SEPTEMBER 2013 - Austria / Germany / Netherlands / Belgium / Sweden / Turkey

Sunday September 1, Salzburg, Austria – They played The Lemonheads as we boarded the plane to Berlin. The flight attendants wore tight ass enchancing jeans as they dished out the water and fruit juice in a swift and cautiously friendly manner. We plebs had a choice of snack. Salty or sweet. I had neither. A heavy downpour of rain greeted our arrival in to Tegel. But in Salzburg it was drizzling and humid. Played the gig and had an early night.

 

Monday September 2, Salzburg, Austria – Flags hanging on their poles, the bustle of the tourist town. People looking lost, some looking for adventure. On a ramble through the old city I discovered elaborate tombstones, magnificent metal crosses worthy of a place in an art museum. Church spires, horse drawn carraiges. So many people looking down into the abyss of the internet on their i-phones/smart phones/stupid phones. Who am I to judge. I had to get wifi sorted and once I did I discovered Im going to be on Frank Vranchx’s show on Radio Centraal in Belgium in a few days.

Played the gig and met top attorney and big time music fan W. Scott Wallace and his wife from Dallas, Tx. They bought CDs and invited me to their home town for a show and I will in due course put some effort into making that happen. 

 

Tuesday September 3, Munich, Germany – Off through Badendorf, Rosenheim, Grafink Bahnhof and arrived into Mucich. Navigated the S Bahn and found the bar at Marianplatz. Chatted to Tigue, a young Irish chao currently working in a fancy nancy Michelin hotel up the street. Its his third day. Met Mick (from Dublin) and Karen (from Deutschland) who had received an email from Brian in someplace in darkest Ireland saying to go check out my gig. So they did. They even had a list of songs I should play...’Down Into Hell’ ‘Nowhere Fast’ and ‘Tell Old Bill’. I played them all and got a bed for the night as well. Thanks Mick and Karen.

Wednesday September 4, Amsterdam, Netherlands – Woke up to the sound of the alarm bright and early. Mick drove me to some far flung train station on the outskirts of Munich and I hopped on the train. Lost my phone, found my phone, got to Copenhagen where one of the restaurants has the novel approach to keeping the bored and lost supplied with liquid refreshments. For example, buy a beer for 55DK, but get a refill for 20DK and you get to pull your own pint. And I thought my bar tending days were over. Read parts of The International Herald & Tribune, the inevitable slaughter and mayhem in Syria being a sober reminder that many of us live a bubble wrapped life.

Got into Amsterdamned and read a bit and nodded off in the smallest hotel room in the world. Went out on a ramble. Sister Sledge on the stereo in a bar near Dam Square. Found the hotel without getting lost or taking a taxi.

 

Thursday September 5, Antwerp, Belgium – Intense heat. Traveled on through Rotterdam, Rosendal, Kapellan and Ekeren eventually arriving in Antwerp. On Frank Vranchx’s show on Radio Centraal i played 5 or 6 songs, we had a chat and he played a few tracks from CD’s of mine. Sarah conducted the interview and Kristal did her crocheting as jazz cigarettes were passed around. Then we went up to Hoogstraat to the Half Souke bar as is the ritual every Thursday after the radio show. A hang out for poets and musicians since the 60’s the bar is small and with a floor like sea waves. It being sunny, we sat outside. Met a lady obsessed with the Tuatha De Dannann. That took up a few hours, but of course she had no interest in going to my gig. I had a red shirt on and down the street we met a lady with a red shirt (and red shoes) so Sarah took photos of us together in our finery. Went to the opening of an exhibition where we met Kika De Silva wearing a magnificent red dress so we took a few photos. It all seemed to make sense. Inspired paintings by Fred Bervoets on the wall, but it was time for soundcheck. Met a long lost girlfriend of Nikki Sudden. She was cool, damaged, living in the past and lost.

 

Friday September 6, Enschede, Netherlands - Woke up in Franks place in Antwerp with my boots on. Joined the artist/film maker/musician Ludo Mich and Chantelle Strubbelingen for breakfast. A bit like Kris Kristoffersons 'Sunday Morning Coming Down'. After a while I had a boiled egg. We talked about the Hunters Moon Festival in Carrick on Shannon, and I flicked through Karen Constances wonderful book with a 7 inch single hidden inside the back cover. The postman delivered collectable vinyl LPs, the atmosphere delivered heavy rain.

When the rain cleared we headed for the station and a train to Enschede. Needed to change trains in Rotterdam but missed my connection. Hung around for a while. Commuters were packed in like sardines, no seats available, only standing room between carraiges. A man wearing a white suit and white shoes did his best to make room for me to squeeze in. Looked like an Angel. As I trundled on board he said "Welcome to Hell". I nodded at him not sure what to think. Eventually I arrived into Enschede where a street festival was underway. Played the gig, had a sleep. Nice folks to deal with.

 

Saturday Sept 7, Dusseldorf, Germany – The lady in the ticket office was of no help. She said “You can by a ticket on the platform.” I explained I needed to go to Dusseldorf, which is in another country. She told me to go to Hengelo and buy a ticket there. It was hot and hazy. Outside on the platform the train to Hengelo awaited but I couldn’t see any ticket machines. I asked a ticket inspector. “You dont need a ticket to Hengelo” he told me in a no nonsense sort of a way. “So if the ticket inspector asks me for a ticket what do I do?” i enquire. “Im the ticket inspector on this train. No ticket!” Fair enough I think, and board the train. In Hengelo I bought a ticket to Dusseldorf and when the lady handed me the itinerary I noticed the first change was at Enschede. I said “I’ve just come from Enschede.” She shrugged her shoulders, I took the ticket and found the platform and waited....and waited.

 

Back in Enschede there was a long wait for the slow train to Munster from platform 4B. Two ladies were deep in conversation on the bench. I re-checked the details on the screen. I swung around to ask one of the ladies if this was indeed the right platform and they were no longer there, and neither was the bench. It was a bit early in the day for this type of spooky stuff. Trying to rationalise this psychic event I became aware that my shirt was soaking wet. I was sweating profusely. Maybe I had a fever, caught some bad bug, my cup of tea was spiked, a drone had shot a micro poison dart into my neck. A man of Persian aspect approached me “Do you speak English?”. I told him I did and we discussed the train to Munster scenario. He had also been given the runaround by the ticket office inside, as i had an hour earlier. I noticed he too was sweating profusely as he took out a hankerchief and mopped his brow. It wasn’t just me. It must have been 35 degrees and humidity was high as a kite. I had to accept that people, and sometimes the benches on which they sit, simply disappear. It never crossed my mind to ask the man of Persian aspect if he was troubled by invisible people. Sometimes its best to keep your mouth shut.

