As an entry into the North American market, perhaps Sean Paul’s people might have thought the imagery through a little more. I can suggest some resources if they want. They also might wish to have a conversation with A Tribe Called Red (who know more than a little about dancehall, hip hop, pop music and making people dance, all while showing respect for indigenous cultural history).

Update:

This post got the most views I’ve ever had in a single day. Interestingly, there were no comments… There were, however, comments when A Tribe Called Red’s Deejay NDN reposted the link. I asked permission to reprint NDN’s as well as Justine Campeau’s comments as I think they make the issue pretty clear.

      Deejay NDN

• It’s not JUST the hair…I think he’s cashing in on the “hipness” to be “Indian”. There was a trend in Jamaica in the 90′s where they sang songs about being Indian.

• Maybe I’m overly sensitive because I see my culture being appropriated every where and no one’s calling anyone on it.

• It’s about culture jacking. That was the original point of this post. I love Sean Paul and now I’m a little disappointed. That’s it.

• Now if you want to have a conversation about why all Aboriginal themed sports nicknames and mascots (including the Blackhawks) are harmful to an entire race of people, we could do that too.

• It’s the faux hawk mixed with “Tomahawk Technique”. It’s culture jacking. I LOVE Sean Paul and a little disappointed, is all.

  Justine Campeau

• Mohawk + the title “tomahawk” means something different. It’s using a stereotype of a culture and wouldn’t be ok if it was some white chick w neon corn rows with the title “yo dawg”. People aren’t educated enough about the histories of this bruised and broken culture. For some reason, they are the first for people to use their ignorance against rather than being the first that people that should be respectfully backed off from.
• These people aren’t out to stick first nations people, but they’re too ignorant to know what they’re using and saying isn’t ok.

Mutabaruka will still probably bemoan the huge number of parties held in Jamaica, as one off events dotted the social calender each weekday in 2011,  Swagg Tuesdays had a moment, and Wet Sundaze seemed to be back on the radar alongside events like Hammer Fridays and Container Saturdayz. Weddy Weddy remains a standby, along with the numerous events at the former Asylum and the Quad nightclubs, but the infamous Dutty Fridaze has yet to be resurrected–maybe it’ll come back in 2012. The longest running regular street dance, however, is still the venerable Rae Town Old Hits dance. Having been taken off the road in 2009, it’s been steadily bubbling back on the street over 2010 and 2011. Now stronger than ever, Rae Town attracts heaps of people, all more ready to dance than profile. Large up to Klassique (Senor Daley, DJ Troy, DJ Snow and guests) for holding it down, as well as to founders Sister Norma and Brother Bunny at the Capricorn Inn for their commitment and staying power.

Here’s hoping that 2012 brings more dancing to the dance. Sure, the experts get out in front of the video light, but everyone else stands back and out of the way. If people can let loose on Rae Road every Sunday (and in the UK too!), why not on Burlington Avenue at Weddy Weddy?

Another place where folks were letting loose this fall, for the second time around, was at the televised Guinness Sounds of Greatness soundclash competition, which kicked off in September for another season. Unlike 2009′s version, which travelled around the island, this year’s edition was held at the Chinese Benevolent Association in Kingston. Big up Jay Will and Carleene Samuels for their combined direction and production prowess. The venue held a few hundred people, but those few hundred people could certainly made a heck of a lot of noise. Outdoors, soundclash is characterized by aerosol cans turned flamethrowers, but inside, the vuvuzela won the day. Quite literally. Certain evenings it was nearly impossible to hear the tunes for the squealing of so many horns. However, on television, the competition looked and sounded great, and it exposed not only younger “hotshot” sounds like Black Blunt and Bredda Hype, but also “veteran” sounds like Bodyguard, Sound Troopa, Black Kat and Silverhawk.

Of course, comparing GSOG with hours-long oldtime clashes or even the recent (and due to be relaunched) Irish and Chin-promoted World Clash series is like comparing apples and oranges. GSOG is a made-for-tv event. That said, it’s a very exciting made-for-tv event. By outlawing all profanity, the sounds tend towards more creativity in their dubs, and the Serato-sponsored challenges kept things interesting. The showdowns leading up to the finale between Rich Squad and Trooper were all entertaining, if sometimes controversial (such as when Bredda Hype lost against Rich Squad in the semifinals). Little Richie proved to be a masterful juggler throughout the competition, but Ricky Trooper made up for his poor performance against Bass Odyssey in 2009, killing Rich Squad and coming out on top.

