whoa…œuf cocotte
THIS DISH IS INSANE. Thanks Steph and Olivia for this Sunday feast.
Try it at home. Grab a baguette and go to town on this one with a salad, and some wine.
Writing A Song At Sea Is All The Inspiration You Ever Need
The song, “Hey ‘Lil Bird” was written at sea by Snuggs with his red accordion in the cockpit on a dog watch. We’re thinking it must have been sometime around 3 a.m. Sounds nuts, but that happens to be his “witching hour,” when creativity comes easy. It’s like being so tired you can’t differentiate between the conscious and subconscious mind. If nothing else, he’s consistent. Nearly every piece of music he has ever written has come this way unless he is asked to bust out his keyboard and play on deck.
It’s been a hot minute. 4 years, actually. First Irma, then Covid. A four-year shit-show for us, really. But we have had some great times to get through it, as we always manage to do - ‘cause that’s what you’ve got to do no matter what.
We started tracking another round of material in Denver, Colorado at Sleeping Brotherhood Studios in the summer of 2017. While on this late summer US tour, Hurricane Irma struck on our final day of touring. We watched her decimate the homes of friends and our favorite venues. Then Maria came in from behind and nearly wiped our home, S/V Catherine off the map. Not like we’ve been affected by hurricanes before, though. But…..
We were scared shitless.
Clawing and kicking, we’ve finally managed to get back close to that position - ‘sailing, touring, creating’ and we have finally arrived at our newest single release with video, “Hey Lil’ Bird.” It’s tough creating yourself, not using tech to supplant content. We actually sail the boat, produce the video, and edit independently.
The song, “Hey ‘Lil Bird” was written at sea by Snuggs with his red accordion in the cockpit on a dog watch. We’re thinking it must have been sometime around 3 a.m. Sounds nuts, but that happens to be his “witching hour,” when creativity comes easy. It’s like being so tired you can’t differentiate between the conscious and subconscious mind. If nothing else, he’s consistent. Nearly every piece of music he has ever written has come this way unless he is asked to bust out his keyboard and play on deck.
The inspiration:
.
It was a fine day at sea, albeit horrible for sailing, literally zero knots of wind. We were somewhere in between Bermuda, Mayaguana Island, St. Martin, and Atlantic City. (Watch our journey here.)
No wind for days, and the sea was as calm as we’d ever seen. We had the “iron genny” (that’s what we call the motor) pushing us through, and we were making a sad attempt at fishing, and even though the old Perkins diesel was scaring off any chance of a fresh dinner, the bird, a shearwater following us was having a ball. It was circling our sailboat, getting a killer view of a stark blue sea with a cute little bright pink squid lure trolling behind, which was likely the most excitement the little bugger had experienced in quite some time.
Turned out it was enough excitement to hold its interest for a couple of days - even enough to eventually attract two more birds. It was the cutest damn sight - the shearwater would circle the boat, the whole while looking downward to find the lure. It would then fly up to the stern (rear) of the boat and land in the water - a clumsy little foray that involves tenaciously slapping its’ webbed feet on the surface to break the fall.
Pit-pat-pit-pat, like running on the water while suspended from cables followed by an abrupt splash-landing. That’s when it got good - little bird would just wait for a minute, poking its little head into the water every few seconds, until the lure steamed by. We’d keep trudging along, leaving the Booby in our wake. Once the distance had been roughly doubled, boredom would set in and the bird would start the cycle over. Over and over for 48 or so hours, even keeping up with us at night. And when the other 2 birds eventually joined in the fun, they were playing a sort of leap-frog, vying for position to get the next shot at watching the “cool pink thing” float by.
For us, it just never got boring. It should have, but maybe we were just as in need of some excitement out there as our winged companions. We were stuck on our little raft, a mere speck in the mighty Atlantic Ocean. They had the whole sky, from the Americas to Europe and Africa - and they chose to stay with us for that time. It was wild - funny at first, of course, but then truly humbling. Fancy that, a little seabird making us blush…
When it finally came time to make the video for this one (Yes. Too long. We know…), we had plenty of lofty ideas: We were then a team of two with a child in tow, as our oldest had left the nest for college. No budget for a team, and hell - no team for a budget on St. Croix. We said “screw it,” got into our little sailing dinghy with a phone, played the tune on a speaker, and started having fun.
They don’t call it “working music…”
Musicians and sailors we are, but video producers we are NOT. We pulled together a decent edit which a tech glitch promptly deleted. Fun. We figured out that we would rather fix a clogged toilet, at least that problem is simple to find and correct. Once that black eye healed, we had another go and realized we needed just a bit more B-roll to get what we wanted. Here in St. Martin, we managed to find the right moment, and the right frame of mind to make it happen.