It was a long lonesome day. In Dusseldorf the rain came down and I felt lost but made it to Solaris 53 in one piece. Greeted Uki and crew before having Thai food in a small family run restaurant with all the gods watching me.  The same place I had dinner last time I was in this town. Then I went back down to the dark end of the street and played the gig.

         

Sunday  Sept 8, Castricum, Netherlands – On the train down to Amsterdam the ticket inspector informed that most of the toilets on the train were out of order. Eventually I located one and on the way back to the dining carraige where I was having a liquid lunch I bumped into the same chatty King of Tickets. ‘Where you from?’ he asked. ‘Ireland’ I replied.

‘Dublin ! Big tits and great pussy, I go there next week.’

I nodded and off I went. A while later he walked past me again gesticulating frantically to check out his work comrade, a chesty brunette. He was getting into the swing of things for his trip to Dublin and the cesspit of Temple Bar I presume.

After arriving into Castricum via Amsterdam I ate disappointing Indonesian food, found the venue, a place called De BakKerij. Cool venue, nice staff and got the soundcheck over with little pain involved. Steve arrived down from Alkmaar, played the show and so on and so forth. One of the bar staff urged me to check out the music of Jackson C. Frank.
He stuck on a CD of Mr Frank and after slices of plastic were exchanged for bio survival tickets Steve and I took a late train to Alkmaar. 

 

         

Monday Sept 9, Amsterdam, Netherlands – The rain was coming down hard and fast . Sheltered in a corner bar near Central Station. My second time in this city in the past week. The unrelenting rain may have been in cahoots with the taxi drivers union. Hailed a cab - 7 Euro, not a bad deal, and the polite gentleman insisted on lifting my heavy bag and guitar as well. I was left with a bag containing a half empty box of CDs and an alarm clock with the alarm function broken. However the disabled plastic clock tells me when the gig is coming to a close. Its usually beside my effects pedals on the floor. For acoustic gigs it lies beside my stomp box usually.

 

An Australian lady rushed out in the rain to help me with the gear. Harry who runs Monumentje is a musician himself and knows the score. Refreshed with a beer or 4 and following a few pangs of impending puke (and I only throw up once every 10 years or so) I reckoned I should change to red wine. The room was full and the gig was a special affair in that I knew I was amongst kindred spirits and the vibe was very good indeed. Not only did people buy CDs, they wanted to know what songs were about and where they were recorded and it was clear that we were all in this madness together and people arrived in that I hadn’t seen in years and time drifted slowly and everything seemed to make sense. Hanging around in Schipol Airport for six hours waiting for a flight wasn’t much fun or interesting in any way. But you can’t have everything! Where would you put it?

 

 

Thursday Sept 12, Göteborg, Sweden - Jack Earls ‘Take Me To That Place’ was on the record player rocking at 45r.p.m.  What a minimialist and cool rockin’ guitar riff. Later I found an old Tony Tuff LP. Stuck it on and listened to ‘Mista Know It All’. Memories of Galway in the early 80’s came flooding back. My old bedsit on St Marys Road - like a furnace in the summer and like a fridge in the late autumn. Couldn’t stick it any longer and I moved out. Tony was for a long time the invisible man of reggae. My friend Arvid down in Malmo agrees, but in the last few years Ive been able to track down a few of Mr Tuffs records mail order.

A cloud blew the rain from its throat. Closed the windows. Checked out some songs from Omar Souletman from Syria on soundcloud. Then the wife came in and announced she’d decided to get out a life insurance policy on me. A doctor told me two years ago that Im in pretty good shape all concidered. Suddenly I felt a strange feeling of unease and ultimately  dark paranoia.

Wednesday Sept 18, Side, Turkey – Explored the Temple of Apollo and what may have been a second century hospital. I wondered where all the Persian Princesses were. But I started writing a song called ‘Persian Princess’ anyway. What else would you do? At the hotal bar the proprietor asked if I was looking for a wedding party. I wasn’t. Wearing a white shirt and dark pinstripe jacket with black trousers and red cowboy boots I must have stood out amongst the bikini clad girl-tourists and the shorts and T shirt brigade.  Apparently it was 38 degrees celsius and I hadn’t noticed. He was trying to be funny I suppose. I asked for another drink.

 

Later I ended up rambling through a few acres of desert. Got dust on my boots and spotted a few camels and assorted tumbling down ancient ruins.
An oasis beckoned. The No Name Restaurant provided me with a beer and a view out over the Aegean Sea. I decided to try to get to Manavgat, but having started out with bad directions I took a bus to Komkoy. A detour was required and eventually an hour or two was spent roaming the gigantic markets of Manavgat and I realized this is where the regular folks live and work and hang out. Converse runners for a tenner, fake rolex watches, fake jeans, fake perfume that smells like vodka, fake any fucking thing you want mista.

Sitting under the blinking bikini sign, John Lee Hooker was on the stereo blasting out “One scotch, one burbon, one beer.” My evil spirit days are over but I can handle a beer. Then another one from John Lee...”Im in the mood for love.” Aren’t we all. The sun went down fast.

Started work on a country ballad and slept for a few hours and the days melted into one and other as they sometimes do.

Netherlands / Sweden / Turkey - September 2013 (continued)

Sunday  Sept 8, Castricum, Netherlands – On the train down to Amsterdam the ticket inspector reliably informed me that most of the toilets on the train were out of order. Eventually I located one and on the way back to the dining carraige where I was having a liquid lunch I bumped into the same chatty King of Tickets. ‘Where you from?’ he asked. ‘Ireland’ I replied. ‘Dublin ! Big tits and great pussy, I go there next week.’

I nodded and off I went. A while later he walked past me again gesticulating frantically to check out his work comrade, a chesty brunette. He was getting into the swing of things for his trip to Dublin and the cesspit of Temple Bar I presume.

After arriving into Castricum via Amsterdam I ate disappointing Indonesian food, found the venue, a place called De BakKerij. Cool venue, nice staff and got the soundcheck over with little pain involved. Steve arrived down from Alkmaar, played the show and so on and so forth. One of the bar staff urged me to check out the music of Jackson C. Frank.
He stuck on a CD of Mr Frank and after slices of plastic were exchanged for bio survival tickets Steve and I took a late train to Alkmaar. 

         

Monday Sept 9, Amsterdam, Netherlands – The rain was coming down hard and fast . Sheltered in a corner bar near Central Station. My second time in this city in the past week. The unrelenting rain may have been in cahoots with the taxi drivers union. Hailed a cab - 7 Euro, not a bad deal, and the polite gentleman insisted on lifting my heavy bag and guitar as well. I was left with a bag containing a half empty box of CDs and an alarm clock with the alarm function broken. However the disabled plastic clock tells me when the gig is coming to a close. Its usually beside my effects pedals on the floor. For acoustic gigs it lies beside my stomp box usually.

