The House Of King David

On the brink of International Stardom,
Rudder Readies the World for New Age Calypso
by Knolly Moses

An infectious rhythm throbs in Atlantis, a Port of Spain night-club, a the crowd gracefully rocks. It's long past showtime, but everyone waits patiently for David Rudder. Onstage his star quality is evident and instantly draws high energy form his appreciative audience. In intimate rapture, they sing and dance with him. " We are all here to perform," he shouts to the already converted.

Few performers can easily create this kind of intimacy. But the 34 year-old Soca artist shares his spotlight generously, opening an ever-widening world of popularity. Since he joined Charlies Roots, the top Trinidadian Soca band, in 1981, his appeal has spread throughout the Caribbean and recently t, to Europe and the United States. With the release of his latest album Haiti by Sire Records, a subsidiary of Warner Communications, his potential audience now includes the lucrative U.S. and Canadian urban markets. (His recent signing with the William Morris Agency is also likely to ensure greater publicity and attention.)

For sheer energy and wit, Rudder is incomparable in performance. A molecular force begins in his smile, and extends to the index finger he constantly flings in admonition. The preaching gesture is part of a rich Calypso tradition. The abundant energy and wit he borrows form no one. Never still for a moment, he commands audience and stage effortlessly, despite a polio-impaired leg. Rudder mischievously tosses about a head of neat braids as he phrases often spontaneous lyrics in that sensual style of popular singer Billy Ocean, a fellow Trinidadian. His soulful moods are fluent over the sensitive arrangements of Pelham Goddard, leader of Charlies Roots.

The doyen of Calypso, the Mighty Sparrow, is smitten like everyone else. He calls him King David. "He is a breath of fresh air to the business." Sparrow thinks Rudder s talent and charisma can realize that long-sought dream of Calypso becoming part of the American music scene the way Reggae did a decade ago.

So. does Rawlson Charles, owner of Rawlson Recording, a Brooklyn studio with its own Soca label. "He's in the pockets of crossover , and he has enormous appeal," says Charles, whose name gave title to Charlies Roots. Charlie praises Rudder's lyrical ability and says his melodies are certainly strong enough to sell records in the post-Carnival season. "But he's not yet a Sparrow," Charles says. Recently, he invited Rudder and the youthful cast of Sarafina to record in his Charlies label a Soca tune to benefit the presidential campaign of Jesse Jackson.

American New Age/Jazz musician Andy Narrell also admires Rudder's robust talent. Narrell has generously given him access to his own audience by featuring Rudder on his latest album. "There is breath to his work," says Narrell.

Rudder's talent travels well. As a double act, he and Narrell appeared last March before jazz audiences at the Memphis Club in Philadelphia and the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco. The gentle instrumentation of Narrell's quartet gave a new sophistication to Rudder's performance. But he hasn't forgotten how to jam. At S.O.B.'s a club that's the centre in New York for Third World music, a relaxed Rudder seduced the mixed audience in sing-along that visibly impressed owner Larry Gold. "He has awesome stage presence," said Gold.

Whether Rudder will become the Bob Marley (one of his heroes) of Soca remains to be seen. His lyrics are certainly capable of certifying him as a conscience of the world. He examines the topical, questions values, lambasts politicians, and immortalises the heroes of the people. He sang about the corruption in Panama before it made headlines. He was just as prescient in Haiti, mournful plea about that carnage which he wrote long before Jean Claude Duvalier fled. His ideological leanings emerge forcefully in Nationalistic Rally Around the West Indies, in which he speaks of tiny theatres of conflict and confusion. He can be playfully flirtatious, though still thoughtful, as in Bachannal Woman. Often however, he is spiritually uplifting, sounding almost like a gospel singer as in Children of the Frontline.

