Lisa Biagiotti | multimedia journalist

Worldfocus: One island, two Jamaicas and a ‘whole heap’ of difference

I was the correspondent, writer and editor of the video story One island, two Jamaicas and a ‘whole heap’ of difference, which aired on Worldfocus on Oct. 1, 2009.

Jamaican society can be divided along class, language and culture lines. It’s rich vs. poor, English vs. Patois and uptown vs. downtown.

Correspondent Lisa Biagiotti, producer Micah Fink and director of photography Gabrielle Weiss examine the public debate that erupted earlier this year when graphic Dancehall music lyrics and images were banned from Jamaica’s airwaves. The public responses reveal the legacy of two Jamaicas dating back to the country’s slave history.

Worldfocus: No daggerin’ on Jamaican TV and on Worldfocus

This article was published on Worldfocus.org: No daggerin’ on Jamaican TV and on Worldfocus.

Correspondent Lisa Biagiotti reported the signature story One island, two Jamaicas and a ‘whole heap’ of difference with Micah Fink and Gabrielle Weiss of the Pulitzer Center. Lisa shares why Worldfocus didn’t broadcast daggerin’ images, addresses the realities of rampant violence and adolescent sex and recounts how some Jamaican artists are singing more uplifting gospel Dancehall music.

At the center of the music ban in Jamaica is daggerin’. Earlier this year, Jamaica’s national broadcasting commission banned sexually-explicit and violent lyrics and images related to daggerin’.

Worldfocus — based in New York City, not Kingston — also decided not to air these images because we thought our audience might be alarmed by the graphic nature of the dance. (Tell us below what you think of the daggerin’ images!) We didn’t mention daggerin’ in our video story because it begged the question…what is daggerin’?

Americans usually refer to this form of dancing as “freaking,” “bumping and grinding” or “dry-humping.” Urban clubs across the U.S. are packed with young people doing the American version of daggerin’.

In Jamaica, opponents of daggerin’ have described the dance as having sex with clothes on and even framed it as an aggressive, violent rape. Essentially, a woman bends over while a man pounds against her to the beat of the music. They liken the dance to a dagger stabbing piece of meat, violently and repeatedly.

The daggerin’ dance and the music that goes along with it slit Jamaican society. The Christian moral guard said children were overexposed to sex at an immature age. The defenders of Dancehall said the music mirrored the life and pressures in Jamaica’s poorest ghettos.

Turf wars and teen pregnancies

But behind the public music clash lurks the reality of rampant violence and adolescent sex in Jamaica.

Last year, 1,600 people were murdered mainly because of turf wars and reprisal killings. But this is still four to five murders a day for an island the size of Connecticut with a population of 2.8 million. (Most murders are confined to waring communities and the result of turf wars and reprisal killings.)

As for sex, approximately 80 percent of children are born out of wedlock and 35 percent of Jamaican women are pregnant by age 19.

Put down the gun and praise the Lord to the tune of gospel Dancehall

Not all Dancehall music is “murder music,” and not all of it is so sexually charged it could electrocute you. The Dancehall genre can be broken down into three streams: hardcore (explicit), mainstream (radio and TV friendly) and gospel (uplifting and positive).

The Worldfocus feature story One island, two Jamaicas and a whole heap of difference focused on the hardcore Dancehall variety, examining Jamaican society through the lens of the public debate on daggerin’ music. Hardcore Dancehall has gained international airplay, but has also come under attack abroad. Concerts of Jamaican singer Buju Banton are currently being canceled in the U.S. because gay groups are saying his lyrics advocate the killing of homosexuals.

As for mainstream Dancehall, lyrics must be sanitized or changed completely for air play. For example, “Rampin’ Shop” became “Dumpling Shop.” The tune and rhythm were the same, but the lyrics were child-proofed.

When I was in Jamaica late last spring, I stopped over at Roots FM, a community-based radio station that pumps positive music and conversation into the inner cities. Every week, Dudley Thompson hosts “What’s the Verdict” — an American Idol styled contest where callers can vote on songs from emerging artists. The gospel Dancehall song “Same Gun” by Xtreme had won the contest. The song traces the cycle of violence committed by one gun that kills a person, is stolen and used again until it it is put down. The young artists of Xtreme, Chris D and Lyrical, dedicated the song to their three slain friends and hope their music encourages more peace and love.

LISTEN to Chris D and Lyrical’s song “Same Gun:”

Joel Harrison, known as Kruddy, is a DJ at 876radio.com and supports the music ban, believing that Dancehall artists are now forced to be more creative and are singing about the recession and fathers abandoning their children. Critics aren’t convinced the ban has had any real effect on artists because the realities in Jamaica’s inner city have not changed.

Keepin’ it safe with Daggerin’ condoms

And for his part, Vybz Kartel, whose sexually-explicit song “Rampin’ Shop” provoked the ban, has come out with a line of Daggerin’ condoms. Now you can dagger away to his sexually-explicit music, and should you feel compelled to take off your clothes, you’re equipped with his Daggerin’ brand of condoms.

