On some level, we can still blame Robin Thicke. The Blurred Lines ruling opened up a new era of music copyright, one in which litigants were able to sue alleged copycats over things like "feel" and arrangements, not just similar melodies and lyrics. This additional blurriness has made possible one of the most headspinning copyright cases of all time: Steely & Clevie Productions’ federal lawsuit claiming that a drum pattern that traces back to their 1989 dancehall reggae track “Fish Market” entitles them to damages for copyright infringement in more than 1,800 reggaetón songs. On that list are billion-streamers such as Bad Bunny's "Titi Me Preguntó," Luis Fonsi & Justin Bieber's "Despacito" and many others, which could theoretically entitle the plaintiffs to hundreds of millions of dollars if they prevail. A California federal judge is expected to rule any week on whether the case will go to trial.

What everybody can agree on is that Steely and Clevie's instrumental “Fish Market” was the basis of Shabba Ranks’ 1990 track “Dem Bow,” the song which ultimately gave its name to reggaeton's dembow rhythm when Puerto Rican artists started MCing over dancehall-style beats in the 1990s.  But it wasn't a straight line.  Wayne Marshall, an ethnomusicologist and Berklee professor who has served as an expert witness for the defense, points out that the most-sampled dembow source material  was the instrumental "Pounder.” Marshall says that’s “really the record that Puerto Ricans think of as dembow.” As a result, Steely & Clevie's lawyers — the heavyweight music copyright firm Doniger/Burroughs — have enlisted the owners of the "Pounder" masters as fellow plaintiffs, creating what Bad Bunny’s lawyers have argued is a legal “Frankenstein monster” designed to cast the widest copyright net.

There's an irony that the suit is over songs from Jamaica's "open domain" days. Looking past copyright and repurposing sounds from near and far has a long and illustrious history in Jamaican music, from the Cuban music influence on mento and ska to rock steady artists covering R&B songs to producers doing "re-licks" of other producers riddims.  "Jamaican musicians have been very cannily copying the world's music, especially African American music for decades, and turning it into their own thing," says Marshall. "There is no reggae without rhythm and blues, and it wouldn't sound the way it does without Cuban music."

Still, many people have noted that there is a disconnect between the Jamaican influence on today's music and the number of actual Jamaican artists on global charts. "Jamaicans are looking around and seeing some of the most successful entertainers in the world today sounding a lot like Jamaican music," he says, "and there are no Jamaicans on the world stage in the same way." You could hear that sentiment, along with a hint of intra-Caribbean tension, from dancehall legend King Jammy shortly after the Steely and Clevie suit was announced: "I think [Steely and Clevie are] following the right track," he said. "Those people want to sample our things, and they do it in a minute ... and they don't give us any rights."

The pace of justice has been slow (5 years and counting) and the range of potential outcomes is wide. U.S. District Judge André Birotte could dismiss the suit entirely. (Birotte, in a nice twist, was a dancehall DJ in college, so we can hope that his decision will be well-considered.) If it goes to trial, the chances of a settlement are high. The problem is that even the ripple effects of a settlement could put reggaeton, dance, hip-hop and other beat-focused producers and artists under an unprecedented level of scrutiny. "The Marvin Gaye/Robin Thicke case has opened up a can of worms," says Marshall. 

Opportunistic copyright lawyers might well look for rhythm patterns traceable to one song or person in other genres that could be "ownable." Marshall points to the distinct 4/4 rhythm that Philly International drummer Earl Young invented, which spurred copycats on seemingly every '70s disco record and would become the basis for enormous stretches of house, techno and EDM music. Will his estate be able to sue thousands of dance artists and producers for infringement? 

"You can't find it before Earl Young did it in the early 1970s," says Marshall. But at the time, "He thought, I can't own that -- it's way too obvious."

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this; email me at [email protected]