"I want my lyrics to be like David Moore [Trinidadian realist painter] painting," "I want people to take a second look at what's around them. I see past the Savannah," he says, referring to the venue for the annual Calypso competition held in Trinidad. He eschews the "party, wine and Jam" topics he finds too prevalent in today's Calypsoes. "The serious artist must offer something that people can user," says Rudder, "that s exactly why polictcians want to hear what the artists have to say."

Rudder began singing when he was just 11 years old, with a group called the Solution. They performed regularly in school shows, then parlayed their budding talents for pay at outside concerts. They sang acapella versions of the popular Rhythm and Blues music of the Sixties, their favorites being the songs of the Four Tops and the Temptations. Rudder also developed his voice in his high school choir.

Rudder was still a preteen when he first heard Dr., Kitch, an old favorite by Calypso pioneer Lord Kitchener. "I was enjoying the lyrics." Rudder recalls, "and then I realised how good the music was." He began paying more attention to Kitchener, and the other popular Calypsonians of the day - Sparrow and Lord Melody.

After high school, the dissolution of the Solutions, Rudder ventured out on his own. He performed prolifically, and worked as a backup singer in the recording studios. Calypso began to form a large part of his repertoire. His first record,Mother Earth - a protest song about the death of Trinidadian revolutionary Guy Harewood - was never released. His first release was Dougla Woman, a spicy fusion of Soca and East Indian rhythms.

Full-time, Rudder became a apprentice of Sculptor and Mas' Designer Ken Morris. He worked on Carnival Mas' productions for two years, as an outlet for his won artistic yearnings. (he painted Toussaint L'Ouverture for the cover of Haiti).

A turning point for him , and probably all artists is the country, occurred during the tumultuous events in Trinidad in 1970. Suddenly, a new energy fused an already vibrant culture. "Those times shaped the music for most of us," says Rudder. " It made people look into themselves,a no it created a new mood," What happened musically, in Rudder's estimation, is that the artists began to fuse the indigenous Calypso with Rhythm and Blues, then the music most popular among the youths.

Soca (from Soul-Calypso) came into being, a stripped down version of Calypso with a driving rhythm and a sort of Motown-sounding orchestration. Disco influences were also present. "Soca was less intricate than Calypso, and easier to dance," says Rudder. Lord Shorty, a Calypsonian with intelligent lyrics and danceable melodies, is widely acknowledged as the pioneer of Soca. Certainly, he was the first to record it, with a now classic album entitled Endless Vibrations.

Perhaps the most potentially explosive talent in So an was Maestro, an energetic, musically gifted Calypsonian who died in an unfortunate automobile accident at the height of his popularity. Rudder says other musicians on the island had long experimented with similar changes in the music. One such group was Torch of Tomorrow, a pop band that featured Rudder as a lead singer. Sadheo "D.J. Ram" Ramkissoon, one of Rudder's best friends from those days and a fellow bandmember, recalls the singer's plunge into Soca. "It suited David perfectly, " says Ramkissoon. "He came alive then."

A SOCA MESSIAH ?
Soca brought charges that the Calypso heritage was being lost The purists saw the development of this music as a dilution of Calypso. Some argued that the culture was being compromised to please a North American audience. Others saw more insidious reasons for its emergence: a direct result of cultural penetration, mostly American.

Rudder argues forcefully that it was all misplaced hysteria. "Moving something forward doesn't necessarily mean you have discarded tradition," he explains. "in fact, what we have done is add to it. People will like how the fruit taste on this branch. That doesn't mean they will not eat from other parts of the tree."

When Torch for Tomorrow broke up in 1975, Rudder returned to studio and background vocal work, mostly with a husband and wife duo, Carl and Carol Jacobs. He worked more often with Calypsonian too, solidifying his command of the genre. On his own, his three hits Dougla Woman, I Reggae Music and Stay, showed range, compositional strength, and commercial appeal.

By the time Rudder joined Charlies Roots his talent was already rumored and his following assured. Initially, the band asked him to substitute for its other singer, Tambu, who was having voice problems. When Tambu returned, the band simply made room for two singers. In the years since, Rudder has eclipsed Tambu, but he says the working relationship remains amicable, and that there is genuine collaboration.