- Lisa Biagiotti

Worldfocus: Dancehall artist sings of poverty plaguing Jamaica’s ghettos

Correspondent Lisa Biagiotti reported on HIV, AIDS and homophobia in Jamaica for The Glass Closet, a multimedia project produced by the Pulitzer Center and Worldfocus. Lisa reported the signature story One island, two Jamaicas and a whole heap of difference with Micah Fink and Gabrielle Weiss.

Grace Hamilton, known as Spice, is one of Jamaica’s most prominent Dancehall artists. She and Vybz Kartel came under attack for their duet “Rampin’ Shop.” Not all of Spice’s songs are so sexually graphic. In the video below, Spice talks (and sings) about growing up in Jamaica’s ghettos.

Queens Tribune: Living The Hip-Hop Life In Corona

Inside All the Right’s Corona location.

At first glance, a high-end urban lifestyle boutique seems out of place above the Kennedy Fried Chicken on Junction Boulevard in Corona.

The wafting odor of fried chicken and the high-pitched sounds of electronic toys of the Chinese wholesaler next door could easily distract from what’s in between: a minimalist 10-foot-wide brick wall painted black.

Two brass-potted shrubs flank the glass entrance, and except for a black-and-white flag on the building’s second floor, All the Right boutique is almost invisible.

Owner George Landin said All the Right has transitioned from a record store with a recording studio and barber shop to a high-end apparel boutique in accordance with hip-hop’s four elements: DJ (disc jockey), MC (Master of Ceremonies), B-boy (break dancer), and graffiti.

Since 1998, All the Right has been a fixture in this working-class, mostly Latino neighborhood, attracting local rappers and graffiti artists and generating buzz by word of mouth as far away as Japan. Landin, who grew up in Corona, is now in the process of expanding All the Right’s vision and vibe to Los Angeles where he is scheduled to open another store in late February.

“I’m 36 years old, I’ve seen it, I lived it, I went to the clubs, I was a DJ, it’s natural,” said Landin, who sported a midnight blue oversized leather jacket, baggy Levi’s jeans, Air Jordan sneakers and a black baseball cap. “My whole movement, my whole life is hip-hop.”

His wedding band’s three diamonds flashed as he spoke with his hands about cherry picking limited items of exclusive men’s and women’s apparel and sneakers. His loyal customers often climb the narrow staircase to check whether the new shipments have arrived, or to pick up graffiti supplies from Japan and Germany and pre-released hip hop albums.

According to Landin, the hip-hop lifestyle component isn’t part of some corporate branding strategy. At a time when clothing stores emphasize lifestyle and the shoppers’ experience, All the Right has always embodied the way Landin lives.

“[It] comes from here,” Landin said, patting his chest. “I do it out of love; I don’t do it because it’s hot.”

Ulises Rivera, 20, of Corona, stopped by to hang out for three hours before work at the T-Mobile store on Junction Boulevard. Rivera has been a customer throughout All the Right’s phases – hair cuts, vinyl records, and now, clothes and sneakers.

“George looks out for people, it’s not just a sale,” said Rivera. “It’s like your father’s barber shop, with more of an ambiance; it’s more than just a place to shop.”

And to Landin, All the Right goes beyond being an offbeat shop ahead of the fashion curve. It’s part of his “hood” – an often overlooked place where rappers from Corona influenced and shaped hip-hop.

“This is like headquarters to certain people, we chill,” said Landin, whose friends and customers stop by to listen to music, strike up conversations on upcoming rap albums and little-known fashion lines, or create pieces on the store’s outdoor graffiti wall or ceiling tiles.
“This ‘hood has a mixture of everything – good, bad, ugly,” said Landin. “A little bit of everybody, somewhere, somehow.”

But with the boutique’s high ticket items like a $1,300 custom-made, chrome, low-rider bike, $500 Nike sneakers made out of tennis ball material, and designer denim that costs up to $400, who shops here?

“This is an exclusive shop in Queens,” said Che Williams, 30, of Flushing, and founder of Rotten Apple Wear urban street apparel. “You usually have to go down to SoHo. That’s why [Landin] gets all my money here.”
Johnny Castellanos, 20, said he drives an hour and 40 minutes every two weeks from Brentwood, L.I. to shop at All the Right.

“I wear anything that goes with my sneakers,” said Castellanos, who said he owns about 70 pairs. “I have to leave with something every time.” He purchased jeans and a black, turquoise and purple sweatsuit, which matched his Air Jordan sneakers.

After almost 10 years in business, All the Right is planning to elevate its exclusive urban vibe out in L.A., where a still-unnamed 2,000 square-foot-store near Rodeo Drive would sell home accessories, apparel for men and women, vintage eyewear, and random vintage items like an old sewing machine, according Landin’s partner, who goes by the name Moonshine.

Landin and Moonshine said the West Coast store would represent the same All the Right customer – the hardcore graffiti artist and skater, but more refined and grown up.
“[Our L.A. customer] still likes the cool T-shirts but now he wants a cool lamp for his living room. He now owns an apartment,” said Moonshine. “You have to be able to connect to your customer; we connect because we live the same lifestyle.”

And for Landin that means keeping All the Right rooted in his hometown of Corona with no plans to open another store in the five boroughs.

“I try to show people it’s not only Manhattan, Uptown or Brooklyn,” said Landin. “Why go that far when I’m here?”

All the Right is located at 35-61 Junction Blvd. in Corona. Call (718) 899-7685.