Notting Hill Carnival returns to the streets of west London this weekend for its 60th anniversary, six decades after a small community celebration grew into one of the world’s biggest street festivals. The event is described as Europe’s biggest festival of its kind, and every year its two-day run, ending on bank holiday Monday, turns the streets into a loud reminder that Afro-Caribbean culture has outlasted the racial order that once tried to contain it.
From Riot to Street Party
Its roots lie in the Windrush generation and the sound system culture brought over from Jamaica, set against the racial tensions and violence that gripped Notting Hill in the late 1950s. The article points to the 1958 race riots and the 1959 murder of Antiguan carpenter Kelso Cochrane by a gang of white men as the backdrop to what came next. In 1966, local social worker Rhaune Laslett organised a children’s street party in the hope of bringing the divided community together. When Trinidadian steelpan player Russell Henderson and his band took to Portobello Road, the foundations of Carnival were laid. Sixty years on, the streets still carry that history, whether the authorities like it or not.
By the 1970s, sound systems had become central to the festival, and organiser Leslie Palmer introduced more Caribbean masquerade and live music. Palmer said: “The sound systems were the voice of the youth.” That line lands with more force than any polished civic slogan. The festival’s soundtrack has since moved from calypso, reggae, dub and soca to jungle, drum & bass, hip-hop, grime and UK garage. The music changed. The pressure from below didn’t.
The Sound of Survival
For the 60th anniversary, Euronews Culture spoke to 10 people who have helped shape, celebrate and document the event, asking each to choose one track that captures the spirit of the festival. Mikey Dread of Channel One chose “Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner” by Black Uhuru (1979). Wayne Crichlow, a London-based documentary photographer who has spent more than 15 years immersed in Notting Hill Carnival and recently released Carnival of Resistance with Wayne Campbell, chose “Warrior Charge” by Aswad (1980). Linett Kamala, who broke into London’s sound-system culture as a teenager and is now a Notting Hill Carnival Board Director, chose “Rum & RedBull” by Beenie Man, Future Fambo and Seanizzle.
Oxman, the primary host and selector of Greensleeves Hi-Fi, chose “Police and Thieves” by Junior Murvin (1976). That title doesn’t need much translation. Lady Banton, the force behind Seduction City Sound and the founder of the first all-female-led sound system at Notting Hill Carnival, chose “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley & The Wailers (1977). Ras Sherby, one of Channel One’s legendary resident MCs and Mikey Dread’s trusted right-hand man with more than 20 years’ experience at Carnival, chose “Live In Love” by Ras Sherby (2024). YNG CPTN, a London-based DJ known for blending reggae, dancehall, Afrobeats, jungle, garage and house, chose “Soul Rebel” by Gappy Ranks ft. Nereus Joseph.
Helen Davenport, who has spent 27 years helping make Carnival look as wild, colourful and larger-than-life as it does and runs workshops for people of all ages, cultures and abilities, chose “Savannah Grass” by Kes (2019). Jamie Rodigan, a West London-born DJ whose sets draw on reggae, dancehall, jungle, garage and house and who is the son of broadcaster Sir David “Ram Jam” Rodigan, chose “Promised Land” by Dennis Brown. Roachee, an East London MC and former member of pioneering crew Roll Deep who joined the collective in 2004, chose “Who Am I” by Beenie Man.
Who Owns the Street?
The article doesn’t describe a council parade or a state-managed cultural showcase. It describes a festival built by communities, sound systems, DJs, photographers and organisers who kept making space when the city around them was shaped by racial violence and official indifference. Rhaune Laslett’s children’s street party in 1966 was a response to division. Russell Henderson’s band on Portobello Road turned that response into something bigger. Leslie Palmer’s sound systems gave the youth a voice. The people named in the article are the ones who carried the thing forward.
What remains is a street festival that still depends on the labour, memory and organising of those who were never waiting for permission. The anniversary arrives with the usual civic applause, but the history in the article is less tidy. It begins with riots, murder and a community trying to survive the city it was forced into. It continues with music, masquerade and a culture that refused to stay quiet. That’s the part the official London story can’t really sand down.