By Debbie Jacob

Express

May 19, 2000

Page 27

Lord Pretender tips his well-worn brown hat so it rests precariously on the back of his head and says, When I was flourishing, Lord Shorty was now born.

At 83, Aldric Farrell is the oldest living calypsonian in Trinidad and Tobago. He’s been singing professionally for 71 years and he’s had his sobriquet even longer than that.

“There was a boy who was real good at pitching marbles. One day we were playing and I said, ‘I’m coming for your throne. I’m a pretender to your throne.’ Pretender says, laughing.

Not too long after that marble-pitching contest, Preddie, as he is fondly called, walked in the Redhead Sailor, a calypso tent in Corbeaux Town where he lived. That was 1929. Preddie was 12.

In those days they had real tents in yards all over Port of Spain, Woodbrook, St James You could sing in any tent. You just marched in, declared yourself a calypsonian, sang, and got your four cents if you were good.’

And he was good. So good they called him, The Boy Wonder.

This is the first calypso I ever sang,’ Pretender says. He clears his throat and summons up a tune through a voice hoarse and barely audible since treatment for cancer of the larynx three years ago.

I had a little girl by the name of Jane

Who died recently in Irving Lane

She was so sweet

She used to dress so very neat

Fooled all them young boys when she walking in the street

This is what she say

Before she pass away

Aldric, we’ll meet again on resurrection day.

The audience cried, ‘Kaiso, kaiso’, says Pretender. On another night Railway Douglas gave him six cents and declared, You go be a master.

As a youngster, Preddie never had to worry about the infamous crook stick that is used to get a bad performer off the stage. But on many nights his grandmother and uncle marched into the tent and snatched him off the stage.

I’d get two clout in the face,’ he says, demonstrating the force of the blows with a turn of his head. My grandmother would say, ‘You disgracing the family’. They used to vex long time if you sang calypso, now they’re proud. Doctor and all singing calypso now.

Night after night Preddie went back on stage, knowing his grandmother would come for him. Preddie loved his grandmother and wasn’t angry for her interference. She was the only mother he had ever really known.

His own mother went to the US to live when he was small. No one ever spoke of his father. And he’s not sure how he became the only one in his family to be born in Tobago. All he knows is that he was born to sing calypso.

And extempo, he adds. I can’t understand it, but as a boy I used to rhyme everything.

When it comes to listing his accomplishments, Preddie includes placing third to Growling Tiger with Virtue of Women, in the first national calypso monarch competition held in 1939. He won in 1957 with Que Sera Sera’. These days, if you switch on cable television, you can see the movie Cadillac Ranch, which features Preddie’s song Never Ever Worry’, recorded in 1961. But above all, Preddie prides himself in his extempo skills. He knocks off five witty verses quite effortlessly during his interview.

I kept slow calypso and extempo alive,’ says Preddie. In 1973 he was crowned extempo monarch. His competitors were Lion, Viper and The Great Unknown. And he even beat Owl from Point Fortin.

Owl was one of the greatest in extempo but nobody knows him because he couldn’t sing calypso in a tent, says Pretender.

Daisann McLane, the American calypsonian known as Lady Complainer, once dubbed Pretender the father of rap music in an article for Rolling Stone Magazine. Preddie’s proud, even if he’s not quite sure what she meant.

She means I sued to rap well with the audience, he says confidently.

These days, Preddie spends time at the racing pool and he hasn’t been to Dimanche Gras for four years.

I used to look forward to putting on my suit and going to the Savannah Dimanche Gras. Now, I don’t understand this ting they calling Road march. It makes no sense. They sing, ‘Jump’. Why? What you jumping for? You have to say why. Give a story.

Still, he’s happy Shadow was crowned calypso monarch last Carnival. Shadow has some kind of high thinking that makes him great. ‘Scratch My Back’ is one of the great all-time calypsoes. And he respects me.

Pretender says he has no complaints about Carnival mas even though he misses the clowns and bats. “Now, they have a set of half naked women. I can’t complain about that. They’re doing that all over the world. Parents can’t complain about their children because they’re wearing the same half naked mas.”

But he can’t help but reminisce about the old days when Executor took him in the country to perform for five weeks. He received 60 cents and two bags of navel oranges.

Preddie says calypso really changed in 1941 when the Yankees came to Trinidad. Top men like Attilla, a very intelligent and real, old-time white man, started getting real money. Admission to the tent went up to $1.

He finds 1946 was exciting because Kitch formed the Young Brigade.

The next big change was Sparrow in 1954. He was a real winer boy, says Prete. He can sing a sentence with such ease. Sparrow is definitely the greatest man in calypso, but not the greatest calypsonian.

That honour, Preddie says, is reserved for Kitch. ‘He’s the greatest of all time. Every year, we used to say he can’t beat that, and he did with lyrics that were simple and powerful. He always told a story. You couldn’t beat him in music.

He skips the whole soca period. Shorty’s most impressive song, Preddie insists is ‘Watch Out My Children.

Can’t beat that. Shorty is great too bad. But how he leave calypso just so? I still can’t understand that.

In Preddie’s opinion, the last major shift in calypso was ushered in by David Rudder. Rudder is great. He knows what he’s doling. I like him, but he’s not singing calypso and he could sing calypso. That’s what have me vexed. Anyway, he’s a nice human being.

Next month, Preddie travels to New York to sing for Father’s Day. He’s glad for the work because he usually lives off a pension he earned from working on the docks.

Still, he doesn’t think much of New York. You don’t get any food there. That’s sandwich country, he sighs.

But duty calls and Preddie’s willing to oblige as long as he can.

You’ll get a next Sparrow, Shorty and Shadow, but you won’t get another Kitchener, Pretender and Spoiler. They don’t make them like us anymore.

Pretender never won a fancy car or a pile of cash and his home, a humble apartment in a government housing scheme on Nelson Street, is a far cry from Kitch’s Rainorama palace.

My rent just raised from $90 to $100, but the Government waived mine, says Preddie. I don’t have to pay rent until I dead.

For Preddie, that’s an honour.

Update: Alric Farrell - Lord Pretender died January 22, 2002

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