood-curdling bawl of “Peeeeople dead….DEAD-UH!” before the needle is smacked off the vinyl and the venue descends into pure pandemonium. If a second pass lets you hear the first actual lyrics, consider yourself lucky. By the time the infamous bassline comes in, chopped up under Bounty’s lyrical assault, it’s time to smack the needle again because, by now, wall-pounding will most likely have escalated to chair-flinging and table-flipping. The rest of the song comprises bar after bar of the kind of gun talk that’s cemented Bounty’s place as “the Warlord” of the dancehall...but you’ll never hear it. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Bounty Killer: “Lodge”

Vybz Kartel

“Summer Time”

Tad’s Records, 2011

19

If you were in Kingston in the summer of 2011, you could not get away from the “Summer Time” wave, which began in Jamaica and continued onward to conquer all dancehall capitals, from New York to Nairobi. The appeal was obvious—this was Vybz Kartel, the undisputed star of dancehall, at the height of his fame, leaving his “bad man” songs and working his witty lyricisms and cheeky wordplay into a laid-back, feel-good ode to everyone’s favorite season.

The phenomenon of the Jamaican dancehall summer song was still relatively new on the island in 2011, where realistically summer is 365 days long. With a knowing chuckle and self-deprecating references to his skin bleaching, name-checking uptown haunts instead of the usual inner-city neighborhoods, and cheering on the go-to summer activities (“De hot gyal dem a bring it on/In a bikini dem in a pretty thong/Pool party!”), he charmed his way onto every floor and playlist. Kartel has been incarcerated on murder charges in Kingston since 2012 but “Summer Time” remains omnipresent in Jamaican dancehall clubs, no matter the season. –Carleene Samuels

Listen: Vybz Kartel: “Summer Time”

Snow

“Anything for You (All-Star Cast Remix)”

EastWest Records, 1995

18

“Anything for You” is all-star, to say the least. The Canadian-born Snow matches the soulful harmonies of Nadine Sutherland with Beenie Man, Buju Banton, Terror Fabulous, Louie Culture, and Culture Knox—a huge collaboration that still hasn’t been eclipsed. While Sutherland lays down the gauntlet, all the DJs profess their undying love and joust to come out on top. While playboy Beenie Man might think he gets the girl here, Buju Banton rides the riddim (produced by Tony CD Kelly) with a natural connection. The lyrics are like a timeless love letter from a badbwoy to his sweetheart: as Banton lays down, “If a Beenie, Fabulous, or if ah Snow/Affection inna mi heart, just ah bubble, ah fi show/Can’t hold it back, haffi let it flow.” The Hype Williams-directed video helped push its charms worldwide. –Treasure Aaron

Listen: Snow: “Anything for You (All-Star Cast Remix)”

Lady Saw

“Sycamore Tree”

Mad House, 1996

17

Lady Saw, the widely acknowledged Queen of Dancehall, has a voice that can sound like it’s being pushed directly from the depths of her chest one minute, then shifts immediately into wicked, playful chat. Both approaches are on show in this song, in which a woman tells her man that she will not bow down to his desires. Perched on Dave Kelly’s “Joyride” riddim, Lady Saw’s lyrics are a parable of consent.

“Sycamore Tree” underlines oral sex taboos, but it also demonstrates that Lady Saw is fully aware of her sexuality: “Mi a gal wi gi yuh all di wickedest ride,” she brags, while at the same time proclaiming “a nuh everything mi like.” Ideally paired with Tanya Stephens’ “You Nuh Ready Fi Dis Yet” on the very same riddim, “Sycamore Tree” is classic Saw: raw and sexual, but firmly and potently woman-focused. –Erin MacLeod

Listen: Lady Saw: “Sycamore Tree”

Yellowman

“Zungguzungguguzungguzeng”

Arrival/Greensleeves, 1983

16

Before Beenie Man declared himself King of Dancehall, there was the reigning King Yellow, whose dominance of the DJ ranks is still arguable. His songs range from romantic to slack to all the more slack—though this track, with the unforgettable nonsense lyric “zungguzungguguzungguzeng,” does a little something different. Seemingly a stream-of-consciousness that references paper and pen, goats in a pen, and a claim regarding his number of girlfriends—110, to be specific—Winston “Yellowman” Foster extols his listeners to “Catch it!” Thing is, it’s darned hard to catch this tune as it travels—it’s made its way from Jamaica to the US to the UK and back again through samples of both rhythm and melody.

