One Drop: The Art of Being a Selector

How a single drop can ripple out and connect everything

There's a moment every selector lives for. You drop a track that stops conversations mid-sentence, makes people pull out their phones frantically trying to Shazam something that will never show up in any database, and sends them rushing over with that look of musical desperation: "What IS this?"

Last month at my "One Drop" night at Bar Gobo, I played Caleb Sweetback's Zion Here I Come — a gorgeous piece of mid 70s heavy roots reggae that exists only on a handful of original 7-inches scattered across the world. Three separate people came up to me, phones in hand, frustrated that technology had failed them. That's the moment you know you've found something special.

The Selector Tradition

In Jamaican sound system culture, the selector is more than a DJ. While the operator plays the record, selectors curate journeys. They choose each record with intention, building narratives that connect genres, eras, and emotions. It's not about seamless transitions — it's about the space between songs, the moment when one vibe settles and another begins.

My monthly night takes its name from reggae's "one drop" rhythm, but the concept means more to me: that a single drop — whether it's a Lee Perry production, a dub echo, or a bass line — can ripple out and influence everything. All roads lead to reggae and dub, and from there, the connections are endless.

The Hunt for Rare Cuts

What makes original Jamaican 45s so special isn't just their sound — though there's nothing quite like the way those vintage Island pressings hit on a proper hi-fi. It's that they represent a moment in time when music was communal, when sound systems were the internet, and when a single seven-inch could change everything.

I've been excited to pull out some Cedric Brooks 7-inches and LPs recently. That cosmic saxophone bridging reggae and free jazz in ways that still sound revolutionary. There's also The Invaders' You Touch My Soul, a sweet slab of pure Studio One gold that never fails to make the room feel the weight of musical history.

These aren't museum pieces. They're living, breathing documents that connect 1970s Kingston to contemporary listening rooms like Bar Gobo, where people gather not to dance but to really listen.

The Ripple Effect in Action

The beauty of being a selector is tracing those connections in real time. I might start with a classic roots reggae cut — say, something from Burning Spear — then drift into King Tubby's dub version, which naturally leads to contemporary dub techno from Basic Channel or Deepchord. The rhythms are related, the space and echo techniques directly descended from those innovative Jamaican engineers.

Then comes the curveball: Chromatics' haunting cover of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun." Suddenly we're in dark synthwave territory, but the connection is there — the same use of space, the same understanding that sometimes what you don't play is as important as what you do.

Sacred Space

Bar Gobo's listening room setup changes how people experience music. Instead of background noise, every track gets full attention. The vintage hi-fi reveals details you'd never catch on phone speakers or even decent headphones. You hear the room tone in those old Jamaican recordings, the way the bass frequencies were captured, the slight tape hiss that adds warmth rather than distraction.

Bar Gobo’s sound system is heard on vintage 1972 Altec Lansing 846b Valencias

When I drop something like a rare Canadian Stranger Cole 7-inch or an obscure Scientist dub, people don't just hear it — they feel it. That's the magic of proper sound reproduction in a space designed for listening.

Beyond the Reggae Box

While reggae and its offshoots form the foundation, One Drop isn't about musical purity. It's about musical truth. I'll slide in some Alice Coltrane spiritual jazz, ambient electronics from Gas, or even contemporary artists like Burial who clearly understand dub's spatial concepts. The connections are real, not forced.

The goal isn't to educate or appropriate, but to celebrate the ripple effects. To show how Lee Perry's innovations at Black Ark studio influenced not just reggae but ambient music, how Augustus Pablo's melodica lines connect to modern electronic music, how the space and silence in dub opened up possibilities that artists are still exploring today.

The Listening Experience

In our age of playlists and shuffle, the selector's role feels more important than ever. It's about creating an arc, building tension and release, knowing when to go deep and when to surface for air. It's understanding that the person who came for reggae might leave having discovered something completely new, all because you took them on a journey that respected their intelligence and curiosity.

Every month, I try to create that space where a 1976 Jamaican 7-inch can sit next to a 2020 ambient track and both feel essential. Where people can discover that their love for one type of music might actually be a love for something much bigger.

The one drop creates infinite ripples. My job is just to help people hear them.

If you are in Vancouver you can catch me at Bar Gobo next on July 24th. Hope to see you there.

Thanks for reading and listening.

Sandy