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So, Independence Day is coming. It's late evening on Knutsford Boulevard in Kingston. The young Jamaicans who were outside club Asylum are safely inside. The riots, the tension--all forgotten, and perhaps they were overplayed by the press from the start. Jamaican tunes blast from the speakers; the dance floor is packed. One of the most popular ragga songs this season is Shake Yuh Bam Bam by the group T.O.K. The song samples Ricky Martin's hit Shake Your Bom-Bom but adds ragga's roughness. When Bam Bam comes on, the crowd goes wild.
Is a sense of cultural uniqueness lost in the global-pop blender? If they are grooving to Ricky in Kingston, is there anywhere to hide? The first moments of the 21st century have been haunted by the specter of globalization, of a star-spangled world in which a parade of powerful letters--the U.N., the WTO, the IMF--hammers the diversity of the planet into homogenized goop. But Aterciopelados insisted on recording its latest CD in its hometown of Bogota. And Max de Castro projects blown-up images of old Brazilian LPs at some of his concerts to remind audiences of his country's heritage. Many new global artists have the curiosity to wander the earth with their music and the integrity to stay connected to their homelands. This is the help Marley asked for. These are freedom songs.
It's getting hot in club Asylum, but the dancers just keep on going. Outside, the cops are putting up barricades for tomorrow's celebrations. Inside, the party has already begun. At this club and ones like it around the world--in Sao Paulo, in Dakar, in Havana, in New York City--Independence Day is every night.