Full'a Bulla

Hello All.

All four of you that read this, that is.... this is Flinty, the rooster that lives across the street. He came over this morning, begging for part of my breakfast.

He gobbled up toast, hunks of orange, and to my amusement, grabbed the banana peel I threw him and hauled tail-feather for the other side of the street.

Did I mention we don't have a TV?

Anyway, it's been a pretty good week. Busy driving all over "Controlling Quality" or something. The delivery guys are getting paid by the book, so they're not skipping anywhere. I keep thinking I'm going to find a pile of books behind Esso or something, but so far it's been great. I've been putting a gang of km on the car, but learning the island as well.

My job is to find out-of-the-way places that may have gotten missed, so I take all sorts of roads that I've never seen before... I dead end at the water all the time, and see some pretty great stuff.

Such as.... these mangroves at the Careenage Point, a National Maritime Sanctuary.



I also just happen to see stuff that I can't help but stop and photograph, like this fella fighting a huge tarpon off of the iron shore just up from Hog Sty Bay:



He eventually landed it, and I eventually fell down on the rocks. Nice.

Anyway, about Bulla. Bulla are these lovely little desserts made by the Caribbean Bakery. They're kind of like a cross between a cookie and a cupcake, and I eat them by the bag.



There are two types - light and dark. The one above is a Light Bulla.

The dark was our initial fave, and is flavored with molasses. We tried the light just the other day, and have eaten about 87 of them since. The light Bulla is flavored with nutmeg and almond extract, and I think "light" refers only to it's color, and not the caloric content.

Here's something funny : "Bulla" is also the latin word for "Blister."

People who know me well know exactly what's coming next....

I get blisters. Bad.

Whenever it's hot, or whenever I have to wear shoes, or just whenever, I develop large, painful blisters all over my feet. The friction of walking causes them to rise, and then makes walking incredibly slow and painful. Every vacation, every trip to camp, every everything.... I always get blisters and it makes me borderline suicidal.

WELL, after spending the last 6 months shoe-less and blister-free, I've enjoyed a reprieve from blisters. I thought, stupidly, that perhaps they were gone for good.

Then I came here. Then I put shoes on. Then I got a whole gang of these on my feet:



I know, I'm sorry... I should have posted a warning:

"Warning. If you'd like to keep your McGriddle down, read this post later, or not at all.... Check back in a few days when I'll be talking about chickens or palm trees or something."

Well, I love you too much not to give you the truth. Plus I like to use the macro setting on my camera.

Anyway, I'll be at the wedding of my incredible friend, Dr. Bryan Hughes, this weekend, and soon I'll have some wild tales of us trying to ride a llama or something after the reception.

Cheers.

Working Girl... I MEAN MAN!!! WORKING MAN!!!!!

The answer I gave so many times to the question "Why the Cayman Islands?" was: "To simplify our lives."

See how simple mine is after a couple of days back at work?

The headhunter that got me my work permit apparently reads the blog, because they knew exactly how broke I am. So, while they beg and plead with the banks down here to let me sweep the floors or carry boxes or whatever, they found me a short assignment with Caribbean Publishing.

I (for the next 2 weeks) am a Quality Control Manager, monitoring the nationwide distribution of the Cayman Islands Yellow Pages. I drive all over the island making sure everyone is getting their books, and am getting a fabulous tan while doing so. The tan is only on my right arm, but still....

Today I decided that it was time to call a Noon Business Meeting in my luxurious office at #1 Toyota Corsa Plaza, Executive Suite A. I'm a Manager, after all... that's what managers do, right? Call meetings?

WELL, only one soul showed up:




If the embedded video doesn't play, go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T5B_PBpGNqc

...to see it.

I decided to make the best of it, so we shared my peanut butter sandwich and I talked to him like I used to hear the managers at Chrysler Financial talk:

"Yeah, I'm going to need you to be a team player and really buy in to our variable responsibility model, here.... y'know, we really need you to give a 110% to this. Our chain's only as strong as it's weakest link, and frankly we need you to be a leader-breeder... We need to stick to our core values, too. There's no 'I' in team, you know - but there is in 'win.'"

Then some fat kid from a cruise ship dumped out some french fries across the parking lot, and he ran away.

"YOU COCK!!!!" I called after him. "YOU'LL BE BACK!!!!!!"