Unfortunately, Jamaican music had to say goodbye to a number of luminaries this year. In February, pioneering soundman Cyril “Count C” Brathwaite passed. A man whose influence on sound system culture was impressive though under reported, Count C was given a fitting tribute by Joshua “Soul of the Lion” Chaberlain, who wrote a piece about the man for Wax Poetics and produced a short documentary fit for a Count. UK fast chat star Smiley Culture was killed by police in and both his family and the reagge community are still left asking questions regarding the circumstances of the singer’s death. It won’t be until well into 2012 that inquest results will be released. Though not a strictly reggae or dancehall voice, but most certainly one who brought his Jamaican roots to the fore in his hip hop, the sudden death of Heavy D at age 44 came as a great shock. In conversation with Jamaican-Canadian hip hop star Michie Mee this November, she spoke of how significant Heavy D was as someone who maintained the link between Jamaican music and American hip hop. Another fellow who exemplified the connection between genres, specifically ska and rocksteady, Barry Llewellyn, of the great Heptones, died in November. Unfortunately, the year ended with the loss of of producer Fattis Burrell, famous for his work as Xterminator productions–arguably responsible for Luciano and Sizzla’s very best work.

There’s lots to look forward to in 2012–from the growing UK scene (you know things are good when a guy like Marvin Sparks says “I don’t remember bashment having this impact on over here, as in British artists having so much dancehall material in it’s rawest form in my lifetime”) to the fact that Celine Dion–yes, THAT Celine Dion–will be performing in Jamaica at the end of January. For me, my top moment of 2011 was seeing my folks dancing to disco at Rae Town Old Hits and realizing that some tunes I thought were total crap become life-affirmingly amazing when played on a sound system. I don’t really have a list of favourite tunes or riddims, but I do know that I like music played loud. Big up all sound men and women. Bigga sound fi 2012.

Here it is, my fourth annual year-end round up of reggae and dancehall (counting 2008′s Pitchfork column). Whereas 2010 ended with a bit of a musical whimper–disappointing Sting, no real music news of note, this year has ended with a political bang. The “crushing” victory of the PNP in the polls has definitely shaken things up in Jamaica, but what about the music?

I’ve sat looking at this entry for a while. Last year there was all sorts of whinging about the state of the music industry in Jamaica and this year has been no different. One of the most engaging commentators on the Jamaican music industry (among other things), the irrepressible BigBlackBarry shut down his twitter account last year at this time, and this year he’s abandoned it for the time being.

Yes, one could list a lot of reasons that demonstrate that 2011 was a bit of a loser for reggae and dancehall, or could complain (with support from a range of, well, older folk) of how “static Jamaica’s musical progression has become”, but that runs contrary to the reality that there still was a multitude of quality releases, tunes and riddims. Sure, Buju winning his first Grammy for Best Reggae Album doesn’t make his imprisonment any less of a disappointment just like Mavado’s success in being signed with DJ Khaled’s We The Best music is difficult to celebrate as a triumph for dancehall when one recalls that the Gully God’s former rival (who also had a pile of international success in 2011), superstar deejay Vybz Kartel, ends the year in jail on murder charges.

Before the charges however, Vybz Kartel shocked the international media (from Hot97 to the Guardian) with his defense of skin bleaching. He gave a rather articulate lecture at the University of the West Indies as part of Carolyn Cooper’s Reggae Poetry class, putting Prof Cooper in cartoonist Clovis’s crosshairs. Undermining the professor’s position, numerous cartoons suggested that Mr. Palmer’s appearance at the university was emblematic of academic degeneration courtesy of dancehall. Granted, Kartel made some seriously questionable statements (making use of Haile Selassie’s famous statement “until the colour of a man’s skin is of no more significance than the colour of his eye” as a defense for bleaching is but one), but he didn’t fall flat, as many twitter/facebook observers forecast.

With production from New York’s Dre Skull, Vybz Kartel unleashed Kingston Story (the string-laden, Showtime-riddim inspired lead off single “Go Go Wine” is still getting daily radio play). The New York Times (courtesy of an excellent piece by Rob Kenner) and just about everyone else sat up and took notice of the Anancy-like artiste. Then, in the blink of an eye, the hook-driven yet lyrically-challenged “Summertime”, rose in popularity to become what many observers acknowledge as the song of the year. The riddim itself was also produced by a foreigner–the Swedish Adde Productions. Sweden is known for pop know-how (see Ace of Base, Robyn and Abba for examples), so it’s no surprise that the Summertime riddim was also the basis for Popcaan’s infectious hit “Ravin”.

