A surprisingly restrained journey through the history of the sea shanty
Sea shanties erupted into the public consciousness with Nathan Evans’ TikTok rendition of Wellerman deep in the COVID-19 pandemic. It’s not hard to see how a genre focused on bringing people together felt particularly resonant at a time of such separation. But long before TikTok, the sea shanty was a musical mechanism for co-ordinating the manual labour of sailors; ensuring everyone was pulling in the same direction (literally).
Fans drawn in by the compulsive percussion of Wellerman and propulsive vocals in Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag will be surprised by The Manchester Collective and Sean Shibe’s interpretation. Here, the sea shanty becomes a more melancholy, restrained beast. Charting a course across 500 years – from Dowland and Purcell to the contemporary – much of the repertoire is instrumental, with restrained percussion. It’s a beautiful sound, but an unexpectedly reserved one. Interleaving a few more crowd-pleasing numbers would make for a more engaging experience.
The first half of the show evokes the soundtrack played as you enter the tavern in a pirate video game, for both good and bad. It’s a pleasant, often beautiful sound that periodically erupts into something more evocative. But it also feels like accompaniment rather than the centrepiece. The musicians’ performances are accomplished and adept, but it feels like something else should be happening alongside them.
In its second half, the show becomes more playful and takes more risks. Its earlier stuffiness evaporates. Beibei Wang’s percussion is transformative, and Jonathan Morton pulls out wonderfully haunting sounds with every bow stroke. The audience contribute their own chant (“Ho, Row”) to Donald Grant’s arrangement of the traditional Scots Gaelic Ailein Duinn, a nì ’s a nàire (Brown-haired Allan, alas and alack) – this desperately sad piece about a whole family lost at sea is irresistibly rhythmic, and a clear highlight. It echoes around the room and into the very soul.
The performance culminates in the world premiere of Ben Nobuto’s Arksong. It was said that, with the rise of steam-powered ships drowning out the singing, “steam and music are irreconcilable”. Nobuto captures this as a tug-of-war between dissonant (yet strangely compelling) sound and his musician’s skillful fluidity. Wang’s voice beats out a series of orders, jerking the musicians into mechanical motion; later, humanity wrestles back agency and control. This is music as performance art, contrasting with the reserved performances of the show’s first half and ensuring the audience leaves energised and happy.
Shibe and Grant provide background on the upcoming songs between sections, including discussion of original lyrics – a piece based on a Kipling poem about supply ships, written just before the outbreak of the First World War, stands out. Grant acknowledges the unexpectedly dreary tone of the first half. But recognising this dissonance isn’t enough – interleaving some more popular shanties would have elevated the whole performance through its contrast. As it is, the audience would be forgiven for feeling a little tricked by the show – it’s a strong and interesting set of performances, but not what was expected going in. The show never quite reconciles this expectation and reality. It isn’t toe-tapping, but it is undeniably beautiful.
This was a one-off performance at The Southbank Centre. More shows from The Manchester Collective, who perform around the world, can be found on their website.