There was no announcement, no grand buildup—just the throb of a riddim, the flicker of stage lights, and then, unmistakably, the voice. Laden. Back. Not as a throwback act. Not as a cautionary tale. But as a man reborn.
Thirteen years had passed since the deejay last graced the Reggae Sumfest stage. And in that time, Jamaica changed, dancehall shifted, and Laden’s own life took a sharp detour—from chart-topping promise to a prison cell at Tower Street. But on Friday night, none of that mattered. The man who stepped onto that stage wasn’t dwelling in the past. He was driving the moment.
Wearing a charcoal tam, a muted flannel, and an all-black suit that glittered under the lights, Laden wasted no time. “Yow, mi deh yah now,” he declared, then launched headfirst into a set that refused to play it safe. Classics? Sure—“Time to Shine” drew instant crowd reaction. But it was the newer material that caught attention.
Tracks like Party Sauce, Uno Dos Tres, and Money & Gyal hinted at a retooled artistic direction—slick, catchy, and built for both the dance and the algorithm. Laden wasn’t just performing; he was recalibrating his sound for a new generation.
Notably, the audience—ranging from longtime fans to teens who were toddlers during his rise—leaned in. Hands raised. Phones out. For five songs, the festival belonged to him.
While his incarceration in 2020 made headlines, Laden has avoided exploiting it for sympathy. His performance offered no dramatics, no redemption speeches. Just a quiet, confident assertion: “Mi still got it.”
In a genre often quick to forget, Laden’s return wasn’t about nostalgia. It was about continuity. Presence. Proof.
Not everyone gets a second act. Fewer still command it like this.