 

An Australian lady rushed out in the rain to help me with the gear. Harry who runs Monumentje is a musician himself and knows the score. Refreshed with a beer or 4 and following a few pangs of impending puke (and I only throw up once every 10 years or so) I reckoned I should change to red wine. The room was full and the gig was a special affair in that I knew I was amongst kindred spirits and the vibe was very good indeed. Not only did people buy CDs, they wanted to know what songs were about and where they were recorded and it was clear that we were all in this madness together and people arrived in that I hadn’t seen in years and time drifted slowly and everything seemed to make sense. Hanging around in Schipol Airport for six hours waiting for a flight wasn’t much fun or interesting in any way. But you can’t have everything! Where would you put it?

 

 

Thursday Sept 12, Göteborg, Sweden - Jack Earls ‘Take Me To That Place’ was on the record player rocking at 45r.p.m.  What a minimialist and cool rockin’ guitar riff. Later I found an old Tony Tuff LP. Stuck it on and listened to ‘Mista Know It All’. Memories of Galway in the early 80’s came flooding back. My old bedsit on St Marys Road - like a furnace in the summer and like a fridge in the late autumn. Couldn’t stick it any longer and I moved out. Tony was for a long time the invisible man of reggae. My friend Arvid down in Malmo agrees, but in the last few years Ive been able to track down a few of Mr Tuffs records mail order.

 

A cloud blew the rain from its throat. Closed the windows. Checked out some songs from Omar Souletman from Syria on soundcloud. Then the wife came in and announced she’d decided to get out a life insurance policy on me. A doctor told me two years ago that Im in pretty good shape all concidered. Suddenly I felt a strange feeling of unease and ultimately  dark paranoia.

Wednesday Sept 18, Side, Turkey – Explored the Temple of Apollo and what may have been a second century hospital. I wondered where all the Persian Princesses were. But I started writing a song called ‘Persian Princess’ anyway. What else would you do? At the hotal bar the proprietor asked if I was looking for a wedding party. I wasn’t. Wearing a white shirt and dark pinstripe jacket with black trousers and red cowboy boots I must have stood out amongst the bikini clad girl-tourists and the shorts and T shirt brigade.  Apparently it was 38 degrees celsius and I hadn’t noticed. He was trying to be funny I suppose. I asked for another drink.

 

Later I ended up rambling through a few acres of desert and spotted a few camels and assorted tumbling down ancient ruins.
An oasis beckoned. The No Name Restaurant provided me with a beer and a view out over the Aegean Sea. I decided to try to get to Manavgat, but having started out with bad directions I took a bus to Komkoy. A detour was required and eventually an hour or two was spent roaming the gigantic markets of Manavgat and I realized this is where the regular folks live and work and hang out.

Started work on a country ballad and slept for a few hours and got up again and one day melted into another as they sometimes do.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ENSCHEDE and DUSSELDORF

Friday September 6, Enschede, Netherlands - Woke up in Franks place in Antwerp with my boots on. Joined the artist/film maker/musician Ludo Mich and Chantelle Strubbelingen for breakfast. A bit like Kris Kristoffersons 'Sunday Morning Coming Down'. After a while I had a boiled egg. We talked about the Hunters Moon Festival in Carrick on Shannon, and I flicked through Karen Constances wonderful book with a 7 inch single hidden inside the back cover. The postman delivered collectable vinyl LPs, the atmosphere delivered heavy rain.

When the rain cleared we headed for the station and a train to Enschede. Needed to change trains in Rotterdam but missed my connection. Hung around for a while. Commuters were packed in like sardines, no seats available, only standing room between carraiges. A man wearing a white suit and white shoes did his best to make room for me to squeeze in. Looked like an Angel. As I trundled on board he said "Welcome to Hell". I nodded at him not sure what to think. Eventually I arrived into Enschede where a street festival was underway. Played the gig, had a sleep. Nice folks to deal with.

 

Saturday Sept 7, Dusseldorf, Germany – The lady in the ticket office was of no help. She said “You can by a ticket on the platform.” I explained I needed to go to Dusseldorf, which is in another country. She told me to go to Hengelo and buy a ticket there. It was hot and hazy. Outside on the platform the train to Hengelo awaited but I couldn’t see any ticket machines. I asked a ticket inspector. “You dont need a ticket to Hengelo” he told me in a no nonsense sort of a way. “So if the ticket inspector asks me for a ticket what do I do?” i enquire. “Im the ticket inspector on this train. No ticket!” Fair enough I think, and board the train. In Hengelo I bought a ticket to Dusseldorf and when the lady handed me the itinerary I noticed the first change was at Enschede. I said “I’ve just come from Enschede.” She shrugged her shoulders, I took the ticket and found the platform and waited....and waited.

 

Back in Enschede there was a long wait for the slow train to Munster from platform 4B. Two ladies were deep in conversation on the bench. I re-checked the details on the screen. I swung around to ask one of the ladies if this was indeed the right platform and they were no longer there, and neither was the bench. It was a bit early in the day for this type of spooky stuff. Trying to rationalise this psychic event I became aware that my shirt was soaking wet. I was sweating profusely. Maybe I had a fever, caught some bad bug, my cup of tea was spiked, a drone had shot a micro poison dart into my neck. A man of Persian aspect approached me “Do you speak English?”. I told him I did and we discussed the train to Munster scenario. He had also been given the runaround by the ticket office inside, as i had an hour earlier. I noticed he too was sweating profusely as he took out a hankerchief and mopped his brow. It wasn’t just me. It must have been 35 degrees and humidity was high as a kite. I had to accept that people, and sometimes the benches on which they sit, simply disappear. It never crossed my mind to ask the man of Persian aspect if he was troubled by invisible people. Sometimes its best to keep your mouth shut.

 

It was a long lonesome day. In Dusseldorf the rain came down and I felt lost but made it to Solaris 53 in one piece. Greeted Uki and crew before having Thai food in a small family run restaurant with all the gods watching me.  The same place I had dinner last time I was in this town. Then I went back down to the dark end of the street and played the gig.

 

 

 

 

 

NETHERLANDS / BELGIUM SEPTEMBER 2013

Wednesday September 4, Amsterdam, Netherlands – Woke up to the sound of the alarm bright and early. Mick drove me to some far flung train station on the outskirts of Munich and I hopped on the train. Lost my phone, found my phone, got to Copenhagen where one of the restaurants has the novel approach to keeping the bored and lost supplied with liquid refreshments. For example, buy a beer for 55DK, but get a refill for 20DK and you get to pull your own pint. And I thought my bar tending days were over. Read parts of The International Herald & Tribune, the inevitable slaughter and mayhem in Syria being a sober reminder that many of us live a bubble wrapped life.

Got into Amsterdamned and read a bit and nodded off in the smallest hotel room in the world. Went out on a ramble. Sister Sledge on the stereo in a bar near Dam Square. Found the hotel without getting lost or taking a taxi.

