It’s 3 am, and the main act hasn’t yet appeared on the Queen’s Park Savannah stage. The previous act ended 40 minutes ago. These are the times I realise how much I like my bed. Leaving the concert is not an option because my car is parked in the yard of JB, who lives nearby, and JB seems to be having a grand time.
JB, Will and I have known each other since short pants school days in Guyana. Usually, JB would get some dancehall reggae concert tickets, we’d park at his gated apartment building and walk the short distance to the savannah. Beats the hassle of Savannah parking.
JB and Will are well-heeled gentlemen but don’t see any sense in springing for tickets with the maximum number of Vs prefixed to IP. Our spot was good, the view was great, and drinks were easily accessible. No peach schnapps, bellinis or rare Mongolian vodka, but we’re good.
This is the thing that T&T’s Minister of Defence Wayne Sturge seemed not to understand about the Vybz Kartel concert. The clientele was more of your banking executive, your doctor and your dentist than it was of impressionable youths whose ears we needed to cover. Some concertgoers had spent the GDP of a small banana republic in the salon in preparation. Concerts and fetes have become very bougie.
Much has been said about the collapse of the May 31 event, but I’m going to distil everything into one simple point … Vybz Kartel bailed on a show he was supposed to headline only hours before it was scheduled to start.
The details in the contract could yet show that he had cause. However, he had a moral obligation to his fans–a sense of duty not usually enunciated in legal agreements between artiste and promoter. There are legal and other mechanisms for establishing facts, culpability and liability, and–I cannot stress often enough–those may line up on the side of the artiste, or they may not.
A moral obligation isn’t legally binding. If breaches of contract occurred, Kartel and other artistes who pulled out may be within their rights to do so under the law, depending on the break-point details of the contract. However, it’s a bad look.
Kartel’s fans, the people who turned up to see him perform and didn’t, helped to make him the global force he is today. He ended up looking out of touch with them–like someone who migrated uptown and forgot where he came from. Regardless of whether T&T ticket buyers get refunds, he should consider a make-up, free concert.
The concert seemed ill-fated from the start. The original date, Fantastic Friday, was scrapped after protests about a reggae concert being held on one of the carnival’s holy days. The organisers were spared rainy season showers on the night, but a bigger problem lay in wait.
The Minister of Defence barred Kartel from radio and TV interviews, as well as a talk with schoolchildren. While both were within his power, the restrictions on media appearances amounted to unnecessary nannying. Media professionals were perfectly capable of exercising good editorial judgement around interviews with the artiste. What did Sturge think would happen? That he’d smoke from a chalice in the TV studio and we’d be helpless to stop him? The minister should have left us to do our job.
There’s value in a reformed former prisoner counselling children against taking a path that could lead them to prison. Kartel has led a seemingly exemplary life since his release. He dotes on his Kurdish/British fiancé Sidem Öztürk and seems far removed from the wild lifestyles of most artistes. Kartel tried to take the sting out of the situation, which some reports interpreted incorrectly as backing the minister’s restrictions.
The Privy Council overturned Kartel’s murder conviction last year because of juror misconduct in his initial trial in Jamaica. Sturge, in announcing the limits on him, questioned the soundness of the judicial basis of his quashed conviction. The fine legal minds in the Government ought not to be picking and choosing which quashed convictions they approve of and which they don’t. They don’t have to look far to grasp this principle.