Currently anchored in Saint Martin FWI
Finally finishing this gave us a new sense of direction for our production. We had lost our way in a storm, and shortly thereafter were further set adrift by a pandemic. As much as we’d like to cry in our milk and think we are the first to go through this, it is more certain we are not. Storms and disease have for centuries been the mainstay of a sailors’ existence. Our little yellow “Q” flag, the one we fly when we enter a new countries’ waters prior to immigration clearance - for us it symbolizes good times. Traveling, touring, doing the things we love most - playing music and getting there under sail.
The history of that “Q” flag, though, that’s a different thing altogether.
The Captain would fly it on approach to port signifying the vessel was coming from afar, and free of disease. The government of the intended port would make the rules, the general attitude being “drop your anchor and wait.” Sometimes it would be a day or two. Just enough time to sing a sea shanty or two to pass the time.
If things were rough - like yellow fever or typhoid - it could have meant 40 days or more stuck on anchor. This practice of quarantining ships prior to allowing their entry to a port goes back to at least the 14th century and the Bubonic Plague aka “Black Death,” with the government of Venice being the first to enforce a 40-day quarantine for any vessel regardless of inspection, in hopes to stop diseases from ever reaching their shores.
As rough as the past few years have been, we have nothing but thanks given for the health of our own family, and for the opportunity to begin the process of “getting back on the horse,” so-to-speak. We managed to fly that “Q” once again to enter the waters of St. Martin and embark on some time devoted to music and sailing. Maybe even some video production.
May the wind be always at your back, may the sun shine warm upon your face, and the rains fall soft on your fields until we meet again.
“ Ain’t got two cents to rub together, but we got some good weather so come on, toss the lines!”
Hey Lil’ Bird
(lyrics)
Hey lil’ bird, hey lil’bird
why you following me?
Hey lil’ bird, hey lil’ bird
out there in the deep blue sea
Hey lil’ bird, hey lil bird
tell me baby what do you see?
You can bet that you need gonna get my little fishy on a string.
Jarad Astin - Stell & Snuggs
Getting Comfortable With Saying “No” To Another Facebook Page As An Artist
We’ve woken from a dream where we are connected to “the world,” when in reality we were only in connection with the people that Facebook’s algorithms wanted us to be in connection with.
After a rough couple of years of not performing publicly, things were finally getting back to some sort of “normal.” Enough work to keep food on the table in a place we love, and a good start to building the season up. Honestly, we couldn’t be happier - beans and rice included.
The tech side of our lives, however, set on to give us a bumpy landing in St. Martin, and one that may intrinsically change how we interact on the internet entirely. As independent artists, a presence and following on the web is basically required reading, and without it in this day and age, it is a chore to even book a show in a coffee shop. It is nearly the centerpiece of your work in a way - the link between you and your website to your fans, present, and future.
We sailed to St. Martin just in time to make our first show. Cleared in at 4 p.m and straight to the venue for a 7 p.m hit. It was just like old times, before COVID-19 when sailing throughout the Caribbean was a breeze. Definitely got our blood boiling.
The following day, though, we found that we were the victims of a second hack through Facebook, this time disabling the pages for Stell & Snuggs, our charter business, and our publishing company in one fell swoop - basically the presence of every entity essential to our livelihoods on that platform. Monies were taken through our business/ ads account, and we had to file a fraud charge against Facebook to get them returned. Many of us have heard how difficult is to contact an actual person with Facebook; we were quick to learn that the platforms’ main approach to customer service and security is avoidance. Our profiles and access were disabled. That’s one button that needed to be pushed.
As for the access to all of the content and connections we have built over the years, it is most likely gone. This was the second time we’ve been through this, the first in August via Stell’s personal account. The scenario was identical, the outcome the same. Zero communication through Facebook, even though finances were taken. Somehow Facebook will talk to the bank, but simply can’t find the time to have any sort of discussion with their clients. The content through that account has already been deleted, and as stated before, this next round looks to be much the same.
We never bought “likes” or “followers” - we actually knew each and every one of the 2500 individuals that we were connected with on that platform. The fact that it is gone has been a subject of much frustration up until this past week - where we now have come to see it as an opportunity.
The truth is, we have realized that because our music lies in such a niche, we are more than likely better off staying away from the likes of “Meta.” We started using these platforms in 2006 before they were the advertising behemoths they are today. As the negative impacts of platforms like this are becoming widely known - from increased instances of depression in users, complete lack of transparency by the parent companies, a zero-responsibility policy with regards to their business practices, and a new global grab in the Metaverse - it all spells for us an association with a platform with which we had been growing uneasy. While a presence on the platform seems required in the current construct of being an independent artist, at our level of engagement the platform not only sees us as a disposable user but all of those we are connected with as well. There was a life before all of this, and there must be another way. Essentially, we are a cheap commodity for Facebook, not even important enough for correspondence regarding a hack to our bank accounts from their platform.
