Gillian Caliste
"So I tell them: sweet, sweet Trinidad, fuss I love this country bad
I doh want to leave at all, ever since I small
Look I bawling sweet, sweet Trinidad! Brother fuss I feeling glad
When I dead please bury me, in the centre of the city."
Donric “Master Funny” Williamson meant every word of the ode he wrote to his native land Trinidad and Tobago back in the 1950s. Released in 1966 the calypso Sweet, Sweet Trinidad is one of T&T's most beloved classics. His feelings still hold today.
“I mean I was a young fella back then. It was one of the songs I had before I came into the calypso business...but I wouldn't live anywhere else even though I had many offers...I just accustomed here. It's like if you ask me my first choice of a woman I would say a Trinidadian woman because we could communicate better. I just like here,” he shared with Sunday Guardian via WhatsApp call from his Diego Martin home.
That's not to say Williamson has not had grievances about his country over the years. As a faithful exponent of calypso, he offered a wide catalogue of humorous songs among his patriotic and nation-building ones, endearing himself to audiences as a genius of the art form. But describing himself as one who only spoke out when necessary, he gave Sunday Guardian his take on the true feelings of calypsonians as one who has worked alongside many of the old guard since the 1960s.
“Calypsonians dying in grief and sorrow. I don't think they feel they achieved what they want to achieve,” he said.
He said it was not just about falling short in terms of monetary compensation. Many were saddened that they could never take the art form to its true potential because of a lack of consistent interest and promotion of the culture by the authorities, and also because of powerful people who control the entertainment business, he felt. He pointed out that the Jamaican PM who pushed reggae internationally was originally a record producer who had a genuine interest in the arts, and recalled royal treatment from swift processing through VIP areas in customs to accommodation in Guyana, when he travelled for shows in the 80s and with others like Lord Laro, Merchant and Calypso Rose in the 70s.
He said calypso, steelpan and culture, as a whole, did not belong to one man. The entire country needed to take it forward.
Williamson and other calypsonians decided to stop performing at calypso tents in 2004 because of low attendance by the public. He and others such as Trinidad Rio returned to the stage in 2019 after Gypsy decided to form a tent they named Back to Basics. But it was not very encouraging as the younger generation was hardly interested in the century-old art form, he said. Then COVID hit.
A performance at T&T's 60th independence calypso show and at Lyons last year were some of the most recent appearances of the comical and clever calypso icon. Apart from having a few other gigs so far this year, he will appear on February 1 at the John Cupid Carnival Village, Queen's Park Savannah, which he praised as being well-organised and interesting.
The funny bard who was born on May 23, 1941, and first lived “Behind the Bridge” at 130 A Clifton St, East Port-of-Spain, had little problem remembering the lyrics to his healthy stock of calypsoes as he happily reminisced about his calypso heyday.
Stressing more than once that people were not familiar with 80 to 90 per cent of his songs, he said his calypsoes go back to the late 50s when he first started composing. His first public appearance was in 1964 he recalled.
“But I had been writing before that. I used to be on the block with my guitar.”
The year was 1946 when Williamson's Grenadian-born parents moved the family to Morvant. He was around age five. Growing up as the third child among five brothers and two sisters in a “humorous” family, with everyone being kept in check by their eldest brother, Lennox, a police detective at the time, Williamson nurtured his artistic talent. He picked up guitar playing and told jokes, entertaining “the boys on the block” who gave him the sobriquet "Funny" which was a nickname they had given to his oldest brother earlier.
Williamson was also a promising cricketer in the North league and had hopes of playing at the highest level. From age 15, he learnt to mix paints and paint houses with a contractor named Beresford Joseph. But with the songs and calypsoes he heard on his neighbours' gramophones and Rediffusion (little brown radio transmitters with two stations), he fully embraced composing and entertaining.
In 1965, after friends told him about a competition to be held at Queen's Hall on the Carnival Friday night, he advanced to the finals with the Missing Ball and Just Imagine; the latter being a witty calypso he used to sing on the block wondering what it would be like to be able to unscrew your body parts, put them in a cupboard when they weren't needed and borrow better ones from others.
An audience favourite that night, he remembered the brawl involving the throwing of a chair and an uproar from the crowd when he did not place. Later, the organiser's secretary whispered to him that the results were rigged. The next year, he got into a tent on St Vincent Street run by the Calypso Association and delivered Sweet, Sweet Trinidad. Receiving many encores, everyone expected him to make the Savannah, but he did not.
To ease his disappointment, a high-ranking official in the business explained to him how things sometimes worked. In 1968, he took up the Mighty Sparrow's previous offer of joining Sparrow's Young Brigade and had the special honour of singing two songs, one of which was Suppose it Happen in Truth a composition about exchanging the roles of males and females, despite being a newcomer.
Farmer Brown in '69 marked the beginning of his recording career and international recognition.
Outside of T&T, his first trip was to Barbados alongside Calypso Rose, Power and Composer. 1970 was a “hot” year as he distinguished himself in the Eastern Caribbean and parts of the French Caribbean. New York was a main venue in 1972 with Kitchener, Relator, Stalin and Brigo, and he became well-known in Antigua, often a transit stop for him on the way to gigs in the US and Canada. He worked with other calypsonians and bands from the region as well, including the Buccaneers.
Throwback to Donric Williamson's (Master Funny) early singing career.
Also memorable to Williamson, were invitations to perform at Independence celebrations in Jamaica and Haiti. He was told that his Soul Chick (1973) was the highest-selling single at the time which he initially did not believe until Jamaican artist Lloyd Lovindeer asked him permission to remake it.
Williamson's deep, distinct voice, jokey onstage antics and striking costumes designed by his wife and sewn by a tailor also made him memorable. His signature refrain “Yeah...ah tell yuh” was first used to test the mic's “pitch” and resonated with fans, so he stuck to it. He also stuck to the comical dance he would do to make up time during the chorus and later called it “the No Sweat”. Though dubbed “Lord” or “Mighty” Funny, he prefers the title “Master Funny” after the Masters Den Calypso tent he was part of from 1979 to 1985 alongside singers like Cro Cro, Rio, Shadow and Gypsy.
Ever up for a challenge, he said topics and ideas come to him from everyday occurrences or from his imagination and he thinks hard about the best angle to convey his brainteasers to the audience who lap them up.
His other hits include Florie, Picker Patch, Ding Dong, which enjoyed some success in New York, Eye Wrist Back Side, Two Knee and Bam about a maccocious neighbour who sees everything. He posed questions to the country about building the nation with Asking? 25 Years Have Gone, How Yuh Feel? taking second place to Cro Cro in the Independence Calypso Monarch competition on the nation's 25th anniversary. His cultural contributions earned him the 2018 Trinidad & Tobago Hummingbird Medal (Silver).
The father of a daughter and grandfather of one said while his wife enjoys tending to her many plants, he prefers to spend his time playing his guitar and continuing to compose his calypsoes.
He said as the calypsonian Master Funny, he would like people to remember him as they knew him. And as Donric Williamson the man? “What I go tell you...as a good boy,” he laughed.