There has never been a better time for sharing music. Quite aside from the internet making it possible to access pretty much anything within seconds, we can instantly delight (and irritate in equal measure) neighbours and passersby with our favourite tunes thanks to car stereos, iPods and iPads. Set ups are getting smaller and smaller, with DJs playing music from Macbooks running Ableton, doing their bit to reduce their carbon footprint as well as trips to the osteopath. It’s a far cry from the sound systems that emerged in the 50s and 60s, which usually consisted of a gramophone, a couple of large speakers and an amp.
A man named Duke Vin put together the UK’s very first sound system in 1956, something which would have a pivotal role in London’s nightlife. It was at these early sound system parties where revellers were exposed to American rhythm & blues, soul and ska for the first time.
Duke Vin and Count Suckle (real names Vincent George Forbes and Wilbert Augustus Campbell) travelled from Jamaica to England by boat in the 50s, part of the first wave of Jamaican immigrants. Back home they’d been earning a meagre living by DJing, and so were no strangers to working a crowd with music.
While the Jamaican music industry may have been a glimmer on the horizon at this stage, when it came to musical entertainment they were way ahead of the UK. People hosted parties in their homes and gardens; sound systems were set up on pavements outside shops, used by store managers to help attract custom. The selector, nowadays better known as the DJ, chose the records but also introduced them and chatted away to the audience. In later years the roles would split, with MCs in charge of the microphone while the DJ played the music. \n\nWhile sound systems had become an important part of Jamaican culture by the mid-20th century, there was nothing of the sort over here when Vin and Suckle arrived. They were taken aback to say the least to find a lack of venues for people to wile away the evenings in the capital city; as Vin once famously remarked “the people was backward, they didn’t know what a sound system was”.
The lack of music wasn’t the only problem they faced. 1950s London was not an easy place for a young black immigrant, and Vin and Suckle lived in slums in Notting Hill, where racial tensions were high.
One day Vin spotted a speaker for sale on Portobello Road. He got hold of an amp for it and soon he was playing at local parties (much to the chagrin of the police). Vin and Suckle played blues and soul records, often speeded up to make it easier for the audience to dance to. The first Jamaican records didn’t start to arrive till the end of the 50s, heavily influenced by American sounds but with a 4/4 rhythm and distinctive brass sections that would come to characterise ska.
The owner of the Flamingo Club on Wardour Street heard of Count Suckle’s increasingly popular parties in West London, and booked him to play after the main acts. His charisma, which included buying punters in near-empty venues a drink to ensure they’d stay on, made him a wise choice. Suckle proved so popular that he opened the Roaring Twenties on Carnaby Street where he would be resident. This was at the start of the Swinging Sixties, with Carnaby Street (along with the King’s Road) as the epicentre of London fashion. The Flamingo Club and the Roaring 20s were the first venues to play Jamaican music to white audiences. Elton John, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones frequented the latter. \n\nLater Suckle opened the Q club on Praed Street near Paddington, which hosted many soul, reggae and R&B greats in the two decades it was open. Shortly after Daddy Vego, who played at many of Vin’s and Suckle’s parties, set up the People’s Sound Record Store on All Saints Road, where it still stands today despite the usual fate of record shops in the 21st century.
In the mid-60s a subgenre of ska emerged called rocksteady, influenced by Motown. New instruments and technology meant that ska was absorbed into reggae and dub. Then in the late 70s and early 80s ska went through a revival in Britain, re-named 2 Tone after to The Specials’ Jerry Dammer's record label. It was faster, punkier and more complex - the Specials’ Ghost Town is a perfect example of the era’s sound (along with a poignant video depicting London at its bleakest during the Thatcher years).
Although many of these 80s ska bands were multiracial and with obvious leftwing sensibilities, somehow ska ended up being associated with racism. Britain’s economy was in tatters, unemployment was high and it was easy for the ill-informed to point the finger at immigrants. There were violent scuffles perpetuated by men with shaved heads, and the general public filled in the dots between ska, skinheads and the National Front. Unsurprisingly ska was put to bed for a while after that.
Not so for Duke Vin, who continued to play throughout the decades, at Notting Hill Carnival, which he helped found, and with a regular slot at Gaz’s Rockin’ Blues at the St. Moritz Club, London’s longest running nightclub. Vin passed away in November 2012, survived by his wife, five children and a tremendous legacy.
