The People’s Calypsonian

He is one of the last of the bards whose voice was raised in calypso in the 1970 surge for Black Power. At 84 years old, clear-sighted and analytical, Brother Valentino told me how he came to be recognised as the “People’s Calypsonian” back in the “Roaring Seventies”.

“I observed and was inspired by the condition of my people, and that gave me the desire and the direction to create lyrics and melodies in the calypso art form.” It’s a disposition and insight that he gleaned from that practised by his great ancestors on the sugar plantations to tell their tales of woe under the inhumanity of slavery.

“We was marching for equality, black unity and black dignity, Dr (Eric) Williams, no, we didn’t want No Revolution,” announced Valentino’s coming in the period when the society was shaken awake to the rumblings on the ground.

“Yuh must be aware that the Black consciousness is here,” sang Valentino to Dr Eric Williams, the famed historian of the struggle of Africans on the West Indies plantations, the benefits from which kicked off the British Industrial Revolution.

“I further declare it is time that we get an equal share. Is black blood, black sweat and black tears … in spite of it, is the white man who reaping the benefits. Now we are coming down from the shelf, and we are getting to know ourselves, so let us hail Geddes Granger for bringing all Black people together.”

So disturbed by what he considered police brutality and the overreaction of the security forces to what he felt was a just awakening of demands “that I had to get out; I spent three months in Antigua by Short Shirt to get away from it”.

No Revolution was Valentino’s first significant insertion into Black consciousness, and it brought him to the attention of those seeking “Black Power”, and those said to be standing in the way of achieving the objective.

“Fix your hearing aid, wipe your glasses … The dogs are barking too long; it’s ah sign that something is wrong … the money system getting so dread that some people have to beg their bread … so hark, hark the beggars are coming to town, beggars in rags, beggars/thieves in their velvet gowns.”

Valentino saw a society that he deemed corrupt and discriminatory, and he brought it to the attention of the leader, the man his parents and grandparents had depended upon to transform the post-colonial patterns.

Like a number of bards before him, Sparrow, Small Island Pride Bomber, Caruso, Companero, Emrold Phillip arrived in Trinidad from Grenada; his parents had, like many from that age and before, come here to “seek a better living; Trinidad and England, at that time, were the places that Grenadians were going to. It was J’Ouvert morning when we arrived, and I saw and heard the steelbands, and my mother told me about the bands and the mas as we were going to where we were going to stay”.

“I can remember very clearly at the entrance of Long Circular Road to Belle Vue, there was pan, like they were getting ready for a festival, and my mom says this is J’Ouvert morning.”

To my assertion that his entrance in the Carnival must have shaped his consciousness and foretold his future, “Yes, it did,” says the bard.

His early days and the extent of his formal schooling were spent at Mucurapo RC at George Cabral Street and two terms of paid-for secondary school education. “But then my old man died, and my mother, doing servant work for $30 a month, a dollar a day, could not afford my schooling, so at the age of 16, I had to fend for myself.

“As a young man, ah bouncing around from here to there looking for a future for myself, something to hold on to,” says Valentino. In the process, he attempted a number of trades, the major one being tailoring. “But it had no money in learning a trade; the most you would get is a pants the tailor make for you.”

What he did gain from the tailor shop environment was an introduction to calypso, as the men sewing clothes kept a radio on to accompany them through the long hours of cutting and stitching.

He ended up at the Ju-C/Pepsi factory at the corner of the Western Main Road and Long Circular Road, packing bottles in crates. The sharpening of his focus on calypso came when he was selected by a driver/distributor, Mr Koo, to go out on the trucks carrying the drinks. “Mr Koo was my greatest inspiration; he always encouraged me to sing ah calypso when we were transporting the drinks. He said, ‘Go out and sing, and if things don’t work out, you could come back here.’” He did not have to return.

Young Emrold Anthony Phillip eventually landed at Kitchener’s tent at Legion Hall, Richmond Street. After an audition, the “bossman” asked him, well, what is yuh name boy?”

He, having lost his first name, “Robin”, to another singer, was in a spot. “Well, that was the biggest joke in the calypso tent because everyone is sitting around and listening, and I don’t have a name” he says.

