PAOLO KERNAHAN
I AM THE midnight robber who swallowed the sun and blotted out the stars.
With more tales of woe and stories of terror than tong has drunks in bars.
In times past, imps, devils and mokos turned this city into a work of art.
Today the canvas is drab, mas is a cash grab, as revellers pay top dollar to show their private part.
Last week's column indulged in a bit of a moan about the state of Carnival – the overall quality of a product we put in front of the world as an expression of ourselves.
Most reactions to the piece harped on my references to the barely-there aspects of modern mas portrayals – the Brazilian-waxed wax figures filling the canvas to the edges of what is mostly a devolved street party; an uproarious celebration of the beckoning void.
Online, normally reticent younger generations rallied to the defence of T-string mas – "maybe the people who have a problem with it should just go into old folks' homes, eat their prunes and watch TTT or something." That was the gist.
Carnival is the embodiment of our heritage of slavery and struggle.
For generations ignorant of this history, what's Carnival about? Body positivity. Yuh hear lie?
The challenges with Carnival, though, are more complex than a "prude vs rude" debate can cover.
Big business is like a single-celled organism, pre-programmed with one overarching objective: the untrammelled acquisition of infinite wealth. That's why modern mas looks the way it does; it feeds insatiable market demand as cheaply as it can while charging as much as the market will tolerate.
Where does that leave traditional mas – the foundational elements of Carnival?
Why does it matter?
It can be argued that eventually, the homogeneity of big bands and the inexorable rise in pricing will wear thin with foreign audiences. As traditional mas, which holds the true spectacle of Carnival, is lost to the undertow of the commercial juggernaut, tourists will find other, cheaper "spiritual" experiences to fill out their lives and social media profiles.
The delusional exceptionalism in Trini Carnival – that we are the best – collapses easily beneath a parade of other considerations. Experienced collectors have a world of choice and countless destinations can offer more for less.
Some have suggested bands that hew closer to traditional mas aren't commercially viable because they're short on the business acumen of larger competitors. It's one of those things people say without knowing what they're talking about because the people they're speaking to don't know any better.
When I produced television shows about wildlife and heritage, attracting advertiser interest for those shows was tougher than threading a needle blindfolded. For example, bmobile told me none of my programmes fitted with any of its lines of business. This company was, at the time, in a laughable bidding war with Digicel (equally uninterested in the shows) to see who could onboard the "biggest" soca artistes as brand ambassadors.
You can't twist the arm of the business community;
