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.
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.”
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.