Caribbean Travel Magazine

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Small music fests offer rich rewards to travelers in search of the real thing.What on Earth, one might well ask, do pop stars like Diana Ross, Whitney Houston, Rod Stewart and Michael Bolton have to do with the Caribbean music scene? Answer: Each headlined a festival in the region this year, a sign that the big-time events - the St. Lucia Jazz Festival, the St. Kitts Music Festival, Air Jamaica Jazz & Blues - grow grander and more star-studded every year. That's fantastic for island denizens, but for the discerning Caribbean traveler there are plenty of reasons why, when it comes to music fests, bigger isn't necessarily better. At the small, lesser-known, locally minded festivals spread across the Caribbean calendar, not only is the entertainment indigenous and varied, it also comes across as utterly unpackaged and accessible. Genuine. Some, like Jamaica's reggae-infused Calabash festival, spotlight seaside readings by authors from the Caribbean and beyond. Some - Nine Mornings in St. Vincent or Hindu Diwali in Trinidad - have a religious basis and feature colorful rituals with vibrant soundtracks. During the island-wide Tobago Heritage Festival, there are folk performances, calypso shows and a mock "ole time" wedding ceremony, but the big draws are two uniquely Tobagonian pastimes: goat and crab racing.By the end of my first night at the Grenada Drum Festival last April, the homegrown appeal of the jamboree was already obvious. The fest was staged in Krumahville - not an actual village but the name bestowed for the three nights on the property of Livingston Krumah Nelson, who founded the area's Tivoli Drummers group in 1995 and launched the festival five years later. After a long drive and uphill hike, I arrived at the big event: several dozen people milling about, Carib beers in hand, and the stirrings of what Nelson dubbed "drum moonlighting" - a circle of drummers improvising a beat. Our host instructed the drummers to "tease us with the rhythm" and let us "feel the energy" - and, in a brilliant flash, I did: I could soon be found in the center of the circle, dancing feverishly beside a local woman who insisted that standing on the sidelines was not an option. Here was one fine reason to relish the intimate scale of the event, the exhilaration of not simply observing the festival but being part of it.Another bonus of smaller festivals is that local acts are not a side dish but the main course, and they offer an ideal opportunity to discover fresh sounds. Grenada's fest gave me a crash course in Caribbean rhythms and their myriad uses. On the second night, several hundred people, mostly Grenadians, hiked up to Krumahville to get, as the emcee put it, "drum drunk" off performers from across the region. From a stage draped in African kente cloth and palm leaves, a variety of artists mesmerized us: a spoken-word poet and percussionist; a belly dancer called Nubian Spice; the Riverside Acrobats, contorting themselves to a pounding soundtrack; vigorous drummers from Barbados. The Country Boys Tassa Group from Trinidad spun dizzying beats from East Indian instruments and provided the highlight of the weekend.Some of the well-established indigenous fests serve up a big-name act or two alongside local ones that share equal billing. Dominica's World Creole Music Festival showcases performers of different strains of Creole music - kompa, zouk, soukous, bouyon - most of whose names aren't well known beyond eastern Caribbean shores. But it also delivers at least one mainstream performer, like the lyrical hip-hopper Wyclef Jean or reggae artist Beenie Man. Anguilla's Moonsplash Music Festival in March is a chance for the petite island's local celebrities - folk-reggae artist Bankie Banx, the soca-singing Mussington Brothers - to share the stage with a reggae star. Unlike bigger reggae shows, which can monopolize an island, Moonsplash begins and ends at the Dune Preserve. The cavernous bar and venue is crafted from driftwood and nestled so cozily into its beachfront setting that it might well have sprung up organically. During Moonsplash, the place feels like a Caribbean commune, chockablock with erstwhile hippies wearing tie-dye, assorted Rastafarian locals, and shorts-and-cap-wearing American travelers. No one ever seems to go home; at all hours, the Dune is Moon-splash central.On the second day of the festival I took an evening stroll and ambled through the gates of the show's outdoor venue - where no security guard was posted to keep me out. A sweet, familiar voice wafted along the sea breeze: Onstage, doing sound check, was Jamaican reggae star and festival headliner Tarrus Riley, treating a host of blissed-out listeners to an impromptu sunset session. The next day, during one of the daily Moonsplash beach parties, I spotted Steel Pulse singer David Hinds lounging by the beach and taking in the small-stage performances.In a treetop bar, I cornered festival founder Bankie Banx, sporting his trademark cowboy hat. I asked which performers over the years have been the standouts - reggae stalwarts Toots & the Maytals? Lovers rock legend John Holt? - and he responded unequivocally: "It's all passion. There's no way to measure passion." Later that evening, as I stood a few feet from the Moonsplash stage - built from an old racing boat, painted in vivid Rastafarian colors - I basked in what felt like a private reggae party designed just for a group of friends, and I knew that Banx was on to something: It's all passion, indeed.SMALL MUSIC FESTIVALSBIG MUSIC FESTIVALS