Drawing all the more attention and publicity, Kartel’s dating reality show Teacher’s Pet debuted this fall to much fanfare and condemnation. The program was no more or less offensive than Flava of Love (with perhaps a bit more nudity and less snappy editing), but, in the words of one Jamaican commentator, it was  “sad”. Regardless, people worldwide tuned in on TV and online to see the self-proclaimed World Boss charm a range of Kartel-obsessed ladies. 2011 could have been the best year of Mr. Adidja Palmer’s career, until October 3rd, when he was arrested on murder charges. With no trial date set, Kartel is still in limbo–time will tell what 2012 has in store for di teacha.

However, speaking of the Dre Skull/Kartel combination, in February, Joshua Chamberlain, Thomas Palermo, Mel Cooke (though from afar) and I presented a panel at the venerable EMP conference entitled “Selling Jamaica”. My paper, entitled “Major Lazer, Major Money? Dancehall’s Relationship between Yard and Foreign” took a look at international collaborations such as Diplo and Switch’s Major Lazer project (a new record is due to arrive in 2012). Drawing from interviews with Dre Skull (who just unleashed a new production for Popcaan), Prodigal Entertainment’s Dylan Powe, and Red Bull distributor Wisynco head William Mahfood, I attempted to ask questions about how music is monetized in Jamaica alongside the ethics of cultural collaboration. Yes, I talked about Diplo, but folks like Venus X and Chief Boima took the argument about Wes Pentz further. The one thing that can be said about this is that more things should be said–more discussion should be had. Given that just about every UN report suggests that Jamaica should capitalize on its creative resources and the new PNP government has claimed to support cultural development, the Jamaica-specific part of this conversation will continue.

Speaking of the relationship between Jamaica and foreign, a couple of days before year end, the insightful Erin Hansen tweeted that “Sometimes it seems like Jamaican, American and British dancehall lovers are never on the same page.” I’ve written a little bit this year about the heavy emphasis on melody that exists in Jamaica. Sure, there are dancehall bangers, but you a just as likely to hear a sweet reggae or poppy tune that begs for singalong. This year a few of these that stand out are Richie Stephens and Gentleman’s anthemic “Live Your Life” (over a hundred thousand Europeans can’t be wrong), the made for repeat “One by One” by Laza Morgan ft. Mavado, Demarco’s triumphant “I Love My Life” (apparently huge in Haiti–according to Etienne) and heaps of tunes on the (admittedly more dancehall) Overproof–a riddim that shows no sign of age even after becoming the soundtrack of just about every cab ride I’ve taken since September.

Want an example of the differing taste in the US of A? In response to what I considered to be a reasonable run down of the top dancehall tunes courtesy of NPR (written by Baz Dreisinger), a discussion on Facebook (amongst Americans) treated the selection with disdain: “swill” and “weak” were two comments, “billboard top 5″ was another. The list included “One by One” and “Summertime” by the way. Thing is, dancehall is pop music. Whereas in North America there’s often a premium placed on rooting through tracks in search of the rare, in Jamaica, radio and soundsystems respond to the massive’s taste. And when you look to the general population, the people pick pop. It’s more likely to hear Rhianna played in the dance than an intense Ward 21 track.

But if you are interested in that heavy, driven intensity that is rife in some hardcore dancehall, take a trip across the pond to the UK, where London crowds seem to appreciate a little more boom in their bass. The UK dancehall scene is experiencing more than a little bit of growth. The Heatwave have been holding it down for a while now, but 2011 gave way to a group of women whose many guises have provided an increasing number of parties and playlists. From Susannah Webb (DJ The Large) of Shimmy Shimmy and No Ice Cream Sound zine to Siobhan Jones (DJ Whydelila) and Physically Fit to Karen Cazabon (DJ Cazabon) of Hipsters Don’t Dance (alongside Inie Banigo, aka Hootie Who?), these ladies will play some of the singy songs, but as their end of the year round up proves, their selection in music leans more towards the Ward 21 end of the spectrum. Again, dancehall aint the same everywhere you go and it’s all according to the taste of the massive. And I still can’t understand why anyone likes Specialist’s “Street Hustle”.

Speaking of hustling, back in Kingston, a range of young musicians have been working hard to fit their roots and culture sound amongst all that dancehall. Whether at the African Village Cafe at Regal Plaza in Crossroads, on Wickie Wackie Beach, at the Manifesto JA festival, or at the launch of I Wayne’s Life Teachings, musicians like Jah 9, Kalissa MacDonald, Chronixx, Infinite, The Gideon and Kabaka Pyramid are pushing things forward with conscious, clever tunes. A couple favourites are Chronixx’s “Start a Fire” and the Occupy Wallstreet-worthy “Capitalists”.

