Sound, music!

Come my queen, take hands with me,

And rock the ground

Whereon these sleepers be.

– Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream IV,1

Let’s rock the ground indeed, disturb the sleepers with no regard for the Night Noises Act, with Rampin Shop, Daggering and all the music and dances that bombard us. I should have been a deejay, but before I jump on the wagon of musical currency, here’s a little tidbit from a female reader in response to last week’s More Money, Better Loving.

Hail Teerob,

A weak, I feel weak, all these years you had it correct, and it’s now that the research has been done that people are going to believe you. I knew it all the time. You have me in bed with laughter. Well done.

Jan

Let me make it clear, I never had her in bed, nor do I know the lady, but I do appreciate her comments as well as the many letters from the other ladies who actually surprised me with their comments about women being turned on by men with money. I shall start saving and investing even more astutely.

But now it’s on to the flavour of the month, the controversy about the music, Rampin Shop and the whole daggering syndrome. Daggering, to thrust repeatedly like with a dagger, a stabbing motion. Ramping Shop, to ramp or play in my shop; opposite: to ‘lock shop’ deny men sex. Dancehall dictionary. It’s all the rage, on talk shows, radio and TV, newspapers, verandah talk, church talk, bar talk, street talk, so I have to give my two cents worth.

Naturally I had to hear the lyrics of the Rampin Shop song first, and I don’t mean the edited version either, but the raw, uncut version. This I got courtesy of my agent on the streets, Squidly, who promptly e-mailed me the music. I must say, I was enthralled and fascinated by the catchy beat and lyrical content of Rampin Shop and I can understand why it has caught on so, and permeated the minds and psyche of the younger generation. It’s sheer poetry, it’s catchy as heck and had me playing it over and over, strictly for the research, I keep telling myself.

I was brought back to reality when my lady friend, looking over my shoulder at the computer, simply said, ‘Disgusting.’ And disgusting it is too, but at the same time brilliant in its creativity. It’s a pity this creative thought could not be put to more positive use, a positive message to our youth. What was even more appalling to me was that a female could actually sing in tandem with a male deejay using those lewd lyrics. Did I say lewd? I meant hard core, sexual, salacious, demeaning and disturbing. So much so that this good friend of mine, upon hearing Rampin Shop for the first time, promptly sent off a copy of it to the prime minister, along with a strongly worded letter about what should be done about songs like these.

Over the years I have watched how the lyrical content of dancehall songs sank deeper and deeper into the quagmire of depravity. And when you thought that they couldn’t go any lower, wham, they hit you with ‘daggering’. And when that did not give the most unkindest cut of all, as Shakespeare said, blam, they came with Rampin Shop, a brilliant, masterful piece of music, but unfortunately a sad reflection on our sinking social and moral values. Have they reached the nadir, the lowest of the low? More to come, for our creativity is boundless.

Now, I am no prude, anyone who knows me, know that I will wine with the best of them, and I will dance the blouse off any willing and able dance partner who wishes to go a few rounds with me. But Lord man, the lyrics of Rampin Shop are simply disgusting and degrading, and bleeping out the offending words is nonsense too, for everyone knows what I mean when I say, “My p… bigger than me knife, come a want yu fi f.out mi tripe, and mek me p. spin like satellite dish.” Come now, who do you think those silly bleeps are fooling? The children, some as young as four years old, know the lyrics of the song, and they also know that it’s wrong, for they do say, “I don’t sing it mek mi modder hear.”

I asked some about it, and the responses were heartening to me, for they all said, “We hear it, but we don’t like the words.” These were from boys and girls between the ages of 12 and 16. Or were they just telling me what they thought I wanted to hear? And yet, there are many who love it. One, from a proverbial ‘prominent high school’, told me how it’s on the ring tones of many cell phones of girls at her school, and how just last week one went off during RE class. RE, Religious Education of all the classes for the music of Ramping Shop to go off in. I savour the irony.