You can save all of your Facebook data by doing this:
Tap your photo picture on the top right hand side.
Scroll down and hit “Settings”
Scroll down to “Facebook Information” and hit “Download Your Information”
Tap “Create File” to confirm the download request
After your request, you may need to wait a couple of days for your downloaded Facebook file.
We’ve already felt the impacts - venues, especially here in the Caribbean, rely heavily on Facebook in particular for the promotion of events. While our relationships are still strong with our old haunts, engaging new venues is proving slightly difficult…as far as some can see, Stell & Snuggs doesn’t exist!
Do we need to run back to Facebook and create new profiles and business pages? Is existing without them even possible in 2022? If we don’t, how definitively is that going to affect our “bottom line?” But then we remember these things we call “websites”, you know, the things that we actually pay to keep up and running. The place where we are in control of the content. The place that platforms like Facebook don’t want you to visit while online.
No ads. No data mining. No behavior modification and psychology. Just us and our music, and it feels so good…
While there are some question marks on how we will ultimately restructure our online presence, one thing is for certain - it will all come back here to our online “home.” We’ve been given an opportunity to get away from being lab rats, running for the piece of cheese when we hear the “like” ding for a new post. We’ll stop being part of a machine that is making windfalls of money for people we will never meet, and a business that refuses to accept responsibility for the poor security of our personal information.
We’ve woken from a dream where we are connected to “the world,” when in reality we were only in connection with the people that Facebook’s algorithms wanted us to be in connection with. It is a bus driver whose route is ever-changing and unknown, and once it sets off on its’ journey no one, even the people at Facebook, are truly in control of what it does. What we do know is it creates a different online “reality” for each user based on their actions. Seems like a great idea on paper, but I hope we can agree it’s not working out so well in reality.
These two little blips from one platform required us to change bank cards, change passwords for every site and account we use, lose many many hours of work creating content, videos and posts for over 10 years, and unfortunately losing some connections with individuals permanently. The convenience of the thing came and bit us in the rumps good and hard, but now that we are on the outside looking in we realize how draining it truly was, and for very little reward outside the dopamine rush you get from your little notification sounds.
Rather than feed the platform and it’s owners, we have decided to go back to feeding ourselves, and hope that in turn gets a better connection with all of you that have supported us over the years.
Rape At Sea: For Midshipman X
If only every woman who was sexually harassed while on board vessels owned by large corporations such as Maersk were given the opportunity and resources necessary to file a class action lawsuit that was public, where they be forced to pay out proper damages that would also hurt the company’s bottom line and PR, possibly then we might see a culture change.
Let me say first that as a father of two young ladies, one of whom is enrolled as MIDN at an academy, this is a scenario that has plagued me as a nightmare. Not just as a possibility - within her first year it became clear how much of a real possibility this is, and seeing how incidents are dealt with there only serves to clarify the acceptance of this kind of behavior by many who not only work in the maritime industry as officers but also as leaders, administrators, and instructors at the very institutions that educate the workforce. Neither you or any other woman (or man) in this field should have to deal with psychopathic criminals as crew mates - and as I hope you know, this occurred due to the calculated actions of a criminal - one that is a detriment to humanity on every level, and one who should never be permitted to be so much as an oil wiper. He belongs in prison, plain and simple.
I have had to deal with the administration of the academy regarding sexual harassment issues on more than one occasion, thankfully for nothing as serious as this. I have found it astonishing, though, that there is such a strong disposition to NOT deal with this issue properly, even from leading women who have been in the field long enough to know better. I know that they themselves have experienced different levels of sexual harassment and/ or assault, but somehow the industry-wide inclination to keep Title IX incidents under wraps has trained even them to coercion.
Secondly, I thank you for your courage in making this public. I am sure it was difficult, but I also hope that it was healing for you in some way. Only through bravery such as this does this business have a chance at changing, and although there are many within the industry who will resist, know that most of the modern world’s population is behind you without question - my entire family as well as the two dozen or so individuals in the field with whom I work included. We have all read this article and shared it with everyone we know in the industry, from small vessel captains and crew to retired navy personnel, oil rig workers and tug crew. I have asked all of them to seriously consider sharing this article, commenting, and committing to ending this egregious practice immediately - even if it means destroying professional relationships. We simply must create enough momentum throughout, and prove that there are more of “us” than “them.”
