Kaiso Soca February 8
No, Kaiso Soca is not the imaginary sadist of Usual Suspects fame. Rather, Kaiso and Calypso and Soca, in that order, chart the long history of island music. Thanks to the radio facilities of the US Navy, which proliferated in Port of Spain during WWII, Calypso grew an international audience in the 1940’s and thereafter. “Lemon tree very pretty,“ sang Trini Lopez in 1965, which attempted to popularize the Calypso form, but it was no such thing. The singer named Trinidad was actually from Dallas.
The original genre is Kaiso, or traditional Calypso, and it is as old as the British conquest. Any islands with West African slaves played the drum-strum idiom and sung the lyrics in Patois. Those songs were of struggle, rebellion, and emancipation, mobilizing the uprisings that caused profits to drop and the King to quit the slaving business. And the songs were of celebration too, for the love of life and liberty and pursuit of happiness. Calypso is colloquial and topical, often satirical and funny, but, most of all, in tune with its audience. Hence, the call and response.
Calypso effectively modernized the native Kaiso form, with more English words and American phrasings, especially jazz, syncopated with those contrary but irresistible accents on unexpected syllables. Lyrics are lengthy and complex, like rap, frequently editorial, intrepid and radical, and, until recent years, hugely popular. Specific meaning is usually impossible for me to decipher, because I am not meant to. These songs are singularly about, by, and for Trinbagonians, Harry Belafonte notwithstanding.
While working out a new song, a couple of pannists slow the tempo of the Soca, Caribbean Soul, revealing its old-fashioned Kaiso roots. The sticks become wands, and the words become almost translatable, the western-style tuning finally recognizable. The players commit the muscular blows to memory. The result is a seamless ensemble.
So it is with this year’s challengers for the 2019 Soca Crown. One leading contender is Jah-Moun’s “Life is a Blessing,“ whose hummable D-G-A recycles an old gem. As his video demonstrates, the clear message aims for broad appeal, whether from the pews of Saint Anthony or the cannons of Fort George overlooking Petit Valley. The video presents a young man facing a crossroad. Its dedication, RIP Kendall “Cocky“ Duhan, reminds us of consequential decisions “when ya just do what ya want.“ If your nickname is “Cocky“, then consider yourself warned.
The local favorite for winning it all on the Queen’s Park Savannah is “Iron Love“, by Nailah Blackman, and featuring the Laventille Rhythm Section. This infectious dance number conjures hope from the bleakest corner of the city, following a young boy who chases magic among the tamboo-bamboos, oil drums, and furnace pans. He returns home when reality crashes, dazed but inspired, eliciting only mild scrutiny from grandma at the stove: “Zachary, I hope ya went nowhere gallivantin’.“
My choice for Soca Monarch 2019 is Nadia Batson, whose song, “So Long“, is a carefree hip-displacer from Tobago. Its lighter-than-air mood makes for genuine sugar pop from the land of cane, harkening back to the earliest Caribbean Soul days of the ’70’s and ’80’s. In the video, she greets a Trini fresh back from the diaspora, busting a lime with juice at a beach house. The bass player is incredible. Featured is the essential sensuality of Soca dance, especially the Wine, which is a conjugal act utterly devoid of sexual innuendo. I am required to report this by the culture police.
“I t’ought ya was hidin’,
I t’ought you went foreign,
So long aya-a see yo—gimme a wine now,
Gg-gg-gg-gimme a wine now,
Dat ‘ll make up for all t’is time now.“
The rhythms mesmerize, the metallic harmonies enchant, but they are not so different from the Zulu songs of continental Ladysmith, or the Louisiana Creole of the Nevilles. Outsiders can replicate the beat arrangements, on acoustic or electronic instruments, and they have been doing so since the War. What ultimately distinguishes Soca, however—instantly identifiable, unmistakable, irreproducible—is the language. You may fall in love with it, but you will never truly get it. Like the wicked Wine itself, Soca is enticing but in the end impenetrable. And there is no such thing as innuendo, I am firmly told.