“Out of the blue, Kitchener say your name is ‘Valentino’. Well, they had a bottle of rum they used to call ‘Carmen Jones’, they had a little glass they put rum in and poured it on my head to initiate me as Valentino, and that was it. I was willing to accept the name coming from the Grandmaster, Kitchener,” he adds.

“At the tent I was bunching up with real calypsonians, men like Terror, Nap Hepburn, Young Killer, those were guys I had to learn from. Kaiso was their life, their bread and butter; it was an era in kaiso that could never come back.

“I learnt there, and from the start I liked to sing commentary, more on the philosophical side, not too much on the party side. But you know, at some point in time yuh have to pay for your lyrics because you might mash some people corn.”

Over the decades, he has done his share of antagonising the establishment when he adopted the role of speaking for the people: “But say what!”

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From page 29

Outside of the calypso/Carnival season, “we did quite a bit of touring. We used to call that ‘de hustle’ up and down the Caribbean and the USA and Canada after Carnival”, informed Bro Valentino as he came to adopt the full name in keeping with the times.

“Life is a stage, and we are the actors, and everybody have a part to play: I have to admit I borrowed that from Shakespeare,” Valentino said in acknowledgement of using the phrase and the concept coined by the great English bard.

He entered the world of international political intrigue, mocking, court jester style, at political double dealing with his first big hit: “Say what you want believe me ah not joking, the women are the greatest performers for me … their role is always important down to their lovemaking, so don’t blame Christine (Keeler, British call girl) just because she wreck the life of some politician, she played a sexy character, and she caught Profumo with her sexy actions. She’s the greatest actress that the world has seen.”

In relating the story of the calypso, Valentino expressed a kind of impish delight in overturning the tables of British sophistry; maybe it was his way of getting one back on the colonisers.

After 50-plus years of performing it, Life is ah Stage remains one of his most endearing compositions.

A calypso comment on the Trinidad Carnival to a “newspaper man” gave him an opportunity to express his views on race relations in the society: “Carnival is ah gift from the Almighty. Of all the places in Trinidad you see, how all them races does join as one family, but when Ash Wednesday come and pass the people does go back to their race and class, so de only thing to bring them together is mas.”

As one of the main voices raised in support of the quest for Black Power and consciousness in 1970, Valentino felt it was within his right to express disappointment five years later. For him, the revolutionary zeal had been lost. He made his views known in the derisive “Trinidad is nice, Trinidad is ah paradise,” a stinging, soul-searching commentary directed at those he deemed to have travelled the wrong way along the road to achieving the objectives of Black Power.

“They born in a land, the better part controlled by the alien, they fill the pockets of Portuguese, Chinese and Syrian, Trinidadians is who should own the land; now is the time to make it their possession, but their sense of taste yuh can just trace to all them fancy showcase, so the businessman, he blow they mind, and he dollars they got to find, Trinidad is nice for men like Sabga, Kirpalani, Maharaj and Y Delima, ‘Trinidad is Nice Trinidad is ah Paradise’ … ah cyah agree with meh own chorus.”

He is philosophical about his own effort at developing consciousness in the population in the Black Power period: “I was disappointed five years after, and up to this time I am still disappointed with the results … but I played my part. I said what I had to say. I said it on behalf of the people. I don’t know if it was well received, because you know Trinis have a way of forgetting,” says the People’s Calypsonian.

Valentino demonstrated his concern for “my people” when he considered the state of racism in southern Africa: “Woe beyond to Rhodesia, woe beyond to South Africa, yuh pushing my backs against the wall. I calling the tribes of Hannibal, I man decide to put on his boots and march to defend meh roots … Stay Up Zimbabwe”

He did make it to the ancestral homeland, “and I was well received with my song”. In his efforts to advance the calypso beyond a two-song contribution during the Carnival season, Valentino and Black Stalin delivered “Blood Brothers”.

“My proudest moment in calypso came with my appearance in a production of Astor Johnson (dancer, choreographer) named ‘Poets and Prophets’” says Bro Valentino.

“It will always be a lasting memory. It was a time when they said calypso did not even exist outside of the calypso and Carnival season, and I proved them very wrong with eight sold-out shows at Queen’s Hall. That was my most important and glorious moment in calypso when I made my debut as a solo artist.”

The People’s Calypsonian (Valentino) has been recognised for his contribution with the Hummingbird Gold Medal. “Stay up!”