Wayne Marshall, a Berklee College of Music professor, has tracked the many instances where this riddim (known as the “Mad Mad” or “Diseases” riddim, the latter after Michigan & Smiley’s cautionary tune of the same name) appears. He’s tallied over 50 so far; Queen Latifah and 2Pac experimented with the sounds of “zungguzeng,” as have Vybz Kartel and Buju Banton. All the while, Yellowman has kept performing his original, exemplifying the roots and routes of Jamaica’s musical tradition. –Erin MacLeod

Listen: Yellowman: “Zungguzungguguzungguzeng”

Louchie Lou & Michie One

“Rich Girl”

VP/Fashion, 1993

15

Reggae duo Louchie Lou & Michie One were the original Salt-n-Pepa of dancehall; to date, there hasn’t been another female duo to deliver an anthem like “Rich Girl.” The London duo formed after meeting in 1991 at the Rebel MC festival, and went on to record a few other UK chart-toppers before their golden egg.

“Rich Girl” is legendary in its wide appeal; it speaks to young girls from the village of Numbali, from the inner-city of St. Louis. The lyrics say it all: “And if me rich, tings would run neatly/And if me rich, coulda live out mi life properly?” In 2004, the song got a mainstream rebirth from Gwen Stefani, who covered it with Eve, on her debut solo album. But even against all that pop power, Louchie Lou & Michie One’s version still takes the win. –Treasure Aaron

Listen: Louchie Lou & Michie One: “Rich Girl”

Johnny Osbourne

“Budy Bye”

Jammy’s Records, 1985

14

“Budy Bye” is easily one of dancehall’s most recognizable anthems to non-fans. This is mostly due to its irresistible call-and-response chorus—“Let me hear you say whooooaaaa yeaaaah!”—which was interpolated by Arrested Development on their MTV hit “Everyday People,” as well as countless other party breaks and remixes (including an official one from Kenny Dope of Masters at Work). This can hardly be characterized as an injustice, though, since Osbourne, alongside the likes of Barrington Levy and Sugar Minnott, more or less defined what it means to be a dancehall singer. “Budy Bye” is not only a perennial crowd-mover, it’s also perfect gateway dub to one of the great artist catalogs in reggae. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Johnny Osbourne: “Budy Bye”

Sean Paul

“Get Busy”

Atlantic, 2002

13

The ultimate ambassador of dancehall culture outside of Jamaica, Sean Paul was something of an unprecedented phenomenon on the island: an affluent, uptown kid who could hold his own with western Kingston’s tuffest deejays. His initial success relied heavily on the fact that the dancehall masses at large first heard his voice—shadowing Beenie Man’s hit “Who Am I,” on Jeremy Harding’s 1997 “Playground” riddim—before they knew his pedigree.

By the time Lenky’s “Diwali” riddim—a genre-changing combination of pulsing dancehall synths and an intricate, Bollywood-inspired clap pattern—hit in 2002, the situation had reversed. The initial run of the riddim comprised a crowded field of dancehall heavyweights (including Bounty Killer, Wayne Wonder, and Elephant Man) putting down their best work before Sean Paul came and blew everybody out the gate. He not only made “Get Busy” a No. 1 hit, he made it one of the biggest singles of the decade. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Sean Paul: “Get Busy”

Shabba Ranks

“Twice My Age” [ft. Krystal]

Anchor, 1988

12

Shabba Ranks, the original dancehall superstar, came correct with this gyal tune in 1988, his gruff voice and African-influenced scat pairing perfectly with Krystal’s vintage girl-group vocals. Her appearance fortifies Ranks, who happily outlines the benefits to be had in getting with a man double her years. We don’t know how this flirtation ends, but it’s clear that Krystal knows what she wants and gets it, from the way she sings, “You had better watch your food, old man/Will dip into your plate.” It’s her warning to the young guys: They better get on their job. And Gussie Clarke’s production on the riddim is a high-water mark in Jamaican production values. To this day, you can play this song in almost any room in the world, and everyone will sing it loud. –Walshy Fire

Listen: Shabba Ranks: “Twice My Age” [ft. Krystal]

Dawn Penn

“You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No)”

Steely & Clevie/Big Beat, 1994

11

Flashback to 2010, when the honorable Beyoncé sang her rendition of “No, No, No” on her “I Am…” World Tour. The Jamaican flag beamed behind her on the megatrons as she teased concert attendees with a few dutty wines. This is just part of the legacy of Dawn Penn’s “You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No).”

