Rhythmically, Soca music is generally prone to neither contemplation nor self-pity. It does not shuffle, like a Reggae beat. It eschews the pregnant pauses and minor keys of modern Hip-Hop. It resists the almost-humble assembly-line ubiquity of a popular Dancehall riddim, where a single beat can be the unassuming backdrop against which scores of different artists perform. Southern and Eastern Caribbean troubadours whose art leans toward sufferer’s anthems and political commentary tend to avoid Soca in favour of the more traditional Calypso/Kaiso structures.
Of course, matched with the right performer and the appropriate lyrics, a Soca song can capture any mood, and engender any emotion. But modern melancholy or meditation in a Soca song succeed precisely because of their incongruity — because of the skill and audacity required to lyrically ride and tame that bucking bronco of a Soca beat. The rhythm, stripped of lyrical content, is percussive. Propulsive. Kinetic and frenetic. It expects you to move. It demands action.
Which is why “Rise Up: A Time for Action” was the perfect name for a Soca-centric benefit concert dedicated to raising funds in the wake of the devastating Christmas Floods. The weather event had dealt SVG a stunning body blow. The nation was bloodied, bruised, and demoralized. But Christmas was a month behind us. The damage was done. The funeral dirges had been chanted. It was time to rise up. And Soca would lead the way.
Skinny Fabulous, SVG’s reigning Soca deity; Alex “Kubiyashi” Barnwell, our resident production wizard; and Luke Boyea, whose miraculous, mysterious ability to turn music into money almost rivals the biblical water-wine conversion, needed almost no encouragement before agreeing to organize and host a Soca concert that would help us to forget our troubles and dance.
A 28th December text message – “you need to start planning a relief concert for flood victims” — received an immediate positive response from Luke Boyea, who was in the midst of planning his massive annual holiday fete, “Stush.” Skinny and Alex jumped on board instantaneously and enthusiastically.
Two days later, at the Hot97 nerve center, Skinny, Luke, Alex and I sat down to discuss details and logistics. Accustomed as I am to public sector bureaucracies and United Nations diplomatic dithering, I was thrown by the whiplash-quick decision-making and unshakeable confidence of the men. There were questions about dates, prices, lineups, advertising, venue, projections, beneficiaries, inclusivity, transparency and the role of the Government. Everything was efficiently discussed, decided and delegated. As Skinny once opined (in a slightly different context) this was not a time for any more “long talk.” It was a time for action.
In an era of renewed handwringing about the next generation’s lack of commitment and conviction, here were three young men willing to organize, mobilize and strategize for a cause of national importance. At a time where our radio discourse — like a hot air balloon — is somehow simultaneously full (of hot air), yet empty; and when our Internet pontificators are as plentiful as sand, but as shallow as a mosquito’s grave, here were young soldiers in a united Vincy army, reporting for duty, and crafting a focused battle-plan that involved all sectors of society.
They say that volunteerism is dead. It’s not true. The volunteerism was contagious. Local artists lined up to perform for free. Marc Richardson selflessly donated his Platinum Sound stage, lighting and equipment. The National Lottery waived all fees for Victoria Park. A who’s-who of regional Soca stars gave up a Saturday at the beginning of the lucrative Trinidad & Tobago carnival season to perform for free in SVG. Other artists that could not attend, from Machel Montano to Marlon “Mattafix” Roudette, recorded video promotions that became part of Luke’s advertising juggernaut. The much-maligned LIAT flew those regional artists in to St. Vincent for free. The Royal SVG Police Force came early and stayed far later than planned. And Corporate SVG was fully represented – from Hot-97 to Lime to Scotiabank to KPMG to the Brewery to Coreas to Bonadies to Laynes to Finishing & Furnishing to Courts to Subway to various hoteliers to the Mustique Company – and more – all gave cash or valuable in-kind donations to the effort.
The entire effort – from conceptual, logistical, promotional, and organizational stages all the way to the actual concert – took four weeks.
No Rain Can Stop the Bacchanal
On the night of the show, after a day of perfect weather, the heavens opened, pelting the venue with a roaring rainstorm whose drops didn’t so much fall as attack you from strange angles. The roof on the stage was no protection from the elements, because, with the help of a howling wind, the raindrops defied physics and “fell” horizontally. Across SVG, young men and women were reconsidering their evening’s plans. When Ralph Gonsalves and Linton Lewis took the stage in a show of political unity, they were speaking to the Rain Gods, as the sparse audience fled the open areas and huddled in under distant pavilion awnings (Leader of the Opposition Arnhim Eustace skipped the event, as he’d skipped a similar Gospel benefit concert two weeks earlier, but his deputies ably represented his party). The first few acts were forced to navigate treacherously flooded stages and diminutive, drenched and dispirited crowds.
In planning the event, we’d secured the cooperation of everyone. We had the support of everything. Everything but the weather.
Skinny listened to my fearful predictions that the rain was going to “flop” the show. He saw my clenched-jaw tension. And he mocked it. The weather system will pass, he said, with the confidence of a meteorologist. And even if it didn’t, he promised me that once people heard the Soca on Hot-97, where the concert was being broadcast live, they would be compelled to come.
He believed, unquestioningly, in the power of Soca.
And come they did. Inclement weather be damned. We were here to rise up from the floods, to reach a level above the clouds. The rain would not stop us this time. The audience began to swell inexorably. First, a steady trickle. Then a heavy flow. Then a deluge – a flood to combat the flood. The soldiers were reporting for duty, and betting $20 on a new SVG.
The preliminary numbers (still being verified by certified accountants) tell us that almost 6,000 paying customers forked over their hard-earned money. Sponsors dropped another $60,000 or so in cash. The bar? Roughly $25,000 in profit. Telephone text pledges and all sponsor pledges aren’t yet, but the upshot:
Almost $200,000 raised (after expenses). On a rainy night. In a muddy field. By young people.
That the youth reported for duty is obvious and admirable. It is this sense of duty, this willingness to act quickly and decisively, and this optimistic expectation that their fellow youth will come through, that has me excited about the future. This benefit concert, coupled with the radio-thon – which raised over $125,000 and was also organized quickly by predominantly young people – have reestablished a useful template for action-oriented youth engagement, participation and contribution to important causes. Sure, the government was involved in removing bureaucratic barriers and facilitating various matters, but the energy, organization, and action was all theirs.
The State got out of the way, and trusted the youth to deliver.
Soca music delivered. We hear all the criticism: It’s empty, shallow music. The lyrical content is all “jump, wave ‘yo flag, and wine.” It encourages slackness, lewdness and immorality. The singers can’t sing. It’s a debasing evolution of a once proud calypso art form. Things aint what they used to be.
Nothing but Soca was going to get 6,000 kids to drop $20 on a rainy night to support a serious national cause. Nothing but Soca was going to lure them out from under the sheltered stands and encourage them to ruin shoes and hairstyles under unrelenting rain clouds. Nothing but Soca was going to so lift the spirits of a deflated population. During the show, someone complained to me that “people just fetting. No one thinking about the floods.” I told him that that was exactly the point.
Skinny, our newly-minted International Soca Monarch finalist, said that the young, vibrant, Vincy Posse in Victoria Park was “Behavin’ the Worst.”
They really couldn’t have behaved any better.