Summer '97, Jamaica: On a starless country night so dark you can't see your hand in front of your face, IRIE-FM is taking a straight run through Sizzla's urgent faxes from the Black struggle's front lines. Parsed into intricate fugues, his husky, keening voice spirals out into the dense air. On the other side of the island, a jeep headed back to town from Hellshire Beach is tuned to the debut single from the latest singing Marley. Ky-Mani, the one who grew in Miami, is working the same borderline between a singer's melodic elasticity and a reggae rapper's rhythmic acuity for "Dear Dad," his mingled statement of... More >>>