Whenever I say I love soca, British people look at me as if I am a crazy psychopath with serious mental issues. This is because SOCA here means the Serious Organised Crime Agency, our equivalent of a governmental CSI. I usually then explain that I mean soca music. This then generally leads into a circular confusing conversation where I try to describe the origins of soca- the heady mix of soul and calypso (I inevitably have to lead into the side-alley of what is calypso). I explain how soca, and not dancehall, is really the heartbeat of the Caribbean. How if reggae is its soul, soca is its heart. How soca is the accompanying wine of the gourmet meal of island life. I explain that it is the over-excited music of our Caribbean islands, sometimes mellifluous, sometimes guttural and evoking sheer pandemonium. I usually give up after the person I had been speaking to says ‘Like the Banana Boat song?” No, more like : Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot, the only chart topper ever since the year I was born.
After we witnessed the crossover appeal of dancehall heralded by Shaggy and Sean Paul and even younger artistes like Sean Kingston, we were all on edge. Soca was going to be the Next Big Thing. We were all prepared for it. Soca was going to be on major record labels, our stars were going to be the world’s stars; (we didn’t mind sharing). Our music was going to be legitimised and respected at last as a credible genre and not lumped in the aisles of “World Music” or shoved under the category “Reggae” on Itunes. There would be a Soca Category at the Grammys, the Brits, and the MOBOS. Microsoft Word was going to recognise the word soca in the same way it recognised reggae in a document. All along, we could not understand how this music which was infectious to us, did not appeal to a mainstream audience- finally they were going to get it.
Except they didn’t. A few of our artists were signed by various record labels but soca failed to jump off. The Bahia Men covered Anselm Douglas’ hit “Who Let the Dogs Out” but this song was only soca- tinged. Indeed, the Trinis (proud that their country created and developed soca music) were rather annoyed that instead of Messiah Machel Montano propelling soca forward into the twenty-first century, only two songs, none of them Trinidadian, made it to the world stage in a big way. Being an honorary Trini and a die-hard Machel fan, I was disappointed too.
St. Vincent and the Grenadines, relatively unknown hitherto in the Caribbean for massive soca hits was the country to deliver. The first was Kevin Lyttle’s Turn Me On, a song that was played in every club worldwide on rotation for months. The song was copied, covered and resang on YouTube. It featured a not too strong baseline, a haunting melody and an easy to follow, relatable storyline- a man asking a woman in a club to keep turning him on. It was relevant, universal and exploded on the international charts. This was the first soca ballad to spend 7 weeks in the Top Ten Singles in the UK, and the first to go gold in the United States. The second song to do this, on a smaller scale, was Jamesy P’s Nookie. Nookie was a cheeky song, with an equally mischievous catchline ‘Ah looking some nookie tonight”. It reached No 14 on the UK singles chart and sold well in the United States.
I could not understand it. I was weaned on soca music. My Saturday mornings as a child were often spent “ramajaying” and “dinglolaying” to the music of Blue Boy’s “Bacchanal”. Although I was so young I could go nowhere other than my bed, I responded “No” to the chantuelle call of “Are You Ready to Go Home?” I loved “jamming in the band” in the Carib Road Show in Grenada, and even now, soca is the music of my choice, in its many reformations. Groovy soca is the background to my calm easy evenings with a glass of red wine. Power soca spurs me on at the gym. Chutney soca, ragga soca, I love it in all its incarnations. I could not understand how my contemporaries got house, indie, rock, funky house but could not seem to connect with soca. I decided to analyse the reason for this gap that we have failed to close in the market especially as my Malaysian born friend could not get enough of Kevin Lyttle. It proved to me that we were doing something right but we were probably doing more things wrong.
Based on my limited review of the market (I am no musicologist), soca has not crossed over because of three main reasons: Its language, its context and it’s hitherto emphasis on non musicality. There is also an element of luck.
First, language. Soca’s language is steeped in the language of whine. This is vocabulary that is alien to the average international listener. 98% of the songs that were popular this season in Trinidad had a tagline of “whine”: Buffy’s “Whining on Anything”, Machel’s “Push It Back and Start to Whine”, Faye Ann’s “Start Whining”, Umi Marcano’s “Whine in Front of Me”. Major hits in past years also focused on whinery: from Machel’s “One More Whine” to Zoelah’s “Whine up on me”. The two major hits that escaped the limits of the Caribbean are telling in that they did not focus on “whining”. The international audience has no idea what this is, and when it is explained- they are for the most part uncomfortable with the idea of holding on to a total stranger in a party and grinding, gyrating on his/her behind. When the language of “whine” is not employed, this is usually replaced by words or expressions that are for the most part, instructive in nature. This can be a good thing, but the language has now become so predictable “Jump Jump Jump Up” that all the songs sound monotonous and repetitive.
Secondly, Soca’s context is Carnival. Carnival is a seasonal affair. The emphasis is not on good music making but on churning out a hit that only needs to last for one month, a hit that is perfectlysuitable for semi naked bodies prancing on a crowded street for two days. It does not take a genius to observe that this short timeframe in which to conceptualise and record a song is flawed. Songs are often produced too quickly and the song that becomes the best for two days of revelry where chaos and bacchanalia takes over can sometimes be not so good for airplay on rotation. The context of Carnival makes the chart toppers for that season songs that instruct “Get a Rag and Wave”, “Left to Right” “1, 2,3” “Anybody from Trinidad?”, not the type of songs that most listeners would reach for when at home. I do not necessarily agree that the tempo of the songs need to be slowed down (house music is relatively fast paced) but it is true that some of the songs we have come to hear recently are athletic paced and driven by a loud and strong bassline, making them extremely difficult to market.
Soca also has a traditional emphasis on non musicality. Recent endeavours have broken down some of these barriers, and there is now a greater emphasis on groovy soca with clear melodic structures but in general, lots of soca (particularly power soca) is not very melodious and sound like a cacophony of pan, guitar and drums on a synthesiser that are all hollering at the top of their voices. I am not advocating a watering down of the music, just more careful attention to the blend and the overall effect.
Image also matters. American (and to a lesser extent British) audiences favour youth and a clean cut preppy image for its favourite artists. It is for this reason that I think Machel Montano is not The One (seems strange to say this but it is true). Neither is Bunji. It might be time for Rih-Rih to do a soca. Maybe that might help to increase the profile of the genre. What is clear, however is that if soca wants to break through, a strategic study and analysis of the target market needs to be the focus. Artists should then be schooled, curriculum style. MA in Soca Studies anyone?