I am a licensed Captain - small vessels, mostly sailing. I’ve raised my two children on board with my wife of 25 years, and my work includes running small tugs, sailing vessels, ferries, deliveries, etc. While my meager 60,000 sea miles running my own vessels may seem a pittance to many, they are all on small vessels, mostly blue water running sailing vessels in the 40’ range. Many of them qualify as hard miles, for certain. There is no room for deferment, where reliance and trust in your few crew mates is absolutely essential - at times essential for your very survival. I have seen many times over how women at sea deliver as complete equals to their male counterparts, and in most cases with superior clarity and endurance. The misogynistic attitude of this “old guard,” if you will, is one that comes out of fear of replacement, plain and simple. Women harbor not only the creation of life, but an even stronger instinctive will to preserve it at all costs. In that basic biological fact alone, I think the industry misses the mark in failing to defend an able woman’s place within the crew of a vessel.
This attitude in the industry is an abhorrent one, one that is consistently swept under the rug by officials who not only fully understand how damaging it is to the individuals involved, but how destructive it is to the industry as a whole. The unfortunate reality, I feel, is that only through hitting the pockets of the industry will real change be forged. While Title IX is federal code, the lack of will to enforce it at sea is alive and well in 2021. If only every woman who was sexually harassed while on board vessels owned by large corporations such as Maersk were given the opportunity and resources necessary to file a class action lawsuit that was public, where they be forced to pay out proper damages that would also hurt the company’s bottom line and PR, possibly then we might see a culture change. Of course this would not be borne out of some moral compass, but out of protecting profits - regardless of the law, corporations are not human beings but mechanisms to profit. Money being their sustenance, and if they must be starved, so be it. As I search for information on this matter, it looks more and more as though these companies have gotten away with continuously settling out of court on a case-by-case basis, forcing accusers to sign NDA’s and keeping details hidden in the dark. It is definitively time to change this tactic and expose this culture once and for all. As they say in war, if you wish to understand the reason behind it, follow the money. Taking away the lavish clothing we often find the king to be weak in both constitution and capacity, while the queen at his side harbors the strength to create life, and is the key to the bloodline’s survival. While this is an archaic metaphor, the soul of it rings true and forever will.
To our fellow male sailors who are reading and contributing here I say this - if you have been working in the business for even a short time, YOU HAVE SEEN SEXUAL HARASSMENT, ABUSE, ASSAULT. You know this happens, and YOU KNOW WHO THE GUILTY PARTIES ARE. While you may have the strength in life to not be that person, your silence makes you complicit in the action. Stand true to your moral compass, and be a part of the seawall that stops this culture dead in the water. Only then can you honestly say you are a sailor with courage enough to ply the oceans of the world. Until then, you are riding on the backs of those who use acts of deceit, treachery, abuse and assault to exhibit their strength. Your actions will be forever clouded by theirs, and therefore lack significance. Make your numbers known, knock the old guard off their throne and REMOVE THEM FROM THEIR POSITIONS OF POWER. They do not deserve to be your or any others’ superior. They do not deserve even to scrub the head.
To my fellow female sailors - your passage is a difficult one. While the demands of your work lie well within your grasp, the conditions within which you must perform will prove turbulent at best. You must work together to solve this conundrum, you must find allies in your male counterparts and DEMAND their assistance. Do not allow them to cower in their bunks, knowing that where there is one there are many more. You may feel they need to lead this cause, but that is untrue. THEY NEED YOU TO LEAD. While officers and captains may dismiss one with ease, they have a very difficult time dismissing a dozen. As our numbers grow your position becomes irrefutable.
As in all forms of battle, use your endurance to your advantage. Plan your course of action as far in advance as you can muster. Don’t just be smarter, know that you ARE smarter. When these criminals round the corner to their quarters thinking they have won only to find shields and handcuffs, and when the corporate interests find bonuses have disappeared in the wake of litigation, your silent rejoicing will echo a triumph not only around the world, but though time itself.
** If you have experienced sexual assault, sexual violence, or rape, and need help, please contact Women Offshore or email them at hello@womenoffshore.org
You do not have to go through this alone. We see you, we support you, and we love you.
Homage To The Great Jazz Organist, Trudy Pitts
Sometimes I think about life, the fates...whether or not my path is one of subconscious direction, poor planning, luck. Maybe all of the above. One thing is for certain, living a life at sea may be hard work, but it has afforded me great happiness these last 9 years. Outside of the ‘demic, we go where we want, when we want. Play where we want, for whomever we want and not for those whom we don’t. We are blessed to live a life of freedom that is very difficult to attain in nearly any other lifestyle. Freedom ain’t free, but if you can get it through honest, hard work - take it. You’ll get where you’re going.
