I started working out this tune and could not think of any words, but I had the idea it would suit a nautical topic. So I looked up some poems and lyrics and came across ‘Go To Sea Once More’. Fitting my tune to these words meant some fairly heavy editing but eventually I was happy with the result. Having now learned the song I thought I’d check out the original and found what seems the most recorded version by The Dubliners. It’s also been recorded by The Byrds and Grateful Dead, among others. However, it seems the original is much older:

‘This song about the 1850s Bering sea bowhead whale fishing was recorded in 1956 by A.L. Lloyd for his, Ewan MacColl and Harry H. Corbett’s album ‘The Singing Sailor’. This track has been reissued on their albums ‘Shanties and Fo’c’sle Songs’ (Wattle Records) and Off To Sea Once More (Stinson Records).

Ewan MacColl recorded this song a second time for the Riverside LP Thar She Blows! and A.L. Lloyd recorded it again in 1967 for the album ‘Leviathan! Ballads and Songs of the Whaling Trade’.Here, he was accompanied by Alf Edwards, English concertina, and Trevor Lucas and Martyn Wyndham-Read singing chorus. This track was also included in the French compilation Chants de Marins IV: Ballads, Complaintes et Shanties des Matelots Anglais’.. Lloyd commented in the Leviathan! sleeve notes:

Estimable Stan Hugill said this song in “known to every seaman”. Well, to a good few, anyway. Who was Rapper Brown, the villain of the piece? Particularly during the latter days of sail, many lodging house keepers encouraged seamen to fall in debt to them, then signed them aboard a hardcase ship in return for the “advance note” loaned by the company to the sailor ostensibly to buy gear for the voyage. Paddy West of Great Howard Street, Liverpool, was well-known for this, likewise John da Costa of the same seaport. But we do not find Rapper Brown in this rogues’ gallery. Perhaps there’s some confusion here with the fearsome Shangai Brown of San Francisco, through whose ministrations many a British seaman awoke from a drunken or drugged sleep do find himself aboard a vessel for the bowhead whaling grounds of the Bering Sea, a trip few men in their senses signed for, unless desperately hard pushed. Our version is from Ted Howard of Barry.’

OFF TO SEA ONCE MORE

When first I landed in Liverpool I went upon the spree. 

While money lasts I spend it fast, got drunk as drunk could be.

But before my money was all gone on liquor and the whores,

I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more.

No more, no more! To go to sea no more.

I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more.

I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more.

As I was walking down the street I met with Angeline.

She said: “Come home with me, my lad, and we’ll have a cracking time.”

But when I awoke, it was no joke, I found I was all alone.

My silver watch and my money too, and my whole bloody gear was gone.

Was gone, was gone! My whole bloody gear was gone.

When I awoke, it was no joke for my whole bloody gear was gone.

As I was walking down the street I met big Rapper Brown.

I asked him if he would take me in, and he looked at me with a frown.

He said, “Last time you was paid off, with me you chalked up no score,

But I’ll take your advance and I’ll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.”.

Once more, once more! To go to sea once more.

I’ll take your advance and I’ll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.”

He shipped me on board of a whaling ship bound for the Arctic seas,

Where cold winds blow and there’s frost and snow and Jamaica rum would freeze.

And worse to bear, I’d no hardweather gear, for I’d lost all my dunnage ashore.

It was then that I wished that I was dead so I’d go to sea no more.

No more, no more! I’d go to sea no more.

It was then that I wished that I was dead so I’d go to sea no more.

Sometimes we’re catching whales, my lads, but mostly we get none,

With a twenty-foot oar in every paw from five o’clock in the morn.

And when daylight’s gone and the night coming on, you rest upon your oar,

And oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore.

Ashore, ashore! Snug with the girls ashore.

Oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore.

Come all you bold seafaring lads that listen to my song.

When you go a-big-boating, I’ll have you not go wrong.

You take my tip, when you come off a trip, don’t go with any whore,

But get married instead and have all night in and go to sea no more.

No more, no more! Don’t go to sea no more.

Get married, my lads, and have all night in and go to sea no more.

