Ruellia tuberosa, known in Jamaica as Duppy Gun, is a flowering plant native to the tropical Americas but now distributed around the world. If you add water to (or just spit on) their mature seed pods, they explode within seconds, flinging stinging seeds outward as if possessed by a trigger-happy ghost. It’s a mysterious and powerful plant used as a health tonic and aphrodisiac, but it can also pop safely in a child’s hand. It’s a wonderful namesake for the Jamaican collective formed in collaboration with Los Angeles producers Cameron Stallones (Sun Araw) and M. Geddes Gengras, one which continues to cultivate a bracing take on modern dancehall as sensitive to the outside world as the titular flower.
On Inna Duppy SKRS Soundclash, Duppy Gun showcases Jamaican riddims alongside contributions from the British Columbia-based Seekersinternational (aka SKRS). The album also functions as a debut of sorts for I Jahbar, nephew of “Ashanti” Roy Johnson of the Congos and a vocalist, local party host, and engineer at the Duppy Gun studio in Spanish Town. Building on—and drawing from—the far-flung collaborations on 2018’s Miro Tape (a few tracks from which appear here again), Inna Duppy SKRS Soundclash collects nine songs, one remix, and two “mixtape megamix” sides, each devoted to one of the two production crews involved, soundclash-style.
Of the two, the SKRS productions feel more studied and conservative. “DemNoBad,” for example, pushes the needle into the red in a manner reminiscent of time-honored Jamaican recording techniques. But the Canadian crew depart from convention on “DuppyKilla,” a manic track continually interrupted by edits and effects, where the production sometimes wholly submerges Buddy Don’s voice.
The Duppy Gun productions by Velkro and Bigflite come across as more unhinged and original, if still rooted in reggae aesthetics. Slow burner “Turn Up” combines detuned chords and sustained, distorted tones that sound like a distorted guitar shacked up with an airhorn. Bizarre little licks and synth smears create a woozy texture, anchored by I Jahbar’s steady flow. The album is a showcase for Jahbar, who projects menace on the whisper-sung “Ipy Ipy” and turns “Weed Patrol” into a captivating saga of spiriting ganja across the island, dodging police road blocks and ducking from sirens, imploring friends across the island to help out. He even slips into a faux-British accent at the end of “Sniper Rifle” to lighten up the proceedings, reminding us that when Jamaican artists invoke murder, they’re often talking about music.
The album alternates between Duppy Gun and SKRS productions, while the megamixes allow each production house to be heard on its own. The mixes perhaps offer the most engaging tour through the global crew’s sprawling sound. They are doing something unique: Edgy dancehall has been produced outside of Jamaica for decades, but rarely do such productions involve artists still located in Jamaica and playing to home crowds. (Some of the songs on the album have apparently attained singalong status at Chopdawg Sundays, a regular party and stage show in Portmore.) This sort of collaboration between outside enthusiasts and local artists can be mutually beneficial, bypassing traditional gatekeepers and allowing unorthodox sounds to flourish. The sound of Portmore, aka Gaza, has been so strongly imprinted by Vybz Kartel and Popcaan in recent years that it’s refreshing to hear a different crew ignoring current trends to find common ground with a wider world.