Though Penn’s monotonous drawl tells of a story of unrequited love—“No, no, no/You don’t love me and I know now”—her voice is complemented by a rather cheerful melody, and pairs well with the brass that comes in later in the track. With placements on 11 different international charts, this record is one of dancehall’s best because of how adaptable it was across genres. We still see this reflected in samples by a variety of artists (including Rihanna, Ghostface Killah, and Lily Allen). However, though other artists have articulated “No, No, No” in their own way, the original can’t be beat. –Sharine Taylor

Listen: Dawn Penn: “You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No)”

Barrington Levy

“Here I Come (Broader Than Broadway)”

London Records/Time 1 International, 1984

10

With his distinctive tone and razor-sharp lyrics, Barrington Levy paved a wide road for the many dancehall singers who followed him. Fittingly, on 1984’s “Here I Come,” he wrote his own legend with the phrase “broader than Broadway” that’s still a synonym for greatness. The rhythm track also set a trend: With its bombastic, full-band hits on the one beat of every measure, “Here I Come” wrote the playbook for decades of live reggae shows. Prophetically, “Here I Come” is one of the very few anthems that can still inspire a selector to rewind when the crowd explodes in reaction to the first few bars. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Barrington Levy: “Here I Come (Broader Than Broadway)”

Vybz Kartel

“Romping Shop” [ft. Spice]

Tad’s Records, 2009

9

On “Romping Shop,” Vybz Kartel showed prescience in joining forces with Spice—then a rising star, now a hitmaker in her own right. Sampling Ne-Yo’s 2008 single “Miss Independent,” and recorded over a riddim that maintained the same name, this track is one of the most iconic songs in both artists’ catalogs. Noted for its highly sexualized lyrical content—not an abnormal feature in the realm of dancehall—the record became contested in Jamaica between those who were concerned about the effectiveness of the Jamaica Broadcasting Commission’s decency regulations and dancehall advocates who believed the genre was being subjected to unreasonable moral codes. Additionally, because of its “Miss Independent” sampling, the record ran into some copyrighting conflicts from Ne-Yo’s camp.

The controversy surrounding “Romping Shop” had no effect on its clout and proved how much global reach dancehall has. The record, with its infectious melody and call-and-response lyrics —as Spice sings, “You ah my mista,” Kartel coos, “You ah my miss”—garnered international attention and even landed on the Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop charts that year. Though Ne-Yo’s publishing company was none too happy with the sample usage, he welcomed Spice onstage while performing in Jamaica in 2011, and she gave a sample of her romping shop. –Sharine Taylor

Listen: Vybz Kartel: “Romping Shop” [ft. Spice]

Junior Reid

“One Blood”

J.R. Productions, 1989

8

“One Blood” sits easily as an all-time dancehall anthem, renewable to every generation. Delroy “Junior” Reid wrote it in 1989, after departing from the Grammy-nominated reggae hitmakers Black Uhuru, with whom he’d risen to the top of the international charts with their album Brutal.

“One Blood” is a socially conscious turn for Reid, a call for Jamaica to become a disciplined, loving community. Its call-and-response melody is timeless: “Yuh coulda come from Rema or come from jungle/Coulda come from Firehouse or yuh come from Tower Hill/Yuh coulda come from Libya or uuh come from America/One blood, one blood, one blood.” By far one of the most sampled dancehall tracks in hip-hop, from “It’s Okay” by the Game to “One Blood Under W” by Wu-Tang Clan, “One Blood” is a guaranteed forward in any playlist. –Treasure Aaron

Listen: Junior Reid: “One Blood”

Admiral Bailey

“Punanny”

Jammy’s Records, 1986

7

Admiral Bailey is one of the defining deejays of late 1980s dancehall, despite his lack of radio crossover appeal. In fact, on “Punanny,” his signature hit, Bailey can be credited with ushering in the two defining tropes of a new era in dancehall. The first is the unapologetic slackness embodied in the singsong hook, “Gi’ me punanny/Want punanny.” The second is a whole new rhythmic template that “Punanny” etched in wax.

