Brian Slattery Photos
Mical Teja.
On Saturday evening the annual New Haven Caribbean Heritage Festival finished a day of festivities on the New Haven Green with a blazing concert of soul, reggae, and soca, courtesy of the festival and the International Festival of Arts and Ideas.
Berdine Joseph.
Connecticut-based Haitian artist Berdine Joseph opened the show with her blend of neo-soul, reggae, and jazz that put smiles on the faces of the hundreds who were in the audience early to hear her. Backed by a powerful, supple band of guitar, keys, bass, and drums, Joseph hooked the audience fast. Her voice, clear and direct, conveyed its own message about strength and gentleness as she sang of love and culture, delivering substance while keeping it positive. As she put it, “it’s Caribbean night, y’all, so we got to have some fun.”
As her set continued, children cavorted in front of the stage and heads bobbed among those seated in the audience. They answered when she called. “If you believe in love, say oh, oh, oh!” she said. “Oh, oh, oh!” the audience responded, as if they’d rehearsed it. Toward the end of the set, the band stretched out on a few songs, letting each band member say his peace, and giving Joseph herself space to turn her voice into a pure instrument, scatting with nimbleness over a solid yet lilting reggae beat. Berdine Joseph left the audience mellow and filled and lightness.
Joseph’s relaxed groove turned out to be the perfect opener for Trinidad-born soca artist Mical Teja. Soca — an acronym standing for “soul of calypso” — grew out of the Trinidadian music scene in the 1970s as musicians blended rhythms from Africa, the Caribbean, and Asia to create an infectious dance style that has been going strong since, taking over the Caribbean. Teja has made his name as a hitmaker in soca, writing songs for other artists and performing his own music as well. He arrived on stage with the confident generosity of an artist in complete command of his craft, as a performer with a lethal ability to make the audience get up and dance.
Brian Slattery photo
As soon as the beat started, people stood up out of their chairs and began to move. Flags of various Caribbean countries appeared in people’s hands and fluttered in the cool air. Teja shouted out each of those countries in turn, appealing both to what made each island nation distinct and to the common history and culture that brought them together.
Backed by two singers, a drummer, steel pan, and keyboards, Teja became lead singer, emcee, and hype man all in one, whether he was teaching the audience the callbacks to his hit song “Mas,” singing happy birthday, or issuing dance instructions. The dancers in the front followed every move. He waved his hand in the air; they did. He crouched down low; they did.
Teja finished his set with a little music education. “We love soca but I don’t think everyone knows soca,” he said. He dipped back into calypso to show where soca came from, then ran rapid fire through some of soca’s greatest hits. The tempos got faster and faster, a history lesson in the greater service of making a dance party.
“Can I go home?” he said after his last song.
“No!” the crowd shouted. “We want more.” He gave them one more song with its clearest message yet. “Don’t worry, lover, don’t worry, friend. This is not the end,” he sang. “It’s the culture we defend.”