 

Thursday September 5, Antwerp, Belgium – Intense heat. Traveled on through Rotterdam, Rosendal, Kapellan and Ekeren eventually arriving in Antwerp. On Frank Vranchx’s show on Radio Centraal i played 5 or 6 songs, we had a chat and he played a few tracks from CD’s of mine. Sarah conducted the interview and Crystal did her crocheting. Then we went up to Hoogstraat to the Half Souke bar as is the ritual every Thursday after the radio show. A hang out for poets and musicians since the 60’s the bar is small and with a floor like sea waves. It being sunny, we sat outside. Met a lady obsessed with the Tuatha De Dannann. That took up a few hours, but of course she had no interest in going to my gig. I had a red shirt on and down the street we met a lady with a red shirt (and red shoes) so Frank took photos of us together in our finery. Went to the opening of an exhibition where we met Kika De Silva wearing a magnificent red dress so we took a few photos. Inspired paintings by Fred Bervoets on the wall, but it was time for soundcheck. Met a long lost girlfriend of Nikki Sudden. She was cool, damaged, living in the past and lost.

Sweden / Austria / Germany September 2013

Friday August 30, Göteborg, Sweden – Spent half an hour looking for a Pat Conte record. Eventually found it and stuck it on as the ships rolled into the harbour. Its called ‘Folk Music Of The United States’. Issued on red vinyl by Jalopy Records its a good start to the day. Pats also responsible for compiling ‘The Secret Museum Of Mankind Vol. 1, Ethnic Music Classics: 1925-48’. Far-out tracks from his personal collection of obscure 78’s from Ceylon, Poland, Abyssinia, Andalucia, Rajahstan, Fiji, South Africa and so on. First time I met Pat was a few months ago on Columbia Street in Brooklyn NYC.  His car pulled up to the kerb and Jack shouted over “ Hey Pat”. I went over to say ‘hello’ to this man I’d heard so much about. The car was full of smoke. I assumed they were smoking gigantic spliffs, but no, it was sweet smelling Nag Champa incense that clouded the old Buick. Billows of the stuff. He burns it everywhere he goes creating his own world of smoke/mist/fog and great music.

 

Windows wide open - the far away rumble of traffic, it was hot and humid. Fizzy drink in mind, I stuck to soda water. Put on the Stones ‘Out of Time’ but it sounded muddy. This was from the Rolled Gold compilation. But I was used to hearing a version from a Russian pressing I had aquired about 10 years back. Dug that one out and I was right, the old cold war era pressing was surprisingly better, maybe even an alternative mix. Probably a bootleg as well. The doorbell rang and the Nikki Sudden  6 CD box-set arrived. Looks great and it’s full of obscure stuff as well as some of his better known songs. Im to be found on one track playing guitar and harmonica. Later on it seemed appropriate to try and remix a version of Nikki’s ‘Death Is Hanging Over Me’.

 

Sunday September 1, Salzburg, Austria – They played The Lemonheads as we boarded the plane to Berlin. The flight attendants wore tight ass enchancing jeans as they dished out the water and fruit juice in a swift and cautiously friendly manner. We plebs had a choice of snack. Salty or sweet. I had neither. A heavy downpour of rain greeted our arrival in to Tegel. But in Salzburg it was drizzling and humid. Played the gig and had an early night.

 

 

Monday September 2, Salzburg, Austria – Flags hanging on their poles, the bustle of the tourist town. People looking lost, some looking for adventure. On a ramble through the old city I discovered elaborate tombstones, magnificent metal crosses worthy of a place in an art museum. Church spires, horse drawn carraiges. So many people looking down into the abyss of the internet on their i-phones/smart phones/stupid phones. Who am I to judge. I had to get wifi sorted and once I did I discovered Im going to be on Frank Vranchx’s show on Radio Centraal in Belgium in a few days.

 

Played the gig and met top attorney and big time music fan W. Scott Wallace and his wife from Dallas, Tx. They bought CDs and invited me to their home town for a show and I will in due course put some effort into making that happen. 

 

Tuesday September 3, Munich, Germany – Off through Badendorf, Rosenheim, Grafink Bahnhof and arrived into Mucich. Navigated the S Bahn and found the bar at Marianplatz. Chatted to Tigue, a young Irish chao currently working in a fancy nancy Michelin hotel up the street. Its his third day. Met Mick (from Dublin) and Karen (from Deutschland) who had received an email from Brian in someplace in darkest Ireland saying to go check out my gig. So they did. They even had a list of songs I should play...’Down Into Hell’ ‘Nowhere Fast’ and ‘Tell Old Bill’. I played them all and got a bed for the night as well. Thanks Mick and Karen.

IRELAND - JULY 2013 (PART TWO)

Thurs 18 July, Dublin – Mark Dennehy had been sound engineer on early Racketeers gigs way back in the last century. I recall those hot nights in Eamonn Dorans, Temple Bar 1996. The pool table in front of the stage peopled by folks with shady motives. Staff would move the table after soundcheck and some dodgy CD’s would be played, then support band, then ourselves  and our gig would invariably be followed by all sorts of shenanigans in the dressing room. A motley crew of dealers and delinquents, DJ’s, hangers on, friends, the posessed and the disposessed, pissing into the sink rather than brave the unruly mob trying to get to the toilets, counting out the notes trying to do the split, paying the driver, plans for later in the night, leaving pint glasses of piss beside the monitors for unsuspecting techno twat skangers to swig in the idiotic dancing frenzy. Good times......generally. So it was good to have Mark along to take care of recording tonights gig in the Leeson Lounge. Also on the job, Niall Hoare, another stalwarth from the early Dorans days. He later toured with Al in Caliban and they’re still on speaking terms, so it can’t have been too bad.

Cliff Roslyn joined us for a few songs on his magnificent Hammond organ and although it wasn’t my favourite gig of the year, looking back at the film everything seems cool. Its just the headspace I was in. The sound was really good (for a change) and its a pity there wasn’t a better turnout. Next time hopefully, if there is a next time. Didn’t hang around for long afterwards, hit the road pretty much after getting the gear and the money sorted.

 

Fri 19 July, Dublin – Called a taxi and they asked for my address and I got confused, but the lady on the phone said “ I think you might be in XX Dunsink Avenue, you called a taxi from there this time yesterday.” Ah yes, it all makes sense now. So I got into town dodging the delinquents and I spied a BBQ ready to roll in the courtyard where Sonic Studios and a few other businesses share space and park their automobiles of various colours and sizes. Veggie sausages, salad, and liquid of a refreshing nature were the order of the day and we all had a chat in the blinding sun and the vibe was good indeed and the guy across the way was blasting out Thin Lizzy and old rockabilly records.  Listening back to the recording of last nights show we are pleasently surprised, and the film looks good too. We look rather well for a bunch of old fellas.

