Sex and soca

Kanisa George  -
Kanisa George -

Kanisa George

We know all too well the hypnotic hold soca music has over us. It’s a trance that induces a euphoric rush, gently smoothing over us, where alas, for a brief moment, we can feel the spirit of our ancestors moving within us.

Make no mistake, the infectious melody created by discarded oil drums, fused with the unmistakable vibe of the tassa drums, can ignite the desire to dance and come together in any Trinbagonian.

“Wine up on a stranger,” in many ways, epitomises the unique way our music and culture bring us together. Frankly, the power of soca music, and ultimately the culmination of Carnival, is cathartic in more ways than people realise. I guess, “sometimes we all need a little mental day."

Regrettably, as the old people say, too much of one thing isn’t good, and, sometimes, the very thing we believe is doing a world of good can be silently doing the opposite. Decades of social commentary and political and sexual innuendo in calypso music have influenced the current sphere of soca music.

Lyrical masterpieces like “Both ah Them” and “Congo man” have transcended generations in a way that even in a time where music has modernised, the message in the music has not. Soca music has somehow managed to maintain that satirical spin on social issues but has frequently adopted a singular approach. At the heart of several soca hits are subtle references to sex and man-and-woman relations.

As a child, the “small pin does jook hard” refrain during its period of popularity was heard in playgrounds, classrooms and school bazaars. For many of my counterparts, knowing the lyrics to such a popular hit was almost like a rite of passage. And it would come as no surprise that before long, we understood the suggestive nature of the lyrics. Music has an immense impact on how we view the world, and without even realising it has a huge say in how we are socialised.

Learning in our formative years is significantly shaped by music, for example, the alphabet. And as we continue to grow, music influences our perception and emotional state of mind. For example, research suggests music can impact illness, depression, productivity, and our perception of the world. One article even suggests that music can increase aggressive thoughts or encourage criminal behaviour.

Interestingly, a study conducted by Wright & Craske titled Music’s Influence on Risky Sexual Behaviors found that sexual lyrical content and sexual content in music videos were correlated to the dating and sexual behaviours of participants. This supports the findings of a 2000 study which suggests that the glamour and popularity of music artistes may influence fans to adopt imitable roles and precarious sexual scripts.

In highly sexualised societies (like ours, some might argue), where music openly and graphically talks about sex, it is claimed that this could potentially influence and encourage persons to engage in risky sexual attitudes or have poorly developed views on sex.

Depending on the nature of the sexual content in many forms of music, healthcare professionals show concern for young adults, who, repeatedly exposed to such content, are unable to fully decipher between reality and fiction.

It follows that exposure to sexual content in music is related to expectations regarding sexual activity, sexual initiation, the timing of sexual intercourse, and permissive sexual attitudes. Of note is the finding that music, along with other forms of mainstream media, is an important tool used for learning information about sexual activities.

So what does this have to do with soca music, you ask? Plenty.

Let’s be honest; with lyrics “look back how it arch” and “my body good, you wanna beg me for a taste,” it is difficult not to draw a correlation between the lyric content and sex. Then add gyrating and lascivious costumes, and a pretty glaring image is created.

With crimes against women as high as it is in this country, can we perhaps connect the dots between lyrical content and deviant behaviour? With high rates of sexual exploration and engagement amongst youth, are we exposing them to great harm through music?

Some might argue it’s a stretch, and maybe revelry and soca music ought to be contextualised. But frequently, the things we do in one sphere of life can seep into other aspects. The situation is made worse when the concept of time and place is of no consequence for those exposed to poor or inadequate social skills.

Of course, soca music isn’t all wine and jam, for there are a plethora of jump and wave, Savannah Grass ballads that warms the spirit and is the heart and soul of our culture.

But are we potentially blurring the lines of morals and social graces through our love of soca? Are we inadvertently, through music, continuing the pattern of hypersexual behaviour?

To tell you the truth, all Carnival lovers (myself included) are looking forward to chipping behind the truck singing with raised voices, "Ah upgrade your man." But ask yourself this, once the dust has settled on Ash Wednesday, can we say with absolute certainty that these lyrics will be confined to revelry?

It’s hard to say.

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