In my life before the sea, my main focus was jazz. The moment I was introduced to the sound of Thelonious Monk’s solo album “Criss-Cross,” I simply could not get the sound out of my mind. It was primal arousal. The angst, the tension, the release, the beauty. It’s unreal how it changed everything for me. I was 18, way behind the curve to accomplish anything in music as far as high society and the arts were concerned at the time. There was no YouTube. No way to skip the line. If you wanted it, you had to earn it, bloody knuckles and all.
I’ll grant you, I had it easy. A well-to-do family living on the river, honestly I couldn’t have wanted for anything - except for the one thing that seemed so far out of reach it was nearly alien - just the most basic understanding of that sound. I can tell you, the day I told my father I wanted to pursue music, and jazz music in particular, instead of following in his footsteps as a Radiologist was like a tectonic disturbance. Not that he ever had pushed me in that direction, no, I had worked quite hard on my own behest towards that goal. That I had at the last moment made the choice to change course in such a distinguishing way had shaken me to my own core, to the point that I even had difficulty in believing it. How could I suck my family into this craziness? A Mays Landing river-rat playing and writing jazz? It really was too much.
What transpired after was a real whirlwind in retrospect. Seemed like an eternity at the time, but hindsight really does speak truth. I managed an acceptance to the Philadelphia College of Performing Arts, and found myself in this incredible conservatory setting with some of the finest jazz artists and instructors in the country. They could have given a rat’s ass how I got there, how any of us got there. You had to dig in, do the work. Grow. Improve. In that kind of setting, every 10% you give gets you 50 back. Everyone is so amped about the spot, about the music, it’s like a tinderbox. One’s opportunities for the artistic explosion are amplified by the group as a whole, professors included. Triple-chocolate-double-fudge brownie rich.
In this timeframe, I fell for the Hammond Organ. It wasn’t any particular artist at first. Honestly, modern rock hipped me to the sound of the damn thing. I couldn’t have told you one player’s name - maybe Gregg Allman. It was the sound. After a couple of half-assed attempts at understanding the machine on my own, a truly pathetic attempt mind you, I somehow found myself at the feet of Trudy Pitts - another testament to my sad state of ignorance being of course that I barely had a clue who she was. I had been nudged to her direction, most thankfully, by the great guitarist Jimmy Bruno. Jimmy’s entry to the A-list of jazz players is a story worthy of its own film, to be frank. He punched Buddy Rich in the mouth after receiving a real running through for not being able to read charts to Buddy’s standard. Jimmy was in his teens, and Buddy sent a limo the following day to retain him on the tour. The rest is history...no shit.
Jimmy ‘suggested’ I get a copy of Pat Martino’s album “El Hombre,” on which Trudy played the Hammond. I swear it killed me - it was like my first go with Monk - the difference being she was right there, accessible to me in some way. I could actually speak with her, ask her any question that came to mind. I jumped on it immediately and can say that the short amount of time I was given with her was pound-for-pound some of the most rewarding instruction I was lucky enough to experience. I have to credit a lot of that experience to my primary piano instructors - pianists Dave Hartl and Edward Simon - for they really taught me how to learn, and not only promoted my seeking out my own voice but respected it. Trudy did the very same thing with the Organ. All of these cats were truly humbling. It was like they were teaching us how to live, not just play. Man, I really owe all of you...
When Trudy passed in 2010, I was really heavy into playing the organ. I had managed to get some support from Hammond Suzuki and was running a jam session in Brooklyn. I had put out several records. I was probably one of the last dumbasses to cart a Hammond and Leslie around to gigs - in a Kia Sportage no less. That shit was comical - drunk-ass white guy moving a Hammond between a 10-step walkup, a “compact SUV,” various clubs (some with their own “creative” entryways), and back. That I was only arrested once during this time is a friggin miracle. Thankfully I’m laying off the booze these days. Nobody’s perfect.
I was so focused on trying to get my own shit together I had lost touch with all of these great musicians who had given me so much. Trudy’s death broke me in a way that was not unlike watching my own father struggle with a severe stroke and happened at the same time. I had lost something, something wonderful, and wasn’t getting it back. Right there I made the choice that one day I’d do something, a project, a tribute record. A spiritual tattoo to indelibly mark me with the tutelage of this great woman. This incredible musician who had worked with some of the greatest jazz artists to ever walk the face of the Earth - Coltrane, Rashan Roland-Kirk, Pat Martino. This woman who chose her family before fame, who treated all of her pupils as though we were her own children. This amazing black artist who held nothing back at the keys, from her audience or her students, who probably had more reasons to than to not.