Slackness had been a rising tide in dancehall ever since the genre emerged, but this beat was something new. Faster and sparer, the staccato boom-boom-cack of “Punanny” is arguably the first uniquely dancehall riddim, not just a digitized reggae bassline. In its way, “Punanny” was a seismic shift in Jamaican music, as major as “Sleng Teng” was a few short years before. –Edwin “STATS” Houghton

Listen: Admiral Bailey: “Punanny”

Beenie Man

“Who Am I”

VP, 1997

6

Beenie Man has been widely accepted as the King of Dancehall since he released this worldwide hit, which appeared on his Many Moods of Moses album and quickly found its way to R&B and rap DJs’ decks. Chanting in deep patois, Beenie gives the ladies in his life their due, telling them all the “gyals dem suga” and offering the earworm bridge, “Sim simma, pass me the keys to my Bimma”—one of the song’s several references to BMWs, that ride that attracts the gyal dem. Sampling melodies from Luther Vandross’ “Never Too Much” at a time when every Yankee song was fair game, “Who Am I” was louder than anything else being played at the time. Beenie stacks the horns first for the intro, then everyone does the “heel-and-toe” dance, then an incredibly heavy bassline drops in the chorus—in that order. It’s a roaring coronation. –Walshy Fire

Listen: Beenie Man: “Who Am I”

Super Cat

“Ghetto Red Hot”

Columbia, 1992

5

In Jamaica, William “Super Cat” Maragh is one in a pantheon of great dancehall artists; in New York, he stands alone. As soon as he touched down in New York around 1990, he began making waves: First, with raucous live performances at the Biltmore Ballroom, then in a deadly Brooklyn shootout with fellow artist Nitty Gritty in 1991. His collaborations with New York hip-hop artists were the first of their kind, originally with Heavy D in 1992 and, one year later, with a young Notorious B.I.G.

Super Cat’s streetwise lyrics and choppy, hypnotic delivery are best captured in “Ghetto Red Hot.” The video, shot in New York and Kingston, was groundbreaking: No artist had ever appeared so comfortable in both places. The hip-hop remix took the song to an even wider audience, and helped advance a young Salaam Remi.

“Ghetto Red Hot” also operates on another register—it contains a brief history of political killings in Kingston. For example, when Super Cat sings, “Kingston we deh when Massop get shot/We deh when Copper get shot,” he is referring to Claude “Claudie” Massop and Dennis “Copper” Barth, two street figures from the 1970s who played roles in a gang peace treaty. That Super Cat survived such times is impressive; his ability to render them so vividly, two decades later, is doubly so. –Rishi Nath

Listen: Super Cat: “Ghetto Red Hot”

Tenor Saw

“Ring the Alarm”

Techniques, 1985

4

When Tenor Saw hit the stage for Youth Promotion Sound at the first Kingston Four Soundclash in 1985 and sang out, “Ring the alarm! Another sound is dying,” the crowd knew who the winner would be. King Jammy tried to answer, but the battle was already over: Youth Promotion walked away with the prize, and Tenor Saw went on to record a massive hit that would change the rules for commercial dancehall.

Voiced over Winston Riley’s remake of the backbone riddim “Stalag 17” (also used on Sister Nancy’s “Bam Bam”), “Ring the Alarm” cemented the dancehall aesthetic as the new norm. Traditionally, lyrics confronting other sounds stayed in halls or were confined to dubplates, but Tenor Saw brought them to the masses. By 1985, digital styles of production were growing in popularity, and more producers were taking their most successful dubplates and releasing them to the public. Once Tenor Saw sang “Ring the Alarm,” the dam broke, and releases based on soundclashes began flooding the market.

