Somewhere in the early ’80s, Tradewinds came to Guyana to take part in Mashramani with a substitute bass player, Burman Scott, from Cayman. It was his first time here. In the Mash Day parade, as the float turned from Church into Irving Street, Burman was facing south. When he turned around and saw the thousands jamming the roadway ahead, he froze with his hands locked on the guitar, his mouth agape. “I have never seen a crowd like that,” he told me later. This year Mashramani came and went with another huge turnout like that, or bigger, and with spectacular costumes leaving an impression that must have heartened the organizers. Mash has had its ups and downs since I played in it more than 20 years ago, but the Festival this year seemed to hit a peak both in terms of artistic output and in patronage; the organizers must have been pleased.
But then the other shoe fell when, at the height of the Festival, with the Saturday parade yet to happen, there came the astonishing news that our national radio operation had decided that none of the calypsoes featured in the Mashramani Calypso Competition were to be broadcast. To date, the ban remains in force, the Ministry of Culture has said it was an NCN decision, and the promised explanation from NCN has not yet emerged.
The banning of music from the airwaves is always a contentious exercise because of the high degree of subjectivity interacting in the process, but I bring two comments to the debate. The first is that the calypso tradition which is an indigenous part of our culture is a form of music that while danceable and pleasing is usually also current social commentary.
Indeed, this music originated in a time when printed commentary was scant and calypsonians were, in effect, musical columnists who were reflecting concerns and opinions bubbling in their societies. Following in that tradition years later, ‘Jean and Dinah’ was one such song as was Lord Blakie’s gripping ‘Steelband Clash’and that tradition, strongly propelled in Trinidad, has come to be universally accepted as a key feature of calypso. Throughout the region, wherever the music is created, that ingredient of social commentary is the fuel for the art form; it is its very reason for being. The heartbeat of calypso is the public prod, swathed in humour, aimed at either the mighty and powerful or at ourselves.
Furthermore, and particularly pertinent to this discussion, calypso has been accepted as so going back to the rudimentary “Santimanitay” forms of early kaiso to the modern work of a Sparrow or a David Rudder or a Gabby. In its projection over time, the music has achieved two things: it is a demonstration of the creative genes of Caribbean people, generally, and, just as generally, by its acceptance and wide exposure in live and broadcast shows, it is evidence that our leaders were mature enough to take the jocular criticism in stride. Indeed, we have two public examples of this “let it be” attitude: one is the stance of the late Trinidad PM Eric Williams who reacted to the pointedly critical calypsos from The Mighty Chalkdust with his “Let the jackass bray” comment. The other, as this week revealed by Rebel, is the comment once made to him, by the late Forbes Burnham, that “such songs ease public tension.”
It is a clear measure of how confident and mature we are as a people when we can accept criticism, and once we keep blatant vulgarity, libel and slander out of it, the ability to laugh at ourselves, and to hopefully correct our deficiencies, has to be regarded as a meritorious quality. That is my first comment when we come to the table to ban material in any form. (In this area of government critiques, it is instructive to see the almost daily lampooning that takes place in developed countries (on newscasts; late-night shows; comedy specials, etc) without a murmur from the establishment, and with no resulting intimations of a ban.)
My second comment flows from a remark made by the Minister of Culture Frank Anthony who I can attest has been working assiduously to regenerate our calypso. When asked if the NCN ban was not a setback, he responded, “You know, out of every challenge there are opportunities and I think we should view it that way.” The implications of that statement are heartening; they suggest that the Minister is looking ahead. Unfortunately, the reporter did not ask him to elaborate, and so I may be taking some liberties here, but I presume he means that the furor could lead to a deeper discussion of the calypso issues, including the matter of airplay, and, hopefully, improved opportunities for the form. It’s a point to take on board.
Perhaps this uproar will finally convince the artists who are seriously committed to calypso to do as Rebel suggests: come together in a united manner to develop a strategy for dealing with the ramifications of the recent ban. Fragmentation in arts groups here is often a formidable barrier to their advancement; the broadcast ban may serve to propel solidarity.
In that same context, it is worth noting that the 10 banned songs had all come through three layers of elimination judging by the Ministry of Culture, obviously approved at each stage, with no questions asked or flags raised about the entries that reached the final stage. But to then have a separate entity, NCN, impose a broadcast ban on the songs suggests that this furor may result in a rethink to prevent such an occurrence in the future.
Perhaps the furor will also encourage further commitment to the art form here at several levels (training of judges, composition workshops, rehearsals, etc). Calypso is no longer the popular music of the day in the Caribbean, but it remains a form with its advocates, and it can still be of benefit to the nation in a socio-political role with its messages, and purely as entertainment.
Let us go at this cogently. The ban, however misconceived, is a done deal. The damage has been caused. The hope now is in the attitude of persons like Minister Anthony who are seeing in that scenario opportunities that could ultimately benefit the calypso art form in Guyana. If that comes to pass – we’ll have to wait and see – this banning action, properly described as “petty” or “senseless” by some, would have had valuable spinoffs in the end.
