Imagine Jamaica at the end of 
                  the 1950s, already gripped by Independence fever as the new 
                  nation prepares for the lowering of the flag in 1962. In 
                  downtown Kingston the sound systems are booming and 
                  competition for the freshest tunes is ferocious. Of course the 
                  imported sounds of American rhythm & blues won’t satisfy 
                  these souls, so, at about that time, the coming of an 
                  indigenous Jamaican music for the masses was 
                  inevitable.
  But this celebratory combination of 
                  nationalism and commercialism had another powerful element – 
                  Africa. Religion, in the form of Pocomania, and the drum music 
                  traditions of Burru and Kumina survived transportation to be 
                  embraced in Jamaica where Africanism was clung to fiercely and 
                  slave revolts were far more commonplace than on any other 
                  Caribbean island. Much later, Rastafari’s sophisticated drum 
                  ensembles would provide a living example of these ancient 
                  traditions, while the burgeoning music industry was never slow 
                  to absorb those influences. 
  Add to this a generation 
                  of classically-trained musicians, who had embraced bebop 
                  jazz’s sense of adventures, and crowds who just want to dance 
                  and it’s little wonder that this tiny island – a population 
                  half the size of London’s – has become such a force in global 
                  music. 
  Music is not Jamaica’s only gift to the world, 
                  but it is how so many Jamaicans chose to define themselves. 
                  People will talk about how music and singing lifted the 
                  spirits through slavery and colonialism as well as being a 
                  weapon against political corruption and civil disorder. It 
                  gave the poor people a voice and something to call their own, 
                  celebrated the joys of life on the tropical island and spread 
                  One Love throughout the world. 
  For fifty years, the 
                  natural medium for this music has been the sound system 
                  dances, with, traditionally, commercial recordings and release 
                  schedules playing second fiddles to these awesome 
                  ghetto-centric situations. Thus, for as long as there’s been 
                  Jamaican music it’s remained inseparable to the people and the 
                  environment responsible for it. Reggae remains one of the 
                  world’s last genuine folk musics. 
 
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