Wayne Marshall

Wayne Marshall’s story is one of rites of passage. Born Wayne Mitchell, one of Dancehall’s ‘young giants’ recently celebrated his 21st birthday; the roller coaster ride that has made up his young life is what drives Wayne Marshall the artiste. Early years were spent in the Barbican area of Kingston, until his Father - a self-made successful businessman – relocated the family uptown.

Destiny moved the Mitchell family 3 doors away from the front gate of the Father of digital Dancehall, Lloyd “King Jammy” James. The King had sons of young Wayne’s age group, so the Waterhouse studio soon became a pre-ordained second home for the music-loving teenager. “Automatically we get a piece of the ghetto inna we too,” he tells me from my passenger seat, trying to absorb the fast-fading cool of the A/C in my whip. “We deh deep inna di ghetto a day time at the studio, so we get to realize the livety and we get fi soak in wid the ghetto people and ketch dem mentality to a level,” he adds, acknowledging the importance of the ghetto education he received at ‘Jammin’s’ studio. Sparring with the big man’s offspring meant that the studio was at their disposal, causing Wayne to “start checking music on a serious level” from an early age. It was early ‘94 and Bounty Killer was as hot as Hell. Marshall recalls Elephant Man in tear-up clothes, Determine begging. Big artists came and went all day long. “At King Jammy’s I got to know the ropes in the deep heart of Dancehall - dub plate style!”

Using his pass to the Mecca of Dancehall wisely, Wayne began copying Bounty Killer’s style and pattern at school. “Because I was at Jammy’s I would always have strictly pre-release Bounty Killer material and done the place! Any new tune that Jammy’s released for Bounty I learnt them straight away and was ready to pop it off anytime anyone asked me at school - all day, every day, 1st verse, 2nd verse, anything you want.” The fruits of that labor are tangible in Wayne Marshall the artist and Wayne Mitchell the acclaimed songwriter. “From young I saw the channel of originality I should run through,” enthuses Marshall, forgetting the failing A/C for a moment. “That desire to be original, to be an artiste, was directly from Bounty Killer. His levels of meditation and the standard he brought the lyrics to made me realize it was something I should be a part of.” Age difference and Bounty’s fearsome rep for being unapproachable kept the two entertainer’s paths apart. For the time being.

Marshall’s abounding self-confidence allows him to freely acknowledge his skillz, and he recognised his own talent for lyical construction as soon as, he started penning soulful lyrics at 14. “From I was 7 years old I always dreamed, visioned, of performing in front of huge crowds of people,” smiles Marshall, “until I realised I could sing and make the girls dem cry, so I just sang and made the girls dem cry!”

Uptown aspirations dictate that children grow up to become lawyers, doctors and pilots but Marshall’s Mother and Father let his free spirit express, itself. “As an uptown yoot, you are convinced that you should strive for something your schooling can bring you, not something that your natural talent can bring forth,” he explains. “I look on it as a sin for me to neglect my natural talent and force myself to do something else.” Marshall ain’t tryin’ to imagine what he would be doing if he wasn’t doing music. “Nothing else could make me feel happy, only music. I couldn’t work and be happy. When I was young I used to listen to music and sit down and wonder how I used to feel this shit so.” As with most things, it didn’t take Marshall long to work it out: “Musicians feel and hear music differently from people who just listen to music. When you have the vibes to write and create music you feel the real musicians around you easily. Sade - I felt her deeply growing up. We used to get vibes from all different places - Sanchez, Atlantic Starr, Bel Biv Devoe, Baby Face, Beres - all dem cats.” Aged 17, Marshall’s voice matured, finding it’s natural pitch in a song he wrote called Champagne Wishes, Caviar Dreams. Vocal versatility, another trademark of Bounty Killer, had manifested in Marshall’s voice box and he went for the gap. “I decided to use my high pitch sound, my singing voice and my DJ voice to lock the whole world,” he says, explaining his marketing strategy. “I knew that if I wrote the right thing, organized my shit properly, that combination would be unstoppable.”

