Boombastic

GHETTO FABULOUS: Block rocker by Gene Starship

by LUCAS WISENTHAL

Though they’re hardly an anachronism, Barry Walsh is unapologetic about his love for the boomboxes of his youth, the first of which he acquired in 1983.

“I see it as capturing the essence of one of the freshest eras in the history of mankind,” he says of Sight ‘N Sound, a show featuring his expansive ghetto blaster collection.

“That era’s not done,” says Dub Lounge’s Mossman, who will be showing his collection of Jamaican street art at the same exhibit. “What I’m covering is not done; it’s still progressing, it’s still very much alive.”

Before being sidetracked by work on a documentary about reggae’s beginnings and an accompanying album, Mossman had planned on doing the show alone. Walsh, however, “kept talking about his ghetto blasters and finding more ghetto blasters,” which he began to paint, convincing Moss that the shows would complement each other.

Although Walsh was reared on the sounds of boomboxes, these days he is most compelled by their increasingly anomalous design. He laments that manufacturers have replaced the classic boombox with the portable stereo—“the kind where the speakers come off.” Boomboxes, he explains, lend hip hop, reggae, dub and dance hall a “true, grimy” sound and, unlike other portable music players, they literally rock the block. “The whole point, as far as I know, with ghetto music is it’s about uplifting the spirit. And the ghetto blaster would share it with all the people who want to be uplifted.”

Walsh was fastidious about choosing artists to paint his boomboxes. While a clear nod to early b-boy crews and their personalized radios, he “didn’t want to do just hip hop, graffiti.” So, in addition to Hest 1’s b-boy motif, visitors will be able to check out Chris Dyer’s psychedelic sensibilities. Ultimately, Walsh hopes the sundry styles displayed on the radios—created with spray paint, acrylics, paint markers and stencils—help viewers appreciate the practicality of their aesthetics.

Like Walsh, Mossman is dismayed that the visuals once associated with music are now overlooked. “It’s not just a thing you’re hearing, it’s an actual object and it’s also something that you’re seeing,” he says of the rare album covers and 45s he plans to show.

“You go to the record shop and you get it and you see the album cover and you’re like, ‘Wow, that’s a wicked album cover,’” he says. “And you put the record on—and you’re holding the record—and you’re like, ‘The fucking music’s wicked.’”

Such a visceral appreciation of music means understanding its context. To that end, Moss will also display the collections of street art and photographs he amassed while spending time with Jamaican sound systems. “I’m able to move around in places in Jamaica where white people really don’t go, or wouldn’t go, and shouldn’t go,” he says.

Members of Soul Faith Sound System, a West Coast group known for playing classics, gave Mossman several hand-painted street signs. Among the most coveted of Jamaican street art, soundsystems create these signs to promote themselves. Commercial signs, produced with stencils, are readily available in Kingston and Montego Bay. “The more desirable hand-painted ones are much harder to find,” he says.

Despite the breadth of the show, neither Walsh nor Mossman intend it to be a history lesson on music and subcultures. “If people want to know the history,” says Mossman, “they’ll find out for themselves.”

Sight ‘n Sound Opening Oct. 10, 5–11 p.m.,
Off the Hook (1021 Ste-Catherine W., 3rd floor).
After-party featuring Mossman and special
guests at Blizzarts (3956A St-Laurent).
Show runs until Oct. 20.