Caribbean cruise: Hitting the high c's with musicians
CRUISES | Pack a boat with 2,700 passengers and an array of musicians -- and the concert never ends
"Used to say I'd rather eat dirt than go on a cruise," said Shawn Colvin from the stage of a Carnival cruise ship. "But I've never been so happy in my life!"
Colvin had joined Lyle Lovett, Emmylou Harris and two dozen other artists in February for the inaugural six-day voyage of a Cayamo Singer Songwriter Cruise aboard Carnival Victory.
Along with them were about 2,700 passengers, including fans, heaps of professional musicians and their family members, an entire roller derby team, a few stalkers and me.
Like many of the performers and passengers, I'd never been on a cruise before. I was curious about whether the week at sea would produce music and community -- or just nausea.
The contrast between the vessel and its human cargo couldn't have been greater. Pale musicians more comfortable in dimly lit Nashville and Austin honkytonks walked dazed aboard the white behemoth of a ship glistening under the bright Miami sunshine. Passengers entered the antiseptic interior hallways to be greeted by the motley Oakhurst bluegrass band playing mandolin and banjo licks in front of a bank of elevators. The Bowmans, a waifish twin sister folk duo, had to compete with the bells and buzzers of slot machines to make their harmonies heard from the stage in the Carnival casino.
Capitalizing on the music-themed cruises trend, various lines have offered blues cruises, pop idol trips, hard rock party boats and even a goth music cruise. This particular voyage focused on "Americana" contemporary folk music.
Our ship was scheduled to stop in typical Caribbean hot spots, such as Cozumel, Grand Cayman and Jamaica, but the ports of call seemed insignificant side shows compared to the 12 to 14 hours of continuous music scheduled each day on six official stages. Some passengers mentioned they might not even bother leaving the ship during the island stops, so much the better to catch up on sleep for the next set of musicians.
"I'd like to thank you all for coming to my show, but I do realize you can't exactly go anywhere else at the moment," said Lyle Lovett, kicking off his first set, five hours after sailing into the Gulf of Mexico.
As the ship hit some high seas in the middle of his gig, the band members swayed with the rocking stage. Lovett mentioned that "the band is not experienced with this particular mode of transport" before launching into his 1988 hit "If I Had a Boat."
Pretty soon, other artists trapped aboard the ship decided they might as well join Lovett for a song or two. John Hiatt, Brandi Carlisle and Patty Griffin all took turns with the band on stage. It was like we had snuck into a busy booking week in a Nashville recording studio.
Still, I wondered how these iconoclastic artists became the house band for a huge corporate cruise line.
Emmylou Harris told Billboard Magazine: "They asked if I wanted to do a cruise and I immediately said, 'No.' The idea of going on a boat, it seems a little claustrophobic. And then I found out about all the other people that I'm real fans of, and friends with, joining the cruise. Plus it is February and we will be able to get out of Nashville." Harris even brought her mother.
The passengers on board arrived with similar mindsets. Most had never even considered a cruise as a vacation idea -- until they saw the roster of bands and checked the weather report.
The high proportion of professional musicians to guests turned many a hallway, dining lounge and deck corner into a nonstop jam session. The ship held an open mike contest, which is usually a karaoke horror show. In this case, the winner was Jacob Moon, a seasoned performer who's recorded half a dozen CDs. The next night, the organizers gave Moon his own stage.
Free-wheeling musicians (and their like-minded fans) didn't always mix well with the claustrophobic cruise ship cabins, the regimented cattle call of buffet lines and the bottlenecks of shore transfers. A few artists grumbled privately about tight quarters, pushy fans, tacky decor and lousy food. But in the spirit of "we're all in the same boat," they gamely joined the requisite lifeboat drill, mingled during meals and tried their luck alongside the guests in the ship's casino.
After winning $300 playing blackjack, Shawn Colvin said she had no idea the game was so fun. "And that's just what I need: a new addiction."
On shore in Cozumel, Mexico, the contrasts continued. I wandered through Mayan ruins only to see the tattooed fiddle player of the Duhks squatting down to snap a photo of an iguana.
At the behest of the lead singer for Gaelic Storm, passengers posed for photos shaking their fists at the front door of Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville -- protesting the $15 margaritas.
While it's not fully known if margaritas were to blame, six musicians didn't show up in time for the 4 p.m. departure from Cozumel. The show -- and ship -- must go on, so they were left behind.
A couple of performances were cancelled while organizers scrambled to charter a flight and track down passports for these half dozen artists stuck in Mexico, branded as illegal aliens. I envisioned their plight, playing for tips in taquerias to pay for their travel home.
After rejoining the ship in Grand Cayman, Holly Williams, daughter of Hank Williams Jr., told me the debacle resulted from confusion about the time zone; they thought it was an hour earlier than it was. She said it might make a good song someday.
Carnival staff said the passengers on this particular cruise skewed a bit older than those on previous music-at-sea sojourns.
"Pretty different than the bikers we had on board for the Lynyrd Skynyrd cruise," a waitress said. "And they don't smell like whiskey so much."
Just keep in mind that if you're going to stand up to take photos during a Brandi Carlisle show, do not do so in front of the Atlanta Rollergirls roller derby team. They don't like their view blocked.
Since this wasn't a typical cruise, many Carnival staffers found themselves in unfamiliar roles. On-board performers, robbed of their usual stage, were reduced to handing out programs and ushering guests to their seats. Children's activity coordinators, with only a handful of youngsters on board, enjoyed their own holiday at sea.
Unbeknownst to musician Edwin McCain, his 10-year-old hit, "I'll Be," continues to top the charts in the Philippines. When the ship's large contingent of Filipino staff pinpointed McCain's cabin, they lined up 20 deep in the hallway trying to get photos with their cell phones and clamoring for autographs.
We'd spent the better part of a week gorging ourselves on music and food, but people still wanted more (except, perhaps, when it came to those breakfast sausages).
Even the musicians were talking about next year's trip and all the people they wanted to bring along.
"I'm going to have to buy me my own boat!" Emmylou Harris shouted after listing her dream team of artists she wanted to accompany her.
Buddy Miller, veteran of 40 years in the music business, said the cruise reminded him of the old days in Austin, when everyone was checking out each others' shows, sharing wisdom, picking up tips and inspiring each other to greater heights. With the lights down and the seas smooth, it really felt like we'd been transported back to the scene of those funky honkytonks.
As the ship approached Miami in the pre-dawn glow, a small crowd gathered outside the duty free shop at 4:30 a.m. They watched the banjo player of Oakhurst, who'd welcomed passengers six days earlier, jam with a fiddler until the sun came up and the show was over.
Bill Fink is a California-based free-lance writer.