Simma down: The King of the Dancehall has returned.
Seven years after his last studio album — 2016’s Unstoppable — Beenie Man is back with Simma, his latest star-studded, genre-bending opus. Featuring collaborations with a plethora of artists ranging from Shenseea and Shaggy to Giggs and Stonebwoy, Simma effortlessly traverses the intersections of dancehall, roots reggae, drill, hip-hop, and Afrobeats.
The album arrives amid something of a revival for the Grammy winner. This year, his classic 1997 hit single “Who Am I,” became the soundtrack for one of social media’s most popular music trends — in essence, people sing the first two words of the chorus (“sim simma”) and wait in anticipation for their chosen subject to finish the rest of the lyrics. La La Anthony recently used the challenge, aptly named #SimSimmaChallenge, to quiz famous friends like Kelly Rowland, Ciara and Kim Kardashian on their Beenie Man lyric knowledge.
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The trend is a natural extension of the timelessness of Beenie Man’s music. Dating back to 1983’s The Invincible Beany Man — which arrived when he was just 10 years old — Beenie Man has been reigning over the dancehall. Although the title of his latest album doesn’t have anything to do with “Who Am I” or the #SimSimmaChallenge, the record still houses a few career throughlines, including reunions with Mýa (“Docta”) and Sean Paul (“Supa Star”), who he previously worked with in the early ‘00s and ‘10s.
Simma, originally completed in 2021, suffered a lengthy delay after Beenie’s mother passed in 2020 following complications from a stroke earlier that year. “At that time when the album fit for release, I was in bare depression, mourning, all of these things,” he reflects. The album also serves as his first LP since his instantly iconic 2020 Verzuz battle with Bounty Killer. In this way, Simma is an unbridled celebration of life, longevity and resilience.
Beenie Man has earned six entries on the Billboard Hot 100, reaching as high as No. 26 with “Dude” (with Ms. Thing), the lead single from 2004’s Back to Basics. On the Billboard 200, the dancehall legend has racked up five entries to date, peaking at No. 18 with 2002’s Tropical Storm. On Reggae Albums, Beenie Man has notched six No. 1 titles from 13 overall top 10 projects.
In a conversation with Billboard, Beenie Man goes behind the scenes of the creation of Simma, recounts that improptu mid-flight performance, reflects on his storied career and gives advice to the rising generation of dancehall artists.
Simma has been in the works for some years now. Did anything about the album change between its original release date and Sep. 1, 2023?
There’s a lot of things that change about the album, because we mek an album before and then my moms drop out by the time when the album fi release. So at that time when the album fit for release, I was in bare depression, mourning, all of these things. I was in it for two years until my brudda Blue decide to say, “Alright, we need to get into this thing now. Get out di depression, get out all di things you going through.”
So, my natural instinct is to go into the studio and beat up some riddim. So we got some from Fanatix from England – them send first – and then we got some from Busy Signal, and then we start from there suh. Then we went to England and get some more riddims and different type of beats. I never know seh di album turn out di weh it turn out, but when it finish, the job was great. No disrespect. We make over 60 song for di album.
There’s a host of genres on Simma — from roots reggae to drill — what was your vision in terms of exploring different styles on the record?
We’re just making music. We do Afrobeats, we do everything. Just make some music. Because people love good music and good music lasts forever. Regardless. Good music outlives you. Trust me.
You mentioned that there’s some Afrobeats on this album. Recently, there have been conversations around Afrobeats “replacing” dancehall on the global stage, and here you are merging the two styles on Simma. What do you think about the two genres’ ability to coexist?
There’s no music that can replace dancehall. Dancehall will never go nowhere. Dancehall will always be here. Because if there was no dancehall, there would be no Afrobeats. That don’t make no sense. People haffi stop, because they don’t understand the lifespan of music. You have enough music that come and last 5, 6, 7 years, but dancehall have been here from before hip-hop! If hip-hop a 50-years-old, dancehall almost 100-years-old! [Laughs.]
We have been through Shabba Ranks, we have been through Ninjaman, we have been through the greatest – Super Cat, all of them. So, dancehall is not going nowhere. Not at all.
There are many collaborations on Simma. Was there any thought of making this a straight collaborative album? Why did you decide to keep the solo tracks on there?
Every album I’ve been listening to is a million collaborations. You listen to Jay-Z last album, collaboration. You listen to Drake album, collaboration. So, why should not I? So you have a Busy Signal, Jamaican. You have a Shaggy, Jamaican. You have Sean Paul, Jamaican. These are superstars. So why don’t you use your own Jamaican superstars? In Africa, you have a pack of superstars. You have Stonebwoy, superstar. You have Giggs from England. We have all the superstars we can use. It’s my time. So, why not? [The King] has all his subjects.
We mek this album this way because the first part of the album was all me. Then I said, “Nah, get some people.” I’m still gonna be there. It’s not like somebody guh sing a song pon mi album which I’m not on. I am going to be inside that music. People sometimes dem like listen to other style or other version or other pattern, so mix up di ting.
Talk to me about the song with Tina (Hoodcelebrityy), “Let Go.” There’s this really dope conversational, back-and-forth vibe going on there. How did that song come about?
She even surprised me, because she never DJ my lyrics — she just get into the studio just like how mi know she a guh do. But mi nuh wan leave nothing to chance. So when she jump pon di record now and start do her ting, I say, “Oh, wow, murda.” She kill it. And the song wicked.
You and Teddy Riley have been friends for years. What was it like finally working together in a musical capacity on this album?
