Understanding Sound System Culture With Sound Artist Ben Selig

To many, the end of August (and summer as a whole, however short lived it was this year) signals to one thing only; it’s Carnival time. Come bank holiday weekend, millions will descend on Notting Hill for a joyous celebration of Caribbean music and culture.

The two-day event started as a street fair held in 1959 in response to Notting Hill resident Kelso Cochrane’s racially-motivated murder. Since Cochrane’s death, Notting Hill Carnival has gone on to become one of the world’s most famous celebrations of Caribbean culture, extending beyond London to welcome millions of international visitors each year.

There are undoubtedly hundreds of moving parts involved in bringing the festival to life, many of which rely on sound systems and floats lining the streets - something that was introduced to Notting Hill Carnival in the 1970s, originating in Jamaica. As well as being incredibly impactful on global culture, sound systems in Jamaica were also tools to resist and disrupt colonisation.

To understand more about their history and impact ahead of Carnival kicking off this weekend, we spoke with curator, sound engineer and artist Ben Selig who has been researching Jamaican sound system culture and its impact in London for the V&A East.

Stella Hughes: Hey Ben! What have you been working on recently?

Ben Selig: I’ve been investigating how the constantly changing soundscapes of East London can be explored through the lens of Jamaican sound system culture, to better understand changes to our environment amidst ongoing gentrification. For me, sound is an underrepresented medium within the museum/institutional landscape, yet it is a constantly evolving, living and breathing archive helping to tell stories and histories of marginalised groups that fall short of traditional collecting processes.

SH: What is a sound system, and how would you describe sound system culture?

BS: Sound systems originated from downtown Kingston, Jamaica, in the 1950s, marking a departure from rhythm and blues and giving rise to genres like ska, reggae, rocksteady and roots. It is important to note that a sound system is a community, not just a stack of speakers and It is formed from various different roles: from the owner, to maintenance crew, audio engineer, selector, MC and the crowd.

Typically, when speaking of a sound system as a physical product, they consist of a stack of six speakers: a sub, bass, lower-mid, upper-mid, horns and tweeters. When sound systems first emerged in Jamaica in the 50s and 60s, tweeters were put in trees to voice (in a more effective manner than a newspaper/ poster) that a local neighbourhood was having a party. Traditionally, such systems tend to be dominated by male, heteronormative groups. However, sound system culture is expanding beyond this tradition. To use London as an example, there are queer POC and trans-led Black Obsidian Sound Systems as well as Linette Kamala’s ‘Original Sounds Collective’, all of which are examples of this diversity, greater representation and education when it comes to sound systems.

SH: Can you speak a bit about their trajectory and perception – from their origins in the Caribbean to what we may recognise as a sound system today, and whether this has changed?

BS: Prior to the emergence of sound system culture, amplified music was typically experienced on a two-channel system – that means two large speakers. In Jamaica, they flipped this on its head. Jamaican audio engineers would run up four large speaker stacks posted to four corners of an outdoor space (e.g., the dancehall), so that music surrounded the audience. Rather than music being a unique, individual experience, it became an all-encompassing, collective one - a move that helped hugely in the fight for Jamaican independence in the early 1960s. Though born in Jamaica, sound system culture has evolved beyond these borders and its diaspora. It is now a global export, found in all corners of the world. Many different socio-cultural movements have adapted sound system culture as a method of amplifying resistance and unity to their specific social context.

SH: Can you take us through your recent research trip to Jamaica – what you did and what you learned?

BS: I received funding from Black Curatorial to research how different Jamaican sound cultures have retained elements of African tradition despite access to this ancestral knowledge being fragmented by trans-Atlantic slavery – which intentionally disrupted language and material possessions. I flew to Kingston in Jamaica to meet with local sound system builders, dub club owners, people who helped formalise sound system culture, artists, educators and spent time in the archives.

Jamaica is an incredibly sonic-rich island; it is so heavily saturated by music and the soundscape is amazing. For a population of just over two million, its influence on global music culture is extraordinary, unlike any other country. There were several Jamaican communities (Ettu, Goombeh, Kumina, Maroon, Nago, Tambo) that resisted British colonial rule and lived in isolated settlements in Jamaica’s provincial countryside and mountains. The Maroon uprising – one of the largest communities in Jamaica existing today – for example, used sonic warfare and Guerilla tactics, such as Maroon horn (‘abeng’ – a cow/buffalo horn), to scare encroaching British colonisers.

Each of these communities had their own traditions, instruments and dances. Rhythm was also a core element, with the Kumina and Kromanti rhythms being two of the most popular drum rhythms today. Many formed the musical foundations for creolised religions such as Revivalism and Rastafarianism to emerge, from which Reggae music descends (think icons like Bob Marley, Bunny Wailer, etc). Reggae music and sound systems also played a vital role in the independence of Jamaica in 1963, amplifying messages of collective unity and emancipation across neighbourhoods.

Following Independence in the late 60s, dub music emerged. Spring reverb units - found in car stereos or piano organs - amplifiers from aeroplanes and bass speaker cabinets from wooden furniture were all products of British and American exports to Jamaica, modified by Jamaican engineers and dub pioneers such as King Tubby. My research looks into these trade routes, and their links to East London, with my work situated at V&A East in Stratford.

SH: How does this all play into carnival culture at large, and more specifically Notting Hill Carnival which is happening this weekend?

BS: When we think of roots, reggae and dub music – three popular Jamaican music types heard at Carnival – these descend from Revivalism and Rastafarianism, which are themselves creolised Jamaican religions stemming from indigenous Jamaican cults like Kumina and mixed with Anglican church music forced on enslaved populations under British rule. Music and dance has always been, and continues to be, a form of resistance and emancipation, celebration and subversion. This duality is the same of Carnival culture, from all corners of the Caribbean to Notting Hill. From all music types heard, be it Socca, Dancehall, Calypso, Reggae or Roots. In terms of Notting Hill Carnival, it’s important we don’t forget its Trinidadian routes – Notting Hill Carnival isn’t Jamaican!

SH: How can we get the best out of the sound systems this weekend?

BS: Check out Trippin’s sound system map – available offline - and it also includes two safe spaces. Choose your picking and stick with it. Follow the floats or stick by 2 or 3 sound systems, trying to weave your way around is beyond a side quest. Remember to stay hydrated!

Ben Selig's top sound system highlights:

King Tubby’s (Dub)

Aba Shanti-I (Reggae, Dub)

Gladdy Wax (Roots, Reggae, Ska)

Rampage, Disya Jeneration (Dancehall, Reggae, Soca)

Seduction City (Soul, Ragga, R&B, Dancehall)