Journal, News, Guests by Jim Fitting
Don't ask about Belmullet
We were driving past Ben Bulben when the discussion started. Kimon was blasting a live bootleg of NRBQ (Thre first thing we look for when picking up a rental is whether there is an ipod input port...Qashqai delivered, skoda too). It was from Toad's Place 1983. Al sounded happy, Terry was dope, a revelation, and so the eternal question came up. Monk vs. Keats and how does Joey sound so sweet? With the poet resting right over yonder and his headstone saying 'Horseman pass by', we were on the road to Galway.
Then Ry played some Steely Dan just to start some argument, though he swears it was KK...
Ah Galway, where we saw what an arts festival really means, and how. You raise your hand and declare that festival can't be beat.
Where we can sit in a cafe with a cappuccino in the sun, and stay in a real hotel where we don't have time to watch tv.
Where the phrase there'll be sandwiches later is no longer a source of dread (but always beware the salad cream).
There was a parade which we missed, but Kelly's was sold out solid. We were hustlin' cds by the side of the stage and Dietrich Strause was sitting in. It was a night that caught us by surprise, and we weren't dropping the beat with the energy coming off the punters. Later they had a circus tent all lit up (for the big acts like Blondie), across the river from the rowing club where we was unwinding from our stressful day. We could have watched the sun come up with the street echoing our feet telling our good fortune, but we had to get up early for a radio show on the "Bay" and breakfast.
Monroe's that next day wasn't going to be easy what with the sound board above the stage and flown off to the right; so Matt fired up the router and next thing you knew the laptop was the board front and center. How'd he do that? They were talking and socializing the whole first set. We didn't lose much ground with Barbed Wire and Greasy Coat, Something Heavy didn't even slow them down though, of course Amelia was fine. Nevertheless Ry gave them 'the talk' before the second set god bless 'im and damned if it didn't help. Finbar comes out with Skyscrapers and Spanish Town and it shut them up until he started The Tide is High, when they chimed in like mad ( a song choice made after much research by Mr. Doherty). By the time Dinty got the green light for Blame it on the Fucking Irish, they were along for the ride, singing along to the encore of Raglan Road. It may sound crass but, that was a moment.
We rode the dual carriageway to oysters and Guinness at noon for our video toasts the next day, and then rode the skinny roads past west coast surf shops to the hostel we were crammed into. That's where the Wichita lineman runs the show at Tom Malone's. The man comes straight from work with all his gear and truck to open the pub and get us sorted. He's there at the end too, at two am when Eddie is buying us rounds. Eddie who's wife called to tell him how great Blondie was, ringing with perfect timing in the break in the middle of Nuns with Guns. That was the night we were wandering around the western shore when Eoin and his family showed up, a sort of Ry mini me (check out the photo). They drove all the way from Dublin because he was too young to go the pub in the city and he wanted to see us for his birthday. And in Milltown Malbray it was allright, Eoin at 9 years singing about a guy with a forklift, helping out on Beertown. Then Eddie was vowing to cook us breakfast at ten am. Ry said he'd be late, and he was. But we ate his rashers and the croissants from across the street and listened to the former carny roll. He'd ask "Who's the daddy?" (of the band), and "What's your history of showmanship?" while showing us a photo of a fire breather who was cooking chicken that he was holding on a spit, as a promo for his restaurant. Yeah! Showmanship. We had stayed up late to minimize the time at the hostel where we was booked, but we were up early to drive to middle of nowhere in County Down. Well not in the middle of nowhere, we performed in the very church where Patrick Bronte preached his first sermon! Check out dinty with the Patrick (the father of the famous Bronte sisters) signifying over his right shoulder.
We crisscrossed the country that's for sure, but the less said about Bellmullet the better. Though we did enjoy the roads of County Mayo and all the shades of green, and maybe a little too much Sinatra.