My version of this song (which I’ll admit is inferior) goes as follows:

JACK THE SAILOR  

When I was in Liverpool I went upon a spree,

As soon as I was paid off got as drunk as I could be.

And when me money was all gone twas then I wanted more,

But the only way I knew of was to go to sea once more.

Once more, once more – once more, me lads once more.

The only way I knew of was to go to sea once more.

But then me charming Betsy she offered me a bed

But when I woke next morning with me overcoat she’d fled.

And walking back upon the streets the girls they all did roar

“There goes young Jack the sailor he must go to sea once more”.

Once more, once more – once more, me lads once more

“There goes Jack the sailor he must go to sea once more”.

Then standing on the corner I met up with Jackie Brown

I asked him if he’d take me on, he eyed me with a frown

“Last time you was paid off there was trouble with the law,

But as you are a shipmate I’ll take you on once more”.

Once more, once more – once more, me lads once more

As you are a sailor I’ll send you off once more”.

He shipped me on a whaler all bound for Arctic seas

Where the icy winds blow to make me rollocks freeze.

And me without an overcoat as I did say before,

I wished that I had never had to go to sea no more.

No more, no more – no more, me lads no more,

I wished that I would never have to go to sea no more.

Sometimes we’re catching whales me lads, but often catching none,

A bobbing on the ocean with a little harpoon gun.

You’re feeling oh so weary and your body always sore.

Tis then you wish that you were dead or back upon the ashore.

Ashore, ashore, ashore me lads ashore,

Tis then you wish that you were dead or back upon ashore.

So come on all you sailor boys and listen to me song,

When coming off those long hauls, I pray you’ll not go wrong.

Don’t you go down to Liverpool and wind up on the floor,

But find yourself a country wife and go to sea no more.

No more, no more, no more, me lads no more,

Find yourself a country wife and go to sea no more.

Trad arranged by MB © 2015

The first law of every religious and civil code worldwide is, ‘thou shalt not kill’. In particular it finds the murder of innocent and defenceless people, especially women and children, wrong and offensive – some would even say ‘evil’. There may, in exceptional circumstances, be a legal justification such as time of war or in self defence, but in all other cases it is outlawed and frequently punishable by death.

So how do Islamists justify murder? How would they feel if their own family or friends were gunned down indiscriminately? What do they hope to gain? As far as I can tell none of the arguments from organisations such as ISIL make any logical sense – even on their own terms. It may be they look back to the early days of Islam and believe they can reclaim the old empire by force of arms, as their forefather did – with Allah all is possible, they might say. Why then do they kill fellow Muslims? Or, as in Tunisia, Syria, Libya, etc, do they wreck the infrastructure and economy forcing refugees to seek refuge in Western countries? It seems, in fact, their violence and warmongering is self-defeating and even suicidal.

Or maybe we have to look at this not in religious or political terms but, rather, in a personal, emotional or psychological way. Most of those joining ISIL are young, idealistic, men and women, and, like many young people the world over are looking for meaning and purpose in life. By identifying with a faith or ideology that has millions of adherents one may immediately feel more powerful or accepted. When, after 9/11, Bush declared war on terrorism he unwittingly gave all potential terrorists justification to target anyone or anything deemed to be ‘Western’ and therefore of the enemy. As in any war, therefore, no targets were now off limits however horrendous the consequences. One only has to look at both World Wars to see how millions of normally peaceful people could condone killing on a previously unimaginable scale – and of course there are numerous other similar examples throughout history. So its not just Muslims who may use some ideology as an excuse for murder – its been done by most religions and political movements (sometimes continuing for hundreds of years, e.g. Catholics v Protestants). Even followers of sport’s teams may become so fanatical they attack others of a different colour or strip.

