Boxing Day, 2003. On the day that Dancehall royalty and fans traditionally congregate at Jamaica’s Jamworld Entertainment Centre for the annual Sting concert and bottle-throwing event, a humble New York nightclub hosted Shabba Ranks, the former undisputed ruler of a genre that has long-since passed him by. For one night, a least, and in once place, Shabba was king again.

New York’s brand new Bubbler’s Nightclub, which was celebrating its grand opening, was an incongruous site for the return of a legend. Clearly behind schedule on the grand opening plans, workmen were still frantically trying to assemble a functioning restroom at showtime. The show was being held in the basement of the club, and the stage – if you could call it that – was postage stamp-sized and rose a mere six inches off the ground. Tools, sheet rock and exposed wires lent the club a ghetto vibe that contrasted with its midtown Manhattan address. It seemed beneath the stature of the man who was being introduced as the “icon” and “legend” who fathered modern Dancehall.

Brushing aside these concerns, Shabba bounded onstage at 4:00 a.m. to the deafening screams of a ram-packed club. Dressed in a heavy blue faux fur coat, white jeans, spectacles and a tasteful amount of old-school bling-bling, Shabba was every bit the commanding stage presence he has always been. He was still the chiseled specimen he always was. His nostrils still flared wildly while he performed, sucking in the volumes of oxygen needed to fuel his oft-imitated throaty rudebwoy roar. On stage, Shabba was still the prototypical DJ. And if his hairline has crept back a few inches in recent years, no one seemed to notice.

From his typical “I’m not going to a circus, I’m not going to a fair” opening, Shabba completely captivated the Bubblers crowd. For over an hour of late ‘80s and early ‘90s hits, Ranks could do no wrong. And when Shabba touchingly asked the crowd not to forget him until he was dead and gone “like Bob Marley,” such a prospect seemed incomprehensible.

Old-school stars Sluggy Ranks and Junior Demus, also briefly touched the mic and delighted the crowd. But, as Jr. Demus noted, “this is Shabba’s show.”

Seven hundred in a New York basement is not 20,000 at Sting, but on a night traditionally reserved for Dancehall royalty, there was no doubt who was king.

CLICK HERE for exclusive photos of Shabba Ranks, Jr. Demus and Sluggy Ranks live at the Bubblers' Nightclub