Despite Marshall’s confidence and natural talent, Jammy’s hit factory still overlooked him. “It was tough because all the flavor yoots I was around were telling me my shit was the wickedest ting,” he remembers, “but I just kept writing and holding direct meditation in myself, to find and bring forth originality out of myself.” Marshall was bursting to record on wax, so a friend organised an audition one evening with producer Mikey Bennet, at his studio. After a nervous introduction Bennet insisted Marshall sing over a track he was listeing to in the studio, ignoring Marshall’ please to sing something original. “Sing back weh the singer sing?” Marshall asked
himself. “This old time music that mi not even listen to.” As a result Wayne faltered and Bennet dismissed him as “needing nuff voice training, yuhno ready yet.”

“I decided that I was going to prove Mikey Bennet wrong,” Marshall says,voice still thick with defiance. “Prove that he gave up on something good because he didn’t want to listen to my little song, that I wrote specifically to impress Mikey Bennet that day.”

Disappointment fostered self-doubt, because Bennet was a big man in the business, but the drama didn’t even last a week. “Fuck that! If he heard, my shit I know he woulda wanted my shit” Marshall told himself. He simply focused harder on his vocal. At last the chance came to voice on the Bada Bada riddim - the vehicle that propelled Wayne’s Jammys’ labelmates Ward 21 to stardom. Marshall rode their wave of success, travelling with them on shows and collaborating with them on songs. “Ward 21 got bigger and King always forced me in the package - made me travel and eat all some food” he says. “KIng always push me inna di link hard, even before me ever had a onehot tune.“

Despite his larger-than-life persona, Marshall is eager to learn and not above taking on board criticism. “From I went to voice training - it’s been all fucked up from there,” he says, recalling his reaction to the positive advice Mikey Bennet had given him amongst the rejection. Wayne attended the voice-training classes of a very pleasant little white lady named Ms. Schleiffer, who has schooled almost everyone currently calling themselves a Reggae or Dancehall artiste. “Every day I was there for an hour,” says Marshall. “I was caught up in the studio flex and didn’t even have a car but I made sure i dedicated myself to her class.” His peeps noticed the difference in his voice. “You ready” they told him.

Then, just as life was coming together, it dealt him a blow that can make or crush your spirit. Travelling home from RAS Beer Vibe’s 1998 session with a girl and two friends - one his closest, most inspirational homie, tragedy struck. Their car was hit at high speed and ended up on its roof in a ditch. When the smoke cleared, Marshall was the only one who was conscious.
His closest friend Nicholas was out cold, twisted, his face pressed near Wayne’s. “Mi only get three cut,” Marshall shows me; there are three small horizontal scars on the first three fingers of his left hand, each scar getting slightly bigger with each finger. Marshall climbed out; by now the Outlaw Jpsey Wales had stopped and set about freeing the girl and other passengers from the wreckage with an axe. “He twisted the car and chisselled out Nicholas and we rushed him to hospital,” recalls Marshall. “By the next day we heard Nicholas was dead. Everyting changed in my life - everyting mash up. Pure despair, anger, mourning, struggle, downess, tears.”

Marshall re-wrote Lauryn Hill’s dedication to her son Zion for Nicholas’ funeral and sang, without tears, like he never sang before. The packed church was moved physically, spiritually and mentally. “It was the deepest shit,” Marshall reflects. “I was standing beside my best friend’s dead body - it was green, it looked a way, who died in the accident I was in and I projected the song with a clarity like never before. Everyone present felt the power right there. When I came home from the funeral that evening my Father told me ‘Yoot, you don’t make your first million offa singing yet, so do what you’re doing.’ From me hear that everything was sealed - it’s the most outstanding thing my Father ever said to me inna mi life.” Wayne channeled his energy into his music, determined to repay the confidence Nicholas had shown in his talent. “By this point in my life” says Marshall, “I had witnessed guns, tragedy, went to jail for conspiracy of killing an Officer, I came near to death - I was able to balance life better after all that. I drew deep within myself and I came up with a thing called When the Smoke Clears. Straight away I knew that if Killer deejayed the verses nobody could hold it back, but I didn’t really have a way of getting him to sit down and listen to the song.” Pointing to the very spot at the gas station where he first deejayed the song for Renaissance selector Jazzy T, Marshall tells me Jazzy drove him to Arrows Dub studio same time, where he voiced the Smoke Clears special on his own. Destiny conspired again at uptown bash Iceberg, where Jazzy T premiered the dub. Bounty and his entourage were in effect and witnessed Wayne Marshall done the place when he touched the mic. “After I worked, Killer showed me love so I got the courage and put the argument to him about the song,” says Marshall. “As I brought up the subject Jazzy T happened to draw for it at the same time.” The dub plate was saluted with a gunshot - an unprecedented happening at uptown joint Peppers. “Legal!” shouted Jazzy T and the song burst into the verse. Killer, being Killer, said nothing.