Maybe the roots of this behaviour go back thousands if not millions of years when rival bands or families fought for territory or resources? In those cases the outcome might be a matter of life or death. Perhaps we still have that gene somewhere which can be reactivated under certain stressful moments in history. Muslims, it could be argued, have emerged from hundreds of years of relative insignificance, their great civilisation of magnificent architecture, scientific achievement and learning, having declined to lag way behind Christian and secular based economies. In fact, had it not been for the discovery of vast amounts of oil in many Muslim countries they would mostly be ranked alongside the poorest in the world. Yet these are devout people. Why has God not helped them? Perhaps, some there might think, we must take the initiative and, in Allah’s name, re-establish the faith by force of arms.

Of course it won’t work. The West, for starters, will not just stand back and let these lunatics kill and destroy indiscriminately – it will protect not only its own interests but those of its allies. The terrorists will also encourage, as it has already, previously hostile nations to collaborate against the threats. And, the millions fleeing the violence will (whether we like it or not) often end up here or in other non-Muslim countries where the migrants or their children will gradually be assimilated and thus the faith weakened even further. Islam, as with other religions, must eventually realise that modern democratic governments are here to stay and that implies freedom of thought and worship (or non-worship). If Muslims, or those of other faiths, wish to gain converts they must earn people’s respect by good works and beliefs based on common sense, right living and rule of law. The modern Islamic recruitment agents may attract a few young hot-heads but most Muslims feel nothing but revulsion seeing these awful crimes committed in Allah’s name. And, by the way, Ramadan was always supposed to be a time of peace, reconciliation and forgiveness.

The photo shows a young Charlie McCoy, top Nashville session musician, during the recording of John Wesley Harding. It comes from an excellent article in The Independent, 24/06/15, by Adam Sherwin who interviewed the multi-talented muso in relation to, ‘Dylan, Cash and the Nashville Cats: a New Music City exhibition running at the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum, Nashville, Tennessee until 31 December 2016 – also an accompanying 2CD album released by Legacy Recordings/Sony.

Charlie has played on hundreds of recordings including numerous chart toppers. “I’ve played on some 13,000 sessions,” reflects the genial 74-year-old, a multi-instrumentalist, who is the most recorded harmonica player in history. “I’ve been on some great sessions. And some stuff that’s downright horrible.” It’s a typically modest assessment from a Nashville, Tennessee session musician whose name may not be widely known but whose vital contribution to a wealth of classic recordings certainly is. That’s McCoy playing the sax on the unforgettable, propulsive opening riff to Roy Orbison’s “Oh, Pretty Woman”. The mallet percussion on Bobby Vinton’s desolate “Blue Velvet” is his work, as is the distinctive bass harmonica backing on Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Boxer”.

From Perry Como to Leonard Cohen, Cliff Richard to Dolly Parton and Jerry Lee Lewis to Johnny Cash, the production line never stopped, with McCoy improving countless recordings while sticking to a maxim of never stepping on the toes of the star who is paying your daily wage. Oh, and the wheezing harmonica theme to The Old Grey Whistle Test, “Stone Fox Chase”, that’s McCoy, too. “I got a good royalties rate for that,” he jokes.

In 1966, McCoy helped lure the East Coast bard-turned-electric rocker away from the hip New York scene to record in Nashville, then a culturally Conservative, Bible Belt city, out of step with popular music trends.

The resulting double album, Blonde on Blonde, recorded with McCoy and the Nashville Cats, the city’s supremely skilled A-list players, is still regarded as one of the greatest LPs ever made.

Dylan said the album was “the closest I ever got to the sound I hear in my mind”. He returned to McCoy for the spartan follow-up John Wesley Harding and the country-informed Nashville Skyline album. But Columbia, Dylan’s record label, had ordered him not to step foot in “backwards” Tennessee.

McCoy said: “The bible of that movement was Rolling Stone magazine and it was not kind to Nashville. Quotes like ‘cookie-cutter music, all business and no art, assembly line music’. But we were A-list musicians who knew how to get a lot of music, at high quality, in a very short space of time, on a small budget. These guys were incredible.”

In 1965, Bob Johnston, a Nashville songwriting hustler, found himself producing Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited album in New York and invited McCoy to town, promising him Broadway tickets. His real motivation was to get him to play guitar with Dylan.