So hard to find good help these days. I was building up to a "Eagles vs. Turkeys" analogy that I thought he would particularly appreciate, but I'm glad I didn't waste it on him. He just wasn't willing to sacrifice.

You can see in the video that I had dessert warming up on the dashboard...

His loss.

Gastrofarians

The largest ex-pat community here in the Cayman Islands is definitely that of Jamaica.

Jamaica is our closest culturally-similar neighbor, and we love exploring their culinary influence on Cayman.

(Cuba is about the same distance away geographically, but not as close.. uh.. philisophically... you know, with the whole Communism thing. There is a Cuban community here, but we have not been lucky enough to spend time with any of them.
In talking with those in Cayman that have visited Cuba, we've found most are old men who visited the island while on a ship, and most of their stories discuss what women will do for a candy bar or a US $20. I'm pretty sure that there's more to Cuba than that. Cayman Airways has weekly flights to La Habana, and we're anxious to visit. Although, with our luck, we'll be there on the weekend when Castro dies and it'll be like the chaotic scenes in Godfather II, except without the private plane.)

Anyway, back to the Jamaica stuff... The pumpkin we roasted the other night was of the Jamaican variety. Here's what it looks like:



Gorgoeous, right? Here's what it looks like when it's roasted with sweet yellow onions and fresh, local thyme:



Num Nums.... we eat it with Jamaican rice & peas and baked tofu. Rice & peas is the traditional, staple side dish in Jamaica, consisting of rice made with coconut milk and red kidney beans with spices and herbs and goodness. It's counter-intuitive to eat all of this hot, savory food when it's so hot outside, but it's what everyone else does, soooo.......

Another Jamaican delight is "Festival." Festival are like little Jamaican beignets, and are made with both corn and wheat flour. They can be eaten plain as a side dish for saltfish or jerk chicken, or as a dessert with cinnamon and sugar. That's how we made them last night:



Festival got their name from the fisherman who ate them on the beach in Jamaica, noting that "Festival nice, just like festival."

So awesome, right? Any fried dough just has to be...

Caribbean cuisine is spicy, and heat is usually added with fresh "seasoning peppers" like the ones I pictured from the farmer's market. You add them to the pot whole, and pick them out before serving whatever you cooked. This technique adds a subtle heat to a dish without being too uneven or intense.

If you'd like to add heat that is in no way subtle, you reach for Lasco.



Lasco is the favorite hot sauce of Jamaica, and consists almost entirely of crushed Scotch Bonnet peppers. A Scotch Bonnet is the same pepper that is called Habañero throughout Latin America. It's hot like crazy, and I love it... I even splashed some on Soy Ice Cream the other night. That's actually not something that Jamaicans do....

....and what do you drink when you've gotten a little too liberal with the Lasco?


Ewwwwww Yeah-Yuh, Red Stripe.

Red Stripe is a Lager beer brewed in Jamaica. That alone would make me like Red Stripe even if it weren't so darn tasty.

Lager is pretty heavy for drinking in the heat, but it's worth noting that Red Stripe is second in sales in Jamaica... BEHIND GUINNESS!!!!! I'm pretty sure it's not the Irish Ex-Pat population inflating that number.... anyway, Jamaicans will also mix Red Bull energy drink with Guinness, which makes it less thick but more disgusting.

I think I'll stick with the Pumpkin and Doughnuts for now....

Everybody's Workin' for the Weekend. Everyone with Jobs, anyway.

The last time I saw that much hair it was selling me a falafel sandwich.

Aaahhhhh.... what a weekend.

I'm not sure why the last two days felt so good. I've spent the last 100-some NOT working. The house still hasn't sold. I'm still flat broke and a haircut was the most stressful thing I've done in the last X-teen weeks.... for some reason, though, this weekend was really terrific.

It started stressfully enough, though. The electricity required to run the A/C enough to maintian the 80 degrees at which we were setting it made our electric bill $250 US. SO, now we just open the windows and accept that we'll never be dry. Or comfortable.

Anyway, it occurred to me that the large screens were easy to raise form the outside, and ever since I've worried about an intruder taking what little I have here.

WELL, the intruder finally came Friday night.

