[...]Yet, while Dominic was an anomalous novelty within wider reggae culture, performers such as
Gentleman occupy a less conflicted space. Despite hailing from Cologne, the 32-year-old singer, born Tilmann Otto, has spent at least six months a year in Jamaica for the past decade, collaborating with acclaimed producers and vocalists including Robert "Bobby Digital" Dixon, Donovan "Don Corleon" Bennett, Jah Cure, Cocoa Tea and Anthony B. Unlike Buddz, Gentleman generally steers clear of the rougher stylings and subject matter of dancehall.
He has racked up several high-quality albums, notably the current Another Intensity, and a flurry of domestic hits in Jamaica by concentrating on a 21st-century variety of roots music known as "one drop". It's a timely choice, given this strand of reggae's recent rise to prominence and a pragmatic strategy that allows a white artist comfortably to navigate tricky questions of authenticity and appropriation.
"My relationship with reggae began with me listening to my older brother's record collection -- artists like Dennis Brown, Garnett Silk and Beres Hammond," he says.
"What I liked was how universal the music was: themes of love, justice and truth that anyone could understand. That's where my inspiration comes from. I can't pretend to be anything I'm not, so I don't sing in patois, I sing in Jamaican English, because that's where I learned the language; and I don't talk about growing up in the ghetto, because I didn't. I want to make positive music for all people, and that includes a Jamaican audience."
He says the way music is consumed in Jamaica makes life easier on white artists than might be expected. In contrast to the music video culture of Europe and North America, songs are first heard on the island at dances or on the radio. That allows music to be judged on its own merit before a face can be put to it.
"Sometimes people are still surprised to find out that I am not Jamaican," he says. "This happens especially in the countryside, because people in rural places still get most of their music from the radio. People will sometimes laugh when they see me, but not in a bad way. It means that they already liked my music for its own sake."
It has not always been an easy journey, but for a man clearly smitten with the island and deeply immersed in its culture, even the toughest experience can be seen as a backhanded affirmation.
"I've had some great shows," he says. "But the one that made me realise I was part of Jamaican music was playing the Sting festival in Kingston a while ago. When I got on stage, the crowd was hyped up and wanted to hear rough dancehall. When I started singing songs about love and unity, they threw bottles at me. It was ugly, but I was being treated the same way anyone else would have been in that situation. They weren't being nice to me because I was different. I was just another artist that they were mad at!"[...]
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