On a night in 1976, a teenager billing himself as "Burro" won a talent competition at Kingston's Skateland discotheque, and Donovan Spalding never went back to being anyone else. He cut his teeth on the Black Hoover and Roots Unlimited sound systems alongside a young Josey Wales, then spent two years as resident deejay for Gemini before producer Henry "Junjo" Lawes signed him to Volcano for a 1983 debut LP, Buro. The gruff, aggressive delivery he sharpened there carried him from conscious anthems like "Praise Up Jah Jah," a favorite of UK selector Jah Shaka, to the 1995 Massive B hit "Boom Wah Dis." Buju Banton later borrowed his own stage name directly from Burro's moniker — the debt runs in both directions.
Every account of Banton's rise repeats the same short list of formative names, and Dillinger's is the one every source agrees on. Where Dillinger helped invent the loose, half-sung "second wave" of Kingston toasting in the mid-1970s, trading the preacher's cadence of his own mentors for something closer to conversation, Banton took that conversational pocket and hardened it into the gruff, aggressive attack that one reggae historian calls simply "the original Banton." The lineage is generational rather than personal — one deejay's vocabulary handed down to the next wave of Kingston chatters.
listen forOn "Stumbling Block," Dillinger rides King Tubby's mix in that laid-back, half-spoken toasting style that made him a star of reggae's mid-1970s second wave — vocal lines trailing loosely behind the beat rather than snapping to it. Nine years later, on the conscious tune "Praise Up Jah Jah," a dubplate favorite of UK selector Jah Shaka, Banton works the same unhurried pocket but roughens every syllable into the gruff, aggressive attack that became his trademark.
Before either man had a record deal, Wales and Banton were rivals in the most literal sense: both deejaying on Kingston's Roots Unlimited sound system in the late 1970s, where Wales "often sparred with Burro Banton" on the same mic. Critic Michel Conci later traced a specific vocal lineage through that pairing — a "gruff" line running from Prince Jazzbo in the 1970s, "passing through Josey Wales, Burro Banton in the 1980s, to Buju Banton" and beyond. Of everyone in that chain, Conci writes, Banton "took the gruff in his voice the furthest."
listen forWales's 1983 hit "Leggo Mi Hand Gateman," cut for producer Henry "Junjo" Lawes on the Golden Hen riddim, rides a clipped, percussive chat that lands hard on the beat rather than swinging around it. That same year, on "Better Than The Rest" — from Banton's Lawes-produced debut LP Buro, cut in the same Volcano-era Kingston scene — Banton chats over an equally stripped-down riddim with that same clipped attack, roughened into his own gruffer register.
U Brown belongs to the same short list of names — alongside Dillinger — that every account of Banton's rise repeats as his formative influences, years before he held a sound-system mic of his own. Where Dillinger represented the harder, half-sung edge of 1970s toasting, U Brown offered its smoother, more melodic register, honed on King Tubby's Hi-Fi and in Bunny Lee's Kingston sessions. Banton absorbed both registers before hardening them into the aggressive delivery he made his own on Kingston's 1980s dancehall sound systems.
listen forU Brown's 1976 hit "Starsky and Hutch" rides its riddim in a smooth, almost sung-through melodic toast, the deejay gliding over the beat rather than attacking it. On 1995's "Boom Wah Dis," cut for Bobby Konders's Massive B label on Steely & Clevie's Street Sweeper riddim, Banton keeps that same melodic contour in his phrasing but drives it with a harder, gruffer bark — Brown's 1970s register run through two decades of harder dancehall production.