A few minutes before 5, I was jarred from my moist, uncomfortable sleep by a massive crash outside the bedroom. I was up in a flash, bellowing "KRISTI, THERE'S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE!!!!!"

I ran out the bedroom door, fist balled tightly, ready to crush the skull of whatever soon-to-be-dead burglar I encountered. I wasn't completely awake, but was able to cobble together a rapid-fire run-on of alternating threats and curses, all of which were delivered at a volume that Literally made me see stars when it was all over.

The living room was clear. I took a cleansing breath, preparing to steer the Kill-Train for the front porch when I heard Kristi say "Uh, Zach, that was the shower curtain rod falling down again."

I walked back into the bedroom, red-faced and panting, fists still clenched..... Kristi saw me standing there in my undies, the look of murderous rage fading quickly into embarassed confusion, and started laughing at me.

I had just thrown myself into the den of whatever machete-wielding gang was trying to get at her, without a weapon or even PJ's, and she was laughing at me.

Well, I guess I'll think twice before defending her from Gangstas or Shower Curtain Rods EVER AGAIN!!!!!

Anyway, we went grocery shopping, and then spent the rest of the day on the beach. We did some cooking and got to bed a little earlier than usual... We never got back to sleep after my display of simian aggression, so we were "Plum Tuckered" by 9pm.

We arose early again this morning, only on purpose this time. We headed down past Georgetown to Sunset House, which is a hotel and bar right on the edge of the water.


Sunset House is a favorite of divers, as it has it's own dive shop and has instant access to deep water with great structure right down a ladder behind the bar. We were just snorkeling today, but had incredible luck in seeing all sorts of great stuff. We saw a school of Caribbean Reef Squid, which are normally very shy and rarely in so close to land. (The underwater pics aren't mine. Once the house sells I might look into some underwater gear, but until then all I can afford to do underwater is hold my breath.)


We also saw a very small, beautiful, rare Juvenile Queen Angelfish. Here's a macro shot of the what the little guy looks like:

A jewel, right?

Kristi swims at Sunset House regularly with her "healthy friends." She always lets me sleep in on mornings when she meets with them. I think it's because once I interrupted some boring marathon story with something like "I ate a whole can of frosting last night."


Kristi always comments on how many Butterfly Fish she sees there, especially those in pairs. Some types of Butterfly Fish mate for life, and if one dies, the other starves itself to death. No frosting, nothing... just dies. It's always a big deal when we see a pair of Butterfly Fish swimming... big "AWWWWWWW-Factor."

We saw so many Butterflies today that we quit pointing them out to each other. I felt really strange... almost like getting so tired of picking up dollar bills you just stop picking them up.... Anywhere else we might see one pair on a good snorkeling session... but they were everywhere here.

We saw other great stuff, too... Stingrays, a Peacock Flounder, some huge Grey Snappers, and did I mention just a GANG of Butterfly Fish!?!?!?!

The rest of the day was spent reading and relaxing on the beach, and we roasted a local pumpkin for dinner. I'll post pics and a recipe tomorrow.

Anyway, check your shower curtain rod before going to bed... I know some of you have pistols at home, and I'd hate for you to get keyed-up from this semi-amusing tale and shoot the dishwashing machine or something.

TA!

Brother Lucky Dube, Rest in Peace

The pure voice of Lucky Dube, the South African reggae singer, was silenced last night in more senseless violence.

I was saving this clip for a post on Reggae Covers of american hit songs, but I'll post it now for you to enjoy.



As he now trods Mt. Zion, he finally knows what love it.

Here's the report from the Belfast Telegraph:

Reggae star Lucky Dube shot dead in Johannesburg

Friday, October 19, 2007

The South African reggae legend Lucky Dube has been shot and killed during an apparent car-jacking in his homeland.
The 43-year-old was shot in front of his son last night while he was dropping him off in the Rosettenville suburb of Johannesburg.

Dube recorded more than 20 albums in a career spanning more than two decades and was South Africa's biggest selling reggae artist.

His killing has focused fresh attention on the country's crime rates, with an average of 50 murders recorded every day.

I am not Dry in this Heat.

During the last 5-or-so months of living like a hobo, I stopped cutting my hair.

My cousin Andrew and I made a Bother-Mothers Pact to NOT cut our hair for as long as we could stand it.

