ROOTS 'n' RAP
Calypso: Roots of the Roots
Hip-hop's West Indian connection has always been strong, from DJ
Kool Herc's legendary sound system parties -- which were founded
on the example of Jamaica's "system men" -- to contemporary
collaborations between dancehall and hip-hop styles such as those
between Ice-T and Daddy Nitro ("Depths of Hell"), Yo-Yo and Patra
("Romantic Call"), and Q-Tip and Tiger ("Who Planned It?"). Yet
the connection to Trinidadan music, particularly Calypso, is
rarely made, even though its roots run deep -- deeper, in some
ways, than those in Jamaica. The basic elements of hip-hop --
boasting raps, rival posses, uptown throwdowns, and political
commentary -- were all present in Trinidadan music as long ago as
the 1800's, though they did not reach the form of commercial
recordings until the 1920's and 30's.
Trinidad was first colonized by the Spanish, but eventually was
taken over by French-speaking Catholics from the French West
Indies. These colonists brought with them European traditions of
carnival, which they celebrated among themselves. Yet with the
emancipation of Trinidadan slaves in 1838, Carnival was reclaimed
by Trinidad's Black population, who brought to it African elements
such as massed drums, stick-dancing, and Shango ceremonies. By
the later part of the nineteenth century, Trinidadan Carnival had
evolved into a much more complex social ritual. In the city of
Port-of-Spain, bands of stick-fighters, each led by a "big pappy,"
would roam the streets; if they encountered rival groups, they
would throw down a challenge in song, know as a 'calinda.'
Tensions often escalated to a fight, in which the sticks, carried
to beat rhythm for the songs, turned into weapons. Various
regimes of police tried to put down the stick-fighting, but as
often happens, this attempt to drive the resistance of the people
down only led to its springing up in new forms. The Calypso
style, drawing from the traditions of Carnival and calinda songs
as well as from the kind of small-combo dance music that was
performed in tourist spots in Port-of-Spain, became a new medium
for the boasts of the Carnival crews, as well as a vehicle for
political commentary and oral history.
Calypso music, like early ska, made use of bits and pieces of
music from the U.S. and Europe, but added African rhythms and
call-and-response structures. The pleasant, festive tone of the
music, however, often belied the rage and resistance embodied in
its lyrics. The first generation of Calypso singers -- men like
the Growler, the Tiger, Lord Invader, The Lion, and Atilla the Hun
-- had a wide repertoire of cheerful tunes for their regular gigs
at nightclubs in the Port-of-Spain, but at the same time wrote
many songs of resistance which were performed at Carnival or large
outdoor tent parties. Some, like the Lion's "Boo Boo La La,"
threatened the symbols of colonial power with its chants of "Burn
Down the London Theatre / Burn down the Big Empire" (and this in
1938, over fifty years before "Burn Hollywood Burn"). Others,
such as Atilla's calypso "The Commissioner's Report," which
attacked a report that attempted to whitewash the brutal
government force used to put down a 1937 oil workers' strike and
the mass protests that followed in its wake, were much more
specific:
They said through the evidence they had
That the riot started at Fyzabad
By the hooligan element under their leader
A fanatic Negro called Butler
Who uttered speeches inflammatory
And caused disorder in this colony
The only time they found the police was wrong
Was when they stayed too long to shoot the people down
A peculiar thing of this Commission
In their ninety-two lines of dissertation
Is there is no talk of exploitation
Of the worker and his tragic condition
Read through the pages, there is no mention
Of capitalistic oppression
Which leads one to entertain a thought
And wonder if it's a one-sided report
Atilla's bitter irony here is underscored by the way he mocks
official language, and makes explicit the oppression of the
workers as the fundamental cause of the protests. Like rappers in
South Central, Atilla has to make this argument because the
'civil' authorities would much rather see it as a 'riot' than a
rebellion -- sound familiar? As WC and the MAAD Circle might say,
"ain't a damn thing changed."