Next: In the dance, Guinness Sounds of Greatness, saying goodbye, looking ahead.

Note: After posting this, I had an interesting conversation on Twitter with Gabrielof the Heatwave, who wasn’t sure about my distinction between the UK and JA. Though Gabe said  ”I think there’s a bit of the cheesier stuff that doesn’t do so well here, & a bit of the harder stuff that does better here, but the main core of dominant tunes is pretty similar”, I might have overstated the case. I would love to know what other folks think…

I know this record has been a long time coming…I heard of and heard Haile Roots in 2006, when I first started research into other Ethiopians doing the reggae thing. The music by the man otherwise known as Hailemichael Genet is good–though it still maintains the synthy sound emblematic of Amharic pop. This might turn off some roots reggae puritans, but it really shouldn’t. As regards the single “Mela Enimita”, I suggest that folks listen to the whole song–after all, you get to hear Luciano and Mikey General on the track too. Luciano’s vocals are terrific, and the chorus is pretty great. The video combines footage of Addis with some bits of Shashemene. Apparently Luciano was pretty darned impressed with the resulting clip. Sorry for the low quality–I can’t seem to find a better version (or one that has better sync), as this one seems dragged from one of the ubiquitous video cds slap dashed together to sell at music shops across Ethiopia. The actual video was made a while ago by Aida Ashenafi, the director responsible for the incredible Guzo, a film that documented what happened when two Addis Ababa city kids take a trip to the countryside to see what it’s like to live far from urban conveniences. The Simple Life this aint. You can get an idea of the film from this clip, but it’s a shame the whole thing isn’t online. And after, if you want to listen to more Haile Roots when you’re done, check here and here.

Erin: Who are A Tribe Called Red?

Bear Witness: I come from a family of artists – my father is a photographer, my mother an actor. My grandmother and great aunt are involved in Spiderwoman theatre – the longest continuously running women’s theatre company in North America.

I grew up between the theatre and the darkroom and at arts and theatre events, aroundd an exposed to lots of different things. Grew up in Toronto. Work as a video artist started with my father. We would go on walks where he would take pictures of me, and him taking pictures of me started to become a big part of his work—a whole body of his work called “The Bear Portraits”. Growing up with that and becoming more and more aware of why my father was taking pictures of me to represent aboriginal people in the urban landscape, that relationship grew more and more as I became more aware and started taking part in the photographs to now, about 2003, my father and I started working collaboratively. So that’s how the video art started. As for the music part of it, I’ve been a huge music fanatic my whole life. I’ve been a collector and around 95-96, my friends really pushed me to start Djing. So I have been djing now for abut 15 years or so. But really, a big change was hooking up with Ian and Dan and having us come together as a group, as aboriginal djs was really what changed the whole dj experience for me. And then incorporating that video work, which was always really close to my dj work as well.

Dan a.k.a. DJ Shub: My brother started me on this whole dj thing. He was a mobile dj. He used to play weddings, and he used to play at bars in Buffalo. And he’s the one who got me into this whole dj thing. He is the one that bought me the first set up of turntables and mixers, and this was back in 2000. I started out as a battle dj which is a lot different from djing in a club. You are always in a contest. In 2007, I won the Canadian championship and placed 6^th in the world. I won the year after and then placed 5^th in the world. The DMCs were something I always grew up watching. I started producing before I started djing—terrible, terrible hip hop beats [laughter]. The two just coincided together as time went on.

Ian a.k.a. DJ NDN: I started playing in punk bands when I was 13 or 14. I toured with the Ripcordz in my early twenties. After that, I worked in bars as a bouncer and in between bands I would play tracks. A new night started at the bar I was working at and from knowing that I could pick good music in between the bands, they let me start that new night. That’s how my music career began. That was 2006, I would say. I have been djing since 2006. I am married and have two daughters—one two and one three. Somehow we all mesh.

Erin: Tell me about the style of music.

Ian: When we started the Electric Pow Wow in Ottawa, we wanted to showcase that we were aboriginal djs in the city and that we were doing something and people should come and check it out. It was almost in the same vein as Koreans having a Korean party, that sort of thing. We just thought, why don’t we have a party like that? So we just threw it together, a few of us, and it was rammed with people that we had never met before. Growing up in the city, you typically know most of the other Indians, but this was a packed bar with people we didn’t know. It ended up being a lot of students who didn’t feel comfortable going out until they heard of our party.

We wanted to remix Pow Wow music to add to the flavour of the party and it just so happened that dubstep was the closest tempo and it was big music at the time. It was right to mix with traditional pow wow music. And then, with the dancehall reggae…Bear has been the best reggae dj in Ottawa for years now.

