Marvin Prince, the man reportedly behind Snow’s “Informer,” dead

Key Points(5)
- Two weeks ago, I went looking for producer and master mixer Marvin Prince.
- I wanted to reconnect with the Jamaican-born DJ, producer and mentor about an EDM project that dub poet Yasus Afari, Marvin and I had started working on in April 2024.
- I called his cellphone.
- Concerned, I searched his name online.
- What appeared on my screen left me stunned — an obituary.
Two weeks ago, I went looking for producer and master mixer Marvin Prince. I wanted to reconnect with the Jamaican-born DJ, producer and mentor about an EDM project that dub poet Yasus Afari, Marvin and I had started working on in April 2024.
I called his cellphone. Disconnected. I sent an email. It bounced back. Concerned, I searched his name online. What appeared on my screen left me stunned — an obituary.
Marvin Prince had died unexpectedly at his Ajax, Ontario, home on May 2, 2025. He was only 54. I was in a state of shock!
For me, the discovery reopened a remarkable chapter in reggae and dancehall history — one stretching back more than three decades to a young white Canadian DJ named Snow and a cassette recording of a song called “Informer.”
I first met Snow in December 1992 while working as a young freelance journalist for Florida-based Dub Missive magazine. EastWest Records executive Karen Mason contacted me about this unusual Canadian artist whose music was beginning to create a buzz underground, months before it was released.
I was in Montreal covering a concert featuring Stitchie — who ironically passed away recently — and singer Admiral Tibet. I drove to Toronto to interview Snow, who was out of prison on a weekend pass. He was staying at his then-girlfriend’s home.
When we met that Sunday night, Snow slipped a cassette into a tape player. Then “Informer” exploded from the speakers. I was blown away. I heard other songs from the unreleased 12 Inches of Snow album. All the songs were bangers.
Here was a white Canadian kid delivering rapid-fire lyrics with a dancehall cadence and Jamaican patois. I needed to know: Where did this come from? Who taught him the intricacies of DJing? I will share the full story another time.
The short version: Snow told me about meeting his neighbor Marvin Prince, who took him under his wing, immersed him in dancehall culture, and helped develop and build on his DJ skills and delivery. Long before the record companies, international tours and global fame, Prince helped shape Snow’s skills in Toronto basements and at neighborhood parties.
Within months, “Informer” became a worldwide phenomenon, spending seven consecutive weeks at No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Snow’s 12 Inches of Snow album would sell millions. But success also brought conflict.
Prince reported that he had co-written five songs and co-produced the album alongside M.C. Shan, David Eng and Steve Salem. He later took his dispute to court, initially receiving a US$1.5 million judgment before the case was ultimately dismissed. He did numerous interviews about his involvement with Snow and his contribution to his career. Snow has also done interviews sharing his own story about how his career as a Jamaican dancehall DJ really began.
I met Prince’s dad by chance at King Culture record store on Eglinton Ave. in Toronto in 1993, a few weeks after my Dub Missive magazine story was first published. I eventually met and interviewed Prince myself, and over the years came to appreciate that his story extended far beyond Snow.
Born in Kingston, Jamaica, Prince moved to Canada in 1980, shortly before his 10th birthday. Music became his calling — DJing, turntablism, production and, importantly, artist development.
Later in life, he turned that knowledge toward helping at-risk young people, using music to teach discipline, creativity, resilience and life skills. That makes the way I learned about his death even more painful.
Despite Prince’s reported contribution to one of the most recognizable reggae/dancehall-influenced recordings of the 1990s, I could find remarkably little public acknowledgment of his passing. One of the few tributes I encountered was a Facebook post from his friend DJ Davito: “GONE BUT NEVER FORGOTTEN! NEVER FORGET!” Those words resonate.
Marvin Prince may not have become the internationally recognized name that Snow became, but his fingerprints are embedded in an important chapter of dancehall’s global journey. And I can never forget that Sunday night in Toronto in 1992, when I first interviewed Snow in what may have been his very first media interview ever.
Before the world knew “Informer,” Snow told me who helped him learn more about dancehall. His name was Marvin Prince.
Gone — but he should never be forgotten.
RIP, my brother.