Did vocals on 5 songs, and not an auto-tune in sight. That took a few hours. Went on a ‘research ramble’ checking out different bars / venues as potential places to play gigs, collecting business cards, chatting to bookers and the like. Walking down Fleet Street I decided to reward myself with a pint bottle of Bulmers and that is indeed what happened, but I also bumped into Donal Molloy and his missus. He tells me he’s living “out in the bush” near Melbourne, still making sculpture and by the looks of it, enjoying life. We have a drink and a chat. Good to see him again after so many many years. He’s got a great memory too. Still intact. Out at Al’s place we eat and the wine is flowing and I taste the hottest sauce Ive ever tasted. Its called ‘Insanity’ and it suited me down to a T. 

 

Sat 20 July, Ennis – Slept most of the way to Ennis, then set up real quicky and we were ready to roll. Met Jonathan from Kerry who I used to know in Galway all those long years ago when it seemed to rain every day of every week. I remember when I first saw Ridley Scott’s ‘Bladerunner’ I thought to myself, thats Galway in the future.

We managed to play ‘Iron City’ twice. My mistake. So many songs, so few brain cells. We were supposed to play ‘Wicked Wind’ but both songs start in Am and I somehow sang the wrong words and off we went with the guys following me along and it was too late to stop. Enjoyed the gig. Hopefully the folks in the bar did too.

 

Paul was down from Headford and Mr Dooley and some of the crew from our previous visits to the town. We went out to Debra’s house in Spancill Hill afterwards. Sang a song or two. Went out for a ramble in the fields just after sunrise and greeted the solar disc like an old friend. When I went back into the house Debra and Les had disappeared to their respective rooms. Ed had nodded off in a chair. Didn’t know where my room was and it didn’t seem appropriate to go around opening doors at random, so I lied down on a sofa and closed my eyes and the world disappeared.

 

 

Sun 20 July, Lisdoonvarna – Spent the morning sitting out in the garden, a pot of tea on the table and slices of toast looked excellent. The conversation revolved around magick, judaism, religion, belief systems, the knowledge and conversation of the Holy Guardian Angel, atheism, witchcraft, censorship and the like. Never did get around to eating any toast, but I borrowed 4 of Ed’s chips when we got into town and gathered at Tom Steeles. Al and Mercedes arrived in from the night in Feakle. Swiftly we moved through the countryside in our metal wagons. We had a vague agreement to stop off at the Falls Hotel in Ennistymon for a drink but this never materialized. So many plans down the drain.

 

Arrived into Lisdoonvarna and checked out the Roadside Tavern. Nice place, good crew. A UK band whose name I can’t recall were setting up. Went for a walk up town and ate a disagreeable veggie burger. With a few hours to wait before our show i decided to leave the world and slept in Ed’s car and later awoke, batteries recharged and well focused.
It wasn’t the best P.A. in the world but the gig was great. A very appreciative audience, people up dancing and shouting things like “lets rock” and “rock it ...rock it!”. So we rocked it and it rolled too. Sold CD’s and then we hit the long black road back east. Best gig of the week by far. 

 

 

IRELAND - JULY (PART ONE)

 
Sat 14 July, Wicklow Town – As mad as it might sound, there's a heatwave in Dublin. As good as the Martha Reeve's song it is too. Everybody seems happy, even those pasty people wearing track suits, but it can't last. Knives will be drawn on Friday night and the blood will spill.

The Kilfenora Ceili Band are playing a show in Dublin to promote their new album entitled "8". According to the flyer it's their eighth since the band formed in 1909. That's not a lot of LP's in 104 years. I have one of the precious eight on vinyl, a bargain bin job but it gets the odd spin. Not sure what year it's from and I can't dig it out to share this information with you as I'm currently nomadic and home is a long way away.

Met Nick Seymour of Crowded House on the street. He gave me a big "Hiya mate" as people do from that part of the southern hemisphere and a clap on the back as is the fashion with some friendly folk. I've been drinking with Nick a few times. Nice guy, but alas his music is not for me.

According to Olaf Tyaransen in the current issue of Hot Press  I’m “one of the great survivors of Irish rock ‘n’roll”. The award-winning journalist, writer / poet said this in his piece reviewing “Things Aren’t The Way They Used To Be.” Thanks Olaf, I owe you a drink. He’s also expressed an interest in doing an interview for Hot Press, but there wasn’t time on this trip to the Emerald Isle. Maybe next time.

A few days were spent in County Kildare where amongst a litany of strange activities I visited and got lost in a maze. I was lost for a very long time, but then I was found and all was forgiven. In the wild west of Ireland I rambled through the fields of Rockfield and later visited Grace O Malley's prime residence during her reign as the Queen of the Pirates in the 17th century. Rockfleet Castle is an impressive building but unfortunately the Office Of Public Works are fixing it up and we couldn't get hold of the key to open the door. Some other time. Over at Newport we had a drink and travelled on our merry way down twisty roads with the sun uncharacteristically beaming down like a blow-torch.

 
After rehearsals in Sonic Studios I had a quick bottle of cider in L. Mulligans Grocer in Stoneybatter where they boast of having over 100 imported beers. I’m told the proprietor had a falling-out with the Guinness folks (Diagio) and they don’t sell any of their products anymore. Apparently the food is great too. Les Keye’s pad is nearby so we drop over, taking photos along the way. In Mr & Mrs Keye’s back garden i drink a beer and chat to Jessica and Corina. The light summer breeze brings a sweet waft of incense, but moments later it smells of shit. I mention this to my comrades and Corina tells me the sweet smell is not incense but Ruby Elixir (Pitta) that she has in her hair. She kindly hands me her bottle and I liberally rub it into my own scalp, unaware that a bottle costs $125. Jessica tells me that the less enchanting other smell is dog shit curtesy of her 3 legged barking friend. I taxi to Harolds Cross, eat Indian food, rest, and hours later walk over to the Magic Glass Bar in O'Callaghans Hotel on St Stephens Green for the Pagans in the Pub Moot, which morphs into Politicians in the Pub.

Out in Wicklow Town we discover there isn’t a PA for tonights show and tell. After a bit of running around and a few phone calls the problem is sorted out and on we go. I enjoyed what Al describes as a “chicken-wire” gig.

 

Wed 17 July, Kildare & Dublin – Walked a few miles into Straffan in the blinding sun. Nothing much to do but visit the graveyard and take photographs. Worked on a few songs getting the lyrics for Fiery Frank and a few others which shall remain nameless.

