‘Poor But Ambitious’

Let me confess here that I have long had a love of Classic Calypso. I’m referring specifically to the lively and witty Trinidadian music recorded before the Second World War. Before anyone discovered that they could get music by banging on an oil drum, before Harry Belafonte sang about banana boats, there were remarkable calypsonians: Atilla the Hun (Raymond Quevedo), Roaring Lion (Rafael de Leon), King Radio (Norman Span), Growling Tiger (Neville Marcano), and many others. I never would have begun my journey of musical exploration had I not first found a scratchy and almost unplayable Camden LP that somehow lodged itself among the family’s record collection. It was free-range vinyl, shorn of its sleeve, rubbing abrasively up against other records in the cabinet. Until I was about 20, I never even thought to play it. I must have been expecting Belafonte-esque pop. What I heard instead captivated me. The needle skipped all over the surface, so I put my finger on the cartridge to get the selections to play through. But in so doing I discovered the curiously fascinating lopsided stanzas of Wilmoth Houdini. The bizarre scansion and weird syllable stresses drove me nuts—but I couldn’t not listen. And here he was, name-checking Rudy Vallee, Bing Crosby, Guy Lombardo, and Paul Whiteman! Wilmoth Houdini (Photo Gottli