I arrived in Cayman on Monday and met with my new Employers early the next day. The wind and heat did not improve the coif, and so I arrived looking like a damned Orangutan. I also sweat through my shirt whilst still buttoning it up. I know; Ew.

Without a Mother here fussing over it, it stopped being funny, so now it looks like this :



Brother Annow Wins.

Oh, yes, there's been fresh fruit and swimming and beach walks and holding hands and all that crap, too, but I'm trying to stick to just the important stuff.

More to come. Ta!

This made me feel better....

My cousin Andrew, one of the 4 people who read this, sent this to me upon hearing of my troubles with the lawn mower.

Andrew, along with a few others, has seen me react poorly in the face of adversity.

If the cause of my problem is small, or if there is something small in the general area in which I'm experiencing frustration, I throw it. Most often, I throw it AT something else.

If the cause of my trouble is too large to throw, I stomp on it. My favorite way to stomp is a high-jump-flying-double-stomp-with-scream.

Someday, when stomping is given Olympic Status, not even the mean Russian judge will be avle to give my high-jump-flying-double-stomp-with-scream any less than a perfect 10. I'm that good. I'm like Mike Tyson and Mary Lou Retton had a kid born for nothing more than stomping. HARD!!!

Though my first instincts were to give my newly-broken mower the boot treatment, I was able to resist. Just barely.

This vid makes me happy I did.... Scot and Marla might be posting it on collegehumor.com as we speak.

Feeling Knotty....

"I'm sorry, Mr. Griffith, my supervisor is at Lunch. All Day."

That wasn't funny. I'm pretty exhausted, so you'll have to forgive the even-lamer-than-usual jokes that are coming up.

Tying up all of the loose ends that remain is the basis for the titular lame joke. Weather, Hours of Operation, Customer Service Reps at Utility Companies, Lawn Mowers, and Carmax are all doing their best to send me over the edge.

I leave Monday morning for Cayman. We bought the ticket on Thursday after getting the news on Tuesday, and I've been FREAKING OUT every day since.


I've been chipping away at my three-page-list since, and the easiest things have proven to be the most challening. The pull-starter came out of the mower halfway through the job, so I had to use my neighbor's mower without permission. The Post Office closed ten minutes early today, so I couldn't change addresses or get Kristi's passport renewal docs. Carmax just took two Elements in, so they could only offer me '86 Pinto money for my gorgeous 2005 Honda (see Craigslist for details on just HOW gorgeous....)

Lots of little losing battles have made the voices in my head Angry about this War.

...and now it's raining Cats and Dogs outside, destroying any chance of my "To Do" list getting "To Done" today.

I've been away from my wife for the better part of almost 6 months. I get to see her in 2 days. My elation at this fact comes and goes in short burts in between the machine-gun spray of To Do List disappointments, and this is what bugs me the most. Grrrrr...

My scowl was just momentarily erased. In my haste, I referred to the elation coming in "shorts bursts" instead of the intended "short bursts." Remember, no matter how bad things get, we can always laugh at pee jokes.

I have gotten to spend some marvelous time with some marvelous people, though, and that has also helped my mood.

I'll be back in 2 weeks for the wedding of Dr. Bryan Hughes, and I keep telling myself that I'll fix all of this garbage then.

We'll see.

I'll be scrambling around tomorrow and flying on Monday.... My next post will be from Cayman, and I promise I won't still be bitching about Verizon witholding the Unlock Codes for my Treo. I hope.

Finally.

WELL.... I got the email.

Work Permit Approved.

Training on how to hide money begins on Tuesday of next week. Yeah, I know...

SO, I have to sell the car, get my crap out of Laura's house, and sneak more stuff into my Parents' basement while they're out running errands.

I've been away from Kristi for the last 5 months, excepting of course the four-weeks-in-three-visits we've spent together. Almost half a year apart has SUCKED, and I'm happy to see it come to a close.

I'm worried that my Eggo-eating, Beer-Drinking, and Pants-NOT-Wearing habits are going to be "up for discussion," but at this point, I'm alright with it.

SO, Sunnier Blog Posts ahead.



TA!

Di Singjay Dem...

Greetings and Love....

I've polished off all of the rolls that Grandma sent home with me, and it's time to start talking about Reggae Music again....

