A Drumbeat Felt Before It Was Heard There are moments when music feels less like sound and more like breath. When the rhythm does not announce itself, but holds everything together . On January 26, the world learned that Sly Dunbar had stepped away from the kit, leaving behind a silence heavy with memory. It was not the absence of noise that hurt—it was the sudden awareness of how much of our musical lives had always been moving to his time. Sly Dunbar was never simply keeping the beat. He was shaping the ground beneath it . The Man Who Organized Sound Born Lowell Fillmore Dunbar in Kingston, Jamaica, Sly emerged in a time when reggae was finding its global voice. From the studios of Channel One to stages across the world, his drumming carried discipline, restraint, and intention. Each kick drum landed with authority. Each snare spoke with clarity. He understood something few musicians ever fully grasp: rhythm is responsibility . Sly did not rush. He did not overcrowd...