Sound system culture at St Paul’s Carnival 2018

The streets of St Paul’s throb with bass during Carnival. It comes at you thick and fast as you traverse the streets: no sooner have you caught the vibe of one than another kicks it out of the way, creating a moment of crossover confusion, two rival groups dancing to two as-yet indecipherable beats, before you get in front of the tower of speakers and feel the full force of it shaking each of your internal organs in turn.

The giant orange Negus Melody sound system on Grosvenor Road had attracted a fair sized crowd who were dancing in the street right up close to the pulsing piles of speakers, lit up in full glare of the roasting sun. They were one of the 15 official sound systems granted permission to play loud at Carnival this year, though, as always, the doors of homes were open and music of all varieties pumped out to entertain the masses.

A sound system at the Coroner’s Courts, next to Lakota

On the way towards the Passion Radio sound system at Albany Green in front of the sadly now boarded up Star and Garter pub, a man who had his DJ decks in the back of his van spun tunes for no one but his small children, who danced in their sundresses and bright pink ear defenders. The little green space felt quieter than in previous years without the omnipresence of legendary landlord Dutty Ken, but the MC on the sound system was putting on a valiant effort, spitting bars as fast as he could to the appreciation of a handful of topless men.

On Barnabas Street, the official Unique Star sound system battled an unofficial one outside a home directly across the road. A man who must have been in his 70s, with a full set of gold front teeth, sang down the mic as he stood behind the decks, and everyone walking past danced along with the women of the house, who clutched drinks and danced in the driveway.

There were 15 official sound systems at the 2018 Carnival

A little way along the road, the Malcolm X Centre had a happy vibe, playing Tanya Stephens’ It’s A Pity at double speed with the bass cranked up to 11. A couple of small groups congregated near the clusters of speakers, taking selfies and bopping to the beat in the space that would later host Arcadia’s impressive Bug – a portable stage on a lorry with folding wings like a cicada.

DJ Rogue and his entourage, who had just come from doing a set on the main stage, soaked up some rays and ribbed their mate, who had just bought an empty pack of Rizla from a bloke on the street.

He’d not done as badly as the chap with a bleeding leg lying supine in someone’s front garden being patched up by paramedics at Jah Tubby’s sound system on Argyle Road. The music had been temporarily turned off in a mark of respect: “We wish you a speedy recovery, mate,” said the MC, itching to get the party back on track.

Unofficial sound systems also cropped up, run by the residents of St Paul’s

Around the back of Hamilton House, the beat at Excalibur sound system dropped and a shirtless man leapt up from where he’d been sitting in the shade having a beer, jumping around at the front with a girl wearing novelty flamingo sunglasses, hands in the air. The MC was wearing a massive gold chain and an England shirt, and got a huge cheer as he bigged up 50 years of Carnival.

In Portland Square, big crowds were enjoying the music in the shade of the tall trees. “Carnival started 50 years ago because all the islanders wanted to drink rum,” the MC said over the mic, before starting a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. The crowd joined in, in fine voice, even the St Paul’s elders who sat on a bench next to the jerk chicken stand. The bass kicked back in with a Massive Attack tune. “Shake what your grandmother gave you!” shouted the MC as a woman took a swig of tequila from a bottle labelled ‘Fiya Wata’.

Invasion sound system entertained the crowds in Grosvenor Road Triangle

Down towards the M32, DJ Scrapilous had everyone dancing to old-school house music outside New Bristol Brewery, entertaining those who prefer a £4 pint of local beer to a warm can of Red Stripe. Two police horses trotted through the party as the song changed to Clean Bandit’s saccharine pop, which was periodically cleaved by an air horn.

The parade had just ended at St Paul’s Sport Centre on Newfoundland Road and the floats were finding their final resting places near the Qualitex sound system, veterans of the party who have been playing tunes since 1987. A samba band took cooling drinks in the shade after almost four hours of parading, and Oxfam volunteers shepherd through a lorry tricked out like a ship with Empire Windrush written on the helm, flanked by a woman wearing a costume with carnival founder Roy Hackett’s face emblazoned upon it.

Carnival’s beating heart is not just its music but also its people, and both have been honoured at this year’s festivities.

Photography by Jon Craig