I AM AN ARDENT CALYPSO FAN. I do not just enjoy the music; I appreciate the art form.
I should rephrase that: I used to be an ardent calypso fan. However, over the last couple of years my relationship with calypso much resembles my relationship with cricket.
I am tired of crying over it, pulling out my hair over it – so now I just pay attention only when I cannot avoid it. I think the state of the art form is much like everything else in society today. Everyone wants to cater to the lowest common denominator, there is no substance or passion, and certainly the attention to and appetite for good quality music has been replaced by a whole set of drivel with little appreciation for the skill of the art form.
I really do not know what to call what it is that is playing on the radio. It bears absolutely no relationship to what I know or used to know of the art form – it is just noise. I am not apologetic.
I am not going to glorify the numerous young people that have now entered the arena and are producing music daily like it comes from an open tap. This as far as I am concerned is part of the problem. What we have now is quantity and getting quite confused because it bears no relationship to quality except that both begin with the letter q.
I remember when calypso (social commentary and party music) was about something, when penning a calypso was a serious task. There was pride in the art form and the calypsonian understood his or her role. The same thing with the derivative we call soca. Soca was just a more rhythmic offshoot but no less skilful in its storytelling.
I remember when double entendre was a central part of the art form and the better calypsonians, including soca artistes, distinguished themselves by how well they could master its use. This has now been replaced with the downright crass and uncouth. It is like drinking muddy water – unpalatable.
You see, as with cricket, we have lost sight of the raison d’être and have started to value the game as an end in itself. In cricket now we have this fascination with youth and talent, those who can hit the ball hard and score 50 runs the fastest and if we are lucky stay at the wicket past five overs.
All important in some respects, but cricket, like calypso, is one of those things that if we do not get the right measure of talent mixed with a healthy serving of passion, which is driven by social angst, topped with a huge amount of pride and reverence for what you are doing – then we are just playing a game, or in the case of calypso, just simply making noise. All brawn, no brains and perhaps more importantly no soul – it’s like a Bajan family lunch without macaroni pie. It does not make sense; it becomes unrecognisable.
The seeming lure to the art form now is about making that big hit or having that one song that will make you a star and bring home the big payday. This is across the board, whether it is doing social commentary, party music, soca – whatever we want to call it. It is about who can make people laugh the most rather than think, who can sing to the fastest beat without a hint of proper lyrical construction and who can be the crassest and still get people to wuk up in the party. My gosh!
So of course I am being a tad bit unfair to the young people who are coming up now from the Junior Monarch competition and who, because of their initial training, are able to exhibit some measure of quality.
I am also not undervaluing the contributions of the Adonijahs, the Adrian Clarkes (I cannot call everyone) and others in the tents who continue year after year to demonstrate commitment to the best standards of the art form. Nevertheless, I stand by my conviction that the art form has lost its way.
I must admit that I miss it.
Shantal Munroe-Knight is a development specialist executive coordinator at the Caribbean Policy Development Centre. Email [email protected]