Alessi x OFMD
Spiritland is - according to their website - a space for music lovers, a café, bar and radio studio in London’s Kings Cross built around an outstanding sound system and music policy. It sounds and looks kind of cool, although the reviews even on their own website are a bit mixed (“Avocado on toast should have had a poached egg but it was fried and overcooked”, “one of the most disappointing experiences I’ve ever had”) and it seems that until later on in the evenings, music is played from Spotify rather than from the massive library of vinyl that they appear to have. No dancing either.
Among my handful of Spotify playlists, I have one called Spiritland’s Top Ten which has been kicking about since 2015. I curated it (no great effort) having read an article about Spiritland’s founder Paul Noble which I can no longer locate, maybe he listed these as his favourite spins at the time? But looking at the playlist now I either misnamed it or, more likely, got bored as there are only eight tracks. Nevertheless, it’s a pretty eclectic selection from Andy Gibb to James Taylor, Cat Stevens to the Oscar Peterson Trio.
Sixth track, straight after James Taylor’s Country Road (“I can hear a heavenly band full of angels / And they're coming to set me free”), is Seabird by Alessi Brothers. Hailing from West Hampstead, New York, identical twin brothers Billy and Bobby Alessi were prolific during the late 1970s and early 1980s recording five albums of between 1976 and 1982. In the UK they hit the big time in 1977 with the effervescent Oh Lori, this despite the dangerous cycling techniques described in the lyrics - “I'd like to ride my bicycle with you / On the handlebars”.
Seabird was a new one on me athough I’d completely forgotten about it until recently.
Late to the party as usual, I’ve only just got around to watching pirate romcom Our Flag Means Death, co-produced by Taika Waititi and starring him as legendary and feared pirate captain Edward Teach, otherwise known as Blackbeard. Well, not quite the star, top billing goes to fellow Kiwi Rhys Darby as Stede Bonnet.
Stede Bonnet was a real life character, known as the “Gentleman Pirate”, living from 1688 to 1718. An article in the Smithsonian says that his career “may represent the worst midlife crisis on record” going on to explain:
In 1717, Bonnet, a retired British army major with a large sugar plantation in Barbados, abandoned his wife, children, land and fortune; bought a ship; and turned to piracy on the high seas. Though his crew and fellow pirates judged him to be an inept captain, Bonnet's adventures earned him the nickname "the Gentleman Pirate," and today his legend lingers in the annals of pirate history.
Stede Bonnet had no knowledge of seafaring, having sailed only as a passenger. Moreover, he had no apparent reason to rage against the establishment. A contemporary account of Bonnet's career suggested that "some Discomforts he found in the married state" led to "this Humour of going a-pyrating," but it seems unlikely that a nagging wife alone could be enough to drive a law-abiding gentleman to piracy. "Bonnet may have been unbalanced," says historian Colin Woodard, author of The Republic of Pirates.
Our Flag Means Death is historically accurate in the sense that Bonnet did buy a ship, named it the Revenge, hired a crew and went a-pyrating. And while it’s true that he and Blackbeard did hook up (so to speak), it’s probably fair to say that life on the seven seas, even during this, the golden age of pirating, wasn’t quite the laugh as is portrayed in the TV show - “Polite menace, that'll be my brand, every legendary pirate needs one.”
Nevertheless, having now watched OFMD twice straight through, the true strength of the show is the portrayal of relationships (queer and straight) and community that hold the crew together. As Blackbeard’s first mate Israel “Izzy” Hands explains in the final episode, piracy is “not about glory, it’s not about getting what you want. It’s about belonging to something when the world has told you you're nothing. It’s about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead. And letting go of ego for something larger. The crew.” It’s the pinnacle of a masterful performance from Lancashire actor Con O’Neil throughout the 18 episodes.
But back to the laughs. In Season 2 Episode 4, “Fun and Games”, crew member Buttons (Ewen Bremner, think Spud out of Trainspotting with beyond shoulder length wispy hair) is again pursuing his seemingly impossible desire to transmogrify into a bird. Just as the episode draws to a close, Buttons starts a strange ritual, placing a vessel on his head, and uttering the magic words, “Ah, genie master, earth wind and fire, re-assemble upon her majesty, I wanna go higher”, before disappearing behind a tree. Much to Blackbeard’s surprise (“Buttons, people don’t change, not into birds or otherwise.”) it works, and we’re left with the sight of an upturned vessel and a seagull where Buttons was. At which point - you’ve guessed it - the twinkling intro of the Alessi Brothers’ Seabird kicks in. Moments later we see the bird flying high in the skies over the Revenge.
By their 4th album, Words and Music released in 1979, the Alessi Brothers, or simply Alessi as by then they were known, had gone full on Saturday Night Fever. Had Spiritland been in existence, the dancing ban would have been impossible to enforce. In contrast, three years earlier, their debut album, also simply called Alessi, had been a more mellow affair, one to kick back and listen to with a cup of mint tea and/or a spliff.
An unkind take on those first ten self-penned songs would be to describe them as unspeakably twee, what with the twin brothers’ falsetto voices, the Beach Boys-esque backing vocals, the Yamaha electric piano, the congas, the knock ‘em out in two minutes lyrics (“Slipped on my face / My life’s a disgrace / Drunk all the time / Lost my mind over you”). But that was the 1970s and in truth this is a collection of beautiful lushly arranged songs which have stood the test of time. And while many of the lyrics are romantic claptrap, there’s nothing wrong with that; there’s not enough romantic claptrap these days. And the lads’ barnets? Well, feather cuts to die for, swashbuckling even.
But I’ll never be able to listen to Seabird again without thinking of Our Flag Means Death and Buttons flying over the Revenge, seeing his mates for the final time. A truly inspired choice of music. Perfect.
Seabird, seabird
Fly home
Seabird, seabird
Fly home