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
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 .”