“He said, ‘I’m getting ready to record another song, why don’t you grab a guitar and play along?’ It was ‘Desolation Row’.” Dylan was knocked out by McCoy’s licks on the epic track and sensed a new musical journey.

“Bob Johnston said, ‘You know, I was using you as bait. I wanted Dylan to come to Nashville and he didn’t want to.’ So I was bait and it worked.”

When Dylan arrived at Columbia’s Music Row studio in Nashville, it was a shock to the system for McCoy, used to highly regimented sessions. The muse refused to strike. “We sat there from 2pm till 4am the next morning and we never played a note. This was unheard of, everybody was on the clock. We couldn’t believe it. You’re figuring out ways to stay awake because he might decide at any minute that he wanted to record and we wanted to be ready for him.”

“I don’t know how many games of ping pong we must have played. Then at 4am he came up with “Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands”, an 11-minute ballad. And everybody’s sitting there saying, ‘Please don’t let me make a mistake.’ He just started playing it and kind of left it up to us to decide what to do. Every recording, there was no conversation.”

McCoy, who played guitar, bass, trumpet and harmonica on Blonde on Blonde, established a limited form of communication with Dylan. “I’d say, ‘Bob, what would you think if we did this or that?’ And his answer would always be, ‘I don’t know, man, what do you think?’

“So I finally went over to the producer and I said, ‘You know what, I’ve got to quit asking because he’s not answering. If we do something he don’t like, maybe he’ll say something.’ And the producer said ‘That works for me, so go ahead.’ So that’s the way that it went.”

The cross-fertilisation of the Dylan sessions opened up Nashville to a wave of rock and pop artists including the Byrds, Simon & Garfunkel, Paul McCartney and Eric Clapton, who came to the city to record, with many invited to perform with Johnny Cash on his popular television series.

I came across this lovely piece from Duane Fernandez (the festival’s official photographer) following my trip to Okemah, Oklahoma, a few years ago. He also took some great photos of me playing – great, that is, in terms of being taken in poor light and thus fairly complimentary. The photo of the Crystal Theatre – allegedly where Woody once played – is my shot.

‘When I think back and try to determine my favourite memory from this year’s Woody Guthrie Festival, I am continually drawn back to the performance by one Maurice Baker. To understand my reasoning, you must sit where I sat and hear what I heard. Maurice found his way to Okemah by way of hope and fate. My favourite way to travel.

I arrived at the Crystal Theatre that morning eager to find my seat and begin the day. I knew I would be shooting the next seven hours and I had this feeling that I might witness something grand. It was uncomfortable outside, temperatures were soaring above 100 degrees and the humidity was off the charts. I was wearing shorts. My camera pack was about 25 pounds. The theatre was dark and cool. An oasis on main street.

Okemah is about an hour east of Oklahoma City. The population is roughly around 3000. However, Okemah is home to Woody Guthrie and every year they celebrate his birthday with a folk festival.

Maurice Baker is a kind fellow from Newcastle, England. I had the pleasure to chat with him for a few moments following his performance. I decided halfway through our conversation that I’d like to take my wife and travel to the UK and have a pint in his hometown. After all, he was kind enough to venture out and visit us in ‘ours’. (I’m not from Okemah but my wife is, so I can use ‘ours’ loosely for this story.) From what I gathered, Maurice was surfing the net one day and stumbled upon the Woody Guthrie Festival web site. He says that Woody was an inspiration to him and he was intrigued about the festival. He told his wife he would like to attend Woodyfest, but she wasn’t thrilled with the idea. After all, Maurice is a school teacher and not only that the trip would be costly and would take him away from work. He didn’t mention it again. He did, however, submit a song he had written about Woody into the song writing contest – ‘Hard Travelling Man’. Needless to say, Maurice’s song placed and he had an opportunity to perform at Woodyfest.

Maurice was perfect. His songs were brilliant. His smile was contagious and in the heart of a man I saw a boy. I really wish you could all have been there.

I like this story because it has to do with following the heart. Sure it doesn’t make sense to fly halfway around the world to perform a couple of songs in a town an hour east of Oklahoma city. Most of the beautiful things in life are done by listening to your heart and taking that risk. I imagine this world would be a far better place if we put aside logic and reason every once in a while. Thank you Maurice.’