Off on a ramble in the jam-jar. At the Hill of Tara we visited the Lia Fail (Stone Of Destiny)one of the four treasures of the Tuatha De Danann and the place where the High Kings of Ireland were coronated. Across the field we located Cormac MacAirts former dwelling place and down the hill, Grainne’s rath. Cormac was High King of Ireland around the time of Finn MacCool and apparently reigned for forty years. Grainne was Cormacs daughter, a femme fatale by all accounts and caused a lot of hassle in her time.  In the gift shop I bought a bag of damaar white incense and a piece of jewellery engraved with a triple spiral - ‘the intestines of the goddess’. You can never ever have enough jewellery.

 

Drove down through Dunshaughlin and Curragha, but we couldn’t find Garristown. We were lost and all the maps in the world couldn’t save us, but trusting ones instinct works and I listened to the little quiet/loud voice in my head and eventualy we located Four Knocks (Fuair Cnocs – the Cold Hills) a megalithic burial mound near Naul. Got the key from Mrs White and unlocked the door and greeted the ancestors. It may have been better to visit on a dark bleak winters day. Death and sunny summer days dont go well together.

Back in Dublin Lorrain McColgan from The Winters arrived in to Sonic. Al and I had spent a few hours laying down five songs. Lorrain sang on two, sounding sultry and cool.

Long Distance Phone Calls

Wed 13 June, Göteborg – Rain comes down in buckets following a few weeks of sunshine and roses and all the girls with long brown legs like Lilith on a Friday night. Hot pants seem to be in fashion this year and whose complaining. Attempted to play some slide guitar using a small drinking glass. Sounds ok. Mixed a track, recorded guitar parts on another, made long distance phone calls to clear up booking confusion and listened to the dark ambient swirl of Aderlating.

 

Got on the ferry from Jäntorget-the Lilla Bommen, and missed the stop at Lindholmspieren. Had to spend close to an hour stuck at sea before our stop came around again, having docked at Slotts Berget and Eriksberg Farljaläe along the way. They had changed the route due to construction work on one of the piers, hence the confusion. Called down to Staffan the printer to discuss the design and paper to be used on the forthcoming limited edition CD, and mission complete, got off the island this time by bus and bridge.

 

Lille restaurange, (translation - Little Restaurant)....but its not. Maybe the owner had an inferiority complex when he named it. Or bad eye sight. Neil Youngs "Hey Hey My My" was on stereo. Went home to listen to "Thrasher", track two side one on Rust Never Sleeps. "Hey Hey.." is a song I sometimes play as a crowd pleaser, as I reckon the audience  may not be pleased with my own songs. Such is life. I quit drinking beer, but still drink wine...cant drink too much water with all that fluoride and you gotta drink something. Time for Sangria.

 

Mixed 2 tracks but after listening to them on an old ghetto blaster they may need a re-mix. Back to the drawing board.

 

Red flowers appeared on a  tree out back as a Malcolm Holcombe CD spun at 500 r.p.m. I had a DJ gig at Amerikabaren so I packed as many LPs and singles into 3 bags and off we went on the Red Snake (a section of the new motorway). Too early by two minutes we got hit by the toll. The Last Poets and Mikey Dread on the car stereo as we whizz along. Sam & Dave "Hold On Im Comin'" spark a riot in my head. Take the blue tunnel under the river and emerge into the Majorna sunshine.

Return Of The Snakes

Thurs 18 April, Clane – In the west of Ireland the wind was so wild you had to shout to be heard…if anyone was bothered to listen. Took the train to Dublin. It broke down for 15 minutes in some unknown town. With three new buttons sown on my antique grey coat I was feeling dapper but it all went terribly wrong when my travelling companion spilt orange juice over said garment.

Waited for an hour in the cold outside Houston, with the bus eventually arriving and taking us through Cellbridge, Barberstown Castle, St. Raffan, Green Cross and arriving into Clane town. Visited the Country Market looking for birthday presents and later had dinner as the rain came down in buckets.

Fri 19 April, Wicklow Town – No time for a rehearsal. Al was in Portugal and arrived back at 6pm and we met at Sonic Studios and hit the road straight away for Wicklow to play at the Castle Tavern on the banks of the River Vartry, which rises in the Calary Bog under the Great Sugar Loaf mountain up north. The Tavern is run by gentleman Ray. He’s organized a good PA for us and we chatted to a few youngish American tourists. (at our age, nearly everybody is young) They said they could only hang around for a few songs as they wanted to explore the town, but they stayed right to the end of the show….and bought a CD too, so we must have played in a fashion that could be described as entertainment. Lots of folks told us they really enjoyed it etc. etc. and when asked, none admitted to being tone-deaf. Then we drove to Dublin and I slept like a log in Al’s place in Finglas.

Sat 20 April, Dublin – A bunch of dodgy pop stars were arriving in to Al’s Sonic Studios bright and early. Some charity record was being recorded. I didn’t recognize any of the pop stars, but I was informed that Ronan Keating and the other Boyzone/Coronation Street guy and the skanger guy were due in so I left rather pronto. Later that night we played in Sin E down on the quays. Paul Gallagher and I engaged in our ritual CD swop. He had a few bootlegs for me including Steve Earle and Joy Division from the Paradiso, Amsterdam. I gave him a copy of “Things Aren’t The Way they Used To Be”.

Clarence had his full band with him, so I asked Cliff up to play with us on organ and he was great. We need more of this and an email address was procured. A late night listening session ensued with Drive By Truckers blasting through the speakers in Ed’s den. I introduced him to the music of Dave Kusworth and he expressed an interest in hearing my Lady Olivia track which I located in my gmail account in mp3 format. He nodded off half way through.

Mon 22 April, Dublin – We were sitting in the Czech Inn having a drink. The Princess suggested a plate of chips, and within 2 minutes the waiter arrived with a big plate of chips saying “these are on the house.” A good start to the afternoon. County music, some slightly dodgy Nashville type stuff, but also some cool sounds like Emmylou Harris and Waylon Jennings drift out through the speakers. Then it sadly turns into mindless euro pop and eurotrash dance music. And then silence which is most welcome. Time slides by. After about 20 minutes of golden silence Big Tom singing “Four Roads To Glenamaddy” blasts out at top volume. Maybe he’s big in Czech, but then I suppose he’s big everywhere.



Fri 26 April, Göteborg – Found a great Stones bootleg “Some More Girls” in a local record shop. Blue vinyl, good sleeve. Basically it’s out-takes from the Some Girls LP from 1978, if memory serves correctly. Keith sings “We had it all”. Another long lost gem is “Spare Parts”
Met Terje at Amerikabaren to check out his PA before going to see Jon Spencer Blues Explosion in Pustervik. They were great, wham bam …no stops between songs, straight into the next one….sweat dripping off Mr Spencer like a shower of rain on a spring day.