Coming from the deepest ghettos of Kingston, Tenor Saw was a unsettled youth with an unusual and intense vocal style. He rose quickly with hits like “Pumpkin Belly,” “Roll Call,” and “Golden Hen,” and died young; at age 21, his body was found by the side of the road in Texas. But before then, Tenor Saw became one of the most influential and imitated voices of the digital dancehall movement. –Beth Lesser

Listen: Tenor Saw: “Ring the Alarm”

Wayne Smith

“Under Mi Sleng Teng”

Jammy’s Records, 1985

3

The story of “Under Mi Sleng Teng” began inside a little Casio keyboard that friends Noel Davey and singer Wayne Smith were playing around with one afternoon in Waterhouse, Jamaica. Enough experimenting led to a little beat that sounded good, and Wayne improvised a song on top. Nothing unusual. The shock came when ace producer King Jammy recorded and released it just like that: raw, rough, and straight out of the Casio. When it was played through the hefty speakers outside, in the fresh night air, the sound was breathtaking. This rhythm was so stark, the bottom was so heavy, the lines were so clean. There were no embellishments—it was pure and unprocessed.

Lloyd James, aka King Jammy, trained originally under the legendary King Tubby and acquired Tubby’s instinct for innovation. In releasing “Sleng Teng” in 1985, Jammy turned the reggae world upside down. Producers had to toss out their studio-created rhythms with live bands and start fresh in the new, computerized format, using electronic keyboards, drum machines, and sequencers. A revolution had taken place, and modern dancehall emerged. –Beth Lesser

Listen: Wayne Smith: “Under Mi Sleng Teng”

Chaka Demus and Pliers

“Murder She Wrote”

Taxi, 1992

2

“Murder She Wrote” is what you think of when you hear the word “dancehall.” Chaka Demus’ DJing, Pliers’ singing, Lowell “Sly” Dunbar’s drums and Robert “Robbie” Shakespeare’s bass combine with a minimal guitar riff to create a genre-defining composition; it is arguably the song, riddim, and melody most associated with this genre. All of these individuals have contributed immensely to Jamaican music, but when the four combined in “Murder She Wrote,” they delivered a love letter from Jamaica to the world.

The riddim is perfect simplicity, allowing for the back-and-forth of Pliers’ sweet singing with Chaka Demus’ rough DJing. When dancehall was beginning, the DJs would “toast” or “rap” over the singers’ original versions, which eventually led to recorded “combinations,” the meeting of both singer and DJ on a single recorded song. “Murder She Wrote” is where this tag-team style reaches perfection in its call-and-response about a beautiful girl with “a pretty face and bad character.” It’s been sampled, replayed, reinterpreted, covered, and honored in countless ways, but nothing comes close to the raw dancehall energy of the original. –Max Glazer

Listen: Chaka Demus & Pliers: “Murder She Wrote”

Sister Nancy

“Bam Bam”

Techniques, 1982

1

Dancehall is a male-dominated scene but, with “Bam Bam,” Sister Nancy owned the Winston Riley-produced “Stalag” riddim—probably the most recognizable dancehall riddim worldwide—like no one before or since. It dates back to 1973 and is credited in over 400 songs, one standout being Tenor Saw’s “Ring the Alarm”—but once it drops, everyone instinctively thinks: “Bam Bam.”

Celebrated more today than when it was released in 1982, no one can quite explain this song’s ubiquity; we simply have to believe its singer when she explains that “it is from creation” and she is “one in three million.” Sister Nancy—born Ophlin Russel, younger sister to the well-known dancehall DJ Brigadier Jerry—recorded “Bam Bam” for her 1982 album One Two. The song was not released as a single until years later, but it worked its way to toppa-top status organically on dancefloors and selector decks. It remains the defining song of her career, still without much effort on her part to promote it, and it checks all the boxes of a dancehall classic: a hard-hitting, heavy bass line; a catchy singalong chorus; and self assured, boastful lyrics.

Since its release, “Bam Bam” has lived a storied life; it’s been sampled too many times to count, including by Kanye West on “Famous.” With its inclusion in movies (Belly), video games (Skate), and commercials (Reebok), it’s instantly recognizable and always exciting. Nancy never recorded much after her first album but, mostly on the strength of “Bam Bam,” she still performs live regularly while maintaining a career at a bank in New Jersey. And even when she’s not in the room, her anthem can be teased in any genre, at any party, and the reaction will be the same: pulll uppp. –Carleene Samuels

Listen: Sister Nancy: “Bam Bam”

Contributors: Treasure Aaron, Deidre Dyer, Walshy Fire, Max Glazer, Edwin “Stats” Houghton, Beth Lesser, Erin MacLeod, Rishi Nath, Carleene Samuels, Ryan Schreiber, Sharine Taylor