Bear: The first time we put together pow wow singing and a dubstep track was at a rehearsal that Ian and I were having for a gig and he said, “check this out”: he played a grass dance song and he asked if I would have anything that could go behind it. The first track I pulled up was a Jahdan Blakamoore instrumental for “The General”. It’s a really open, dubby, dubstep track and it just clicked in right away—it was at the right tempo, and it just worked really smoothly. But soon after that was when we added Dan to the group. We played that for Dan and showed him some of the ideas we were working with. At the time, Dan was living in Fort Erie, so he drove home, and the next morning he sent us this track, which is “Electric Pow Wow Drum”. He took this idea that we were working on and just ran so hard with it. We really saw something coming together.

Erin: Tell me about the love of dancehall.

Bear: I grew up in Toronto with dancehall all around me. I was a big fan and a big jungle fan too, back in the day. I’ve also found that a lot of aboriginal people love dancehall. I’ve always found it a funny thing, being the Indian dancehall dj, but as I’ve played for more and more native audiences, people bug out for it.

Ian: No one will dance until reggae starts.

Bear: There is something in it. It’s got that heartbeat rhythm to it. And moombahton takes off from that same place. Moombahton is something that we have all got really excited over. It is something that is new and happening right now – it’s got lots of producers really excited.

Ian: With moombahton, there are no real rules yet, so you just make what you want. And it gets out there pretty quick.

Bear: As producers, that’s what you are looking for – something that you can help shape, that you’re there at the right moment. But beyond that, anything with a damn fine bassline and a nice danceable chug to it, we’ll play.

Shub: Moombahton has pretty much taken over my production life for the past year or so. [laughter] Ever since Ian showed it to me for the first time.

Erin: Can you tell me about connecting traditional with the modern? Obviously, there’s been a number of collaborations between western music and southern styles—I think of the controversy surrounding Diplo and the discussions about appropriation and exploitation. Can you explain your approach in working through these issues?

Bear: Right away, it is different for us as aboriginal people, as people from a minority group working with other aboriginals or other people from a minority groups or people of colour. There’s automatically a different kind of collaboration that is going to happen then when you are working with someone from the settler nation.

So what’s got us all really excited now is the idea of global indigenous electronic music. Cause it’s happening all over right now. And I think all of the really, really exciting things that are happening in electronic music are coming from indigenous people from all over the world. We are all really excited to do more collaborations with people. The more that we get in touch with people from all over the place, we’re finding that people are thinking in the same ways and moving in the same directions as we are. We’ve made friends with these guys out west, World Hood – online friends and we are going to see them at Aborginal Music Week this fall.

These guys are doing the same thing—fusing their traditional knowledge with their urban experience. Connecting with people like that for us is a huge thing.

Erin: How should people go about collaboration?

Bear: Credit your samples! It was a really important thing for us as soon as we started working with this pow wow music to credit the groups that we were sampling. Huge thanks goes out to Guillaume Decouflet. He really worked hard to make sure that we had a deal with the record label and that Northern Cree, the group we remixed for “Red Skin Girl”, that that was all done correctly – we weren’t just jacking this music without giving credit or respect to the people who originally created it

Erin: What do Northern Cree think of it?

Shub: Northern Cree loved it. There was a pow wow here in Ottawa – Northern Cree was the host drum of the pow wow. And we were really excited that they were going to come to our event. We held an electric pow wow the same night. We had the pleasure of having Northern Cree there. We were all nervous because it was the first time I’d ever met them. The way we do the song live is a live remix, and we were on our toes as to the way they would react when they heard their track all cut up and remixed the way we do it. We were totally surprised with the reaction we got from them. Their jaws dropped. They were floored. We actually played it twice—they came up to us and asked us to play it again. It was a reaction we were hoping for.

Erin: Can you tell me the relationship between traditional pow wow and your electronic version?

Ian: It’s centred around the music and a gathering of people – a celebration of our culture. It’s all about dancing at the same time and having a good time and seeing friends that you haven’t seen in forever and seeing friends that you saw yesterday, but you can still have fun with them. It’s about fun—it’s about gathering.

Erin: You have talked in other interviews about the identity of the urban aboriginal – can you explain this further?

Ian: It’s someone who is aboriginal, and identifies as aboriginal, but has never lived on a reservation. Which makes it hard to find roots and any form of culture. I grew up in Ottawa, but I would go back to my reserve and stay with my grandmother for weeks on end during the summer, and I was always an outsider on the reserve at the same time. I would hang out with my cousins, but I wasn’t from there. I was always accepted, but I was different. But at the same time, growing up and all through highschool I was called chief, or “No Tax” was my nickname through highschool.