So now I finish it. I initiated this project 10 years after its first thought and will be releasing this work into the world - with hubris in my confidence and humility in my roots. I’ll step up in this ring with anyone, never fearing what may or may not be - because I was taught to be in this moment. This bright moment.
Thank you, Trudy, from the bottom of my very soul. I never had the opportunity to give back to you while you were in this life, but I send these vibrations into the universe and pray they reach your life force, your soul, and add a little to your wonderful smile. I think of it every time I sit at the organ.
“To me music is a feeling, then after that come all the tools...It’s an art form, and all art forms are born in your spirit as a feeling.”
Trudy Pitts Selected Discography
Trudy Pitts, Me, Myself And I (Independent, 2003)
Trudy Pitts/Mr. C, Vintage Series - Volume 1 (Independent, 2003)
Trudy Pitts/Pat Martino, Legends of Acid Jazz (Prestige, 1999)
Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Return of the 5000 lb Man (Atlantic, 1975)
Willis "Gator" Jackson, Star Bag (Prestige, 1968)
Trudy Pitts, Excitement of Trudy Pitts (Prestige, 1968)
Trudy Pitts, Them Blues of Mine (Prestige, 1967)
Pat Martino, El Hombre (Prestige, 1967)
Trudy Pitts, Bucketful of Soul (Prestige, 1967)
A Drink Inspired Me To Write a Song - Sorrel - Stell’s Song
Sitting in the cockpit is my ritual when the sun is west, and staying aboard for days on end is my sanity. More wild, more outdoors, more solace and blues, less around screens and motor vehicles. Less distractions, more writing, more crafting, less streets, less wires, less noise.
And in these moments, you will hear the highs and lows of a lone flute echoing through the cabin, up the companionway, and into the anchorage. I stare down to the water, blue and still, imagine no line between sky and ocean with the breeze at a whisper. Straight to the bottom, beds of seagrass swaying, neutral hues of tan, the sandy floor calls to me to jump in. It is this everyday…My smile lines are deepening around my eyes. More thankful, less distracted.
I grew up between Bethlehem and Allentown Pa, a little cow country, a lot ATV and muscle cars, and much folk music. My deep obsession with music began at age 7 when I hopped on a yellow school bus from school to discover Prokofiev's symphonic fairy tale, “Peter and the Wolf” performed by the Philadelphia Orchestra. When the duck and the bird argue on whether a proper bird should be able to swim or fly, it was then I realized that the sound of this bird was one of the most beautiful and haunting sounds I have ever heard. I pretended myself as Peter, an adventurer, standing in grandpa’s yard, watching the bird. My journey doesn't take me much beyond the red velvet seat I sat on, but for me, it was a realization, and I simply couldn’t help wanting more and more of that bird. That flute. Hence, the flute player who wrote the song above for you.
But here sat a cut bouquet of sorrel sitting on my dinette table, looking ready for harvest. I thought it best to do something with this small bounty before it wilts and dies and I knew I had a recipe for this hibiscus somewhere on our 43ft sailing vessel, Catherine.
Space is always an issue while living aboard, so our library is thoughtfully curated: passage making, woodworking, celestial navigation, music, and recipe books. It’s completely obvious that I love the Caribbean culture, food, people, music, everything that embodies this sensual environment I call home. Honey in my heart.
So, child, I am fixing to create a sorrel punch to quench my thirst by this recipe graciously given to me by a St Lucian woman and writer, Yolanda Cools-Lartigue.
Enjoy your weekend, ya’ll. Blessings abound.
Sorrell
(This a a Traditional Christmas drink but we drink this all winter/spring. It can also be found in health stores or local Island markets in the dried form and is called “African Malva Leaves” or Hibiscus as it is in the Hibiscus family.)
1lb sorrel or 1/4lb dried
2 Bay leaves
3 whole cloves
1 stick of cinnamon
sweeten to taste
Method: Put Sorrel leaves, bay leaves, cloves and cinnamon in a large sauce pan. Pour boiling water in a sauce pan, enough to cover sorrel if fresh sorrel is used. If you’re using the dried, poor enough boiling water to reach 3 inches above. Cover and place over heat and boil for one minute only. Remove from heat and allowed to cool. Allow to stand overnight. Next day, strain and sweeten to taste. Serve hot or cold.
“...the idea is to take things easy and enjoy the passing time under the sun.”
Deportee
Choosing material to perform that is not your own has a spectrum - like Mingus to Jimmy Buffet. Go for the crowd-pleaser that everyone in your audience is going to sing along to, or take the moment to blow minds with something they’ve never heard before (and may not want to!). Somewhere in the middle lies material that you as a player resonate with, which allows you to be creative while presenting the works of others.
