Family friendly Fish show

My band, The Flying Fish Sailors, will be performing on Dec. 23rd at Hickory Hollow located at 101 Heights Blvd in Houston, TX.
Hickory Hollow is a fantastic BBQ joint that has a long history of presenting live folk music in Houston.

The show is free and kicks off about 7:00 pm and goes till around 10:00 pm.
Come on out, grab some dinner and lift a pint of holiday cheer with the Flying Fish Sailors!

If you need a map, click here.

Hopefully this time we won’t attract the attention of a category 5 hurricane.

TRF is gone for another year

Anyone who has seen my band The Flying Fish Sailors play live has probably witnessed the spectacle that is our performance of Loch Ness Monster, a song written by Greg and the title track of our 4th CD.

It’s hard to describe but it’s VERY dramatic and features Greg and myself being rather *ahem*… animated on stage. The highlight is during the chorus of Loooooooooooch Neeeeeeeesssssss Monsterrrrrrrrrr when Greg and I stand back to back and he uses his arms to form the jaws of the monster and I use mine to form the tail.

At our last performance of the festival season we had a very nice crowd of some of our more faithful and dedicated fans. On a bit of a whim I asked the audience to help us out and mimic Greg and I during the song. The result was an audience full of monsters. I could barely keep a straight face.

I’m a Flying Fish Sailor just in from Hong Kong

The band has been together for over 16 years now. It’s odd to think about the events that lead to the forming of the band. Odd to think about the naming of the band.

When we formed up we did all traditional music. Jigs, reels and songs from the British Isles peppered with the occasional sea shanty sung by Joe in his rich, deep voice with Greg and I providing the bully-boy chorus.

One of the sea shanties we sang was “Blow The Man Down” which referenced a sailor who ran afoul of the law when he is accused of being a crewman of the infamous Black Ball line and defends himself by claiming to be a Flying Fish Sailor just in from Hong Kong.

In the days of tall ships the various trade and passenger routes were plied by different sailing companies. The “Black Ball” line had a reputation of having the fastest packet ships sailing between the UK and America. The faster you got to your destination and back, the quicker a sailor would paid and get back to England.

The success of the Black Ball line depended on a strong captain who was quick with the lash who would tolerate nothing but complete dedication to the task at hand to ensure the profitability of the voyage. One could imagine that a sailor from one of these ships might cause a wee bit of trouble when returning to port in the UK and might come under the scrutiny of watchful policeman.

Sailors on the Flying Fish line of ships plied their trade on voyages to the sunny South Pacific and were rumored to have an easier life. A Flying Fish sailor was one who preferred the lands of the East and the warmth of the Trade Winds to the cold and misery of the Western Ocean that Black Ballers endured. They did not have the reputation that sailors of the Black Ball line had and it makes sense that, when confronted by a policeman, a sailor might try to reduce suspicion by claiming to be a “Flying Fish Sailor.”

So I suppose that we picked that name primarily because of the reference in the song. The double meaning of the term used by a sailor to alleviate suspicion when confronted by the authorities combined with the idea that a Flying Fish Sailor enjoyed the more recreational destinations of the Far East and Asia also has significance. Plus, the image of a Flying Fish is quite whimsical and people seem to like to say the word “fish” a lot and the nick name “The Fish” has stuck with us to this day.

—
The Flying-Fish Sailor
Written in 1922

The Western Ocean roars and rolls
With all its deeps and all its shoals,
And many a thundering win-try gale,
And many a storm of sleet and hail;
But let who likes have rain and snow,
And driv-ing fog and drift-ing floe,
For South away and Eastward Ho!
Is the road for the flying-fish sailor.

In Blackwall Dock our ship is moored,
Her hatches on, her stores aboard,
In Blackwall Dock she lies today,
And she’ll sail out with the morning’s grey ““
For Sunda Strait and Singapore,
Palembang and Kuala Lumpur,
And many a swarming Eastern shore
That’s known to the flying-fish sailor.
The girls they’ll cry and the lads they’ll shout
As the sidewheel tug warps her out;
We’ll drop the pilot off the Nore
With fond farewells to those ashore ““
To mothers, wives and sweethearts too ““
Love to Sally and love to Sue ““
And that’s the last for a year or two
You’ll hear from the flying-fish sailor.

We’ll drop the tow and bear away,
Down the Channel, across the Bay;
The Western Isles we’ll leave behind,
And cross the Line with the Trade Winds kind;
Then we’ll watch them dolphins sport and play,
And haul our yards ten times a day,
While South’ard still we beat our way ““
The way of the flying-fish sailor.

At Forty South when she swings past,
Her easting down she’ll run at last,
Where the great whales swim in the far South Sea,
And the Westerlies blow full and free;
Them good old winds they bluster and blow
The same as they did years ago,
And them good old stars that we all know
Shine down on the flying-fish sailor.
The darned old hooker will log sixteen,
She’ll ship it heavy, she’ll ship it green,
She’ll roll along with her lee-rail under,
While the big seas break aboard like thunder;
The pots and pans they’ll carry away,
And the cook’ll go down on his knees to pray,
But let them seas roar as they may,
All’s one to the flying-fish sailor.

Next, old Sydney’s Heads we’ll see,
And greet a pal on Circular Quay;
We’ll wave at Java Head as we go,
And Fuji’s crest of frozen snow;
Then black-eyed girls in far Japan ““
Wun Lee, Wang Ho and little Yo San ““
With shining hair and twinkling fan,
Will smile on a flying-fish sailor.

And when at last the day comes round
We’ll yank the mudhook from the ground
And to old England we’ll return,
Our pockets filled with pay to burn;
With a painted fan and an ivory comb
From foreign lands beyond the foam,
And a golden ring for the girl at home
That waits for the flying-fish sailor

Ren Fest

Gadz, I have been involved at this festival for many’s a year (and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer). Mitch and I calculated that the band has been doing it for about 15 years.
I have been involved in some capacity or another since year 5 and this is year 31.

We have successfully made it through 2 weekends of the festival. The first weekend was unbelievably hot and miserable and there was absolutely no “magic” what-so-ever. Bleh!

Last weekend was much better. Cooler with low humidity.

Last Sunday (for a song or two) we were joined on stage by our friends from Queen Anne’s Lace, a lovely all woman acapella group. In this picture you can also see Jim Hancock, The Burley Minstrel who has been joining us in our first set of the day.

With any luck the weather will continue to become more moderate and things will pick up.

Puppets? Or evil on a stick?

Ren Faire rapidly approaches.
My band is playing again this year.
Four shows a day for 8 weekends!

Over the last few years Cynthia has taken to replicating the band in puppet form and putting on shows while we play. Each puppet character is hand made with a hand sewn costume.

This is her from last year with a puppet of herself holding a miniature puppet of me.

This year she has added to her puppet arsenal many supporting characters including members of Istanpitta. EJ the Piper, a devil, an angel and many more on their way. Sometimes, late at night, I can hear them skittering across the hardwood floors laughing and laughing…