That’s the other side. You are made fun of because you are an aboriginal, but you don’t really have a strong sense of identity. And right now we are trying to give ourselves an identity. That’s what our party is about anyways.

Bear: My family has been urban for generations now. My grandfather, my father and I were all born in Buffalo, New York. On my mom’s side it’s four or five generations that go back in New York city. They’re an old New York City and Brooklyn family. So I have spent time, like Ian did, on my reservation; I still have some family there. But you are always treated as a city Indian when you are down there. I guess it’s the same as for any community when you go back to where you’re from and you’ve grown up having different experiences. For me, my community growing up was the urban aboriginal arts community, and that was my family. That’s how I had my connection to my culture was through the arts and through the theatre community in the 80s in Toronto, which was a very exciting time. I never felt that I lacked having a community in that sense, but there was always that thing at school where there was one other native kid and we always hated each other [laughs]. That was the guy I got in fights with in the early 90s. But Toronto was very different than it is now . . . communities have grown so fast.

But as we are going along, we are creating this aboriginal urban identity in everything that we are doing.

Ian: It’s not like there hasn’t been an urban identity before, it’s that we are doing it in a more positive way than say gangsta rap. As far as aboriginal music goes, you can either be a blues singer, traditional singer,

Bear: Or heavy metal . . .

Ian: I’d love to see more heavy metal . . . But you are either a gangsta rapper, blues singer, traditional singer, or country singer. We don’t really fit yet being aboriginal club producers. Or electronic producers. It hasn’t necessarily been done yet.

Erin: Tomson Highway once wrote that the image of the “urban Indian” is pretty negative.

Ian: The music that we’re making is more positive than most gangsta rap that’s out there—and I’m not saying that we’re not into the native gangsta rap scene, it’s just that it is a little over abundant. It’s part of why we stand out.

And can you imagine if these kids in these remote communities who are killing themselves at higher rates than ever – if we gave them a computer with something like Garage Band to make some music – how bored they are – how amazing some of that music would be? It’s a little frustrating.

Erin: I have heard that you were pretty inspired by the work of Heaps Decent in Australian aboriginal communities. Are you are work on something like that?

Ian: Because of all that is going on right now, it has been put on the backburner, but only just slightly . . . We need sponsorship. We need to get in touch with Pioneer or Serato or Ableton or any of those production companies where we personally use their products and see if they would be into giving us some of their product to give to communities so that it would help them with that. And maybe at the same time get some well-known producers to come up and sit with these kids and show them how they make tracks and collaborate and make tracks together. Because there is nothing more satisfying and self gratifying than that. When A Trak went down [to Australia] and worked with kids with Heaps Decent, those kids had nothing and now they have 10,000 people who have downloaded their song. I just can’t wait for that to happen to the aboriginal youth here.

Erin: It’s really about empowerment through the arts.

Ian: Empowerment through music is a way to express yourself and a way for other people to accept you.

Bear: I had a really hard time in school. I was one of those kids that was put in the learning disabled and the gifted class at the same time. They never knew what to do with me. It was through my experience outside of school with the arts and through being able to bring that into school that I was really able to do anything positive within my educational experience. I started doing video when I was in highschool and that switched it for me. I started doing video essays and things. It changed the way that I felt – from feeling really stupid most of the time to someone who had found his way to express his ideas through art. That really changed the way I felt about myself. This is something I have always remembered and carried with me. And as an individual artist I have done workshop work with aboriginal youth and in remote communities and it is something that is really important for me and really important to all of us in A Tribe Called Red. Something that we have talked about quite a bit is doing that – giving back into that idea that we can show people a lot about themselves, about their self worth, about what they can do with a lap top. We are fortunately going to get our first chance as a group to do a workshop not specifically directed towards youth in Peterborough this coming fall with Spiderwoman Theatre . . . The original idea was for us to get a bus and tour around Canada. Find funding and time. But it is definitely in the top of what were thinking of

Erin: Tell me about “Woodcarver”—the song and video piece about the shooting of John T. Williams.

Ian: I first heard about the shooting. The dashcam shooting video went viral and I got sick to my stomach as soon as I saw it. I thought to myself, at least it’s caught on camera and this cop is going to get the book thrown at him. And it is so sad that this poor guy had to die. And then six months later, the verdict comes back and he is set free and I was just completely flabbergasted and hurt and mad all at the same time. We had a meeting and I said we had to do something. We already had tracks made and I thought we could call a song “John T. Williams – look it up” or do something like that. We had a platform that people were going to listen to what we were going to say and we should probably use that properly right now and just bring some sort of awareness, because we can’t necessarily change what the judge said, but we can definitely make more people aware of the situation. Dan sprinkled a little Shub dust on a track and Bear made a movie to that and the rest is history, it took off from there.