I stumbled across “Plane Wreck at Los Gatos” in the summer of 2017 while searching for songs focused on current immigration issues in America. “Deportee” is a protest song about a plane crash near Los Gatos Canyon 20 miles west of Coalinga in California. Guthrie was inspired to write this song by what he considered racial mistreatment of the passengers before and after the accident. The crash resulted in 32 human souls lost: 4 Americans and 28 migrant farm workers who were being deported from Cali’ back to Mexico.
Thinking about this, it was becoming a real contentious issue - ICE raids, “building the wall,” using the media as a mouthpiece to vilify all people trying to emigrate into the states. Let me rephrase that - all poor and brown people wanting to emigrate.
The lyrics to this Woody Guthrie song struck a chord with me before I had even heard it played. Along with that, I found the poetry used in the final verse that was written during his stint living at Fred Trump’s notorious “Beach Haven” apartment complex in Brooklyn in the ’50s. Discriminatory practices utilized in the management of the complex eventually led to a full-scale investigation and trial exposing the practices, and eventually to the Trump organization settling. It was forced to publish ads welcoming people of color as tenants in the complex. The dream of emigration to America - finding work, safety, a place to live. The laws that make it possible when the will does not.
The fact that these lyrics had only been discovered in 2016 and never were recorded by Guthrie sparked an inspiration. An all-American songwriter I was somewhat familiar with, resonating lyrics of a song which I had never heard, unfinished lyrics to a song never set to wax. The two came together as one quite quickly. We recorded it in the summer of 2017, shortly before Hurricane’s Irma and Maria hit a region in the Caribbean where we had been making the lions’ share of our performing income. Those two storms effectively derailed the whole recording project for 3 years.
Whether or not people are seeking asylum or simply looking for a better life, there must be a pretty serious driver to make someone wish to leave their country of origin with nothing but the clothes on their backs. My ancestors from the Ilse of Man went through a similar choice - setting sail for the promised land. As a nation built on the backs of immigrants, there is a feeling of discomfort when we further normalize the dehumanization of those wishing to emigrate who are of a certain hue and economic class. It is painful to know that given our heritage as a nation we have officially taken a stance that those trying to cross our border may have their families broken up, be held in cages for undetermined lengths of time with little or no representation, denied medical care. There are those that die in our care due to simple neglect - men, women, and children left to rot on the topsoil as if to be discarded pieces of fruit.
This is not the place my ancestors left their homes for. It is not the place that I call home. In this age of polarization, it is time that moderate, dare I say “normal,” individuals take back our position of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. There are many in power that wish for us to be divided, distracted. No, no, no - never again in my home.
Please, let your voice be heard. Vote.
“This land was made for you and me.”
Plane Wreck At Los Gatos / Old Man Trump
Written by Woodie Guthrie
arranged by Stell & Snuggs
The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning,
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps;
They're flying 'em on back to the Mexican border
To wade back through that river and work for old Trump
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride that big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportee"
My father's own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and my sisters come work in them fruit trees,
They rode in that truck till they lay down and died
Some of us are illegal, some of us are not wanted,
Our work contract’s out, and we’ve got to move on;
600 miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like rustlers and thieves and outlaws
We died up in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and we died in your plains;
We died ‘neath your trees, and we died in the bushes,
both sides of that river we died just the same
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride that big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportee"
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards,
is this the best way to get fruit from the tree?
to fall like the dry leaves, to rot there on the topsoil,
and be called by no name except "deportee"
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride that big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportee"
I suppose
Old Man Trump knows
Just how much
Racial Hate
He stirred up
In the blood-pot of human hearts
When he drawed
That color line
there in the sand
Trump Towers ain’t my home, I ain’t payin’ your rent,
my money’s gettin’ real thin, and my soul’s badly bent;
You wishin’ for a place where no brown one’s come to roam ,
Oh no, no, old man Trump, never again in my home
Jarad Astin - Stell & Snuggs
Pandemic Dance Music
First off, I just want to say that this particular IGTV Music Series, “Stranded in Paradise” on Stell & Snuggs Instagram has been getting attention as of late and what else can I write about today other than this burning sensation to interview the man himself, “Snuggs” of Charlatan & Charades. But it is important to talk about how we arrived to where we are now given the state of things during a pandemic. Let’s just say it has been nonetheless most interesting for those who make their living as touring musicians. And in our case, as “sailing musicians.”
