Calling All Singers, Musicians and Speechmakers: Mento Aesthetics and Jamaica's Early Recording Industry

Abstract

Introduction In first half of twentieth century, Jamaica's music industry lagged behind rest of Caribbean. At same time as Cuban Rumba and Trinidadian Calypso were being recorded, distributed and influencing music from California to Congo, mento, parallel indigenous musical genre, languished in relative obscurity. Prior to World War II, had no Growling Tiger or Attila Hun to help define an indigenous song form; nor was there a Don Azpiazu or Xavier Cugat to promote a Jamaican to wodd, either live or on record. All this changed after War, when a generation of young entrepreneurs discovered they could make a business out of capturing on disc and selling it Although certainly not at first, for producers and musicians alike recording would eventually raise a complex set of philosophical and aesthetic questions. What purpose would it serve? How could it be used in articulating cultural identity? What might sound of Jamaica be? Standing at nexus of tradition and modernity, answers to these questions promised opportunity, a way of influencing a more modem-and eventually independent-Jamaica. In this article, I will highlight a few aspects of recording industry's early history, a historical moment both poorly documented and overlooked by prior research. My main focus will be on its early producers and some of choices they made that set a course for country's music; however, I will also explore how a particular musical aesthetic emerged, and was shaped by industry in its first decade. Much of this story concerns demands of a rapidly developing tourist industry, but also involves a series of business-driven choices that both helped to strengthen local confidence in medium and changed way people heard music. Khouri, Motta and Emergence of Modern Audility In May 1947, a curious listing appeared in Daily Gleaner newspaper classifieds that read: Something New. Calling All Singers, Musicians, Speechmakers, etc. Make your own records and hear it played back in three minutes.1 Interested parties were instructed to apply at 76 West Street. Although no identifying name or phone number was included in ad, address provided was that of RE. Wright Hardware and Importing Company, where Khouri worked at time (Katz 2003, p. 16). Later iterations of Something New advertisement confirm this; they included not only a phone number extension belonging to Wright Company but revealed that these listings were placed by Ken Khouri, agent to whom interested parties should go2 This ad, it would appear, signified beginning of Jamaica's indigenous recording industry. Ken Khouri was an enigmatic man. Although projecting a sort of humble pride, he also claimed singular credit for music industry's foundation and all of its major innovations. In his mind, he was the first. After I met him in November 2002,1 soon heard oft-told story of Presto disc cutter he used to found industry. (He bought in Miami while tending to his ailing father and later sold it to Ivan Chin in 1955.) All this came about because radio in his rental car was broken and, unable to live without music, he took it to repair shop, where he happened upon a man from California, destitute and intent upon returning west with his wife and young child. This young man (described by Khouri as kind of a hippy) had a disc cutter to sell. Having served in World War II as an electrical technician, Khouri's interest was piqued by device. After a demonstration, he knew he had to have it, and he bought it for asking price. The man offered a batch of blank discs as a gift, but Khouri turned offer down, preferring to pay fair market value for them. After purchasing a number of additional blanks from a commercial vendor, Khouri returned to where he started up a small record-making business, charging 30 shillings for every record made. …