A gush of hot air fills up the car as Marshall scrolls down the window to collect some dub money from one of the many people who have been blowing up his phone throughout the interview.
“Story Done Tell” on the Bada Bada, “Melody of War” on the Bellyas, and then a collabo with Elephant Man - “You Don’t Wanna Start a War” – instilled further confidence in Marshall, who is an extremely popular entertainer amongst his peers. “Me and Ele par deep. Me and Ele are like brothers -him call mi everyday - when him reach foreign me a di first man him call, the last man, everyting.” Recognising the increased need in Dancehall music for a defining image to accompany his obvious talent, Marshall could have no better role models than Ele and Killer. As he opens his mouth and sings “Tru Tru Tru” - one of his trademarks - the place will buss before he even walks on stage. He even bit off piece off DMX’s “UH-HAa” to further bend the BET-loving ears of Jamaica towards him.

“Nothing ever sweet me like the day Bounty Killer called my phone and left a message,” Marshall says, taking up the Smoke Clears story. “We linked up and started reason and he showed me that the Smoke Clears would be wicked if we played the Barrington Levy/Shynes in the Trilogy riddim as well. I got Suku them to deal with it same time.” One balmy summer night last year, Marshall, Ward and Killer linked up at Mixing Lab and Killer laced it.
Marshall readied himself in the ensuing days, reaching a personal zenith in the Jammy’s studio when he shot up his part. Never shown love by local radio, the song took off nonetheless, both Yard and abroad. More importantly it provided Wayne Marshall with what every artiste needs - a hit record.

Marshall spent 6 weeks extensively touring the US with Bounty Killer on his Ghetto Dictionary Tour earlier this year, an experience that was priceless. “Killer start show me the real prowl,” Marshall says of the education he received on tour. “When you tour with the top-a-top its different to moving with other young artists. You get experience from the top-a-top, everything
that he can show you. When you go on tour, drive 18 hours together, live day to day with each other you get everything. I saw the artistry, the professionalism needed to sustain this shit on a high level.” Marshall spurned the after party and the hotel lobby on tour for the seclusion of his
hotel room. Locked away for days and nights on end, Marshall, armed with his MD, his pad, pen, and only a bag of Hydrose and the TV for company, went through his most prolific writing period to date. “When you do 25 shows straight, in front of different audiences, from a different country it’s an incredible feeling knowing they knew my songs. That’s why I just went back
to the hotel room - to write more incredible tunes.”

The confidence Marshall left the US with inspired him to give his Jamaican fans new-brand serial on his return. Bounty Killer’s ‘Its a Party’ bash was held a week after they touched down. Marshall let loose ‘Earthquake Shakes’ live for the first time locally; the positive tidal wave of response that exploded from the audience audibly shook him. That gargantuan forward was
unbelievably doubled at Fully Loaded little over a month later. Wayne Marshall has arrived, big time.

Marshall is never without the pouch he walks with, containing his MD recorder, CD player, pad, pen, stash etc. He can often be found on a secluded ‘ends’ near his home, deep in himself, basking in creativity. “Mi no inna di idle ting no more,” he assures me. I personally didn’t think he ever was. “To how me feel right now, to how I wanna meditate in myself right now I could do a prison term and come ready back and seh onno f**ker onno, mi get some time to myself.”

With the war going on in the land, it never was going to be long before Bounty Killer’s rivals drew Marshall into the trenches; Beenie’s homosexual counteraction to Smoke Clears left a lot to be desired, and whilst Marshall has something to destroy it, he is keeping his distance from the war. “Mi par wid the Warlord - not the War Prime Minister or War Minister, not me and the War Head or War Friend - the Warlord, so wi can just make him kill everybody and we will mop up the blood. After the earthquake shake.”