Singing to the walls_01 The Ship in Distress

Todays post will take a turn. For the worse or better? I'm not sure. Since living in Edinburgh my interest in traditional, unaccompanied song has gathered quite a bit of speed. I was always singing and knew some trad songs over the years. However, when I was younger and playing lots of music, there didn't seem to be many outlets for this type of music, or maybe I just didn't seek them out.

Singing, for me, has been one of the most pleasurable things to do at any time. And I've always loved stories. The telling of a good tale in whatever medium can become a deep way of communicating what it is like to experience this thing called life. In my own understanding, trad songs and the stories they carry are portals into both the subconscious mind and the everyday reality of those who came before us. They are historical in both a factual, emotional and mythological sense.

Recently I learned 'The Ship in Distress' from a recording by the magnificent Tyneside folk singer Louis Killen. It took me a while to get my head around the phrasing of the song and I'm still working at that. My process would be to listen a number of times, then read the lyrics and later spend a couple of days sounding out the melody. I'd hum while cooking or having a cup of tea or walking or riding the bicycle. After a while the song would take a turn and become like a mantra of sorts which communicated to me that I was getting past just reciting it back. This process is another part of singing that I have learned to love. I've read that in sanskrit the word mantra means 'mind protection'. Practitioners speak of 'tuning in' to the mantra rather than just speaking it. I may be taking a leap here but songs can act in a similar way and singing can become a meditative practice. In the act of song the mind can go clear, become untangled.

Without going too deep into the roots of this particular chanty I would like to point out some interesting details I discovered when reading about its story. There are a number of versions of 'The Ship in Distress', with varying amounts of verses and differing lyrical content. What escaped me on my first few listens was the gruesome crux of the tale which is expressed in the second verse of this version. The sailors are 'drawing lots as to who should die'. What I didn't realise, for whatever reason, was this meant the sacrifice of ones life and body. 'Young Robert Jackson' lost the gamble and would be killed and eaten by the starving crew members in the morning. However, the third and final verse sees him delivered from his terrible fate when he spots another vessel approaching on the horizon. Cannibalism is narrowly averted. In longer versions of the song this is made clearer. We are told how the shipmates first take to eating the ships cats and dogs before ultimately being forced to turn towards themselves. I like this version however as it is more subtle and when the penny drops, the realisation is all the more chilling. In another, darker version of 'The Ship in Distress' the shortest lot is drawn by a young cabin boy called Richard Parker. The boy is not granted the same grace. He is murdered and cannibalised. The ships captain and first mate are arrested on their arrival at Falmouth and sentenced to imprisonment.

What springs to mind is the life expectancy of particular songs and stories. Why do some last and others fade and become lost to later generations? This sea chanty can be linked back to a Portuguese ballad from the 16th century known as 'La Nau Carinetta'. And here I am singing a version in 2020. This is quite incredible to me. I hope to share some more recordings and musings on this topic over the coming days and weeks. Stay tuned.