Bear: One of my favourite things about “Woodcarver” is that Ian said, ok, I have this idea, I want to do something about this, and Dan went back to Fort Erie and again, the next morning sent us this track that he had kicked out and it was amazing and was exactly what all of us were thinking of. And then I was able to run with that idea and make the video. It was a really smooth collaboration from the inception of the idea to everyone working to put it together. In that way it is one of the pieces that I am most proud of. Also, as Ian was saying, we get more than a thousand hits a week on our Soundcloud, so it was a chance to use all those hits that we were getting to raise some awareness.

As far as the video itself, watching the dashcam video was so difficult and such a haunting piece, and when I first got it I watched it a bunch of times over, just the straight footage and what really struck me about it was, here’s this incident that is so heavy, and so telling about where things still are to this day in North America for aboriginal people. Here’s a man who was walking down the street with a legal sized blade who was shot four times in the back.

Ian: After ten seconds warning.

Bear: It’s such a heavy, loaded thing, but that day was just a day. And the dashcam footage starts with him driving his route. And after he walks out of camera and you hear the shots for that first five minutes before all the emergency crews arrive, it’s still just a day. There was something about that that really stuck with me. So that’s why there is the repetition of that whole first part in the video, where it’s like, what happened before? He’s just driving. And John T. Williams was just walking. The image of the man running in the video was just my way to say, run man, get the fuck out of there!!!

Erin: You do have a platform, a sense of responsibility and ability to comment. Is there anything you wish people thought about?

Bear: Wearing headdresses isn’t cool.

Shub: Stop wearing headdresses and whooping at our shows. Don’t do that anymore.

Erin: Really? That has happened?

Ian: Yes. I just got on the mike and said “That’s Racist. Stop!!”

Shub: This last party we had, we dropped this song that is a remix of the Atlanta Braves track, the “Tomahawk Chop”, so I figured, when we drop this, people are either going to start doing the Tomahawk Chop or something like the whooping. We kind of expected it and, sure enough, there were people in the crowd doing the “Indian calls”. We got on the microphone right away and said, that’s not cool. They seem to listen to us.

Erin: There have been a number of discussions over appropriation on the internet, but it still seems to happen.

Ian: I am more than willing to sit and talk to anyone and with a cool head explain to them exactly why it’s not cool. I started a couple of campaigns where we went against certain aspects that I personally felt, that I was being made fun of. One of them ended nicely it was about an Esko Water ad, and they took it down. All it takes is a simple conversation and nobody swearing at each other where I can explain. People typically get it. I would say 99% percent of people do.

Erin: Where do you get your clothes – like the t-shirts that say “Caucasians” instead of “Indians”?

Ian: On the internet. There’s also a guy that does Falldown gear. He’s doing the same thing we’re doing but on a fashion tip. Cool, hip, clothes with aboriginal designs on them, so we’ve been wearing a lot of that stuff too.

Bear: It blows my mind that it’s suddenly become ok again in the 2000s to wear red face. This whole Pocohontas and Brave dressing up thing and headdresses and war paint and all of this stuff is kind of like, what happened to the last thirty years of work that’s been put into working against that kind of imagery. Avatar—which was so disturbing because it was this mish mash of bits and pieces from every aboriginal culture around the world. What is interesting with what we’re doing right now and people like Robbie and other artists is that right now Indian is cool. Right now is that wearing headdresses is cool – but what’s cool is really fake, one dimensional, Hollywood image. Partially, due to that coolness, we’ve gained some popularity. In this insidious way we are starting to affect these people. The door is cracked open. And we’re going to stick our foot in it and say, ok, you want to wear a fake headdress? This is what the real deal is. This is what real pow wow music is. That’s an amazing opportunity we have right now.

Erin: And your music speaks quite loudly – literally. It’s big music.

Bear: We’re big guys. [laughing]

Erin: Any collaborations happening soon?

Shub: We are going to get the chance to work with a drum group from Montana called Midnite Express. This is going to be the first time we are going to collaborate with a drum group instead of us taking the music they have already recorded and remixing it. We are going to actually start something from scratch and work collaboratively as a presentation for Aboriginal Music Week in November, so that is something that we are really looking forward to and something that we really wanted to do from the beginning but we didn’t have the chance to. This is just one step closer to something that we want to do on a whole. We want to collaborate with more singers this way as opposed to doing it by remixing.