One of Duane’s photos is at the top of the blog heading. Below is one I took of a busker singing outside the Crystal. The place was in in fact rather shabby and in need of restoration, hence the sign SAVE THE CRYSTAL.

PS – I still sing my Woody Guthrie song occasionally and, in fact, did so at the Bridge Folk Club in Newcastle last Monday night. One of these days I hope to return to the States and sing at Woodyfest again (along with other festivals).

As previously mentioned, John Newton had a long, hard and eventful life. His song, Amazing Grace, also travelled far and wide in both the religious and secular world. The book, ‘Amazing Grace’ by Steve Turner, which is extremely well researched, faithfully records not only the composer’s life and times but also traces the song’s journey, especially in America where, ironically, it was a favourite with black gospel choirs.

I decided to try and write a song inspired by Newton’s life and found some of its words and phrases fitted nicely. My song emphasises the slavery angle, though in fact he continued in the trade for some years after his dramatic conversion. Eventually, after becoming the vicar of a London parish church, he became friends with William Wilberforce and joined the fight to abolish slavery. It may seem incredible to us now that most people were opposed to abolition, but there were many reasons for this. Firstly, slave trading had gone on around the world for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and almost all African slaves were captured and transported initially by their own countrymen. Secondly, it was generally accepted that black people were an inferior and godless race who did not deserve equal rights (and cruel, inhumane treatment of others was commonplace then). Lastly, the slave trade contributed greatly to British (and European) wealth and many thought the economy would collapse without it. The moral arguments were generally not taken seriously – much as many people now are more worried about the economic impact of immigration than alleviating the suffering of migrants and refugees.

Anyway, my song is a very simplified version of Newton’s life and doesn’t really address it’s prime intention – to highlight God’s grace. However, that is not the reason for writing my song.

JOHN NEWTON     (1725 – 1807)

 Note : I usually finish by singing a verse of Amazing Grace

I picked up Steve Turner’s biography of John Turner, the composer of Amazing Grace, and was soon absorbed by the story of his eventful life. Though, like most people, familiar with the song from recordings by the likes of Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Rod Stewart, Elvis Presley and many more (at least 3000 officially) I knew nothing of its background. Many others obviously felt the same as his life has been the subject of several books, films and TV programmes.

Newton was born in London July 24, 1725, the son of a commander of a merchant ship which sailed the Mediterranean. When John was eleven, he went to sea with his father and made six voyages with him before the elder Newton retired. In 1744 John was impressed into service on a man-of-war, the H. M. S. Harwich. Finding conditions on board intolerable, he deserted but was soon recaptured and publicly flogged and demoted from midshipman to common seaman.

Finally at his own request he was exchanged into service on a slave ship, which took him to the coast of Sierra Leone. He then became the servant of a slave trader and was brutally abused. Early in 1748 he was rescued by a sea captain who had known John’s father. John Newton ultimately became captain of his own ship, one which plied the slave trade.

Although he had had some early religious instruction from his mother, who had died when he was a child, he had long since given up any religious convictions. However, on a homeward voyage, while he was attempting to steer the ship through a violent storm, he experienced what he was to refer to later as his “great deliverance.” He recorded in his journal that when all seemed lost and the ship would surely sink, he exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy upon us.” Later in his cabin he reflected on what he had said and began to believe that God had addressed him through the storm and that grace had begun to work for him.

For the rest of his life he observed the anniversary of May 10, 1748 as the day of his conversion, a day of humiliation in which he subjected his will to a higher power. “Thro’ many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ’tis grace has bro’t me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” He continued in the slave trade for a time after his conversion; however, he saw to it that the slaves under his care were treated humanely.

