Dawn Ritch
The middle class is in an uproar. All their little girls are doing the 'Dutty Wine'.
From left, right and centre, even disabled children, everybody is doing the 'Dutty Wine'.
I met upon it quite by accident, while staying with a friend on the north coast. He was watching TV in his bedroom, and called out to tell me that Cliff Hughes was on television.
When I turned on the TV in my room, it was tuned to JUICE TV. The eliminations of the 'Dutty Wine' contest, the finals of which had taken place the night before, were being broadcast. It was the funniest thing I'd seen in years.
Cliff got a blow. I was now locked to 'Dutty Wine', both the music and the dance.
When the Oriental singer came to Sunsplash, she did the dance hanging by one arm and foot from the aluminium truss holding up the roof. It was glorious! I saw it in a photograph in another newspaper. I'd never seen anyone swing from the rafters before. Heard about it, thought it was impossible, and now I've finally seen it.
Not wishing in any way to detract from the suggestive nature of the dance, I must point out that it is impossible to do it without long tresses. If you can't get your hair to swing round and round your head while you get down on all fours on the ground, you're not doing the 'Dutty Wine'. It requires supreme flexibility. Consequently, there's not a child who hasn't been stopped from doing it by a parent in the last few months.
After an initial wrenching stop to their hearts, wise mothers leave their children alone. Nothing is more thrilling than a dance fashion, and children have it down pat. It seems a pity not to let them enjoy it, when they don't even know what it means.
The ones I feel sorry for are the disabled children. They don't have legs, so it's perfect for them. They can wine their little hearts out. But even when they do it, it's suggestive if not more so. All the adults hurriedly put a stop to it. Poor little children.
They ought to have a 'Dutty Wine' contest of their own. Not only the winner, but all the contestants should get a treat, even corporate sponsorship.
One for NDTC
I know it's a fad, but this one has legs. Who knows, it may one day even enter the lexicon of the National Dance Theatre Company. Good thing it's only for women, otherwise Rex Nettleford would even now be trying to do it. But at his age he's probably better suited to the stately Kumina.
All the girls who dance it have had to get their long weaves or wigs. But it doesn't much matter I suppose, because since then I've seen a number of girls with close-cropped hair do the 'Dutty Wine'. And believe me I can almost see those tresses swinging. Nobody under 40 knows how to stand up any longer and hold a conversation without doing the dance. There is even a video of 'Dutty Wine Colombian Style' danced by a young man who puts our girls to shame, and a fight brewing about men doing it, and if they do, how it should be done. Anybody who can create a craze like this deserves a national honour.
The music is happy, and it's about a young man who goes into a club, and sees a girl. She starts to wine up on him, and so he sings 'Dutty Wine, my girl, Dutty Wine'. This is a most accommodating young man indeed, so it's happiness all around.
The odd thing about the eliminations I saw was the way that each contestant coming on stage looked vexed. When she left the stage she still looked vexed. And while each danced, the facial expression was one of intense concentration. Sex was the farthest thing from their minds.
Maybe they weren't vexed, maybe they were just serious. I know I'd be if I were going to hang from the rafters without any assistance. The dance is highly athletic. But I saw a 300-b woman do it, and she only fell over once. Whether or not it's high art or low art, it's an art.
Respectability
I'm told that the best people to learn it from are the bartenders and waitresses, but most middle-class adults don't go out that much. And not long enough to learn a new ghetto dance anyway. In any event, the middle class clings by its fingernails to respectability, and would much rather retreat into dreary self-righteousness.
We should embrace the dance inventions of the masses without guilt. The only downside is the possibility of a broken neck. Sensibly, some parties now carry the warning sign 'Dutty Wine Responsibly!'
On Independence Day, I was flipping back and forth on television between the Prime Minister's Gala, and the street concert in New Kingston also being carried live. The Prime Minister was honouring a number of reggae greats, who also performed. I must confess, the street concert looked much more lively. A whole lot of singers there were making people very happy by chatting foolishness in the modern dancehall style. While it was good to see trousers held up at the waist of the performers at the Prime Minister's Gala, instead of being held up by their bottoms, I didn't too much like the message music. I think if someone wants to send a message in music, he or she should send a telegram instead.
With few exceptions, the most popular modern music of Jamaica has contained nonsense verse. Instinctively we know that reggae superstars are not role models. We'd rather them sing foolishness than rationalise.
The great irony is that today's artistes have in effect stopped singing. Instead they mainly harangue the audience from the stage. But I seriously doubt anyone is
listening to them. What they say they want is too much hard work: killing policemen and burning down homosexuals. If that ever happened, not only would every police station be empty, but every mechanic shop as well.
Most reggae messages are therefore safely ignored, including that of 'Dutty Wine'. Just because a thing is catchy does not mean it ought to have existential significance. Usually the opposite is true. So all hail 'Dutty Wine'.
