Treating with icons

August 18, 2004

It is one of the things that Lloyd Best, of all people, taught me by example. I recall him in Montreal standing up at the now historically-noted Black Writers' Congress in October 1968 and saying fearlessly to all and sundry, to all the then world-renowned and well established black leaders, artists and writers, that he had heard "no serious formulations being made" and that "people seem prepared to merely divide the world into cowboys and Indians."

In the uproar that followed, I remember being scared that Lloyd would be killed but he soldiered on and made his point.

On another occasion in the 1960s, I remember myself and others arguing with him for being critical of Fidel Castro, who then, in the eyes of the student populations of the world, was the progressive political leader par excellence. And Lloyd Best in rebuttal admonished us never to be "cautious" about criticising leadership.

In fact, he indicated that Fidel was a Caribbean icon that had to be viewed critically precisely because he was such a significant icon at that time, a leader with a point of departure different to the other run-of-the-mill conservative leaders in the Caribbean, and one whose policies and programmes would certainly influence the fundamental direction of the Caribbean region for the next 50 years. Nobody could disagree with such a line of reasoning.

In the piece "Waiting for the next Sparrow," I took pains to point out that Sparrow was in fact the calypso icon of the late '50s and '60s, the consummate artist in every which way. This is what I said:

"...Everything about him then, the swagger, the general posture, the 'bad-john' stance, the social awareness and militancy, the maroon Opel Kapitan, the 'muff' (that's why I was so upset when the statue of him was devoid of this crest of hair), the laugh, the 'oh-ya' refrain, everything about the man then as artist spelt that he was indeed the man of the moment, the consummate, relevant artist, hence there came the well-known adage: 'If Sparrow say so, is so.'

"There was absolutely no credibility gap between this artist and his people. He was mimicked by everyone who wished to be deemed 'someone.' He expressed the deep-felt sentiments of the streets as no one ever did before. He was a true-true product of the guts and bowels of the working- masses and children sang every word, every line of the calypsoes he sang.

"And with the work that he chose and the style that he utilised, which seemed as natural to him as fresh air, he almost single-handedly freed up the calypso genre from the structural and lyrical pigeon-hole in which it had been buried for decades. 'Sparrow singing songs,' the traditionalists and purists insisted but the masses of people could not be bothered..."

But then, even "relevance" or "irrelevance" has context in terms of place and time. Time moves on, people move on, and in most instances a once consummate artist can loose touch, loose connection, and end up caught in a time-warp.

It certainly does not mean that his works can no longer be enjoyed, that we can no longer "wine to his songs and his music on the main road." Nostalgia and entertainment value have their place in the course of human well-being, no one can deny that.

But answering the call and the demands of the times is something else altogether.

Remember the piece I wrote in 1974, when Shadow burst onto the scene? It was printed in the Guardian under the title, "Shadow thief we head" and was reprinted by Kairi Magazine under the title, "New calypso structure to suit the new mood."

This is what I said then in arguing that Sparrow was no longer the total consummate artist that he once was ¶n the '60s and that the '70s had passed him by:

"... It is no coincidence that in 1974, Sparrow came up with Bad John and We Pass That Stage, precisely because he has been unable to theoretically understand what has been happening in this society since the awakening of 1970. To Sparrow, all that has been happening is just 'bad-johnism' rearing its head again and he warns us that we already passed that stage..."

By contrast, I showed that Kitch presented a better reading of the situation and the times with Jericho and Tourist Takeover, then I went on to advance this most definitive and controversial conclusion:

"Undoubtedly Kitch is a grandmaster. He is the only man that has been able to span three consecutive eras of calypso and social consciousness; the era before Sparrow, the Sparrow era, and now the era that has abandoned Sparrow..."

(Incidentally, that was the very first reference to Kitch as "grandmaster"-I just could not resist that, Keith). But, grouse? How can such an historical assessment and analysis be interpreted as the result of personal grouse?

No way! Personal feelings have nothing to do with my analysis. However, a total consummate artist is one whose subjectivity, in every which way, reflects the objectivity of a said time.

You done know!