Before he became the President of Haiti, Michel Martelly’s constituency was made up of drums, chords, and Caribbean synths. Just twenty years ago, his second album Anba Rad La (translated as “hem of the garments”) made him one of the Caribbean nation’s hottest stars. Martelly had become the self-proclaimed “President of Kompas.” And even then, the people loved him.
It’s not uncommon for musicians in the Caribbean, South America, and Africa to take a political stance with their music. Music’s a spell. It’s how you get a crowd’s undivided attention. “Sweet Micky,” as his fans knew him, joined Bob Marley, Caetano Veloso, and Fela Kuti to the international tune of the protest song. Such is the bane of a dictator’s existence.
Bawdy, inebriated, and sometimes naked, Martelly evolved into a sensational Carnival singer. Blending Bible passages with secular rhythms, Martelly gained equal parts friends to adversaries.
A self-taught keyboardist, Martelly reinvented the sound of Haiti’s kompas by slowing it down to a standard 4/4 measure, incorporating synthesizers, and taking the “big” out of “big band.” Martelly made kompas more chamber-like. Yet the sound was more robust. “Sweet Micky” repackaged kompas as a new confection for a starving culture. The new kompas music became clearly more distinguishable than merengue, a quicker-cut tempo from the neighboring Dominican Republic. His records were distributed in Haiti, France, and the US.
In poorer nations, music is as precious as a natural resource. Be it kompas, samba or Afrobeat, the sound becomes the foundation of the people. That can’t be taken away; it’s their heart, soul, and fighting words. This new sound of kompas via Sweet Micky is a regime change to the beat of a different drum.
