Growing up in Jamaica during the tumultuous 1970s and 1980s, I witnessed firsthand the devastating impact of political violence and tribal gang warfare. The sounds of gunfire and sirens punctuated my childhood, and the streets were often stained with blood and dead bodies, the results of vicious fights that would take place overnight. I did not grow up in the inner city ghettos of Kingston, I was raised in a middle-class home with professional parents. I was not, however, immune to the genocide that was taking place in the poorer communities. Kingston is a small place, so you cannot avoid what goes on in the different communities.

While working with my father, who had his own civil engineering and construction company, I ventured into volatile garrison communities to execute government contracts. That is also where I was exposed to the hard realities of the poor communities in Kingston, and it is also where I cultivated relationships with a wide array of personalities, ranging from thugs to clergy. However, it is also where I was first exposed to the raw underground street music called dancehall.

Yet, amid the chaos and violence, music became my partial solace. I found refuge in the vibrant sounds of Jamaican music, from Mento to electronic dancehall. My upcoming book is not only an historical exploration of this genre, but also a personal journey. I delve into how music helped me to navigate part of the treacherous landscape of my youth and how it continues to shape my perspective of life today.