The boxer’s struggle in Cuba is the Cuban struggle. All Cubans struggle from birth and they see the boxer’s struggle as a metaphor for their own.

Fidel Castro banned professional sports in Cuba in 1962. His decree created a difficult choice for boxers—stay in Cuba and fight for national glory or defect to a country where their talents could make them rich. In the 70s Teofilo Stevenson won three Olympic gold medals and turned down five million dollars to defect from Cuba and fight Muhammad Ali, asking those promoters who made the offer, “What’s a million dollars compared to the love of eight million Cubans?”. In the 90s Felix Savon won another three Olympic gold medals and turned down tens of millions to travel to the US to fight Mike Tyson. What Fidel Castro was trying to use his boxers to prove was not just that his boxers were defeating Americans in the ring, but that Cuba and her system were defeating America itself, most noticeably in their sacrifice of financial reward for service to their country.

We meet Rigondeaux as a national hero, 243 fights with only four losses, two Olympic gold medals, captain of the Cuban team, numerous world championships and national championships. Rigondeaux is well on his way to becoming the greatest amateur fighter the world has ever seen. The Cuban state has looked after Rigondeaux following his victories, providing him and his family with a car and Havana home. At this point Rigondeaux feels his sacrifice deserves a greater reward.

In the summer of 2007, Guillermo Rigondeaux fails to show up for his scheduled bout at the Pan Am Games in Brazil. It’s announced that Rigondeaux is turning professional and joining his fellow Cuban Olympians Yan Barthelemy, Yuriorkis Gamboa and Odlandier Solis, who’d defected earlier in 2006. Following the lead of the previous Cuban defectors, Rigondeaux signs a promotional deal with Arena Box-Promotion. Then, on August 2nd 2007,Rigondeaux is taken into police custody in Brazil, pleading that he wants to return home to Cuba.

Upon his return, Fidel Castro states publicly Rigondeaux is a traitor to Cuba and the Cuban people and he will not box again for the Cuban team. His car is seized, his home under constant watch, all former teammates, coaches and friends are forbidden from contact with him. Teofilo Stevenson, Cuba’s most decorated champion speaks out against this publicly and defends Rigondeaux, pleading for his reinstatement to no avail. He’s banned from competing for a 3rd gold medal in Beijing. Rigondeaux, set adrift in the prime of his career, is held hostage by the state and banned from any possible return to boxing.

Secretly Rigondeaux engages in negotiations with foreign parties to arrange for his escape from Cuba and into the world of professional boxing at the cost of losing his wife and child and everything he’s ever known with little or no prospect of ever being able to return.

February 2009, Rigondeaux risks his life to defect with smugglers via Mexico City, into the waiting arms of Miami exiled-Cuban promoters. A legal battle between his Irish manager Gary Hyde and the Miami promoters begins for control of Rigondeaux’s career before it even has a chance to begin. Rigondeaux’s career stalls as the power struggle over his career persists. He is nearly 30 when the issues are resolved and he finally signs a contract with Bob Arum, the largest boxing promoter in the world.

Rigondeaux discovers that the biggest obstacle to his career’s success lies in the fact that the 95% non-black exiled-Cuban community in Florida offer no support of black Cuban fighters. As Bob Arum points out, “Cuban Olympic champions can’t sell out the front row of a dancehall in Miami.”

Shortly after signing his contract in April of 2010, Rigondeaux is nearly knocked out while sparring in Los Angeles with a very limited youthful amateur. He promptly severs ties with his trainer, Freddie Roach, and returns to Miami. From his corner, Roach chillingly points out, “Someone was exposed here today.” At the most important moment of his life, Rigondeaux stands on the brink of either a championship or total professional and personal collapse. After 6 successful fights, Bob Arum steps forward to offer a contract to Gary Hyde, dangling a title shot. If he wins, the American dream could still come true for Rigondeaux. If he loses, he could become just another defector from Cuba who’s lost everything in search of that dream. Like nearly all the defected Cuban fighters who came before him, the biggest opponent Rigondeaux faces is coping with American life. Every time he steps into battle in an American ring, Rigondeaux wears the flag of the nation he has left behind on his trunks. Just what Cuba he is fighting for remains a mystery.

Cham’s “Stripper Pose” video looks like it had to be one of the funnest video shoots ever. Beautiful girls on a beach with big bass cabinets blasting dancehall—what’s not to like? His song “Lawless” video might be on the same Dave Kelly–produced riddim, but the visuals depict totally different situation. It’s a rudeboy tune after all, a block-by-block survey of which neighborhood in Kingston is the maddest and why. We’re talking black bandanas, high-speed chases, outwitting Babylon at every turn. Fasten your seatbelt.

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Less than ten days after being released from prison in the US, dancehall star Busy Signal has returned to Jamaica and asserted his presence with “Come Shock Out,” a real uptempo feelgood song that pays tribute to 80’s sound system deejays, and a time when it was just one turntable playing in the dance. Shouting out his peers and his elders alike, Busy channels the sound of some of dancehall’s greatest rhythm riders from the 80’s, including the late Early B, Lord Sassafrass, Burru Banton, General Trees and even Sancho, as producer Shane Brown plays bits and pieces of Dennis Brown’s “Revolution” bass line—and which Busy Signal rides like a professional disc jockey in the Jamaican sense of the word.

A song that will definitely find favor with older dancehall heads and school a lot of young fans, “Come Shock Out” will likely have many current deejays imitating Busy’s throwback style very soon. The only thing missing from “Come Shock Out” is Joe Lickshot with some verbal gunshots: “Peeoow Peeoow Peeoow!”

You’ve gotta love the new Elephant Man video from Terminal 4 Media. Not just because it’s hilarious seeing Elly and Ding Dong and Keiva and the Ravers Clavers crawling in the primordial ooze like a bunch of swamp creatures. And not just because they so clean up in the second half of the video, trash and ready and bush to the bone ready to floss around the world in yet another dancehall version of Psy’s runaway hit “Gangnam Style.” And not just because it’s great to hear Elly singing a ridiculous dancehall instructional video all hoarse and off-key and not giving a frack like in the good ol’ days. It’s a little bit of all those things, actually. “How dem say Ding Dong stop dance?” Elly asks, outraged. “A lie dem ah tell!” As silly as these songs are—and make no mistake, they’re pretty silly—there’s a serious subtext behind the whole thing. “Mek we bring back the dancehall,” Elly sings on the delightfully ear-splitting hook. “Mek we show dem how it used to be.” Which means you’ve got to come with a new style. Even if it means making up your face like a reptile and crawling in the mud. And of course “Badman Style” isn’t exactly new. Psy did it first. Then Mega Banton, Singer J, and G-Loc brought it into the dancehall. But theirs was more of a bad man badman thing. And you already know Elly’s thing is a dancing thing. As in not taking oneself too seriously. As in embracing the inherent silliness of the whole thing. As in having fun again. Just like it used to be.

British director Keith Musaman Morton and Trini-American producer Charysse Tia Harper are on a mission to share the story of the steelpan in their new film project, Panomundo. Panomundo (the title is a combination of steelpan and the Spanish word mundo, which translates to world) is set to be showcased in 2013, but the directors have already issued a seven-minute promo video online to give viewers a taste of the film to come.

The two award-winning filmmakers are raising funds, and attention, to tell the controversial story of the oil drum turned highly-respected and adopted musical instrument. The film sheds light on how the instrument was created and the stigma that soon followed behind the pan players, who were commonly called Panners or Pansmen….