Judging Calypso

JUDGING CALYPSO: Tradition versus Definitions
Dorbrene O'Marde

I had the opportunity during July (2001) of judging calypso competitions in Anguilla and St. Lucia and therefore interacting with a number of judges from across the region. I also had the opportunity to listen to judges/experts dissect the semi-finals competition in Barbados, and of course I saw the complete competition in Antigua from quarter-finals though semis and then to finals

I am becoming worried that the more we try to be scientific about judging; the more we attempt to describe and define; the more we attempt to dissect and evaluate, the more we seem to be losing or not building an organic and creative relationship with what we are attempting to judge. To compound the issue a number of external imperatives have entered our judging criteria. Many are anathema to the traditions of the art form.

For example, the desire to present time-bound shows has led to an increasing de-emphasis on the visual aspects of calypso performance. The stage-shows and visual presentations only carry a maximum of five percent of the marks for the calypso performance in the Antigua competition, less in others. These presentations take time to set up and therefore they are discouraged.

It is now nearly possible to judge competitions from home on the radio or on the grounds with your backs turned. The emphasis is now heavily weighted to the non-visual—melody, musical arrangement, lyrics, singing ability and other sub-categories like diction and clarity. But we know that traditionally African music is ‘seen’, European music is ‘heard’. Therefore to orient our judging score sheets/systems away from the visual and toward the aural is defeating of our own traditions.

We continue to proclaim our approaches as ‘scientific’ even when we deal with intangibles like melody and musical arrangement. In reality, we become scientific merely because we say so and then we proceed to institutionalize some rather murky concepts.

In the Antigua competition this year, twenty percent of the marks are allocated to ‘originality’—ten percent to originality of lyrics and ten percent to the originality of melody. There is nothing scientific about this. The award for originality is clearly determined by the judge’s retention of lyrics and melodies from other calypsoes and therefore very dependent on the judge’s familiarity with the large body of calypso expression—both national and regional.

In addition, the ability to judge originality and other elements of the calypso will be influenced by the judge’s understanding of calypso tradition. Tradition helps us to understand what is expected, what is allowed in the calypso song form—it helps us to understand the core values and tendencies of the art form. Tradition does not tie us to the past in such a way as to stifle the possibility of change in the art form.

On the contrary, tradition is the guardian of all change. It is the strength of the tradition that dictates the growth and expansion of the music. It defines for us the rate and extent to which we can impose changes on the existing form. If we push the envelope of tradition too far, too fast it is possible that we fall outside accepted boundaries into either another tradition or into a ‘no-man’s land’. These are the dangers of ‘cross-over’ music. If it crosses over too far it can become what it is tending towards or it can fall between both traditions either becoming something new or nothing!

The best explanation I have seen likens tradition to a river—always flowing, always changing. There are therefore difficulties in dipping into the river at any particular point and suggesting that the quality of the water or the strength of the currents is and will always be representative of the whole river. No, our testing is only representative of the river at that point in time in that particular location.

So when we talk calypso we must understand that we are talking of a river of African music, bending, branching, merging but maintaining the core qualities of its heritage and history, and definitions of its social purpose and artistic integrity. That river at other locations in the diaspora includes gospel and rhythm and blues and jazz and the plethora of ‘musics’ (read ‘rhythms’) we have produced in this Caribbean. The calypso tributary has branched into soca and the less-popular ‘rapso’, each emphasizing various core values of the parent flow.

The impact of ‘definitions’ in popular music is towards maintenance of the status quo—towards establishing ’rules’ that kernel the art form in parameters acceptable to the dominant social class or into neat marketing categories. But no change happens in art unless we break rules and we do things we were told we could not do or that were never done before. Great artists generally become great by breaking rules, by exploring new avenues of expression outside the main stream.

This is as true for Peter Minshall as it is for Derek Walcott and Short Shirt and Vivi Richards. Traditions allow for these changes to take place but not necessarily without resistance. The soca form took nearly a decade before even the spelling of its name was standardized (so-ka, soka, sokah soul calypso, socah, soca). It was longer before it condensed to a single clearly defined rhythm like reggae or rock steady or ska. To this day, Richards’ success has not changed the cricket coaching manuals to encourage young batsmen to ‘hit across the line’.

The history of the art form is replete with many examples of the challenges to tradition. Sparrow’s ‘Slave’ and ‘Maria’ and ‘Mr. Walker’ presented major challenges to the calypso establishment—defenders of tradition. In Antigua it took some time for Short Shirt’s ‘Lamentation’ to be accepted. We were very unsure about Swallow's 'Man to Man'. But it was the acceptance of these particular aberrations (as they were considered at the time) that gave new energy to calypso generally. There can be no doubt that the liveliness of the soca beat has energized the traditional calypso.

And so our judges and judging systems must take these understandings on board. These are the intangibles, the non-scientific that influence our appreciation and evaluation of the art form. They do not appear anywhere on score sheets. But can they or should they?

The reality is that we do not have techniques for reducing these underpinings to numbers in a meaningful way and even if we did, we run the risk of obscuring the importance of these elements. For as long as we place a mark or a numerical value on these elusive concepts and historical developments, we reduce their importance. They are not the same as the compositional components of the music. This umbrella knowledge for example should not be placed along side marks for lyrics and music and rendition etc. The judging of composition and performance should take place in those historical and cultural parameters which we must therefore understand before we can judge.

It is on this basis I have difficulty with an award for ‘originality’. The calypsonian in competition should not gain marks for being original—on the contrary s/he should lose marks for not being original. It is a negative score. By tradition, all calypso in competition should be original.

It is this type of consideration which is leading me to a different approach to judging the art form, one that awards marks for the creativity in music and lyrical construction and performance values but also penalizes for affront to the traditions of originality, rhyme, masque and what I refer to as calypso singing — for I continue to maintain that there is a singing style and an approach to phrasing and accentuating that is peculiar to calypso. Calypso singers must find this style as jazz singers must find theirs and opera singers must find theirs.

The challenge to the design of new judging approaches is to allow for and award the ‘pushing of boundaries’ in areas such as music and lyrical composition but defending the traditions of commentary/social observations, originality, rhyme and phrasing.

Most of the judges and commentators I have interacted with across the region are very clear about the mechanics of calypso performance. Somehow—like through some sort of osmosis—we all have absorbed some common understanding of music and melody. But it is the interpretation of lyrics that continues to yield wide variations in evaluation. Too many judges—and not only the inexperienced—judge what is said and not how it is said. Too many substitute the emotional reactions of crowds for analytic interpretation. Crowds now determine if judging is ‘fair’ based on their agreement with the judging decision. But part of the paradox that judges face is that crowds look for and react to different things than judges should - or at least are requested to.

Up and down the region I interact with judges who are clear on their mechanical responsibilities in determining the winners of competitions. And without examining some of the dangers of competition, I think the time has come for judges and those who design evaluation systems to take more seriously the protection of calypso tradition while allowing changes to take place. Judges must realize that their decisions determine or illustrate what is 'best', what is the 'total package' other calypsonians should aspire to - in other words, judges play a major role in the determination of the shape and future of our music. It is a serious responsibility.


Dorbrene O'Marde

(Dorbrene O'Marde is a Caribbean cultural worker. He has judged national and regional competitions in Barbados and throughout the OECS. He edits and publishes an annual magazine 'Calypso Talk'. He also writes for a number of the leading artists in Antigua.)