In 1750 he married Mary Catlett, with whom he had been in love for many years. By 1755, after a serious illness, he had given up seafaring forever. During his days as a sailor he had begun to educate himself, teaching himself Latin, among other subjects. From 1755 to 1760 Newton was surveyor of tides at Liverpool, where he came to know George Whitefield, deacon in the Church of England, evangelistic preacher, and leader of the Calvinistic Methodist Church. Newton became Whitefield’s enthusiastic disciple. During this period Newton also met and came to admire John Wesley, founder of Methodism. Newton’s self-education continued and he learned Greek and Hebrew.

He decided to become a minister and applied to the Archbishop of York for ordination. The Archbishop refused his request, but Newton persisted in his goal, and he was subsequently ordained by the Bishop of Lincoln and accepted the curacy of Olney, Buckinghamshire. Newton’s church became so crowded during services that it had to be enlarged. He preached not only in Olney but in other parts of the country. In 1767 the poet William Cowper settled at Olney, and he and Newton became friends.

Cowper helped Newton with his religious services and on his tours to other places. They held not only a regular weekly church service but also began a series of weekly prayer meetings, for which their goal was to write a new hymn for each one. They collaborated on several editions of Olney Hymns, which achieved lasting popularity. The first edition, published in 1779, contained 68 pieces by Cowper and 280 by Newton.

The origin of the melody is unknown. Most hymnals attribute it to an early American folk melody. The Bill Moyers special on “Amazing Grace” speculated that it may have originated as the tune of a song the slaves sang.

Newton was not only a prolific hymn writer but also kept extensive journals and wrote many letters. Historians accredit his journals and letters for much of what is known today about the eighteenth century slave trade. In Cardiphonia, or the Utterance of the Heart, a series of devotional letters, he aligned himself with the Evangelical revival, reflecting the sentiments of his friend John Wesley and Methodism.

In 1780 Newton left Olney to become rector of St. Mary Woolnoth, St. Mary Woolchurch, in London. There he drew large congregations and influenced many, among them William Wilberforce, who would one day become a leader in the campaign for the abolition of slavery. Newton continued to preach until the last year of life, although he was blind by that time. He died in London December 21, 1807. Infidel and libertine turned minister in the Church of England, he was secure in his faith that amazing grace would lead him home.

The origin of the melody is unknown. Most hymnals attribute it to an early American folk melody. The Bill Moyers special on “Amazing Grace” speculated that it may have originated as the tune of a song the slaves sang.

For many years I worked in a special school and one fourteen year old boy, who was profoundly deaf and also had learning difficulties, would deliver a free newspaper to my desk each morning. He had a wicked sense of humour, or was maybe just fascinated by morbid things, and would often point out the latest murder or war story and ask, ‘Bad men?’ Because of the boy’s disabilities it was usually easier just to confirm or deny his queries than try and explain the complexities, especially at that busy time in the morning. After a while, as his delivery service became routine, we would begin the chant, ‘Bad, bad men!’ as soon as he entered the room, accompanied by much laughter.

Anyway, the thought began to occur to me that maybe, aside from all the politics and journalistic social analysis, there really was a very simple conclusion: namely, that violence is wrong, for whatever reason. Okay, sometimes we must defend ourselves against aggression but no theology, political or religious, that encourages terrorism or unprovoked attacks on innocent people, especially women and children, can ever be justified. Some people are just bad – or, at least, do bad things. My young student had put his finger on it – what more could be said?

Except there was something – to state the obvious in a song. The last verse I added recently. As many others have said, much of what Charlie Hebdo published was not to my liking but I would defend their write to be ‘wrong’ – it’s what democracy is all about. Though I’m sure most people would condemn the recent attacks as barbaric, the main reason so many demonstrated was to show our love of freedom. If extremists of any description attack democratic societies, then they should not expect us to do nothing. Too many struggles have been fought defending freedom over the years to let this attack make us afraid.

But one thing the demonstrations were definitely not against was Islam itself, especially as the terrorists targeted people of all religions and none. Islam is a great religion and, like Christianity, Hinduism, Judaism, etc, has been a great power for good in the world, but it has also been hijacked many times down the years by those seeking power, wealth and influence, as have the other religions. Beware all ideologies I say, be they religious, political or philosophical. Think for yourself is my creed.

BAD BAD MEN