Teddy is a musician, and I’m a musician. Regardless of how long mi know him, it’s a matter of him a have time, because him always busy. The man spend six months a make a riddim for me. Six months. Every time I make di riddim, I finish the song, him send back fi di song and play a next riddim around it, and play a next riddim around it, and put on some other ting and mix the song different and send back di song inna different format and then mi haffi tell him “Stop!” [Laughs.]
And him say, “Hear this last mix, please listen to this last mix.” So, di man play di last mix fi me and mi seh, “Jesus Christ! Di brudda has a great mind. Just please gimme di last mix, don’t mek mi a beg.” And he gimme di mix. Cause mi nuh wan him fi touch di song again! But every time him touch it, the song get better.
You’ve spoken before about modern dancehall shifting away from the tradition of riddims, who do you think shoulders the responsibility of maintaining that tradition?
It’s on us [as the older generation]. We are the artists that have been here before. We responsible, because it’s all music. Alright, say you’re having a dancehall stage show anywhere in the world, and you bring one million dancehall artists. You have dancehall artists from Africa, you have dancehall artists from Mexico, you have dancehall artists from America, you have dancehall artists from everywhere in the world!
But an artist like Ninjaman — none of these artists a bad like Ninjaman. They could never, because Ninjaman walk pon di stage — him don’t have to have a hit song today, him just need to present. Him just walk pon di stage, di people dem get crazy. Shabba Ranks. Him don’t have to have a new song today, all him haffi do is be present. So, imagine me now. I come after them, present, and get a response. Imagine a Buju Banton or a Sean Paul. Imagine a Shaggy, you get where I’m coming from? We will always be here. We nah going nowhere.
Music is not until death do us part. We dead and music still alive. So, this is what we are here for: longevity, to last, to be that person that people can always depend on. And this is why the album is called Simma, because the King is still here.
When it comes to the younger, rising generation of dancehall artists, who do you think are the emerging leaders?
Wow. Alright. I listen to Skeng. I listen to Skillibeng — sometimes I listen to him and laugh because I find him really hilarious. Valiant. Popcaan and dem are still my young artists dem still. They’re who I really listen to. You see, artists with substance and artists that make sense and take my brain somewhere. I don’t really listen to much new dancehall. I don’t — like, seriously. I’ll put in a Lauryn Hill CD and listen to that.
When did you first see the #SimSimmaChallenge online?
Well, somebody showed me, yuh know, because mi nuh pon di phone. [Laughs.] And then mi see a next person do it, and mi see another person doing it, and mi see dem still doing it. Then the challenge getting bigger and bigger. So, that’s the reason why I talk about songs with substance. The song outlasts you.
Alright, suppose I never have the courage fi still doing music, I would never have a new album. But the songs that I did from before gimme di courage fi know I can still do what I’m doing. You have to make songs with substance. Songs [where] we can hear inspiration, songs that can inspire you. You inspire your own self!
And I think that was really reflected at the West Indian Day Parade in Brooklyn over Labor Day Weekend. I heard different songs of yours all the time while I was out there.
Exactly. Alright, Bob Marley sing reggae. Mi sing dancehall. Bob Marley the King of Reggae, I’m the King of Dancehall.
I want to know the story behind that plane performance! They weren’t lit enough for you!
It’s not a story behind it! Mi leave out mi seat, mi wan look fuh mi band members. So, I went down there and everybody was sleeping. So mi wake up alla di band members dem and everything. But by waking them up, mi a wake up everybody. By the time we reach through di place fi go through the door for first class, everybody a seh, “You have to give something!” So, mi a seh, “What??” Because myself, I was sleeping. So, I said, “Give me something.” So, I’m just standing around and start [singing the opening of “Who Am I”] and the plane start sing.
It never plan. It’s just something that happened.
Were you able to attend to Caribbean Music Awards the other week (Aug. 31)?
No, mi never able to see it. But I can remember the first time I win one of those. 1995. It’s been going on for a long time. I went up against Capleton, [starts singing Capleton’s “Tour”]. It was live on TV in America in New York, a matter of fact.
For those awards shows, I really feel appreciative of them — because they’re giving us the opportunity so we can work harder to become the people that we are today. People appreciate your work, so all yuh haffi do is just give thanks and appreciate what they’re doing. So, I do respect the Caribbean Music Awards and all the years it’s been going. Sorry I don’t have a visa to be there!
In light of the Bob Marley biopic hitting theaters soon, what are your thoughts on who gets to tell the stories of our Caribbean icons and legends, and how those stories get told?
Bob Marley have over five sons that coulda play Bob Marley, cause alla dem look like him. But dem decide fi use somebody else. Really don’t make no sense. Well, it’s a Bob Marley movie. Mi wait till mi can get it inna my circle. But, I think dem shoulda use Skip Marley, who is the last Marley. Or use Stephen Marley or Ziggy Marley or Julian Marley. But Bob Marley a Bob Marley. If you make a movie about Bob Marley, everybody wan see it.
Since you have reached the highest heights that dancehall, and music in general, has to offer, do you have any advice for younger dancehall artists who are looking to follow in your footsteps?
Two: Work hard in the studio and work harder onstage. Because onstage, people remember you the person, and in the studio, people remember the songs. But if you don’t work harder onstage people will not remember you as an individual, but people will always remember your songs.
Michael Jackson mek an album every two years, but people still remember him for his performance. I nuh care how many hits Michael Jackson sing, it’s never greater than that Moonwalk. Never greater than that backslide. Yuh see Michael Jackson with spandex? Nobody remember dat. They remember di performance! [Laughs.]
Elvis Presley was the greatest entertainer before Michael Jackson. Dem still remember Elvis as in performance, not in song. When yuh go in Las Vegas, yuh find 10 Elvis Presley shows, because of his performance. That is my only advice to any artist.