At the Gathering of Nations in Alberquerque there are competitions. Whoever wins there is the world’s best. We’ll call it like the DMC of pow wow. [laughter] It came down to Northern Cree and Midnite Express this year. They tied. They had one more song. Northern Cree edged it. But it was a great competition. And we get to work with them. These guys and Northern Cree are the best of the best. They are the two giant names in pow wow right now.

I’m not going to get into an argument about whether or not Jamaican music is less than inspirational these days. I think you could argue either way. I do, however, think that the very basis of ClashMusic’s statement is faulty. It was pop and R&B from which “reggae and dub forms” originated in Jamaica. Just watch this excellent short (if you haven’t already seen it) that showcases Count C: The Wizard of the West, an early soundman who played R&B and pop (as well as calypso and probably a few of mento-influenced tunes) back before ska and reggae.

Whether folks in Croatia or Europe in general like the poppy and R&B sounds of some Jamaican music, it’s always been a part of the scene. Sure, if you love sailing on a sea of dubstep wobble, it might be hard to link with the melodic strands of what seems to me (over the past month of attending dances) to be one of the biggest and best songs in Jamaica right now–Laza Morgan (ft. Mavado) “One by One”.

But after a trip to Rae Town, where the classic sounds of Klassique play everything from 50s rock and roll to 70s disco to Rick Astley (yes, Rick Astley), it’s hard not to spend time focusing on the other part of Jamaican music. Yes, Jamaica is a Bass Culture, but it’s also home to some of the most amazing melodies (and amazing singing voices for those melodies) this here music lover has ever heard. In fact, I think that “One by One” takes a little piece of smooth Lionel Richie R&B a touch of the pop personality of Madonna, and a dash of dancehall, courtesy of Mavado, to create what is a spectacularly catchy song with a melody that deserves every lick back it gets.

Aside: All this might give some insight into why Bredda Hype playing Madonna (specifically, “Like a Virgin”) and Beyonce (specifically “Single Ladies”) got such an insane reaction at last week’s Guinness Sounds of Greatness. I’m still trying to sort that out in my head.

Sure, tonight’s the night that Vybz Kartel introduces what might be called his dubplate version of Flavor of Love – love, btw, that Flavor of Love is referred to as a “parody” of a reality dating show on Wikipedia. Based on the “sneak preview”, I will probably be suitably appalled, but I’ll tune in anyway.

Thing is, I can take solace in the fact that love wasn’t always played in Da Teacha’s way. Mr. Palmer could take a lesson or two (or ten) from the fine ladies of lovers rock. From Janet Kay to Sylvia Tella (seriously, how crazy amazing is this mix of “Special Way”?) to Audrey Hall to Louisa Mark, they know how love works–along with (more recently) Richie Stephens, Tarrus Riley, and, of course, Beres, Gregory, Ken, Freddie and the Crown Prince himself, Dennis Brown (among so many others). It’s also interesting how lovers was a women-showcasing response to the racially charged environment of 1970s and 80s Britain.

Perhaps I’m alone in this, but I’d much rather hear “Each time you pass my way I’m tempted to touch” than “Ride me like a bicycle”. This aint daggering music, it’s much, much more sexy. At least I know that the folks behind the new documentary The Story of Lover’s Rock  agree with me.

It’s apparently showing next week in a bunch of cities in the UK. Check the
website for details and please, go and see it and then tell me how much I’m missing. Big up music for big people, every time.

Next time I need to talk to Snob about their collaborations...

Today Mr Vegas retweeted a Racialicious post dealing with ethics, sampling, appropriation, culture, race, collaboration and, of course, Major Lazer. I guess there’s no better time than the present to point folks towards a presentation I gave at this year’s EMP Pop Conference at UCLA. I was part of a panel called “Selling Jamaica”, alongside three excellent folks: Joshua Chamberlain, Tomas Palermo and Melville Cooke. My paper, entitled “Major Lazer, Major Money? Dancehall’s Relationship between Yard and Foreign“ talked about various collaborative initiatives–including those of Diplo and Switch. My goal was not to trash Major Lazer, but rather look at how collaborative processes work between JA and the outernational world. Won’t say too much more, but in preparation I did speak to a whole wack of people (like Dre Skull) for and about the issues I saw as being important, and at the conference I had a lot of people say to me “man, I really wish I’d come to your panel” (which, incidentally, took place at the same time that Chuck D decided to come to the conference, along with a million other great papers–so I understand if those things took precedence!). Thanks to the wonder of the internet, however, you can now check out my paper, others from the panel, and all sorts more from the conference. I’d love any thoughts or questions or comments…