Shaggy
dogamuffin style
by Micah Locilento
(ECW Press) ISBN 1-55022-523-5
Born Orville Burrell in Rae Town, Kingston Jamaica in 1968, Shaggy moved to Flatbush, Brooklyn at the age of 18 as reggae's digital revolution hit its stride and was soon a selector and DJ on New York's flourishing dancehall scene. He joined the US marines in 1988, cutting his first single Mampie, and Big Up, his first hit single, during his four years' service. He returned to civilian life to make breakthrough hit Oh Carolina, a version of Prince Buster's ground breaking early classic. This launched an international career further boosted by Boombastic in 1994, adopted for a Levi Strauss TV jeans commercial which sent the album of the same name platinum, and It Wasn't Me in 2001. Dogtastic!
It is no easy feat to reach a crossover audience, as Shaggy himself would attest, and Micah Locilento should be applauded for a concise and well-written book which makes a persuasive case for Shaggy as a serious artist and, more interestingly, the only Jamaican artist since Bob Marley to have taken reggae music to a global audience, until the recent success of Sean Paul.
Micah Locilento is well aware that for reggae purists Shaggy has done for reggae what Ali G did for rap or what UB40 did with Red Red Wine. His first point in this lucid and intelligent book is that Shaggy is indeed a serious reggae artist, steeped in Kingston's sound system culture from birth. On Prince Buster's 'Oh Carolina' he comments 'I grew up on this old tune. Peacemaker was the sound that used to play it because the kids used to sing 'Raas Bumba Claat' to it. They could curse to it so it was a hip thing." So if you ever wondered why the version to Shaggy's 'Oh Carolina' was entitled 'Raas Bumba Claat', now you know.
Since, like Shaggy himself, his book is intended for a crossover audience, Locilento offers a brisk and clear account for the general reader of the origins of Jamaican dancehall, the DJ, and the whole musical culture into which Shaggy was born. His detailed and comprehensive chapter on the innovative and groundbreaking New York dancehall scene will interest even the most knowledgeable reggae fan. Here, Locilento sets out Shaggy's early debt to Jamaican toaster Lieutenant Stitchie, with the dry comment "an entirely fresh delivery has never been a strict requirement for dancehall success." Elsewhere, he stresses Shaggy's continuing presence in the dancehall recording arena through his own 'Big Yard' label.
Nevertheless "most journalists label Shaggy a rapper, unconscious of his true musical origins". Still less the adoring teenage girls who fill auditoriums world wide to hear Shaggy perform, to whom he is given to evangelise between songs "Do you know about reggae? This music- Shaggy's music- is reggae music." Elsewhere he comments acutely that "Reggae is like a plague. If you have rock music and you put a reggae piano going straight through it, then it's not rock anymore- it just becomes reggae.'
Orville Burrell comes across as a canny, hard headed individual driven by a strong work ethic and professionalism, outspoken on the shortcomings of fellow Jamaican artists: 'almost everyone in reggae who has gotten a break has abused it. You gotta do the mileage. I do photo shots- I hate photo shoots. Whatever I do, I do it at the best of my abilities.' Shaggy is rightly unapologetic on his own hunger for success: 'Bob Marley was criticised for the same thing and so am I right now.'
On the other hand Marley archivist and general keeper of the flame Roger Steffens states 'Whatever is going on with Shaggy and many of the newer artists it certainly isn't reggae.' As chair of the Grammy screening committee, in 2001 Steffens selected Shaggy's Hotshot album for the pop rather than the reggae category. As so often in discussion of contemporary reggae, Marley's ghost is hovering in the background. Although Locilento does not explore these issues at length, Bob Marley can surely be invoked for his ambition just as readily as yardstick for some imagined purity.
Orville Burrell's 'Shaggy' is clearly an entertainment construct and none the worse for that. He's also official spokesperson for the Jamaica Tourist Board. In Jamaica recently I saw Frisco Kid promote the use of crash helmets on a TV public service commercial while another current DJ was the subject of a feature in the Star for his home cooking and mouth watering recipes. Jamaicans have no problem with the idea that their entertainers have different identities away from the mike.
At times Micah Locilento might overdo his enthusiasm, as when he states that In The Summertime 'can be compared to jazz in its use of age-old standards as a jumping off point' or that 'with each of his success stories Shaggy has broken new ground for reggae.' But overall this is an excellent book about a successful entertainer who deserves the respect of reggae fans. Even more, this is a book for a wide audience about a certain kind of reggae career, about the still largely uncomprehending relationship between reggae and the world outside Jamaica, and finally about dancehall itself.