A Salty Dog – Procol Harum
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman’s log: your witness my own hand…
The sister show to Pet Sounds/Sgt Pepper which The Brighton Beach Boys developed was, by overwhelming public demand, a rendition of final Beatles LP Abbey Road. We did this show three times, but the conundrum was always – what would we play in the first half? In Year One, which I think was 2011, we played an LPs worth of tunes written by Glen Richardson and called it Pop Dreams – brilliant songs, beautifully composed and sung, a gig I sadly missed playing in due to work, but watched from the back of the church. Glen didn’t want to repeat that exercise the following year so in 2012 we started to put together something we called “The 1969 Show”, playing songs that appeared in that glorious year alongside Abbey Road. This led to irritating and tremendous rehearsals of Aquarius, Pinball Wizard, Wichita Lineman, Gimme Shelter, Space Oddity, Midnight Cowboy, The Boxer, My Cherie Amour, River Man, Crosstown Traffic, Blackberry Way, Something In The Air and The Liquidator/Return Of Django/Israelites. A slideshow was produced. It was a hit – some of the audience didn’t think it “gelled” – why should it? Others thought it was a tremendous kaleidoscopic presentation of a great musical year. And the following year an extra date was added to the fringe diary – the Rest of The 1969 Show where enthusiasts could hear extra selections from The Kinks, Creedence, The Archies, Mama Cass and Crosby Stills and Nash.
1969 is a rewarding seam to mine for pop jewels. My rather pleasing discovery while researching the show was this gem from Procol Harum, best-known of course for their huge 1967 hit A Whiter Shade Of Pale. A Salty Dog was their third LP, and the title track was written by singer Gary Brooker with poet member Keith Reid providing the Melville-esque lyrics :
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain’s eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
Any song with seagull noises will get my vote. The rather amazing chord sequence behind this verse structure can only be marvelled at in a pop context, sounding more like Sibelius or Mahler than chart music. One for the musos then – here are those sixteen amazing chords :
Db-5 Csus4 C Cm7 Bbsus4 Bb
“All hands on deck we’ve run afloat” I heard the captain cry
Fm/Ab Fm Fm7 Db-5 E6
Explore the ship replace the cook Let no one leave alive
B/F# F# B Bmaj7 B7
Across the straits around the horn How far can sailors fly?
E Em6/G B/F# F#sus4 F#
A twisted path our tortured course And no one left alive
Yes, that is a pastiche of the Capstan Full Strength cigarette packet. This is the first song in My Pop Life to have been dissected with a chord chart but I only discovered it recently and I have become quite unreasonably obsessed with it as a piece of music. There’s some fantastic footage of Gary Brooker singing this in 2009 in Denmark with a symphony orchestra and choir, quite wonderful. Listen to his voice as the sailors see land in the final verse, it is very special.
I’ve always fancied myself as a bit of a seafaring chap, but evidence would suggest I’m more of a landlubber. I have a very early memory of sitting in a long rowing boat in The Solent between my dad’s knees – a racing rowboat Cambridge v Oxford style – off the coast of Portsmouth where we lived at the time, the waves chopping all around us, the oar blades cutting through the water, the coxswain yelling “Stroke!” and the breathing of my dad and his team. I must have been five, or six. 1963. Couldn’t swim. It was terrifying and exhilarating as we rowed under one of those black looming World War Two forts that sit in the sea down there.
Conrad Ryle is probably the most comfortable person I know on sea water – oh and Robert Pugh of course, but I haven’t sailed with Bob yet. Conrad has taken me out from Piddinghoe near Newhaven on his boat and I loved it, but I didn’t help much as Conrad pulled ropes and swung the sail and hoisted this and that. Conrad and I went to school together, played in a band together, his family were very kind to me when my family were gently disintegrating in the early 70s…
I always talked about living by the sea, the sea the sea but there was little evidence that I wanted to spend any time ON IT. I like looking at it out of the window. Final proof came in 2010 when I was cast in one of those ‘small boat with sharks nearby’ films – shooting off Simonstown on The Cape of Good Hope with Halle Berry. We boarded the craft at 8.00am every morning and stayed on board for lunch which was delivered by another boat coming alongside, shooting all afternoon both on board and occasionally in the water until the fading of the light, for six weeks straight.
Filming Dark Tide with real Great Whites off South Africa
You’d think I would have got used to it. We had a box of ginger for seasickness – biscuits, sweets, drinks. You could tell if it was a rough day by looking at the box – always full in the morning, often decimated by lunchtime. I felt seasick pretty often, but held it down. I think Halle was sick on Day One but she’s game, and never complained. We bonded over puke in fact. What a beautiful lady – inside and out – the complete professional, courteous, charming, warm and honest. The sea rolled on, I refused to vomit, but then we went round and filmed on the other side of the Cape – the Atlantic side -and it was much much rougher. The horrible thing about seasickness – as opposed to land puking – is that it doesn’t banish the nausea. At all.
Maybe the nearest I got to salty dog status was when Jenny and I were sitting on the anchor of Admiral Lord Nelson’s flagship HMS Victory in Portsmouth, waiting for her train to London, and an undesirable separation. But that’s for another story….