coming up, session always costed $5 to get in, no matter who played. Places like the Sweatbox, Pig Field and Fort William carried the swing (I wonder how many of you remember Lion's Den at Fort William ...), and the session didn't end until the lights came on.

So you see, when the 1990s came, so did the trend of inordinately priced sound clashes and such, and I just refused to follow that trend; perhaps more on principle than any inability to pay the admission price. So now it becomes ironic that I am in a position to review one of those very `sound clashes' that I would admittedly have missed if I had had to pay the price of admission. But enough about my financial politics, let me tell you about the dance ... .

We arrived just after 12 to be greeted by an over full stairway that acted as the entrance to the dance on this wonderful evening -- I'm sure that most of us have waited on one of those Clayhouse stairways to gain admission to at least one of the many events that that venue has ably hosted over the years, so I won't go into that too deep (let's just say I really hate lines)! Besides, the line moved quite well, and we entered the dance approximately 10 minutes after our initial arrival (not bad).

Once inside, memories of days gone by and entire summers spent bubbling to the riddim immediately flooded my mind, and a huge smile engulfed my face ... it felt like a homecoming. Soon I found myself seeking out a cozy little spot near the huge dancehall speakers that stood at the back of the main dancefloor (always did like that too loud to think feeling).

On first sight, the crowd was noticeably young and, therefore, very energetic indeed ... there was a definite rhythm to their collective movement, and the tunes provided the perfect audioscape. And the conductor of this urban ballet? Well, that was the mighty Souljah One sound, expertly represented by the one and only Mr. Magic and his sidekick extraordinaire, Lenky.

These two veteran soundbwoys kept the crowd moving with very high energy and a musical arsenal that was almost as comprehensive as it was deadly! One highlight that quite surprised and pleased me was that they gave quite a bit of play to our local top shottas (new slang meaning highly skilled individuals -- in this case highly skilled deejays) the one Mr. Elephant Child and Ninja Cutty, whose latest efforts dropped like bombs on the heads of the unsuspecting congregation.

The songs were wicked, and I found myself feeling very proud, both of the local soundbwoys as well as the local deejays.

But the show was advertised as Stonelove International -- perhaps the world's biggest and most successful sound, and the indisputable world champion sound of the nineties. On this night, Stonelove was represented by the one Mr. Billy Slaughter, a very able soundbwoy in his own right. Mr. Slaughter opened his set around 1 a.m., and dropped several new dubplates that hyped up the crowd quite nicely. One highlight was a dubplate made over Whitney Houston's current hit `My Love is Your Love' -- as Stonelove rolled on.

Billy Slaughter played all of the expected hits, with Beenie Man and Bounty Killa dominating proceedings, and sprinklings of Mr. Vegas, Bucaneer, Zebra and the Monster Shock and Scare Dem Crews throughout, but there was nothing special in this 'performance' for me. I found myself again wondering how anyone could justify charging $20 to $30 just for the right to watch a foreigner juggle records. Don't get me wrong -- I mean no disrespect to Mr.

Slaughter, but from what I saw, Souljah One more than held their own during their set.

Perhaps it's just the old adage that all you really pay for is the name. I mean, Stonelove is an international sound that still carries the swing, but if they played in the US or England, do you really think that anyone would pay up to $30 to get in (I don't -- but I could be wrong).

I once attended a session at the Peacock Club in Atlanta. I paid $10 to get in, and that was cool, but you know what was even cooler -- Souljah One was playing! Now let's say that Stonelove had been playing ... what do you think the admission price would have been? I'll leave that with you, but now I have to get back to the dance.

So it happened that around 2.30 a.m., Stonelove and Souljah One decided to go tune for tune -- not so much a real clash as a joint effort to rock the crowd, and they did just that! In fact, I must apologise for a lack of detail here, because at this point I had been dipped in the crowd's energy and was quite powerless to resist (and I thought my days of shocking out had long passed me by -- psyche!) And a good time was had by all.

I think back now and I see an ocean of raised lighters undulating to the pulses of an entirely too infectious riddim, bodies gyrating in tune, walls vibrating in tune and sweat dripping in tune ... this was a good session (which means that I would have enjoyed it then just as I enjoyed it now).

But one thing did kind of disturb me though. It seemed that at the moment when the clock struck 3 a.m., the crowd began to automatically disperse. Now, I know that 3 a.m. is and perhaps has always been the standard time for a Bermuda session to end, but watching this scene made me feel quite strange. It was as if the entire crowd of mostly young people had been programmed by some sinister force and they were really not in control of their own actions. You see, this became a concern for me because neither sound, as far as I could see, was showing any sign of stopping and packing up.

So it happened that even I left before the lights came on, and, as I alluded to earlier, I don't recall ever doing that in my heyday! I guess this is just a testament to society's ability to mould their youth, now we need to find a way to make this work in our schools! In the end, I left the dance dressed from head to toe in soaking wet clothing -- a sure sign that I had a really good time. So, in the end, I have to give much love ... Big up to Souljah One, Magnum Force and the Stonelove International crew, the session was heartical! Keep up the good vibes. One Love ....

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