DECEMBER 27, 2008
With his features obscured by a black ski mask, Mavado stomps onstage before a frenzied crowd of 50,000 at Jam World, an open-air arena in Portmore, Jamaica. The atmosphere is reminiscent of the coliseum scenes in the 2000 film Gladiator (DreamWorks). It’s after 7 a.m., the sun’s getting hot, and the show is now in its 10th hour, but nobody has any intention of leaving. “Gangsters never play,” Mavado drones in his most menacing tone, “Friendship mi nah buy / Pussy violate mi mek dem duppy back fly.”
This 25th staging of Sting, the annual concert that builds to a climactic clash between the two hottest artists in dancehall, has been billed as “The Final Frontier, the Settlement of All Argument.” Preshow hype for the battle of Mavado and Vybz Kartel has been WWEworthy. But judging by the look on Mavado’s face when he rips off his mask, he’s not playing. After a short delay, Kartel finally steps out in full combat uniform, complete with flak jacket, helmet, and several backpacks that could contain just about anything. Five years earlier he and his entourage beat and kicked the legendary Ninjaman on this same stage, bloodying his face—so the potential for violence hangs thick in the air. “Kill dem all and done,” Kartel booms to jump things off as police, soldiers, and security guards struggle to keep both artists’ crews at bay.
Aside from being two of the toughest hombres in dancehall, Mavado and Kartel would seem unlikely combatants. One is a singer and the other a DJ (Jamaican parlance for rapper)— an apples and oranges comparison, according to the normal rules of engagement. Also, both came up through the Alliance, a loosely organized federation of artists, producers, and selectors founded by veteran DJ Bounty Killer. “Me send me two bad pickney dem fi come war,” Killer declared from the stage earlier that morning with something like paternal pride.
Around 2006, just when Mavado was beginning to make a name for himself, Kartel severed ties with Bounty and the Alliance, establishing his own clique—the Portmore Empire—in a neighborhood he calls Gaza. In better days, Mavado and Kartel recorded together. “Kartel could see that Mavado was the hottest thing,” says the singer’s manager, Julian Jones-Griffith. “I think he wanted a piece of the shine.” But later Mavado had little choice but to turn on the turncoat. “I think both parties feel they were betrayed,” says Diamond, who carefully omitted the most scathing records from Mavado’s albums. “Negativity breeds negativity, and it just elevates and reaches the point where you forget where it came from.”
These days nobody seems to remember much more than the latest lyrical slander perpetrated by the other side. The language in many of these battle records is so intensely parsed and coded that casual listeners may not understand what they’re really all about. Mavado refers to Kartel as “the bleacher,” alleging that he uses skin-lightening cream, while Kartel calls Mavado “the barber,” ridiculing his former occupation. As the rhetoric descended ever lower—from “Dem a fag” to “Me fuck your mother”—there seemed nothing left to do but clash.
A series of ominous skirmishes stretching back to January 2007 ratcheted up the tension. Shots were fired from a car passing by Mavado’s gully side community of Cassava Piece, wounding one resident. A mysterious fire consumed one of the vehicles parked outside Kartel’s home. “My car was not firebombed,” he claimed at the time. “The Honda had an electrical problem.” Neither artist nor their camps were conclusively linked to any of these incidents, though both were involved in a grab bag of unrelated legal troubles, both minor and major. They might peacefully cross paths at the studio or party together at Bembe Thursday, but as the hugely popular artists kept “throwing words” at each other on wax, some fans felt compelled to choose sides: Gully versus Gaza.
The conflict drew comparisons to Biggie and 2Pac’s tragic rivalry. A February 28, 2007 unity press conference featuring both artists was organized by Deputy Commissioner of Police Mark Shields, who decried “fans and entourages turning the lyrical feud into violence.”
Since the artists never battled at Sting 2007, this morning’s clash has been a long time coming. With so many other things going on
in his career, Mavado was none too keen to battle Kartel. “I did it for my fans,” he says. “Everybody wanna see, what’s Mavado gonna do? Who’s goin’ up against Mavado? Who’s gonna die?” Kartel, a prolific and spontaneous lyricist, gets off to a strong start. Mavado responds vigorously—a friend at the side of the stage highlights his lyrics with flaming plumes of aerosol spray—but the relentless pace of the clash doesn’t allow him enough time to weave his melodic spell. Both artists have staunch supporters in the crowd, cheering and booing on cue. One of Kartel’s associates lifts a life-size black coffin onto the stage marked R.I.P. Barber
Boy, and Mavado throws it back into the crowd retorting, “That cyan help you, pussy.” Then Kartel makes the mistake of uttering some disrespectful lyrics about Mavado’s mother. The boos grow louder than ever, and Mavado hits back quickly before making an abrupt exit. “Don’t run!” implores a stunned Kartel. Mavado reappears suddenly with one last salvo: “Him think say me run / Ah load me go load me gun”—and then he’s gone for good.
home
