The Caribbean's greatest obstacle to a viable music industry is the Caribbean itself

Social media has democratised public discussion. That is its strength. It is also its weakness.

Today, almost anyone can declare himself an authority on Caribbean music. Some of these new commentators possess genuine insight. Others base their expertise almost entirely on their recent experience as consumers. They know what is trending, but little about what came before it. They discuss popularity without understanding publishing, distribution, copyright, touring, record production, market development or the long history of Caribbean musical exchange.

Academics have also entered the discussion, sometimes from fields far removed from music or the music business. Scholarship should always be welcomed, but academic status in one discipline does not automatically confer expertise in another. Since the early twentieth century, the Caribbean has received an abundance of reports, conferences and recommendations. Yet we are still struggling to transform one of the world’s richest musical regions into a coherent and sustainable industry.

The problem is therefore not a shortage of talent, advice or analysis.

The deeper problem is our mentality.

WE HAVE FORGOTTEN OUR OWN COMMERCIAL HISTORY

Those who believe Caribbean music has never possessed serious international market power should revisit the evidence.

In 1945, the Andrews Sisters’ recording of the Trinidadian composition “Rum and Coca-Cola” originally  a Creole song titled "l'année passée", spent ten weeks at the top of the American charts. The song’s melody was associated with Lionel Belasco, while its lyrics came from calypsonian Lord Invader. The composition was commercially appropriated and credited elsewhere, leading to major copyright litigation in the United States. The rightful interests behind both the melody and lyrics eventually prevailed in court.

It was not the first copyright case in history, as is sometimes claimed. But it remains one of the earliest and most instructive examples of a Caribbean creation generating enormous international revenue while its original creators were forced to fight for recognition and compensation.

That story should sound painfully familiar.

Then came Harry Belafonte’s Calypso in 1956. It became the first LP album widely credited with selling more than one million copies. For a period, Caribbean-associated music did not merely enter the American market. It dominated it.

Reggae later achieved something even greater. It became a global cultural language. Jamaica gave the world the sound, the image, the philosophy and much of the creative labour. Yet a considerable share of the long-term commercial value was captured outside Jamaica through foreign record companies, publishers, distributors, promoters, film companies and merchandise interests.

This is one of the central contradictions of Caribbean music: we repeatedly create global cultural wealth without building the institutions required to retain a fair share of its economic value.

“MAINSTREAM” IS NOT THE ONLY MEASURE OF SUCCESS

Another mistake is the belief that Caribbean music must conquer the entire American mainstream to become commercially viable.

That is nonsense.

The United States contains many powerful specialist markets. Country, Latin, gospel, jazz, Christian music, dance music and numerous regional scenes have built profitable ecosystems through radio, festivals, touring circuits, specialist media, associations, award institutions and loyal audiences.

A well-organised niche can be more sustainable than a brief mainstream hit.

From my experience as an active participant in Caribbean music since the 1970s, I am convinced that the global Caribbean public, if properly connected and marketed, could constitute a cultural and commercial constituency of enormous importance. I am not claiming that its present economic size equals the American country-music industry. It plainly does not. I am saying that the Caribbean possesses the people, repertoire, history, festivals, diaspora and international goodwill from which a similarly organised specialist market could be built.

We have the raw material. What we lack is consolidation.

OUR PAROCHIALISM IS COSTING US MONEY

The greatest obstacle is the habit of judging music according to the village, island or linguistic territory from which it originated.

Even educated Caribbean people often behave as if music from their island must be defended against music from the island next door. Appreciation becomes a passport inspection. A song is praised because it is “ours” or rejected because it is “theirs.”

That is not music appreciation. It is cultural insecurity wearing national colours.

Our musical traditions are not identical, and their differences should never be erased. Rhythm, instrumentation, language, dance, social function and historical experience all matter. Caribbean music also uses more than one metre, including both 4/4 and compound rhythmic structures. However, many of our genres belong to closely related rhythmic families. Their distinctions often resemble the accents and intonations of Caribbean speech: recognisable, meaningful and beautiful, but rarely separated by an uncrossable frontier.

Language alone does not define a musical genre. A song does not automatically become Soca because it is sung in English, Compas because it is sung in Haitian Creole or Zouk because it is sung in French Creole.