In early July, we raised sails and navigated 1400 miles north from Saint Croix USVI to the northeastern USA with two children and feline, then dusted off the Ole’ 1986 vintage Winnebago, where we moved our worldly possessions and musical instruments off S/V (sailing vessel) Catherine and into the RV.
We all piled comfortably (meow) onto “Whispering Wheat” and headed for Castine, Maine where we accomplished our most important task of the year 2020: to drop our child to a Maritime Academy. A risky decision during a pandemic, I know. It was a necessary errand to beeline through Covid Country and frankly, from sailing offshore in “mostly” smooth seas to this pothole laden, anxiety-driven, front yard political craziness hasn’t made it feel any smarter. But that’s a story for another post, folks. My point being: time is of the essence, right?
Back to the music. So what exactly is Charlatans & Charades? We took last night over some strong coffee to dig in. “The process is fairly complicated,” he told me. “What we do at Charlatans & Charades is commune with the equipment to the point that there is such a free-flowing creative energy between the equipment and us that we become one. The creative process is so flawless that there is no such thing as a “poor idea.” There is no such thing as a “mistake.” Computers, although they work fast, they’re incapable of the computation of the human brain but only with the assistance of properly designed electronic equipment can the human brain reach its full potential in the creative realm.”
So essentially, Snuggs’ creates this process, although it is not his own. It is a particular synthesizer produced by Yamaha labs that allows him to become one with his instrument. And there lives the essential free flow of creative information that resides between him, nature, and machine.
The first thing Snuggs adds to a Charlatans & Charades composition is the melody. The song we will refer to specifically is Club Beats in Fargo, from the “Stranded in Paradise” Series YouTube Channel. The melody is the starting thread. After that, he creates the chordal structure which he further adds more depth to the track, laying a “watery texture” over it and some bass on the left hand. From there, he feels it out and uses his taste to rein in the whole creative process. The natural world is the heavy inspiration. You can feel the energy of the ocean and the Earth’s rotation.
He adds, ”As far as the arrangement of the piece, it is the acceleration of both human mind and machine mind working in tandem together that allows such a complex piece to be created so quickly and so naturally. One day, maybe sometime shortly soon, other human beings on the planet might experience this oneness with a machine, but to date, very few people are willing to accept such a presence within their own mind.”
Wow, just wow. This is getting heavy, but before I left the interview, I wanted to ask him this: Is there a hidden meaning behind these compositions? He wouldn’t say there were any hidden meanings. He said, “the purpose is to unify humanity with the universe and ambient technology.”
As he traverses through land and sea with this keyboard, he doesn’t see the “Stranded in Paradise” as a team. He sees it more as himself and all of the energy of the people who work in the synthesis development lab at Yamaha. Through the equipment that they developing, they all become Charlatans & Charades.
Where do the fans come in then? As this project is extremely portable and self-sufficient, we welcome anyone to suggest where the next Charlatans & Charades should be performed at next. Whether at sea, by a waterfall, next to a river, on a Astor Estate, Snuggs is ready to compose and perform on the spot.
“You are one thing only. You are a Divine Being. An all-powerful Creator. You are a Deity in jeans and a t-shirt, and within you dwells the infinite wisdom of the ages and the sacred creative force of All that is, will be and ever was .”
Speaking to a Lifestyle Guru (Video)
If making something of yourself is as simple as having the gumption to do something bigger than you could have ever imagined, then dear god, we better keep our plans rolling. We have been living by this “motto” (highlight word, gumption) for almost 9 years now as we live on a sailboat, work as musicians, and raise two girls (one left the nest for Maine Maritime Academy) on the sea. Currently, we are on land, tucked in the Hudson Valley with long time friends as we gear up to give our boat the necessary love she needs for our next offshore passage back to the Caribbean (back to gumption).
Just a couple of weeks ago, we received an invitation to join cultural critic, wellness guru and Internet personality, Marguerite V Imbert for a Q & A on her Instagram Live. Who can say no to being interviewed by the next “Terry Gross?” No us certainly. If we can share our story to stir someone else’s “gumption pot”, you know we are certainly going to do it.
Marguerite’s live shows are now becoming a community where you can find your new favorite graphic designer, your new favorite soap, to tapping into new music from unsigned artists. She highlights leaders and infuencers in her favorite industries, such as wellness, food, spirituality, beauty, and literature, and they all share a common feature of being “world disruptors.”
In the interview, we discuss everything from what gadgets we store in our galley, sailing over the Bermuda Triangle, and what it means to be sailing musicians who perform by sail to pay the (albeit, small) bills.
So we hope to inspire you all along the way, as we venture into many unknowns. We invite you to watch our Q & A with Marguerite V Imbert here:
Bless.