But why are the young drawn to songs with lyrics like these, know them by heart even though they are sung so rapidly, yet if you ask them to recite their seven times table they cannot do it? “I don’t know what seven times five is, teacher, but I can sing Rampin Shop for you at graduation if you want.” Could we not somehow utilise the methodology of these deejays in our classrooms to make schoolwork stick?

Since the deejays are role models and heroes, could they not be used in a positive way to help educate our youth? But maybe I’m just whistling in the dark, spitting in the wind, chasing windmills. The fact is, we are all exposed to music like Rampin Shop and the daggering songs, and because of the beat, and catchy, even though negative, lyrics, they are infectious, and they make you move. Even those who curse them secretly twitch to the rhythm and are drawn to hear them again and again…for the research. Everyone who I play it for always says, “Let me hear it again.” If you take public transport, your eardrums will be inundated with the lyrics of Rampin Shop and daggering songs. “But the playing of music on public transport should be banned,” my friends say. But it is banned, and yet they play and play. Nowhere in the world have I heard music being played on public transport, and in foreign not even your own radio you can play without the use of earphones. And yet, out here Rampin Shop can blast your tympanic membranes to bits.

Clyde McKenzie, writing in last week’s Sunday Observer said, “I am a strong proponent of the position that no music whatsoever should be played on public transportation. The reason is simple, all passengers should have the right to peace and quiet.” And yet, flying in the face of that is the fact that many young people, schoolers, seek out the buses that play Rampin Shop and other songs of the daggering persuasion. “Come Barbara, me not taking this bus for hin nuh have any nice music like Rampin Shop.”

Supply fulfilling demand, or demand creating the supply, what came first, the chicken or the egg? Lyrics like Rampin Shop and those daggering songs didn’t just spawn out of thin air, but they grew, nurtured and fed by a too tolerant society that revels in double standards. Remember the calypso and Soca songs that we all found so risqué and amusing? Remember Carnival where people were ‘wining’ and ‘grining’ on the streets in the broiling ‘sun hot’ with no regard for who saw them simulating the sex act? Even simulated gang banging took place as men piled on to women, perfect strangers, who lay prone, on their backs in the streets. They even had Kiddie Carnival and those kids would make your granny blush.

That was the genesis, but the only difference is, our deejays gave it a name. Well see it deh now, everyone running up and down with righteous indignation. We don’t ramp, we don’t play, we don’t pet and powder, we don’t risqué, we don’t hint, we don’t subtle, we call it what it is. We haven’t got the finesse and subtlety to be cute and charmingly witty, but we ram it inna dancehall style. hard, and we nuh ramp neither.

The wind was sown and we now reap the whirlwind. Now there is talk of banning them from the airwaves. Maybe it’s too late for this generation, as it should have been done long ago. And then, there’s the danger of censorship. They banned the Tango in Argentina many years ago, but they simply went underground. Now it’s the national dance of that country. It’s a tough call, and the horse has already bolted, and try as they might, they can’t stop the music. But we can control what our children are exposed to. The responsibility is yours.

“Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have, to wear away this long three hours?” Shakespeare. ramping.

More time.

seido1@hotmail.com

Footnote: I’m not belabouring the point, but this whole Michael Phelps saga, caught on film with a bong in his mouth, really disturbs me for its hypocrisy. So the IOC gave him a three-month suspension, in the off season I must add and he lost a few endorsements. Big deal. Can you imagine if our own Usain Bolt was caught with a spliff, much less a bong? Not only would he be banned for years, but all his medals and records would be taken away, plus they would label our entire team as druggies, just like how that foreign newspaper labelled us Druggie Paradise. I’m begging you athletes, don’t even spell the word smoke, don’t even go near to anyone who’s smoking, don’t even take aspirin, for trust me, it’s us against the world and they’re waiting for us to slip up. And fans, don’t smoke near them either, for second-hand smoke is equally detectable.