Singing Sea Shanties Surreptitiously

Admittedly, the title here is an oxymoron. One does not sing sea shanties surreptitiously; they are sung raucously, typically fueled by rum and salt air. The title is a reference to an intoxicated bout of alliteration from this previous weekend. Which is where the motivation for this post comes from.

Singing Brings Us Together

Nearly everyone sings. For most of us it comes in the form of solitary tunes. Singing along in the car to the radio playing the latest Billboard pop hit you can't stand but damn is it catchy. Humming or whistling to yourself to make the time go by a hair quicker. Belting out your favorite songs in the shower and hoping that your roommates can't hear you butchering some classic George Michael (oddly specific huh?). Singing is a fun past-time, but many of us lack the courage to do it in group settings.

Yet our ancestors sang together all the time. Churches have historically been a place for the singer in all of us to come out. Faced with the consequence of eternal hellfire or singing along to Jesus-loving hymns, it is easy to see why so many sang together then. 

Singing together was also a way for many to break the ennui of manual labor. On sailing ships, sea shanties offered relief to the strenuous daily work; the rhythmic movements of tasks like rigging and pulling cables established rhythm for the songs. Field workers throughout time have used songs to make the harvesting go by without that crushing existential silence. A dark spot of American history is the example of slave spirituals. Combining the hardships of their backbreaking labor and torturous existence with themes of Christianity, spirituals helped the enslaved endure. Those songs are now seen as the root to many modern musical genres including rhythm and blues, soul, and jazz.

Bringing people together through song was a key piece of Irish history as well, particularly in their resistance against British repression. Irish folk tunes go all the way back to the 16th century, spanning their way through the Irish Rebellion of 1798, to the First World War and the 1916 Rising, to the Troubles of the latter half of the 20th century, and now to modern times with Gaeilige slowly making a resurgence. Those who tag graffiti of "26+6=1" will very well know the tune of "Come Out Ye Black and Tans."

Presently we have karaoke. Immensely popular in many Asian cultures, the fad hasn't quite caught on here in America yet. Sure there are open mic karaoke nights at bars, but they lack the solidarity of a group of friends in a private booth singing together (if you hate singing, get a group of friends together, get properly demolished, and do this; your mind will quickly be changed).

Yo Ho Ho and a Bottle of Rum

I am a strong proponent of singing in groups. Not necessarily some poorly punned college a capella troupe (Here Comes Treble), but more so after a few pints of the black stuff (Guinness, not black tar heroin). Whether it is the unifying anthems of rugby songs that rely on quick wits and gutter humor or the soulful melodies of the Dubliners, singing with friends is a grand old time (the Irish verbosity of this post is quickly rising). But it must be done properly. Few people are gnawing at the bit to be the focus of the crowd while singing.

Singing sea shanties and sea songs are the best way to get a group singing together. They are catchy tunes filled with strange jargon and interesting history. Nothing gets one's blood flowing like breaking into "Randy Dandy Oh" after a few pulls of the famous old spiced while your mates harmonize the chorus.

I first discovered my adoration for mariner songs while playing the game Assassin's Creed 4: Black Flag. A brilliantly done pirate game (if a poor Assassin's Creed) allows you to pilot your own ship around the warm sapphire waters of the Caribbean. As your sail around the islands of Tortuga and Jamaica, your crew can break into song. Without shame I admit I played that game for many hours, just sailing around listening to the songs, while occasionally stumbling upon a merchant vessel ripe for the plundering.

That game launched me into a phase of romanticizing piracy (like the cool Blackbeard piracy, not the modern Somalian kind). Reading Rafael Sabatini's Captain Blood and watching the Errol Flynn film of the same name, watching the series Black Flag based on the Robert Louis Stevenson novel Treasure Island, and of course indulging in a variety of rums, all while learning the verses of numerous sea shanties. I even attended a local maritime folk festival, sitting in on crowds of people all coming together to sing old-fashioned sea songs.

Men like Stan Rogers imbue their songs with vivid history; singing about the tragedies of the Northwest Passage explorations, the aching desires of whaler-men desperate to leave the cold seas of the north in search of swarthy women and strong drinks, and reviving hundreds of years old sailing songs, his works are the apotheosis of contemporary sea shanties. Our own local David Coffin serenades crowds with his deep baritone "Roll the Old Chariot Along." More modern bands like the Dreadnoughts add a slice of punk to their folky maritime ballads while Alestorm invented the ear-shattering arias of "pirate metal."

A Weekend of Piratical Debauchery

Though currently gainfully unemployed, I made use of the long President's Day weekend to spend a few days with some of my dearest friends down in East Hampton, New York. As per tradition, we gathered at a friend's family's vacation home down there to spend a sleepless weekend polluting our bodies with gallons of beer, a few dozen shakers' worth of cocktails, and enough cured meat to feed an army (I can feel my blood pressure rising even as I reminisce on this).

We highlighted the trip through my resolve to spend time singing sea shanties. The first night, with liquid courage and harmony brought on by a bottle of Pusser's rum, we crudely warbled out a few old sailing tunes. No platinum records came from us that night. Nearby neighbors were more likely confused by what must have sounded like a massacre of deaf sheep.

Fortunately, the next day we were able to redeem ourselves. On a drive out to Montauk with yours truly driving (to my friends' great horror), I turned the volume up and played the sailor ballads of ages past. Belting out the verses with savvy that would raise even the eyebrows of Stan Rogers, I quickly affected my passengers sense of unity. My friends caught onto the choruses with relative ease, and before long we were speeding between houses we could never afford while crooning away.

The last day meant a two hour drive from the far end of Long Island back to Manhattan (in search of Jollibee). I took the helm (drove) with my friends as passengers. Blasting my playlist of "Let's Get Piratical," I would sing the call while they answered with the choral response. Other cars looked over nervously to see us with wide eyes and gaping maws spewing sea shanties as the car rumbled along shaking from the noise. My only regret is that we didn't have a giant Jolly Roger to fly behind us.

Get Out There and Sing Together

If you are not one to indulge in singing with your friends, I highly recommend you listen to some sea shanties and learn the lyrics. In no time you will be at the head of the group singing about drinking rum by the barrel and finding beautiful wenches while you and your friends pass around a bottle of Cruzan or the like.