The Singjay is a type of hybridized Reggae vocalist. The genre is named for their unique style, part singer and part DJ.

Combining elements of the raspy "chat" we discussed earlier with traditional Roots-style sung vocals, Singjays cover a very broad range of musical territory.

Singjays are usually very conscious, singing of equal rights and justice, ganja, love, as well as praise to Haile Selassie. (More on Rastafarianism later.)


Though they reference a lot of the same topics as Roots and Kulcha singers do, Singjays often take a more militant stance in their music. For instance, instead of urging the listener to resist the fruits of Babylon, a Singjay would call for the active participation of the listener in the destruction of Babylon.

Controversial statements regarding homosexuality have made many Singjays popular targets for GLAAD and similar groups. Though coarse, I still find their stance to be significantly less offensive than those made every day by the Falwells, Hannitys, and Limbaughs who hatred enjoys mainstream media coverage.

This is perhaps the only smudge on the genre's brilliance, but also seems to be the only fact reported by American music critics. Focusing so feverishly on such a tiny, tiny detail within the genre is wholly unfair. American hip hop artists use of much worse and more ferquest epithets is rarely mentioned by the same critics.

Anyway, allow me to step off of the soap box and onto the toes of the brilliant artists who I'll accidentally omit from the following list:

Some of my favorites include Sizzla Kalonji, Capleton, Buju Banton, Chuck Fenda, Turbulence, and many others.

Here are some video clips that I feel will help understand the genre:

Here's Capleton performing his huge hit "Jah Jah City." The video is admittedly a little silly, but it's a good example of the genre. Listen for very melodic singing and for the throaty chat. Singjays will often use very different vocal textures for different sections within a song. There is plenty of that technique here.



Marvelous, right?

Another of our favorites is Sizzla, who has released more than 40 albums... and he's only like 30 years old....

This is his live performance at the VO 25th Anniversary concert in Miami (the same one at which Elephant Man danced with the little girl - posted below.... scroll on down....)



Sizzla makes crowds go insane... I'm both eager and terrified to see him perform.

Here's another Sizzla clip in which he takes a little more delicate approach to the song. "Thank U Mama" was a big hit in Jamaica, and the video has some of the best production I've seen come from the Jamaican scene...



So sweet... I always check priceline for trips to Jamaica after watching that video.... I want to take a bath by the road... I want to ride the bus with a drum... I want to dance around in a rushing river..... but instead I make some Eggos and pout.

One more? Oh, alright...

Chuck Fenda's "I Swear" was a huge hit on the "5th Element" riddim. This song features both melodic singing and rough chat, so it's a good representation of Singjay vocal performance.



Alright, that's enough for today.

My work permit had better come through soon.... I'm running out of Reggae to blather on and one about....

BLESS UP!!!

Un Descansito from Reggae...

Are you getting sick of Reggae Stuff yet?

Laura and I took the drive out to Louisiana, Mo, this weekend to visit Grandma Mary Ellen. It was a marvelous time, and we were incredibly sad to leave. Grandma's cooking and conversation were absolute perfection.

She sent us home with homemade cherry pie and her incredible dinner rolls, which I did my best to finish before we arrived home.



We attended Sunday services at Calument Presbyterian Church, which celebrated it's One-Hundred-and-Fiftieth Anniversary a couple of weeks ago.

Some of the founding members were Griffiths, which got me excited about geneology... I wonder what the Georgetown library in Cayman will have in the way of birth records from Eastern Missouri?

It was while on the road to Louisiana that Laura asked if I was done with the (insert overly dramatic yawn here) Reggae posts.

I informed her that while I am NOT done with the Reggae posts, I AM done NOT peeing in the sink at her house.... so there.

I bought some nightcrawlers at the vend-a-bait machine outside a Vandalia gas station, which are currently night-crawling around under the seat of her car. I can't wait for her to meet her new friends on the way to work tomorrow.

Anyway, I should get word on my Work Permit by mid-week, and the posts will be much sunnier from there on. Approved or Denied, I'm going straight to Cayman once I hear from them. I'm not sure they're hip to the plan, but they'll be my host whether I'm working with a permit or drinking rum as a "legal dependant." I'm fine either way...

Triple. Dog. Dare.

I mean it, I'm good at sitting down, and I'm good at drinking rum. I've practiced.