Sat 27 April, Allingsås – Found some old cassettes marked ‘song ideas’ dating back to 94 / 95. Slotted the tape in the ‘door’ of the old machine and started to listen. One song goes  “give me an airplane ticket, 9 to 5? you can stick it” Think I may need to rewrite parts but the chords and general vibe seems good. This one seems to be recorded in some long forgotten studio. Its got violin (probably Sheila Sullivan, sounds like her) but the organ player I can’t recall…or even which studio it was. Other songs are home recordings made with a ghetto blaster.

Mimi called around with home-baked biscuits - sugar rush time. A letter arrived from Lady Olivia Robertson saying she loves the track we have recorded. My only aristocratic friend in the world does a spoken-word piece over my long rambling tune and I had sent a CD to her home at Huntington Castle in Clonegal and thankfully she has given the project the thumbs-up. In her letter she tells me that the last time she was in Sweden was in 1936. That’s a long time ago.

I knew it would happen. I would arrive in to Allingsås and fail to get the PA working. After a frantic call to Terje he talks me through it and it makes noise. On with the show. Not a bad gig. Took a train back to Göteborg and then a tram and then a walk up the hill and home.



Thurs 2 May, Göteborg - After answering emails and doing boring chores such as registering new songs with IMRO, PPI etc, and trying to track down photographers to get prints for record sleeves, I sadly slipped in the back door to facebook. It’s usually a waste of time, and as time is all we have, you shouldn’t waste it. Occasionally facebook may lead to a gig or the discovery of something interesting such as Prins Prebens page, a Norwegian artist. 
Over on the Dangerous Minds site I learn that Alejandro Jodorowsky has made his first movie in 23 years. Watched the trailer, then put on a Burial Hex CD and boiled water for Earl Grey tea. Downtown the foxy barmaid in Pustervik chats away in Svenska in a very very friendly fashion before realizing she’s mixing me up with somebody else. I took off my shades and we thankfully swapped to the English language and I apologized saying “Sorry, I’m only myself today.” Sometimes it would be interesting to be somebody else….perhaps the guy she thought I was. 

Warum ich liebe Deutschland

Wed 3 April Berlin -  On arrival at wind blasted Tegel I thought it would be wise to head straight for the venue, but a re-think led to an attempt to get to Ebs place in Neukölln. Getting on the wrong bus was a bad move and valuable time was lost in the labyrinthine search for Hauptbahnhof, and when this monsterous building was eventually found, platform 15 was located without much fuss or use of brain cells and with a charmed eye the cityscape view from the window of the S-Bahn was a welcome respite from the views of the past few weeks. Berlin always seems like the New York of Europe....or is NYC the Berlin of the United Police States Of America?

Located Ebs domicile and later we ventured to far-flung Schliemannstraße 31, picking up Karin along the way. My Swedish friend Anders sent a text (as is the fashion these days) to say he was in Potsdam and would make it to the following nights show. Following a quick soundcheck in the basement of Intersoup we repaired to the upstairs bar. Who walks in only Anders having changed his mind about Potsdam. With him, another Anders who just happens to be Slick Andys Dad! And his Mom too. (Slick Andy-drummer with The Last Souls) Anders #1 met Anders #2 & his missus on the U-Bahn. They had one of those “what are you doing here” conversations. Anders #1 explained he needed to get out of Sweden for a while “but Im now going to see Eamonn Dowd play?”

To which Slick Andy’s Dad replied. “Eamonn Dowd?..he’s in Berlin?”
So we all had a drink and everyone reflected on this odd meeting and odd gathering of folks in a small strange venue down a sidestreet on a bitterly cold Wednesday night in Berlin. I however didn’t find it odd in the slightest. These things tend to happen all the time. After the gig it didn’t take long to realize we were in the same room as possibly the worst DJ in Europe. All his records sounded like Fleet Foxes B sides if they were written by that twat in Coldplay with the designer stubble.

 

Eb was fading fast. We found a restaurant and I ordered red wine and spaghetti. An intrusive TV screen hung overhead. Men from Malaga and Dortmund were kicking a football around a big field. The realization dawned that we had eaten here seven weeks previously. A poster on the door told us Portishead were playing soon. They still exist? A flyer for another gig sported a photo of a girl who looked like Gram Parsons. The clock said 1.15am. 

 

Thurs 3 April Berlin – Right part of town, wrong time. Tried to hook up with Anders #1 but he had already moved on to another neighbourhood. Passed by the Anti Racism shanty town, snow strewn streets, Tentsville in a park beside Oranienplatz. After a long ramble through Kreutzberg I had a drink in Zum Elefant on Oranienstrasse where the grumpy mishapen barmama slowly slowly poured the drinks just to prolong the agony. But The Clash were on the stereo and nobody bugged me. A red and golden car with magnificent Arabic script was parked across the way but the artistic affect was ruined by the dust. A few doors up I purchsed good quality granular incense imported from Oman. The Vietnamese food tasted more like Thai. On Weinerstrasse I finally met Anders and Eb having taken a few lomo type photos of Gorlitzer Bahnhof. Not in possession of a Holga or a Diane analogue camera the app on my phone did the job just fine and didn’t cost anything. Its ok to slip into tourist head-space every now and again.

 

The gig at Gaudy was a rockin’ affair with support from London/NY country outfit The Wildfires and Jon Mills, also from London Town. Nice folks them all. Had good fun with Wildfires Paul and Christina afterwards, a few light refreshments, stories and the swapping of CD’s, email addresses, ideas, some good, some bad. Im sure we’ll see each other again.

 

Fri 4 April, Wolfsburg – Somebody found a dead child in a charity laundry bag around the corner. Cops marked the crime scene. TV ran the story. Life is cheap for some people. Purchased a 25 Bahn card. Had an adios amigo beer with Eb in one of the train stations and a couple of hours later I was on a mission to find edible food in Wolfsburg. The gig was hard work but I got paid and nobody complained. Chatted to Janeranne and her shy boyfriend. She flicked through my black moleskin note book containing half written songs, imaginary LP titles and the rambling scribblings of somebody who is compelled to write and document various ideas that memory could never store.

 

Sat 5 April, Essen – The Hagebergkrug Hotel up on Grauhostrasse is one place I hope to never see again. Arriving downstairs from my smelly room at 9.55am I was informed that breakfast was over. But I protested saying that last night I was told 10. Yes, said the young lady, but you have to order it by 9.45. Eventually, with the aid of google translation I convinced her to russle up something for me. After 10 minutes a cup of tea, two slices of shiny generic cheese, a piece of bread of questionable freshness and a solitary tomato arrived in front of me. I’m then handed a bill for 6 Euro. Since when does one pay for a breakfast in a Hotel? I stopped drinking the tea and told her to take it away. I could get a proper meal in a cafe for less that 6 Euro. A beer was politely requested, and I would pay for that. 2 euro 50 cents changed hands for the beverage. Dreadful music was on the stereo. When the execrable Depeche Mode came on with their insipid nursery rhymes I had little choice but to order a taxi and get out of there.

