Soca superstar

 The first time Jelani, aka “Lani” stepped onstage with a chair, the crowd at the Soca Monarch competition erupted in confusion. Carnival was about wild movement, sweat, and wild abandon, not boring stillness. Yet there he stood, gripping the backrest like a lifeline, his voice weaving soulful melodies into the pulsing soca rhythm.  

“What kinda foolishness is this, boy?” a man in the front shouted. “You chupid or wha?”  

Lani smiled, sat down, and sang.  

His music was an odd fusion of soca blended with jazz, R&B, even spoken word. He didn’t jump. Didn’t wave. Didn’t wine. Didn’t follow the script. But something happened when he performed. People stopped. Listened. And Felt.  

At first, they called him "Chair Man Lani," mocking his refusal to conform. But the more he leaned into his strangeness, the more he honored the music in his bones rather than the noise of audience expectation, the more the crowd leaned in too.  

One night, after a show where he had performed an acoustic soca ballad, a young woman approached him, tears in her eyes. "I’ve never seen anyone do it like you," she said. "You make me feel like I don’t have to pretend."

“The big international music stars have nothing on you.” another said “You going to make it for sure”  

Lani knew then that his defiance wasn’t just about music. It was about love, the kind that starts within. He loved himself enough to stand (or sit) apart from the backstage energy. And in doing so, he gave others permission to do the same.  

By the next Carnival, something shifted. When Lani took the stage, chairs dotted the crowd. People sat. They swayed. They waved chairs. They listened. And when the beat dropped, they rose, not because they were told to, but because they chose to.  

Lani’s music didn’t just fill the air. It filled a space. One where authenticity was the loudest sound of all…and no one had to pretend anymore.

Be authentically you.