Salute the Colonel

AS TOLD TO BC PIRES

My name is Jiggs and I am the Colonel in The Colonel and Company.

My real name is Gerard Edghill, but nobody calls me that because nobody knows it. Jiggs is a derivative of Gerard to Gerry to Jer-ocious to Jiggs. That was my mother’s doing. So it’s more of a home name than a nickname, but it quickly spread.

I live in Glencoe, but I come from Maraval.

Boy days was very, very enjoyable. We had a group that’s still known today as “the Maraval Lime,” the Knaggs, the Solis, the Galts.

Maraval wasn’t nearly as densely populated then. We used to have bike races down Champs Elysees, ending in Eckel Avenue. You can’t do that now. You’ll be knocked down in a flash. Country Club was our stomping ground. All the bands I’ve been in, starting with The Clique when I was 14, basically originated partly in Country Club.

I am the sixth of six children, and my oldest brother was 15 years older than me. We were a Catholic family without a doubt. Rain or shine, my mother went to church every morning.

In the last five years, I’ve buried three siblings. So I’m bereft now. That’s life.

My wife is Helen, a Haskell from Pointe-a-Pierre, one of 11 children in her family, if you think I’m a Catholic!

We have three children, Natalie, Robyn and Christian, the boy. Natalie is married to Luke Bibi and I have one grandchild, their daughter Lana.

I attend Mass regularly, but I’m not overly religious. I’m more spiritual.

My first primary school was Miss Boucaud’s in Stanmore Avenue. Then I went to St Bernadette’s, where I first met BC Pires, then QRC.

I enjoyed school. I didn’t study too hard but I was in a special class. We did GCE in four years instead of five. Brother Resistance and Gary Garcia, a professor in UWI, were in class with me. I had some bright fellas around me, I can assure you.

And (if BC Pires insists) I’ll admit I did pretty well – but I was more interested in playing music. I did enough to get by.

At 14, I was being paid to play in weddings. We had a band called The Clique. Geoffrey and Lindsay Gonsalves, Nicholas Galt and myself. People said, “What, all you skinny little boys going and play music?”

We’d say, “Well, you be the judge!”

You couldn’t make a living playing music in Trinidad at that time. It was out of the question.

So I worked at Royal Bank then at Harriman’s.

Where I started Colonel and Company. The last 25 years, I worked at Massy. I retired as the CEO of Massy Distribution in 2018.

My father died when I was eight years old. So at age 16, I went to work.

And then my mother died when I was 20.

So at 20 years old, it was me and me!

Life is not exactly kind to many people. But you cannot let these things keep you back. I moved up at the bank fairly quickly. Hard work pays off, eh! You go the extra mile and you get the reward. It helps to have been in the most advanced class at school.

(In) 1969 was Woodstock, and Carlos Santana was the hottest thing on the block, so we ended up playing a lot of rock music – because that’s what the young people wanted to listen to.

The first drum solo I learned was (from rock band Iron Butterfly’s) In a Gadda Da Vida. We learnt music from listening to LPs and cassettes. I didn’t have a record player at home, lots of people didn’t. So I used to live in Solis’ house, listening to music!

I was a Beatles fan because of the chord structures and the harmonies, but there were some other great bands around. The Eagles. Earth, Wind & Fire. We play music from every corner in Colonel and Company. George Benson.

You name it, we’ve played it!

I started Colonel and Company in 1976, when I was 21 with Nigel Ferreira, TO (Tony Da Silva) and Simon Galt, Nicholas’ younger brother. I knew them all individually and pulled them all together to start the band. They were all excellent musicians.

We were looked at as a pop-rock band. Although we certainly played calypso music.

I auditioned many lead guitarists. They were willing, but they were not able. One night, we were playing in JB’s (a discotheque at Valpark) and Herman Hadeed, who I’d known since I was a little boy playing in various bands, had returned to Trinidad from touring the world with Byron Lee. He came in the practice room one Monday, and the rest is history.

Unfortunately, Herman died in 2017 or 18. His nickname was Patches, and he taught us a lot from his experience of playing worldwide. Apart from being an excellent guitarist, he was a really funny character. We owe him a lot.

The Colonel and Company played together for three years, 1976-79, and then went our different ways.

In 2002 I thought, “Let’s get together and have some fun.” We played at Rafters and at a charity event at Country Club.

And then, 15 years later, in 2017, my daughter was getting married and I asked them if they would come back from England, Mexico and St Vincent, where they lived, to play at the wedding.

We had so much fun, we said we’d do it again, but covid put us on hold. So last Saturday was it! People came from all different places to the reunion of Colonel and Company. From Calgary, Toronto, Florida, Barbados, England all over! I said, “What de a--e is this, boy?”

In the three years we played, we touched a lot of people. Sometimes we played eight times in a week. We’d play at a wedding on a Saturday and then at a fete afterwards. And then play Sunday night again.

We were all working, too, so it was fete in the night, work in the day. It wasn’t easy. But it was lots of fun.

The band name came because, when we used to practise, the rest of the band would sort of stray from the topic and start doing stupidness. And I would say, “Come, come, come! We have to finish this song!”

Nigel started replying, “Yes, Colonel! Right away, Colonel!” So it just evolved into Colonel and Company from that.

The best parts of The Colonel and Company are the camaraderie, the togetherness and the music. Those guys are top-class musicians.

Playing with us this time we have an exceptional guitarist named Mike Chang Wai, an exceptional keyboardist, Gregory Wong Fo Sue, and two backup singers, Helen Marquez and Rosa Camacho. Rosa’s father is Dion, the drummer from Jointpop.

There’s no downside to playing with Colonel and Company. Unfortunately, they don’t live in Trinidad and Tobago, or we’d just continue.

I’ve stayed in touch with people from primary-school years. Life is about people.

Nigel is an incredible singer. Simon also is incredible. I can hold an end in a different genre, singing reggae and calypso.

Between the three of us, the vocal output of Colonel and Company is what really made us so popular, between the harmonies we put together, plus we used to practise a lot, so the music was pretty tight.

You meet a Trinidadian outside of TT and you’re long-lost friends. Instant brotherhood.

To me, a Trini is a person whose heart remains in Trinidad. People live abroad, but yet their heart is still at home.

I still have a lot of hope for Trinidad and Tobago, but unfortunately, right now, I view it almost like a paradise lost. The people who basically make the rules and don’t keep them allow nonsense to go on.

This could be such a beautiful place, because a Trinidadian would give you the shirt off his back. But then there’s the other element which is taking us down the wrong road, and unfortunately, I don’t think there’s the will to fix it. But I live in hope that paradise won’t be lost.

Read the full version of this feature on Friday evening at www.BCPires.com