FROM TRADITION TO CLUB CULTURE: CARNIVAL NOW!

For those who think Caribbean Carnival is all about costumes, feathers and parades, Rozaly opens the door to a much deeper story. In the lead-up to Carnival NOW!, taking place on 9 August in the MAX at Melkweg, we spoke with the curator, behind the festive night about the roots of Carnival and the role it plays within club culture for the Caribbean diaspora. A conversation about rhythm, heritage and reinterpretation – or as Rozaly puts it: “Music that has started speaking to the generation of tomorrow.”

In conversation with Rozaly
Words by Davy de Lepper

In the Caribbean, Carnival is a living ritual of resistance, liberation, and collective memory. What once began as a counter-celebration to European pre-Lenten traditions grew into an expressive manifestation of Black Caribbean identity—driven by rhythm, dance, and masquerade. At its heart lies Soca, the pulse of the parade, with lyrics that echo a history of bondage—and perhaps still resonate today. Carnival remains as relevant as ever. It’s a celebration of pride for island residents and their diaspora; a musical and physical act of defiance against the oppressor. “The heavier the island’s history, the more important Carnival becomes,” says Rozaly. “Take Haiti for example —there’s Carnival nearly every day. Not necessarily the celebration itself, but definitely the emotion it represents.”

As both archivist and DJ, Rozaly explores how a new generation of islanders and their diaspora have adopted and reshaped Carnival. It’s a process where tradition sometimes makes room for new layers, absorbing external influences along the way. “This has made Carnival lose its seasonal character and evolve into a form of pop music. That phenomenon and movement is exactly what Carnival NOW! wants to represent—to show what’s happening right now, in all its nuances. It’s a reinterpreted Carnival.”

According to Rozaly, the club plays an important role in this. It’s a space where new generations, with their diverse cultural backgrounds, embrace a process of globalised cross-pollination. “The rhythms are still traditional, but the colouring is different. The story of Carnival can now spread in ways it never could before.” This spirit of transformation and reinterpretation is at the core of the club experience Rozaly wants to deliver with Carnival NOW!.

Previous editions of Carnival NOW! took place at Garage Noord and Kanaal40, using the late-July timing to find relevance and connection with young people in the Netherlands. Generations who might know Carnival through their parents, but who remain distanced from it because it rarely happens within their own environment. In Melkweg, the concept continues—bigger and more vibrant than before. Rozaly’s main challenge? “That the people who represent it are actually the ones on stage. The things I do are still pretty niche. My goal is to directly book artists living on the islands.”

Bringing together a programme is tough due to money and distance, but not impossible. “Luckily there are hybrid solutions. On this edition’s line-up we have DJ Chrisania from Sint Maarten, now based in the Netherlands. She’s one of the few who has a foot in both worlds; she knows what’s happening in the new wave of Carnival music. She embraces that and pushes it. Every Carnival she’s back in Sint Maarten—the current centre of Bouyon. She knows what’s up, she’s humble—but she’s got that attitude.”

The headliner? That’s Blackboy from Saint Lucia. The vocalist represents Dennery Segment—one of the first styles influenced by American pop music. “A year ago I was in Saint Lucia filming a documentary. Everyone there kept asking if I’d spoken to Blackboy yet. So yeah—it only makes sense that he should be part of Carnival NOW!.” Rozaly adds that booking Blackboy became possible because the artist now lives in the UK. “So it feels a bit double. The colonial system left behind this idea that everything in Europe is surrounded by enough money and opportunities. That’s why Caribbean bookers sometimes ask 20k for a show. But on this side of the ocean, we’re working on decolonising the system too.”

His dream booking? DjMj from Dominica—or as Rozaly calls him, the leader of Bouyon. “You’ll see him DJ-ing on his laptop in this kind of hybrid set-up, with a mic in front of his mouth, screaming the simplest hooks. The whole room explodes. Men hardly dance usually, but to this sound, they might even dance more than the women.”

Soca, short for ‘soulful calypso’, emerged from the heart of the islands. Between the 1950s and 70s, calypso served as a form of resistance and social commentary, before evolving into a celebratory sound during the 1980s. “Soca is what everyone refers to as Carnival music from the Caribbean. Dennery Segment is a subgenre that grew out of it—although that’s a whole nuanced discussion in itself,” says Rozaly. This subgenre carries a sexually charged reputation. While some radio stations like Hot FM still play the uncensored versions, others impose restrictions on the lyrics. For Rozaly, this recognition feels bittersweet. “The vulgar versions will get played anyway. It may lose some of its flavour, but at the same time it gets the recognition it deserves.” Dennery Segment is defined by its instrumental, primal beats, directly reflected in the vocals. It’s not complex or academic. The genre is raw and unfiltered. “If you’re out and you’re in love, you might sometimes think: I want to have sex with you. But you’d never actually say it like that. That’s the kind of honesty this music expresses.” 

Bouyon, meanwhile, emerged in the late 1980s in Dominica — a fiery melting pot of rhythms where traditional jing ping, cadence, calypso, dancehall, and rock collided into something raw and intensely rhythmic. Pioneers like the WCK band added electronic drums, letting the echoes of African percussion spill into the streets. Bouyon is less about parades and more about pulse. Minimalist. A genre that refuses to be tamed: it takes over your body. “The new wave of Bouyon is really peaking at the moment. It’s relevant because it represents the next generation. Bouyon embodies the music of tomorrow.” 

Rozaly spent five years working on his latest album, Road Fever, which has just been released. The album was accompanied by a short documentary, filmed in Saint Lucia and Dominica. “I wanted the artists to tell their own story—not me.” The film took the shape of a vertical TikTok-style documentary. For a month, Rozaly and filmmaker Selwyn de Wind edited it with their heads tilted, selecting the best fragments in Adobe Premiere Pro. They visited the artists and parties that inspired and shaped the album. “The Caribbean diaspora in Europe increasingly dictates part of the musical landscape by reinterpreting what the Caribbean means. But first, we need to know where it comes from. Only then can we start to reinterpret it. Hopefully I don’t step on too many toes with that statement, haha.” The documentary was created as a catalyst between audience, artist, and music, and is available to watch on YouTube. “What I’ve learned is that every form of documentation is subjective. Choices have to be made during the process. You’ll always miss something. It will never be fully representative.”

On 9 August, Rozaly brings Carnival NOW! to the OZ at Melkweg. “I hope to create a night for Caribbean people that feels like it never ends. Where time stands still for a while. And for those looking to be inspired—I hope they’ll realise by the end of the night that they’ve only scratched the surface.” Carnival NOW! is not a nostalgic throwback, but a current translation of what Carnival means today. Get your tickets now for this cultural club experience and surrender yourself to the sounds of Soca, Dennery Segment, and Bouyon. Don't forget to follow Carnival NOW! on Instagram for the latest updates.