TROY Nero, aka Troy-C, went too soon. He fell into the barren landscape of options for creative expression in a real earning capacity in Guyana. Out of frustration, he went to ‘BIG BABYLON’, as is the Rasta way of referring to America, only to discover that I was not lying when I told him that getting into the North American music industry is like getting into the gates of hell; that the road is paved with many promising whispers of good intentions, and with a line-in-waiting as long as from Georgetown to Rosignal; with no shortcuts, and that each enticing bridge is filled with trolls ready to steal your ‘creative soul’.

Troy C, Major Jobe, Lil Mandela and Buster were among numerous others who all evolved in the explosive creative era of the early 90s, but, like abandoned offspring, the laws of Guyana ignored them and let them go. They were not the first explosion; there were others in the 60s, 70s and 80s: Johnny Braff, Mark Bryan, Otis Holder, Aubrey D’Aguiar, the incredible duet of Pamela Maynard and her mom, Sach Persaud, Sammy Baksh and Barbara Sookraj, Aubrey Cummings, Family Teach, Popular Jacob, Kenny Lawrence, Rita Forrester and a host of others before and after. These include top talents in the formal classics; folk and concert musicians; singers like Sheila Grenardo and Lennox Greaves; the formidable Woodside Choir, and numerous others in the echelons of ‘popular culture’ music, captured in the competing top ‘String Bands’, and likewise on stage to professional pianists.

The lack of a projectionist vision by the State, and organisational efforts by influential artistes created a ‘No Man’s Land’ of non-activism that could not bring expectations into reality. Also, the mixed-up values of conflicting “isms” prevented the evolution towards the creation of a viable all-round ‘Music-Culture Industry’.

The classic social hit that introduced Troy-C to the Guyanese audience was performed at a show that had a leading Jamaican artiste in 1993. Troy-C was against the usual trend of mild reception for the local artiste. That was the standard programme. Troy, on this occasion, swept the audience off their feet with a robust response, from the first burst of the song, ‘Kill de Gyal’.

‘Gyal nah want no man with no 4×4; she prefer settle down with a man that is poor.
One Friday night down inna Guyana, is serious t’ing tek place in front ah Tower
When dey haul and pull up inna four-runner Dump out Monica Reece and start move faster…’

AN INSTANT HIT
The song was an instant hit, rolling off the tragic but popular (cold case) murder in the air at that time.
I had access to Troy-C, Major Jobe and other artistes. They were not without procedural flaws, but so were the promoters who recognised that artistes were functioning outside of the legality of performing contracts. Thus, anything could go; pay or no pay, or any kind of pay, for which there was no recourse to any local legal precedent to protect the artiste.
Concerning the latter, in the case of the former, there was no commitment to pay what was formally agreed to. Excuses could be made, and a negligible amount extended, regardless of frowns of disappointment. With the artistes, they incurred too much expenses in fashion presentation, towards dress-wear for stage, and did not recognise that they were, in many cases, even more expensively attired than the featured artiste. It would take years for that flawed trend to change.

I worked with another group that had brought in Barrington Levy for a Christmas Night show. One of the promoters was a long-time friend, so I told him, from experience, what to expect with the artiste’s payment arrangement. He shrugged it off, but on the night in question, they would, indeed, learn that Levy’s people were not playing the GT thing of paying the advance, and then counting on ticket sales to pay the balance.
Backstage, Levy’s manager insisted that the other part of the contract had to be paid beforehand, or the artiste was not going on stage. Confusion and plenty of phone calls followed as a grumbling National Park crowd grew uneasy. The crowd was sizeable but not enough at that point, so money was borrowed, Levy was paid, and the show went on. These were first-time promoters, and they’d learnt a viable lesson. My friend swore never again, but the truth of the matter is that there was not enough research, experience, or the logic of simple preparedness executed to cover the entire programme.

When Troy-C told me that he was leaving Guyana in frustration, I also told him to observe the Jamaican artistes, who would go to perform across the world and, upon completing that gig, would proceed back home where they were domiciled. Hardly any Reggae artiste brought here came from Jamaica directly; most would have performed in French Guiana, Suriname etc., then proceed to fill the GT bill.

The travel economics was always a priority. Troy-C didn’t listen. Obviously, closed doors in Guyana, where an artiste’s song could be played on radio, sold on cassettes, and he would receive no royalties, were not inspirations.

But I had emphasised that in America, one had to be literate enough about systems etc. Troy Nero was born on April 1, 1968. He passed through a conflict with a young lady in NY City on September 26, 2016. He left a daughter, and volumes of creative work, of which, currently, his brother Wayne is the custodian. I’ve advised him to PRS this work before release of any kind. Final farewell does not have to mean ‘forgotten’.