Yet Atilla, like other Calypso stars, was not only a social
commentator. Like everyone else, he frequently engaged in verbal
duels with the rival singers; when The Lion recorded "I'm Going to
Buy a Bungalow," a song in which he talked up the fine house and
furnishings he would get with the money from his calypsos, Atilla
shot back with "I Don't Want No Bungalow," which manages not only
to make fun of the Lion's inventory of furnishings, but throws in
an advertisement for Atilla's doctor and lawyers:
An' believe me, for health protection
Or in case of an action
Mister Marcano, me doctor, O'Connor me solicitor
An' Hannays me lawyer
Current events and everyday struggles were also central calypso
subjects. The Growler talks about the color line in "High Brown";
Lord Executor reports on the "Seven Skeletons found in the Yard"
in 1938; the Lion and Atilla the Hun boast of a radio session in
which they met Mae West and Rudy Vallee; The Tiger narrates "The
Whe Whe Banker Wedding." These early recordings, made by various
American and European labels, were originally targeted at the
white market for tropical or 'exotic' music. Under such
circumstances, it seems remarkable that so many of the political
calypsos were recorded. Then again, it may have been rather like
the situation described by Alex Haley in _Roots_, where the slaves
on board a slave ship are brought out on deck and forced to jump
and sing (lest the "cargo" be ruined for lack of exercise). A
Mandinka woman leads them in a chant of "Tuobob fa!" -- Kill the
White People -- and before long "even the tuobob where grinning,
some of them clapping their hands with pleasure." Similarly,
white audiences for Calypso records may have simply ignored the
message, listening only for the "happy" music they expected to
hear. ^1^
Yet whatever the international interest in the music, Trinidadan
artists continued to evolve and expand their calypsos, fighting
for prizes at each annual Carnival. The Mighty Sparrow, who is
still active, got his start by winning the Calypso crown in 1956,
and frequently attacked American exploitation of Trinidadan labor
and natural resources. Enraged by the U.S. oil refinery built on
the island of Point a Pierre, Mighty Sparrow cut a calypso that
showed how American exploitation was only a new form of
colonialism:
Well the days of slavery back again
I hope it ain't reach in the Port of Spain
Since the Yankees come back over here
They buy out the whole of Point a Pierre
Money start to pass, people start to brawl
Point a Pierre sell the workmen and all.
While remaining true to this spirit, Calypso -- like other forms
of music -- continued to evolve through the '50's and '60's. When
rock-steady and reggae bands looked to make their music a form of
national and even international Black resistance, they took
Calypso's example. Calypso itself, like Jamaican music, moved
back and forth between the predominance of boasting and toasting
songs packed with 'slackness' and sexual innuendo and a more
topical, political, 'conscious' style. And, as with reggae,
tempos increased in the '70's and '80's, giving birth to the high-
speed dance music known as 'Soca.' Younger artists such as Black
Stalin, Drupatee, Superblue, and the United Sisters now dominate
at Carnival, and are reaching a new international audience via
labels such as Eddy Grant's Ice Records (and yeah, that's the same
Eddie Grant who dropped "Electric Avenue" back in 1983). Grant
has also worked to acquire rights to large back-catalogs of
classic Calypsos stars such as Roaring Lion and the Mighty
Sparrow. The oldest Calypsos, for many years available only to
those who collected the 78-rpm discs, are being re-issued on CD by
Rounder Records, with first-rate research and liner notes by
veteran collectors such as Dick Spottswood. Grant, for one, is
optimistic about the future of Soca, which he prefers to call
"Kaisoul" -- an amalgam of Kailso (Calypso) and Soul, and has been
working the business end hard. A sign that something is changing
is the fact that I was able to pick up Grant's "Soca Carnival '94"
compilation at K-Mart, and some chain stores now have added a
divider for Soca in the world beat section. Yet no divider can
really separate off Calypso from the musical web of what cultural
critic Paul Gilroy calls "The Black Atlantic"; from Port-of-Spain
to Kingston, from Miami to the South Bronx, from Cleveland to
South Central L.A., Soca and other Black musics fuse and recombine
the call-and-response, the beat, and the rhymes in one continuous
yet ever-changing flow.
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NOTES
^1^ Thanks to Dick Hebdige, in his book _Cut 'n' Mix: Culture,
Identity, and Caribbean Music_ (London: Methuen, 1987), pp. 26-28,
for noting this example.
DISCOGRAPHY:
Calypso Carnival: 1936-1941 -- Rounder Records CD 1077
Calypso Breakaway: 1927-1941 -- Rounder Records CD 1054
(contact: Rounder Records, One Camp Street, Cambridge MA 02140)
Soca Carnival '94 -- Ice Records 940802
(contact: Ice Records, 110 Greene St., New York, NY 10012)