Musician <PERSON> on how the pandemic is bringing Trinidad & Tobago Carnival back to itself · Global Voices
Trinidadian musician <PERSON> (centre) and her band Moyenne have been reimagining the Carnival space not only via their music, which melds jazz, calypso and steelpan, but also through the ways in which COVID-19 has forced them to innovate. Photo courtesy Esdelle, used with permission. Photographer: <PERSON>.
It's no surprise that the COVID-19 pandemic has led to the cancellation of Trinidad and Tobago's 2021 Carnival celebrations. What is surprising to some Carnival stakeholders is that the National Carnival Commission (NCC), the state body that oversees the festival, has advised that it will not be hosting any virtual events, despite the fact that other world-famous Carnivals, most notably the one in New Orleans, will be taking the celebrations online come February 15 and 16.
<PERSON>, former calypsonian turned politician who is now the NCC chair, has defended this position by saying that Carnival is “a contact sport” that needs to be “peopled.” Instead, the NCC proposes to do a retrospective on 100 years of the national festival. <PERSON> added Carnival is a money-earner for the country and that he had to ensure that any taxpayers’ dollars spent would provide a return.
His stance sparked criticism, not only from the artists, designers, musicians and performers whose livelihoods depend in large part on Carnival events—many of whom are hosting both virtual and COVID-19-compliant, in-person events on their own—but also from those who understand the national festival to be much deeper and more significant than a mere contributor to the country's gross domestic product (GDP).
One of those artists is musician <PERSON>. Soon after the pandemic hit, she and her band Moyenne, a Trinidad and Tobago-based jazz group that is firmly rooted in the country's calypso and steelpan tradition, began offering performances via podcast, under the name of their studio, the Ethnic Jazz Club. <PERSON> has also been using her blog to discuss how people can reconnect with Carnival in much more meaningful ways now that the pandemic has upended the status quo. Through both email and phone, we discussed the possibilities.
Musician <PERSON>. 264
Photo courtesy Esdelle, used with permission. Photographer: <PERSON>.
<PERSON> (JMF): Trinidad and Tobago would ordinarily be in the throes of Carnival fever by now. How is the absence of the festival this year affecting you?
<PERSON> (CE): On the surface, [I feel] numbness, which could translate to mean I feel a sadness and loss. My Carnival is in steelband … Panorama and J’ouvert. It is a place where I meet up with decades-old friends, plan, inspire, meet younger [musicians] and rekindle warmness with elders. I am missing that deeply.
<PERSON>: In your blog post, you observe that the practice of Carnival is “being met in the same way many of the tenets of Carnival originally were, with restrictions and repression.” How does your Backyard Jam concept fit in?
CE: In the post I was suggesting that the Backyard Jam is how we [are] celebrating this year, and this and all might be shut off, just like many other Carnival yards were banned in the earlies. I say this with no citations of any sources. The way it influenced me, though, is to look at how Carnival creativity is engendered in a close (relationship-wise) space, and then vibrates out. This further propels me to continue the model we have of a studio that produces work for our patrons, but now spirals out by showing [what we do] to a wider audience by broadcasting video recordings of it.
The Backyard Jam is word of mouth, [based on] contributions not fees, and participation in an activity—not consumption of a product—which is where Carnival is currently at, so … it is a return.
<PERSON>: You mention “a return to an awareness of self and a restoration of cultural confidence” emanating from this fresh understanding of Carnival’s purpose.
CE: Cultural confidence … you kinda have to have it in a small space 'cause you can’t bullshit people when they are in close range, so you have to clearly decide what you're doing and this always requires a bit more reflection and remembrance. 550