You’ve probably seen them at carnivals, singing soca, calypso and ’90s dance tracks, their metallic instruments glittering in the sunlight. At first, the sounds flow like water, pure and refreshing, but listen closely and you’ll hear complex harmonies bubbling just below the surface. The playing is so natural, so effortless, it’s almost impossible to imagine that this weekend’s Notting Hill Carnival is the culmination of months of intense practice for a London steel pan band.
There are more than 40 steel bands in the UK. Some of the oldest and largest meet in school gyms and community centres around London, where people of all ages bang on steel pan until late at night or 1am, juggling their passion with work, study and caring responsibilities. “My partner thinks I’m crazy,” says Debi Gardner, who juggles a demanding rehearsal schedule with Notting Hill’s Mangrove Steel Band with a career on the frontline of London’s housing crisis. “He can’t understand why I’m up until 3am for weeks on end and then get up at 7am to go to work.”
Image: Jess Hand/Time Out
“I listen to it on repeat on my headphones wherever I go,” says 14-year-old Ava, who gave up her summer school holidays to attend rehearsals at Pannation in Tottenham, alongside other players old enough to be her parents or grandparents. “Perseverance is what makes you successful,” says Michael Toussaint, a 68-year-old visually impaired player who has been playing and teaching the instrument for 60 years and is used to the hectic pace of practice. This year he came out of retirement to play with Ealing’s UFO Steelband. “I’m coming to the end of my career so this carnival may be my last.”
Carnival is synonymous with steel bands, which have been stirring up excitement in the streets of Notting Hill every summer since 1966. But what is it about steel pans that makes them so captivating to performers?
Secondhand magic
Much of the steelpan’s appeal comes from its rich origin story. Toussaint grew up in Trinidad, the birthplace of the steelpan. [acoustic] “It was invented in Trinidad way back in the ’40s, way back in the 20th century,” he says. “Just after World War II, the island had a lot of steel drums left over from when they were importing oil, and people started banging them to make instruments. It was a miracle. I always say recycling was invented in Trinidad.”
Much of the steelpan’s beauty comes from the unexpectedness of these repurposed instruments: “You turn the corner at Ladbroke Grove on the carnival route and suddenly you see people’s faces light up with wonder and awe – how can you get such a beautiful sound out of a piece of metal that you’re banging,” says Ziggy Greer, 36, captain and director of Pan Nation’s 125-piece orchestra.
Image: Timeout
But the resourcefulness of the instrument’s inventors was born out of painful necessity: “When I started learning about pan, I researched,” Ava says, “and I found that its origins lie with enslaved Africans who were taken to the Caribbean. They had their drums and instruments taken away from them, so they picked up other things and carved and pounded them until they could play them.”
The steelpan was first played in the UK in August 1951, when the Trinidad All-Stars Percussion Orchestra (TAPSO) enthralled audiences at the then-new Southbank Complex as part of the Festival of Britain. The Windrush generation latched on to this icon of Caribbean culture, and its joyous sound soon spread across the UK.
The steel pan is still considered a rare instrument.
Trinidad-born legendary musician Russ Henderson formed London’s first steelband. His spontaneous decision to play in the streets at the first fair in Notting Hill in 1966 can be traced back to the origins of today’s Carnival parades. Today, the instruments are specially crafted from high-quality steel and are played across the UK, as well as widely taught in London schools. However, unlike recorders, they cannot be stowed away in a backpack, creating logistical challenges as Carnival weekend approaches.
“On the Friday when school is out, we drive around London picking up pots and start rehearsing,” explains Dan Sadler, 41, who is overseeing preparations for Pan Nation, a 125-piece band playing in a primary school hall in Tottenham. “The hall can only fit 100 people so this year we’ve been practicing in cupboards and corridors. We might even open the back door and get them to practice outside under an awning.”