**note** - If any of the fine members of the Cayman Work Permit Board read this, it's just another lame stab at "humor," or "humour" as you guys spell it.... I meant all that stuff in my application about culture and eagerness... I'd also like to do some volunteering... Uh, yeah... I'll do that.... No problem, I'm Great with children.

....and here's a picture of a stuffed pig that my Uncle Eddie got in Korea....



See? Hilarious... children love this stuff.

SO, just approve me. I'll be happy, Kristi will be happy, Laura will be happy to regain control of her guest room... plus my work ethic is downright FEVERISH by Caribbean standards....

C'mon. Please.

Anyway, here's something else:

Kristi has an incredible friend from Ireland named Leah Bryans. Leah has a neighbor back home named Caiomhe, which is pronounced "Kee-VA." (You know, in Gaelic... like how 'Siobahn' is pronounced "Shavon" and 'Dublin' is pronounced "Gypsies Stole My Digital Camera.")

Leah sent this picture of Caiomhe to us, and we are in agreement that it is possibly the greatest picture on Earth.



...and with that, I'll leave you...

More on Reggae, nightcrawlers, and Ben 'n Jerry's Cinnamon Bun Ice Cream later...

Hot Shottaz....

Modern Dancehall is a very intricate, exciting genre that defies categorization. The easiest way to explain it to a non-listener would be as the "Hip Hop" of Jamaica.

Dancehall retains the melodic, sing-song flow of it's roots, but the subject matter is decidedly more contemporary. While some artists still call out dance moves, most rely on the "Three G's" of dancehall for their lyrical content. Guns, Girls, and Ganja.

One refreshing difference between American Hip-Hop and Dancehall is the rarity of references to personal wealth. This is mostly because very few Danchehall D.J.s have earned anything close to what even modestly succesful rappers in America make. Though the money may not be there, I personally feel that the creative output of even modestly-succesful Dancehall D.J.s eclipses even the most succesful American Rappers. Hard.


The output of the Dancehall scene is in staggering contrast to that of the American scene. Few D.J.s release full albums, relying instead on constant streams of singles, usually on 7" vinyl. Some release almost 75-100 per year.....

Imagine if Kanye West released song every 3 days... Maybe that's a bad example... he talks about himself enough, I think.

Anyway, I'll post some clips to avoid getting into capillary-like minutiae that no one cares about except me.

Here's Bounty Killer, a.k.a. The Warlord, on his incredible track "Sufferah." This Concious track is a bit of a departure from his normal "Three G's" material. You may recognize BK's powerful baritone from the American Hit by No Doubt, "Hey Baby." He was the guest artist towards the end of the track.



One D.J. that still calls out dance moves is the Energy God "Elephant Man." Kristi and I have seen Ele live, and it truly wears you out - even if you're not dancing along. Frenetic tempos, machine-gun-blast vocal delivery, and a very enthusiastic crowd make it an intense and incredible experience.... especially when you're the only two white folks in the room.

"Pon di River" was a huge hit AND dance move in Jamaica. Here's Ele in Miami at the VP Records 25th Anniversary show:



You saw the crowd, right? Imagine Kristi and I cowering in the back....

Our favorite D.J. has to by the incredible slack genius, Vybz Kartel. His dense vocal texture, wicked wordplay, and unbelievable versatility make him impossible not to admire. His subject matter is occasionally a little much for our delicate ears, but his genius cannot be denied.... He's like Michael Jackson in Jamaica, without the... uh, you know... pedophilia.

Anyway, since he's our fave deejay, he gets two clips. First, the toungue-twisting "Gun Session."



..and his smash hit "Emergency," which decries the Governmental Corruption and Violence in Kingston.

This a very Michael Jackson-like mini-movie-style video, but was WAY cutting edge for Dancehall.



One not-too-subtle stab at the Jamaican Governmental Structure sponsorship of violence goes:

Mr. Bruce, Mr. P.G., this is just a couple questions from Addy the D.J.
Question : Kingston make no A.K.
Question : So how them come inna J.A.
Who own the Docks and the Airport, the Wharf and the Plane?

Obviosuly, I Americanized the prose, but you get the message.

Anyway, Dancehall isn't for everybody, but it sure is for me.... Nothing helps me rid myself of aggresion and hostility like pumping these increidlbe tracks. I'm still not tough, but it makes me feel better.

