In the late 1970s, reggae was not yet a clearly defined genre for those living far from Jamaica. Rather, it was a vibration arriving from somewhere else, a warm, magnetic echo steeped in mystery. For me, it all began there, among worn-out vinyl records, deep bass lines that seemed to move the air rather than fill it, and the feeling that something greater lay hidden behind every rhythm: a story, a form of resistance, a spirituality. Names such as Bob Marley and Burning Spear were gateways, but before long the pull shifted in another direction, towards the darker, more hypnotic side of that music, towards dub. More than a genre, dub was a radical act: subtracting to reveal, removing the voice to let the echo speak, transforming the mixing desk into an instrument and the studio into an alchemical laboratory. Figures such as Lee “Scratch” Perry and King Tubby redefined […]
