IT IS EASY, too easy, especially for armchair critics, to look at the recent output of calypsonians and dismiss the art form.
After all, who can forget the countless glorious moments on the Dimanche Gras stage over the years when calypso was in its heyday?
When we think of 'calypso' we think of the sheer artistry and exuberance of Shadow's Dingolay and Bass Man, Calypso Rose's Fire in Me Wire, David Rudder's The Hammer or Sparrow's Congo Man.
In the past, calypsonians also routinely documented current affairs and made an art of speaking truth to power, very often political power.
Chalkdust immortalised - or made infamous depending on how you viewed it - Karl Hudson-Phillips in Ah Fraid Karl. The Black Stalin sang against neo-colonial forces in Ism Schism. And Sparrow once extolled the value of resistance in the bluntly titled song No, Doctor, No.
Social commentary has highlighted the ills governments were failing to address.
Singing Sandra held up a bleak but realistic mirror to our society in songs like Voices from the Ghetto, while Brother Marvin famously offered the sunny, idealistic idea of national unity in his Jahaji Bhai. Denyse Plummer declared Woman Is Boss and a generation of female entertainers followed.
Governments and oppositions alike have come under fire; and even the British royal family has been lampooned. Satire, wit and pure hedonism have rubbed side by side.
But to look at the outflowing of young, new voices within calypso and dismiss them simply because they look nothing like the calypsonians of the past is perhaps unfair.
It is to ignore the fact that times have changed and, therefore, so too has the message.
Yes, there is a real issue when it comes to the political imbalance that often unfolds onstage. That does not mean, however, that there is nothing to hear. And that does not mean we should dismiss this platform for young people to rise.
Listening to many of the songs at Saturday's Calypso Fiesta, some have been struck by the preponderance of the themes of redemption, hope and salvation. So much so that a few commentators have uncharitably referred to some of the calypsoes as hymns. Clearly, the staving off of up-tempo songs into soca and power soca years ago has left behind something more mellow, seemingly anodyne and yet fertile for renewal and change.
The message we are being given is that there is a deep need for change and uplift in our society.
If you think our calypsonians are not trafficking in political ideas, you are wrong. They are reminding us of the audacity of hope and the need for positive upliftment in a country that is too often in the doldrums.
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