Alright, more Reggae coverage to come.... one my work permit comes I'll go back to taking pictures of Ghost Crabs and Fruit trees and you won't have to hear any more about my musical obsession.....

TA!

Oh yeah, and this....

I know it has nothing to do with car registration, Eggo Waffles, or reggae music, but this was just too marvelous not to share:



Harold Lloyd o' London Hayes in a rare, live performance from his kitchen in Rolla, Mo.

D.J. inna di Dancehall....

I'm Zafari, strong as can be, and I update my blog with regularity.

Ann and David will get that one.

Anyway, the new car tags for which I registered have not yet arrived, so I guess I'm Legally not supposed to be driving my car right now. It did kind of irk me that I had to pay $25 bucks to buy a one-year tag for a car that I will be using for about one week, give or take.... but I can't sell it with an expired tag, so I had no choice.

SO, I'm stuck at Laura's house, waiting for the mail to bring me two small "keep me out of jail" stickers, and decided not to make you wait a full week to roll your eyes at my un-funny jokes.

Brace yourselves.... more reggae stuff coming up.



The role that Soundsystem Yard Parties (discussed a couple of posts ago) played in the evolution of different Reggae Styles cannot be overstated. Rainy tropical weather put out many "backayard fyah" and so Soundsystem operators began taking their operations indoors.

The formation of these Dancehalls spawned a completely new reggae sub-genre that was named for the place where it was played - Dancehall.

The term "D.J." (or "deejay") in Jamaica refers to a vocalist that sings or rhymes over a track. What Americans call D.J.s are referred to as "Selectors," (pron. 'Selectas') because they select the tunes over which the D.J. will rhyme, or as they say, "chat."
At first, D.J. chat was limited to announcing song titles and calling out dance moves. This evolved into singing alog with tracks and eventually performing over instrumental tracks, creating original songs on-the-spot.

The "chat" still had a very melodious flow, but was not true singing. Here's a short clip of early Dancehall artist "Nicodemus" chatting at a Soundsystem Yard Party.



Dancehall Deejays were "chatting" over bass-and-drum heavy tracks in the mid-70's, long before the "invention" of hip-hop in New York City.

Upon analyzing the geneology of hip-hop, a very clear line can be traced from Kingston to the Jamaican Immigrant neighborhoods in NYC to Harlem street parties in which young men started chatting, or as they called it, "rapping" over bass-and-drum heavy instrumental tracks. Late-70's Dancehall sounds almost identical to early hip-hop, the only real difference being vocabulary and accent.

Here are some clips of artists that were crucial to the emergence of Dancehall reggae:

The famous, albino Dancehall D.J. "Yellowman" performing at Reggae Sunsplash in 1982:



- a quick aside - After spending 3-4 nights per week for the last 4 years playing in bars, witnessing countless fights and a couple all-out brawls, I never so much as bumped another man in a bar. We've dealt with all kinds of drunken shitheads, but I'm just not wired for physical violence.

The closest my streak ever came to being broken was at the King Yellowman show at the Grand Emporium a couple of years ago. I held up an extremely rare "Yellowman and Fathead" LP for Yellow to sign, which he did after showing it to all of the members of his band. He later told me that even he didn't have his own copy of that album.

After signing it, he held it out to me, and before I could reach it, this Bumbaclot Jamaican snatched it from his hand. I reacted poorly, but effectively, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and holding my fist to his face - 50's comic book style. (See? Not a fighter, no no.)

After demading the return of my album in no uncertain terms, he reluctantly capitulated, though I think it was due more to my rabid frothing than my intimidating physique. Either way, the album was safe and Kristi had, if possible, even less respect for me than ever before....

Anyway, here's Super Cat, an artist at who's concert I have not embarassed myself. Yet.



...and finally, Dancehall Singer "Barrington Levy," known as the "Mellow Canary" for his laid back style and the soaring putiry of his upper vocal range.



Marvelous, huh?

Modern Dancehall has followed an evolutionary arc similar to that of Modern Hip-Hop, retaining it's melodious, sing-song sound. I'll have a full post for you this week on Modern Dancehall.

Until then, picture me looking really tough in a room full of dancing Jamaicans....