Bread and Prejudice
Steelpan is an art form rich in history and culture, but while London’s classical music orchestras enjoy great concert halls, government funding and corporate investment, steelpan bands have been relegated to the margins. This tension is particularly pronounced given that steelpan originated in London’s Caribbean community, a community hardest hit by London’s cost of living crisis.
“The steelpan still tends to be seen as a novelty instrument, but it shouldn’t be,” Debi says. “I’ve been a musician for 30 years and if I had the opportunity to do this as a full-time job and be paid for my music, I would have done it. But it has never been given to me, and I find that endlessly frustrating.”
Image: Jess Hand/Time Out
Despite the steel pan being one of the world’s newest instruments, Ava is surprised at how few people at her school know about it. “I told my teacher, ‘I have to play the steel pan,’ and she said, ‘What do you mean? What’s a stolen pan?'” Ava says. “A lot of people have never heard of it, but when I show it to them they’re impressed. It’s an incredible instrument that deserves more publicity.”
Toussaint tours the world as a professional musician, but he hasn’t always been treated with the respect that comes with it. In 2006, he and three bandmates were escorted from a Ryanair flight at gunpoint by Italian police. “They thought we were terrorists and I was pretending to be blind,” he says. “It was the worst thing that could have happened to me.” A court case ensued, and they were each awarded just £800 in compensation. Their lawyer suggested that the incident was likely motivated by racism, as they were the only black passengers on the plane.
Image: Jess Hand/Time Out
Steelbands have entertained royalty—Toussaint and Gardner have performed before Queen Elizabeth and then-Prince Charles—but in their everyday lives, they don’t always get the red-carpet treatment accorded to a historically white art form like classical music. As Gardner explains, “other musicians don’t have the same challenges as us, so it creates inequality.” And yet, even when funding is hard to come by, these musicians all talk about the intangibles that drive them to keep going: “The energy, the atmosphere, the sense of community, being part of something much bigger than yourself,” Sadler says.
Carnival and competition
Carnival is one of the few times when steelpan is celebrated and celebrated, but in recent decades, the instrument’s role on the weekend has changed. “Carnival started out as a steelpan parade, but now the sound systems have taken over,” says Sadler, who has been performing at Carnival every year since 1998. “One year we were sandwiched between two big sound systems and it was so loud we couldn’t hear ourselves.”
The move to amplified sound has given steelpan bands a new focus: the Panorama, a competition of bands from around the country held on the Saturday night before the event. In the ’90s, it was an informal gathering in the backstreets of Notting Hill. Now, it’s a massive gathering of several hundred performers, where the bands that qualify show off their skills in a virtuoso 10-minute set. They might play the latest soca track from Trinidad, a ’90s dance banger, or an old calypso tune, but make it something special. The current defending champions, Ebony Steelband, even cover Kraftwerk. But what these sets have in common is that they’re all played from memory.
Carnival started out as a steel pan parade but now has sound systems. One year it was so loud we couldn’t hear ourselves.
“We’ve noticed over the years that kids who play the pan always do better in exams because it really develops memory,” Toussaint says, explaining that the instrument has relied on rote learning – a memorization method based on repetition – since its origins in Trinidad, where musical notation was rare.
But it may not just be the brain training that’s helping the young players thrive – it could be the caring community that surrounds them. “Some of the players have just finished their A-levels and the whole band is worried about the results,” says Gardner. “I always say that Mangrove is not the family I was born into, it’s the family I chose.”
Image: Jess Hand/Time Out
Sadler agrees. “We may not be related by blood, but we help each other in ways that go beyond learning music,” he says. “We help people who deal with welfare issues and need financial assistance to practice every day. There’s a lot that goes on at the Panyard every day, and we get through it together.”
It’s becoming increasingly rare to find teenagers and retirees sharing their craft together as equals – perhaps drunkenly on a wedding dance floor – but the steel pan band is a truly intergenerational community space, bringing Trinidad’s proud musical traditions to the streets of Notting Hill for a fun-filled weekend and creating bonds that last all year round.