In the first half of the 80's, he racked up a solid string of hits - Jungle Fever, The River, Callaloo, Calabash and Jumpup. Charlies Roots was not only a good party band but also, mainly because of Rudder and Tambu, a concert revue. Rudder emerged in 1986 as a major contender for Calypso Monarch, a competitive title rendered annually at Carnival. Almost immediately, he was surrounded in contraversy. His most popular tune, Bahlia Girl, a pleasant fusion of Soca and Samba rhythms, was labeled a "Calypsong" by the purists. People charged that Rudder was not really a Calypsonians seemed to harbour the most resentment, complaining that his melodies were recycled old Calypsoes.

Rudder , of course, is his own best defender. "Much of the criticism is shallow and contradictory," he says. "They at once accuse me of signing something that is not Calypso, and in the same breath say I'm singing tunes form the past. Which is it?

In the end, the organizers of that competition aired a paid announcement declaring that Bahlia Girl was acceptable as a Calypso. Rudder says the "nasty undercurrent" surrounding the song were a response based on fear. "Bahlia Girl was a signal that something different was happening to the music," he says. "And some people were not ready to deal with that."

The fact bear him out. In an unprecedented sweep of all the competitions, contest; was named Monarch; and received Road March honors for the top two tunes played at Carnival; (the winning steelband played one of them). Ruddermania continued throughout that year. It became apparent he wasn't a seasonal casually like most Calypsonians. "Rudder's compositions exceed the limits of the Calypso genre," says Vincent Yip Young, a recording executive whose Soca music label, Hue Loy, is also his nickname. "He offers material for listening pleasure, not just for partying." Hue Loy thinks Rudder has pulled ahead by several lengths. "The larger U.S. markets are ready for something different," he says, "and David is ready for them."

Does Rudder think he is ready?
Absolutely. He's aching to perform on the college circuit, where he feels a fertile market awaits Soca music. He desperately wants to reach the Black American audience. "Too many Black Americans haven't heard the music (Soca)," says Rudder "Blacks must dignify what ever is theirs, wherever it comes for in the Diaspora."

At the first lull in his schedule, Rudder finds time to read V.S. Naipaul, Earl Lovelace. Samuel Selvon and Norman Mailer. He listens to the music of Herrbie Hancock and Miles Davis and likes the singing of Al Jarreau and Eddie Jefferson. "They both have styles that are vocally challenging," says Rudder. He composers with a guitar, and often plays percussion with the band. Mostly, he concentrates his energies on writing and signing.

Solitude is found on a secluded beach in Trinidad. There he thinks about ways "to tell the Caribbean man to feel good about himself." David Michael Rudder, he'll tell you, simply wants to play his music the way he feels it, and hope it's respected. "Afterall," he says, "an artist is just glorified servant

It is amaizing that in an atmosphere as acoustically unaccommodating as the Grand Stand. Panorama still remains the most engaging event of Carnival. Much of the music's resonance is lost above that wide open stage. The canopies muffle alot of what's left. And poor sound engineering robs the pans of the rich tones tuners spend sleepless nights creating. But the raw, combustible high of the competition outweights the drama. The dust and early morning dew probably kindle some primal urge. We don't seem thoroughly comfortable with a production that is too slick. It must be wassy.

Panorama offers potent excitement. Itt arouses us emotionally, and rescues an element of our imagination from the grip of foreign cultural influences. We inherited Carnival, but we invented Pan. Its shaky beginings, its immense potential and its resilience mirror our history, and, perhaps, our destiny. Without pan, our Carnival might as well be held in Rio.

Pan in the Savannah is distincly ours. Each steelband brings its own share of a year's tension to the Grand Stand. Arrangers demand our faith and our facinations with a genre of music that is still evolving. And passionate panlovers faithfully fuel the compeativeness with arguments and analysis.