A historically significant early track for collectors of Jamaican music as it contains, in the lyrics, a reference to "Dancing to Sir Cox [sone] and the Downbeats", at a 'Coxsone Hop' - a dance organized by Clement Seymour 'Coxson' Dodd. One of the first wave of Deejay's and impresarios on the Island of Jamaica, Coxsone Dodd used to hold Sunday afternoon dances on the beach at Gold Coast a short distance from Kingston. Coxsone Dodd has become, along with his Studio One record label, a legend, a legend, both in the West Indies and Internationally, that continues to grow, and will, no doubt, in time out grow itself to become an important part of the official history of the Island, with, possibly in the not too distant future, the man himself being awarded full public honors. Clement Dodd was born in Kingston, Jamaica, January 1932, his father and mother ran a liquor store where the young Coxsone developed his ear for good quality popular music, and his talents as a Deejay while playing records in his parents store. His mother was a jazz music fan, and it was her jazz and bebop records that he liked and played to the customers. Although it is now commonplace in England to hear muzak, or at best Pop, in shops and stores during the late 1940's and early 1950's, when the young Clement Dodd was learning his art, it would have been unthinkable to have somebody Deejay'ing while you shop (even the term Deejay, 'DJ', or disc jockey, originating from the USA, was almost unknown in England back then). In fact in London it wasn't until the early 1960's that records were being played publicly at dances. It was the Sunday afternoon dances at the Lyceum Ballroom in the Strand, complete with orchestras like Victor Silvestor's, that became the place for London's hip youth, the 'Modernists', simply because during the interval while the orchestra took it's break, the 'DJ' Sammy Samwell would 'fill in' by playing the latest Soul records from America, and the youth, who up to this point had been taking little or no interest in the entertainment provided, would pack the dance floor for half an hour of Olympian bliss. It wasn't long before Mecca, the Lyceum's owners, realized that these young folk were here for the records and not the orchestra, and the orchestras were history. DJ's were henceforth employed full time, not just in the 'Ly' but across the country in their many ballrooms, dance halls, and clubs. What we are now aurally assaulted with, in shops, stores, and places of 'leisure' like pub's and restaurants, is very different to someone playing selections from their own collection of records, even if it's a collection of muzak! An individual in this role of DJ who is most likely to be knowledgeable and enthusiastic about the sounds being played, would present a human interface between the abstracted source of noise and the listener, and while not always being able to impart some of the pleasure they gain from their particular choices, would at least be in a position to moderate the sound if and when it seemed inappropriate. Instead we are bombarded with an increasingly remote effluence, which, almost certainly, has been brought forth for some pernicious, ideological, and foul reason, other than that of just corporate financial gain. This invidious 'macca' (roni), fabricated, like popular commercial radio, to 'appeal' to the broadest possible 'audience', is pumped into the atmosphere near anywhere people are likely to be spending money, which, because we are unable to shut our ears, cannot be totally ignored.