In the depths of his eyes, a vulnerability stares back at me as Vybz Kartel recounts the lasting psychological effects of prison. His voice trembles, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor, as he discusses how jail has changed him. "My sleeping habits have changed... if I hear a key shake, it traumatize me," he says, revealing the wardens' jingling keys before head counts still send shockwaves through his system.
We sit in the courtyard of the Four Seasons hotel in Tower Bridge, London, with Kartel open about the struggles he faced during his 8-year imprisonment. The UK government emergency alert test rings on my phone, causing him to jump up and exclaim, "Me ready fi run yuh know!" We both burst into laughter, but it's a jarring moment, considering our conversation about the trauma of prison life.
Kartel, 49, was once one of Jamaica's biggest dancehall stars. Emerging in 2003 with his album Up 2 Di Time, he brought provocation and badness to the genre, influenced by grittier DJs like Ninjaman. A string of hits propelled him into international success, with songs like Romping Shop, Clarks, and Summer Time crossing over to British and American charts.
However, life after prison has not been without challenges. He reveals that his physical health was in shambles upon release, thanks in part to his time behind bars, where he struggled with Graves' disease. Conditions at the Tower Street Adult Correctional Centre were deplorable, which had exacerbated his condition. When he emerged into freedom, he found himself reliant on a diet of whole foods and green juices to recover.
Despite facing setbacks, including having his music banned from certain Caribbean countries due to its explicit content, Kartel remains optimistic about dancehall's future. He is pushing for unity and love, rather than the violence that was present in his early lyrics. "The system created that reality for us as ghetto youth," he says, acknowledging that violence came with politics.
Kartel also admits to regrets over some of his past actions, such as bleaching his skin due to a colonial mindset. However, these mistakes have led him down a path of self-reflection and personal growth. As a result, he now prays every day and is working towards a cleaner path by removing old tattoos.
The complexities of Kartel's story serve as a reminder that even those with troubled pasts can find redemption and grow into the person they're meant to be. Today, Vybz Kartel seems more determined than ever to stay out of trouble, focusing on expanding dancehall's reach through collaborations with Afrobeats artists. He now sees his music as universal household classics β "like Bob Marley's One Love," but with a faster-paced and underground vibe.
In the end, it's clear that Kartel has found a new lease on life after prison, one where freedom and redemption take precedence over past mistakes.
We sit in the courtyard of the Four Seasons hotel in Tower Bridge, London, with Kartel open about the struggles he faced during his 8-year imprisonment. The UK government emergency alert test rings on my phone, causing him to jump up and exclaim, "Me ready fi run yuh know!" We both burst into laughter, but it's a jarring moment, considering our conversation about the trauma of prison life.
Kartel, 49, was once one of Jamaica's biggest dancehall stars. Emerging in 2003 with his album Up 2 Di Time, he brought provocation and badness to the genre, influenced by grittier DJs like Ninjaman. A string of hits propelled him into international success, with songs like Romping Shop, Clarks, and Summer Time crossing over to British and American charts.
However, life after prison has not been without challenges. He reveals that his physical health was in shambles upon release, thanks in part to his time behind bars, where he struggled with Graves' disease. Conditions at the Tower Street Adult Correctional Centre were deplorable, which had exacerbated his condition. When he emerged into freedom, he found himself reliant on a diet of whole foods and green juices to recover.
Despite facing setbacks, including having his music banned from certain Caribbean countries due to its explicit content, Kartel remains optimistic about dancehall's future. He is pushing for unity and love, rather than the violence that was present in his early lyrics. "The system created that reality for us as ghetto youth," he says, acknowledging that violence came with politics.
Kartel also admits to regrets over some of his past actions, such as bleaching his skin due to a colonial mindset. However, these mistakes have led him down a path of self-reflection and personal growth. As a result, he now prays every day and is working towards a cleaner path by removing old tattoos.
The complexities of Kartel's story serve as a reminder that even those with troubled pasts can find redemption and grow into the person they're meant to be. Today, Vybz Kartel seems more determined than ever to stay out of trouble, focusing on expanding dancehall's reach through collaborations with Afrobeats artists. He now sees his music as universal household classics β "like Bob Marley's One Love," but with a faster-paced and underground vibe.
In the end, it's clear that Kartel has found a new lease on life after prison, one where freedom and redemption take precedence over past mistakes.