The death of Mr Lowell Fillmore “Sly” Dunbar on Monday marks more than the passing of a master drummer; it signals the silencing of one of the most consequential rhythmic forces in modern music.

From the moment he began playing on tin cans, inspired by Mr Lloyd Knibbs and the Skatalites — as he shared in a 1997 interview — Mr Dunbar’s destiny was tied to the heartbeat of reggae.

Over five decades, that heartbeat pulsed through thousands of recordings, shaping not only reggae’s global ascent, but the sound of popular music itself.

As a drummer, he was peerless — precise yet inventive, rooted yet restless. His work on tracks like Bob Marley’s Punky Reggae Party and Dave and Ansell Collins’ classic Double Barrel demonstrated a rare ability to balance groove and innovation — an ability that cemented his status as a legend.

History will remember him most as one-half of Sly & Robbie, whose partnership with bassist Robert Shakespeare earned them the moniker “Riddim Twins”. They redefined what a rhythm section could be. Together, they were not merely accompanists; they were architects.

Their early work with the Revolutionaries at Channel One studio ushered in what became known as “rockers”, a heavier, more syncopated approach that injected new urgency into reggae.

In the 1970s they became indispensable to artistes like Messrs Gregory Isaacs, Dennis Brown, and Barrington Levy while touring the US with another Jamaican music great, Peter Tosh.

Legend has it that during that period Sly & Robbie lived on bread and water, hoping to save enough money to start their own production company. That dream became reality in 1980 with the founding of Taxi Records, a label that nurtured a new generation of Jamaican artistes such as Shaggy, Shabba Ranks, Beenie Man, Red Dragon, and Black Uhuru, ensuring reggae’s continuity and evolution.

It wasn’t surprising, therefore, that Sly & Robbie’s reach extended far beyond Jamaica. Their work on Grace Jones’s Nightclubbing cracked open the global pop and rock market, leading to collaborations with major artistes such as Bob Dylan, Madonna, Joe Cocker, Sinead O’Connor, and The Rolling Stones.

It is reported that at the New Music New York Festival in 1979 producer Mr Brian Eno said: “When you buy a reggae record, there’s a 90 per cent chance the drummer is Sly Dunbar.”

That was not hyperbole; it was recognition of omnipresence.

Quite rightly, Mr Dunbar was vested with the Order of Distinction by the Jamaican Government and in October 2015 the Institute of Jamaica awarded him and Mr Shakespeare (who died in 2021) the Musgrave Gold Medal for “distinguished eminence” in the field of music.

The duo also won Grammy awards in 1985 and 1999, and in 2025 Mr Dunbar received the Lifetime Achievement Award from the University of Minnesota.

We suggest that honouring Sly and Robbie should not end with medals and memorials. To truly cement their legacy, their work should be formally archived and digitised, with a national repository dedicated to session musicians whose contributions often go uncredited.

Second, music education curricula — here and abroad — should study Sly & Robbie not as footnotes, but as central innovators in rhythm, production, and cross-genre collaboration.

Third, a permanent institution or scholarship in their names, focused on music production, would ensure that young musicians inherit their technical brilliance and work ethic.

These masters of rhythm carried reggae from Kingston to the world. Preserving that legacy is not nostalgia, it is responsibility.