We did finally get our white tablecloth dinner in Dublin, and a little trad music down by the river too. On our last night we played at the Sugar Club and it was sweet. Though we started before the sun was down on a brilliant day, by the end all the booths were full. And for the last encore we played Amelia Erhardt for someone who said they came just to hear that song. Who knew? Dinty. And we all went home happy.
samericana-3125-2.jpg
Then Ry played some Steely Dan just to start some argument, though he swears it was KK...
Ah Galway, where we saw what an arts festival really means, and how. You raise your hand and declare that festival can't be beat.
Where we can sit in a cafe with a cappuccino in the sun, and stay in a real hotel where we don't have time to watch tv.
Where the phrase there'll be sandwiches later is no longer a source of dread (but always beware the salad cream).
There was a parade which we missed, but Kelly's was sold out solid. We were hustlin' cds by the side of the stage and Dietrich Strause was sitting in. It was a night that caught us by surprise, and we weren't dropping the beat with the energy coming off the punters. Later they had a circus tent all lit up (for the big acts like Blondie), across the river from the rowing club where we was unwinding from our stressful day. We could have watched the sun come up with the street echoing our feet telling our good fortune, but we had to get up early for a radio show on the "Bay" and breakfast.
Monroe's that next day wasn't going to be easy what with the sound board above the stage and flown off to the right; so Matt fired up the router and next thing you knew the laptop was the board front and center. How'd he do that? They were talking and socializing the whole first set. We didn't lose much ground with Barbed Wire and Greasy Coat, Something Heavy didn't even slow them down though, of course Amelia was fine. Nevertheless Ry gave them 'the talk' before the second set god bless 'im and damned if it didn't help. Finbar comes out with Skyscrapers and Spanish Town and it shut them up until he started The Tide is High, when they chimed in like mad ( a song choice made after much research by Mr. Doherty). By the time Dinty got the green light for Blame it on the Fucking Irish, they were along for the ride, singing along to the encore of Raglan Road. It may sound crass but, that was a moment.
We rode the dual carriageway to oysters and Guinness at noon for our video toasts the next day, and then rode the skinny roads past west coast surf shops to the hostel we were crammed into. That's where the Wichita lineman runs the show at Tom Malone's. The man comes straight from work with all his gear and truck to open the pub and get us sorted. He's there at the end too, at two am when Eddie is buying us rounds. Eddie who's wife called to tell him how great Blondie was, ringing with perfect timing in the break in the middle of Nuns with Guns. That was the night we were wandering around the western shore when Eoin and his family showed up, a sort of Ry mini me (check out the photo). They drove all the way from Dublin because he was too young to go the pub in the city and he wanted to see us for his birthday. And in Milltown Malbray it was allright, Eoin at 9 years singing about a guy with a forklift, helping out on Beertown. Then Eddie was vowing to cook us breakfast at ten am. Ry said he'd be late, and he was. But we ate his rashers and the croissants from across the street and listened to the former carny roll. He'd ask "Who's the daddy?" (of the band), and "What's your history of showmanship?" while showing us a photo of a fire breather who was cooking chicken that he was holding on a spit, as a promo for his restaurant. Yeah! Showmanship. We had stayed up late to minimize the time at the hostel where we was booked, but we were up early to drive to middle of nowhere in County Down. Well not in the middle of nowhere, we performed in the very church where Patrick Bronte preached his first sermon! Check out dinty with the Patrick (the father of the famous Bronte sisters) signifying over his right shoulder.
We crisscrossed the country that's for sure, but the less said about Bellmullet the better. Though we did enjoy the roads of County Mayo and all the shades of green, and maybe a little too much Sinatra.
We did finally get our white tablecloth dinner in Dublin, and a little trad music down by the river too. On our last night we played at the Sugar Club and it was sweet. Though we started before the sun was down on a brilliant day, by the end all the booths were full. And for the last encore we played Amelia Erhardt for someone who said they came just to hear that song. Who knew? Dinty. And we all went home happy.
