Sailing for hope

A lot has happened since I've written here last. We clawed our way out of a pandemic; my travel show for PBS, Southwest Stories, died somewhere in the midst of the pandemic; having nothing else to do during the pandemic, I wrote a number of humanities grants and got several of them funded; I wrote and produced several historical documentaries, some that are still being broadcast nationally on the FNX (First Nations Experience) network and were broadcast on a number of PBS stations around the country; wound up with two absolutely adorable grandchildren; and even took on a real job as the PR/PIO/Media Relations/Marketing/Media Production/Social Media Management/Web Master/Event Production departments at California's smallest (of 116) community college, right here in Joshua Tree.

In the nearly three years I have been at Copper Mountain College I have been blessed with not only a regular paycheck and benefits - something I can greatly appreciate after decades of running my own media business where I was the last one to be paid, but also with the ability to continue to be creative. As part of my CMC work, I produce the award-winning Cacti Chronicles print/digital newspaper, the weekly News from the Mountain radio show, and the Area 62 podcast (available on all major podcast platforms). I get students involved in these productions as much as possible, and that has become my favorite part of the job.

I'll have more to say in the coming weeks about all of that, but right now, I want to talk about my most recent project, Sail For Hope!, a fundraising project for a Relay for Life team that is raising money for cancer research. The BRCA Mutants, as they call themselves, are cancer survivors and one is a friend and colleague. Knowing my sordid history as a freebooter, a buccaneer, a, dare I say it, musical pirate, she let slip that this year's Relay For Life of Southern Nevada's theme was pirates.

I couldn't do nothing. That would reflect poorly on myself as a member of the brethren of the coast, or desert, or whatever.

What first came to mind was a series of fundraising albums put together to help out the survivors of Hurricane Katrina, Lafitte's Return, where various pirate and sea music bands and musicians all contributed songs to a series of three albums that raised money for victims of Katrina. I was willing to put together a compilation album in support of the ongoing battle against cancer, and thought many of my piratical brethren would enthusiastically jump in the fray.

But times have changed, and while a few put the word out, the response was deafening. At the same time, I had begun experimenting with an app that allowed me to remaster songs from There Be Pirates!' two albums, Drink and the Devil, and Pirates in the Desert. Why not produce an album of remastered sea music and pirate ditties specifically to raise money for the BRCA Mutants crew's cancer research fundraiser?

The Relay for Life theme was Sail For Hope, so I went with that theme for the album of 12 There Be Pirates! classics, including one song never before released on any of arrrrrrgh albums. For me, it was a long put off reunion with friends. Remastering meant I had to spend a lot of time with headphones on listening to arrrrrrrrgh songs and tweaking and twiddling to try to clean up albums recorded in low budget analog lo fi. And I loved every minute.

Fiddler Francis

Slappin' Sam Sloneker

There were some sad realizations - that the manic fiddle playing of Fiddler Francis, best live when he'd be grinning as he ripped out his sizzling licks - would never happen with us on stage again in this world. Nor would Slappin' Sam Sloneker, arrrrrrrrrrgh tormented and talented conga player ever join us, or any of the other number of bands he performed with, again in this world. Both were gone.

Dennis Wolfe

That's not to even mention that other crew members that have sailed with us may very well not be with us anymore. But then I thought about Dennis Wolfe, whose song about Jimmy Buffett, Blame it on Buffett, wraps up this album. The lively musical legend of Ambergris Caye, was also gone, as was Jimmy Buffett.

I started feeling old. Damned old.

Then, I started thinking of my aunt, an Elvis fan to the end, who we lost to cancer. And my mother, to whom I sang an outward bound shanty or two to as she lay unconscious, her breath slowing as the cancer shut down her organs one by one.

That was followed by thoughts of friends, family, colleagues, and associates, all who have sailed on to that distant port, their voyages here cut short by that evil enemy - cancer. And all the friends, family, colleagues and associates who have lost someone irreplaceable to them from this vile and despicable disease.

And suddenly, these old sailor songs made sense.

Sea shanties, for the uninitiated lubber, are work songs from the days of sail, mostly from the 19th century, though some sea songs have their roots back long before that time. They were made up and sung by very common men, semi-educated at best, utterly illiterate at worst. They came from mostly humble backgrounds, and had never traveled all that far before setting foot on board the wooden ships that would carry them far across the globe. They were mostly call and response songs, with the shantyman singing out the lead, and the sailors doing the work singing back the chorus. It was said it made the work much more bearable and kept the sailors in rhythm like other land-based work songs of the period did.

These men, these sailors, were worked like animals, preyed upon in port, endured unbelievable conditions, and died, often destitute, broken, and forgotten.

Somehow, the songs they sang while hauling up the anchor or setting sail, survived, and are still sung by dorks like me, today. I was originally drawn to sea shanties and sea songs (non-work songs made up by sailors), because I was fascinated by their mix of oral history and music.

But there was something else.

Now, I'm not going to say it's so, or it isn't so, but sometimes, when I'm belting out a shanty, whether it's on the deck of a wooden ship under sail, or in my car sitting at a light in downtown Joshua Tree, it feels like I can here some distant voices singing back when I sing the lead. Maybe I'm just getting addled, or perhaps, it's just that now, later in my own voyage, I am near enough to that final port that I can hear them on the evening breeze that carries their voices from that waterfront tavern where they have gathered. But I have begun work on a song, I Sing for the Dead, to explore that experience.

But while I miss those I love who have sailed on before me, and sometimes it is nigh on too much to bear, working on this album also reconnected me with immense appreciation for those who performed on its songs, living and dead, and gratitude for the time we had together. The brilliant musical direction of Billy Bones Makuta, and Bosun Ellen's sultry female vocals; the impeccable bass and guitar work of Ibn al Kerry Rose; the sheer joy of Long Tom Hegarty's guitar, vocals, and his patient audio engineering that went into these songs; the drums and percussion of Slappin' Sam Sloneker, Dave "Slim" Brice, and Midshipman Matthew Juillet; the sizzling fiddle of Fiddler Francis; the guitar and vocals of Steve "Dublin" Lublin and the trop rock guitar work of Michael Pedersen; the mandolin of Renee Johnson and the mandolin and banjo of Joe Ross; the didgeridoo of clay artist and musician, Thomas Alban; the trumpet and flugelhorn of the indomitable Bill Church; along with vocals from British folks music legend Richard Grainger, our very own Shawn Mafia, and Captain Blackberry - so many magical and memorable moments.

These are the treasures I sail for, and hope is in the wind. Hoist the blue peter! The breeze is freshening and the tide is with us. Get the foretop set! Damn yer eyes. Roust the crew out of the taverns and inns, the whorehouses and gutters. Let's get underway!

Learn more about the album, Sail For Hope!