To speak seriously about Soca, one must understand its relationship to Calypso and its different stages of development. To discuss Compas, one must know Nemours Jean-Baptiste, the rivalry and dialogue with cadence rampa, the mini-jazz era, the diaspora and the genre’s many transformations. Bouyon must also be understood through its Dominican foundations, its technological environment, its rhythmic sources and its evolution across generations.

A genre is a history, not merely a beat with a new label.

CADENCE-LYPSO AND THE CARIBBEAN SYNTHESIS

Cadence-Lypso has often been treated as the black sheep of Caribbean musical history. Perhaps that is because it refuses to fit neatly within one national enclosure.

It consciously brought elements associated with Haitian cadence and Compas into dialogue with Calypso and the wider rhythmic vocabulary of the Eastern Caribbean. It was not an imitation of either tradition. It was a synthesis.

That synthesis spoke to audiences across linguistic boundaries. French Creole, English Creole, Haitian, African and European listeners could all hear something familiar within it. Its instrumentation, arrangements and use of modern keyboards and synthesisers also contributed to the musical environment from which later developments, including Zouk and Bouyon, would emerge.

Cadence-Lypso did not develop in isolation, nor should its influence be exaggerated into a claim that one group or genre invented everything that followed. Musical history is rarely so tidy. Haitian bands, Guadeloupean musicians, Dominican musicians and the wider Caribbean diaspora were influencing one another continuously.

The important lesson is not who can claim ownership of every ingredient.

The lesson is that innovation occurred when musicians crossed borders.

OUR AWARDS OFTEN REINFORCE THE VERY DIVISIONS WE NEED TO OVERCOME

The growing number of Caribbean music awards could help to build a regional market. Unfortunately, too many merely reproduce our existing fragmentation.

We create category after category, dividing music by island, language and fashionable genre name. We then call the ceremony “Caribbean” while preserving the same commercial walls that keep our music weak.

Awards should certainly recognise individual traditions. But they should also reward regional collaboration, songwriting, arranging, production, live performance, publishing, cultural preservation, innovation and cross-border achievement.

Where are the serious mechanisms connecting winners to Caribbean touring circuits, distribution agreements, publishing opportunities, media rotation and diaspora markets?

A trophy without an industry structure is decoration.

WE ARE VARIATIONS OF THE SAME HISTORICAL EXPERIENCE

Jab Jab is rightly identified with Grenada and its particular carnival tradition. But its symbolism does not exist in a Caribbean vacuum. From Haiti through Dominica and across the region, we find related masquerade traditions involving devils, darkness, resistance, satire and inversion. They carry different names, including various forms of Diable or Devil, and each possesses its own local history.

Recognising the relationship does not steal anything from Grenada. It enlarges our understanding of the Caribbean.

The same principle applies to our music. National recognition and regional unity are not enemies. An artist can be proudly Dominican, Trinidadian, Haitian, Jamaican, Grenadian, Guadeloupean, Martinican or Saint Lucian while participating in a larger Caribbean cultural economy.

The sea does not divide us. It links us.

TALENT IS NOT OUR PROBLEM

The Caribbean has already supplied the world with rhythms, compositions, performers, producers, dances, language, fashion and attitude. What we have failed to construct is the collective machinery capable of protecting, packaging and marketing that creativity.

We need stronger regional publishing networks, professional music documentation, reliable market data, coordinated festival circuits, music education, copyright literacy, shared digital platforms and a deliberate strategy for reaching the Caribbean diaspora.

Above all, we need to stop behaving as if the success of another Caribbean genre diminishes our own.

Promote your island. Preserve its history. Defend its contribution. But understand that no small Caribbean territory, acting alone, possesses the market size or institutional strength required to compete consistently with the major international music industries.

Individually, we are a collection of small markets fighting for visibility.

Collectively, we are a civilisation with a soundtrack.

Until Caribbean people recognise that distinction, the greatest obstacle facing a viable Caribbean music industry will not be America, Europe, streaming platforms, foreign record companies or a lack of talent.

WE ARE THE CARIBBEAN! 

   Gordon Henderson