Music

'Here, you fight for your life': how reggae brought hope to Naples


In the shadow of Vesuvius and under the blazing Mediterranean sun sits a labyrinth of cobbles, zipping scooters, shouting neighbours and stone buildings plastered with posters. Amid the streets of one of Europe’s most densely populated cities is one of its most vibrant reggae scenes, with 10 sound systems throwing bass-filled parties each week. “There is no hostility in the scene,” explains Brian D’Aquino of Bababoom Hi Fi Sound System. “We have all known each other for years, live with each other, let each other borrow amplifiers or whatever. Plus there’s no money, which probably helps.”

Towering boxes of speakers, turntables, a mixer and amplifier make up a sound system, or more simply a “sound” – a portable setup created in 60s Jamaica by liquor stores trying to attract thirsty punters. In Italy, these dances emerged in the 90s as part of the growing anti-globalisation movement and in response to the harsh police and military repression of the previous decade, known today as the “years of lead”. These parties were nurtured in occupied urban squats where people tried to escape authority and create the world as they wanted, not as it was. They have now become essential spaces of connection and sonic transcendence, particularly for Naples’ black population.

When Bababoom Hi Fi was established in 2004, a handful of local sounds were playing dancehall on the beaches and in the woods. “Temporary autonomous zones,” recalls D’Aquino. “Musically we took inspiration from [roots-based Italian sound] King David Warriors and [their pioneering sound woman] Nadine Dogliani, and what we were seeing in London.” As the first sound in the city to focus on roots reggae, Bababoom Hi Fi’s popularity soared. “From our elder sounds we inherited an involvement with social movements. It was a nice collaborative scene.”

Another of Naples’ sound systems.



Another of Naples’ sound systems.

Today, reggae sounds live in spaces such as Scugnizzo Liberato, a former nunnery and juvenile detention centre in Naples’ hilly Montesanto district. I pass through a graffiti-covered entrance and enter a courtyard full of the laughter of a group from Cape Verde playing football while kids play outside a Sri Lankan Buddhist temple. Walls stretch up with floor upon floor of craft spaces: here, the homeless can get a meal and migrants can take Italian lessons. The democratisation of access to music (providing it at high quality for little or no money through the goodwill of volunteers) is central to Scugnizzo’s mission and at night its venue is packed with hundreds of people moving together to a bassline.

Dreadlocked dancers are skanking by the speakers and couples are winding where the lights are low; with almost no security, the friendliness is striking. For MC Anema Longa of Scugnizzo’s Ragamuffin resident 55 Sound, it’s the absence of hierarchy that is key. “There is no stage, no light in my eyes. When I freestyle, I look at the people, talk with them. I really feel in the same party as the massive family.”

In a city with only one month of winter, outdoor dance parties are a staple and often timed so that migrant workers, often from west Africa, are able to attend. In these warm and welcoming dances, where the crowds cry out for Zion and justice and righteousness, the music of the old diaspora is now there for the new: black Atlantic meets black Mediterranean. For Roman vocalist and musician Karima 2G, who sings in Liberian pidgin English, this southern city is not like the rest of Italy. “Naples is a completely different world,” she says. “The north hates it. It is a multicultural city and the struggle that defines it is similar to that in an African city. Economically, politically, here you fight for your life.”

While Naples’ reggae scene may be thriving, it remains underground. Where else can offer such cheap entry, loud music and a fragrantly foggy dancefloor? But this ecosystem of abandoned buildings that the city can’t afford to maintain is now under threat – and a sound system conference, Sound System Outernational, has mounted the first popular demonstration against the “touristification” of the city and rising rents provoked by the spread of Airbnb.

For now, though, the sound systems remain an alternative to depression and a life in the Camorra mafia, in a region with 53.6% youth unemployment. “Reggae has a great appeal wherever there is a struggle that needs expression,” Brian explained before Bababoom Hi Fi closed the last night of Sound System Outernational. Standing on the roof of Officina 99, a warehouse on the outskirts of the city covered in murals of police clashing with protesters, he tells me: “It is an amplifier of one’s demand for one’s rights and connects you to a struggle bigger than yourself. There is a long history here of people taking matters into their own hands and organising themselves. Sound systems and these spaces offer something to believe in, connection, some agency. It is a very beautiful experience.”

Five key Badaboom Hi Fi tracks, by Brian D’Aquino

Bob Marley and the Wailers – Natural Mystic (Alternative Horns Mix)

A different arrangement with amazing horns. It surfaces every now and then on the market in the form of a dodgy, one-sided and pretty sought-after single vinyl. A great way to play a classic tune while keeping it a bit special.

Dennis Brown – Bubbling Fountain (Love Jah)

The Crown Prince of reggae at his best, his unmistakable voice complemented by an extra-ruff mix overloaded with sizzling tops and rumbling bass. Guaranteed to tear down any dance with word, power and sound.

Prince Malachi – Jah Love Come True

We have been humbled by the response for this release on our Bababoom Hi Fi label which sold out in less than two months. We just heard that Jah Shaka recently played it in London – definitely an achievement.

Vibronics – Searching for Jah (feat Michael Prophet)

Reggae people are not shy when it comes to referring to artists as legends, but the late Michael Prophet was undoubtedly a real one. We had the privilege of working with him on several occasions, and his abrupt departure in 2017 was a shock. This is one of his last recordings, produced by our good friend Steve Vibronics. Rest in power!

Earl Sixteen – We Play Sound

Another from the Bababoom Hi Fi label, this time from 2016. We were working a lot with the Roots Defender Band at the time and the great Earl Sixteen. I sketched the lyrics while sitting in a bar in Brixton waiting for rehearsal to start – Earl liked them and voiced the tune straight away.



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