 

Sometime later I was able to catch up on emails curtsey of the wifi in an overpriced Vietnamese restaurant. But at least it did taste Vietnamese and not Thai. Had I known the venue later that night provided a meal, I would have done with an apple.

 

Slept all the way to Essen and walked the streets of a town I’d never visited before. Johannes Delemere and Petra arrived and we chatted about their old friend (and client) Nikki Sudden. Wild stories were told, bad habbits dicussed, the autobiography was mentioned and the soon to be released 6 x CD box set debated at length.  After the gig photographs were taken and I also met Danial Teusner, cousin of Chris. A 3am taxi to the lonesome train station preceded an hour long train ride to the airport and a sleepless night followed in order to catch the plane to Copenhagen and onwards to the cold heart of anywhere and nowhere. 

Mad as a March Hare

Wed 13 March Göteborg -  Found a Timi Yuri LP for 10 Krona (roughly 1 euro)...a good deal for sure. Got an email of an offer to play in Åmål, which nicely slotted in to replace the one cancelled in Kalmar. The bar closed down. Another one in Germany was cancelled because the place burnt down after being hit by fireworks. They paid well too, but there’s no plan to rebuild. Clarence Winter sent on a mix of a song but the pedal steel is too loud. Sat in the Xing-Long Restaurant with a beer and sorted out a few things with the aid of lateral thinking and a smart phone. Later I played a DJ set playing late 60’s early 70’s soul for the Roller Derby Girls.
When I woke up the next day I finally started to get a shape on a song called Dark Blue Twilight. Rhythm section has been recorded but getting the guitars and other instruments sounding good and relevant to the over-all vibe was a bit tricky.

 

Sat 16 March Åmål – Up through Trollhatan and Öxnered in the blinding sunshine. Patches of snow still lingering on the stone hard soil. Passed through Mellerud. Rusted trains backed down overgrown tracks. Isolated farm houses, the occasional white country mansion.

Tony Berg, photographer, publisher, guitar collector and all ‘round nice guy picked me up at the station. Called down to check the venue, say hello to Frederik. Checked in to Hotel, ate dinner, nodded off, woke up played the gig and so on and so forth.

It snowed a lot over night, so I took a few photos and read a bit of Cees Nootebooms ‘Roads To Santiago’ which made me thing of Andalucia and Girona and sangria and sunshine.

 

Sat 30 March Göteborg – With Cathrin Linne down at Jontorget early in the morning for a photoshoot with The Last Souls. Freezing cold, we held out for as long as we could. Relocated to a nearby Chinese Restaurant but the guys got word from management that they didn’t want photos taken there, so we headed back towards HQ at Hagabion and had a drink and took more photos in the Old Beefeater Inn. After some filming in Hagabion we called it a day.

Göteborg / Berlin / Greiz / New York

 

Sun 3 February, Göteborg – Early morning start on Satrday 19^th January in the recording studio at Molndal. Minus 12 degrees on the street, snug and cosy inside. Tons of vintage amps to choose from with Thomas on the controls. Got down to business with Andy whacking out the beat on an old Ludwig kit. I used a Mainman amp. Our Greek buddy Marios from Nightrage dropped by as did Kris Panic. A week later Daniel Kjølsrud AKA Dick Tator arrived down from Oslo and got working on some tunes in my absence. Two rehearsals were organized and it was sounding very raw and real and fast. Late drinks in Cicero and Cans Bar. Daniel wants to change his name to Sir Galavant. Played Hagabion on the Saturday after the longest sound check in the history of rock ‘n’ roll. But the gig was fun and I think somebody filmed it…or bits of it.

Fri 8 February – Nereus Joseph gives us hope for the future of reggae. As does Mikey Spice, after a time when it really did seem like that all the good records had been made …back in the 70’s. Watched the watchable video for Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds “Jubilee Street” on youtube.

SMS from a lost Sir Galavant. Went out into arctic conditions to locate this underdressed bass player. Coffee was brewed, tea was drank, we got down to work  recording bass parts with Dick. We eventually got to the beer and he was flying through the songs. Andy arrived, Freja took photos and an excursion to the Maxi Grillen Pizzeria finished off a productive day. Fun too !

Thurs 14 February Berlin – Neukoln was my destination and I sat in Kalaja, a small café on Wildenbruchstrasse and waited for Eb, sorrounded by elderly men from Kosova who mostly drank tea. Later we met up with Fergus from Galway and Audrey from Scotland and had a meal.

Fri 15 February, Greiz – A blond lady helped me locate the proper S-Bahn train and on arrival to Hauptbahnhof I bought a ticket and with time to kill had a small Berliner beer in the fish and chip place. Lana Del Rey came on the stereo reminding me of Freja and home. Missed the connection from Leipzig. Platform 10a is in a ‘secret’ location tucked away at the end of 10 way outide the station itself. Wont make that mistake again…..but I probably will on second thoughts. Onwards down through Zeitz and Bad Könstritz, leylines of pylons carrying the current like refugees from a HG Wells novel. Berga and Pegau whizz by. Get to Gera and change train once again arriving into a snow covered Greiz, ready to set up and play the gig. Spending time with Matthias and his wife and also with Norbert and crew.

 
Sunday 4 March – New York....Ran into a spot of bother in Brussels Airport. My ESTA Visa wasn't coming up on their system, although ESTA had accepted my $14 and sent me an email to confirm that the Visa was fine and all was above board. The plane had almost fully boarded when it was discovered that a digit in my passport number was a zero and not the letter 'O'. They all look the same to me. With no computer available I made a phone call, the form was once again filled up online and hey presto, i got to travel onwards to New York. It being Brussels Airways / Lufthansa, all drinks were free so I settled in to several bottles of red wine. The food wasn't bad either. Read some of Ismall Kadare's historical novel "The Siege," watched some of a bad French movie and nodded off.

 

Jack met me at JFK, we had a drink in an over-priced place in Brooklyn, relocated to the Jalopy Tavern and in to Manhattan on the F Train to see a great gig by Naomi Shelton stopping off at Joe's Pizza Corner with photos of Tommy Lee and Kirsten Dunst and other pizza loving celebs on the wall, Joes big smiling face in each photo.

Naomi shook my hand not once but twice throughout her blistering set of gospel infused old school soul. Got her album and a 7 inch single afterwards and somebody robbed my coat. Luckily my passport was in my jacket pocket. Out into the cold night without my coat, caught the train back to Brooklyn for a gig by The Whiskey Spitters in Jalopy Theatre where I met (amongst others) historian , collector and musician Pat Conte. Told him I had his record...on red vinyl. Then it was time for drinks and devilment in the Tavern.

 

Slept a few hours, having been on the go for 29, and then we bundled into a car and drove north through the pissing down rain past the signs offering such services as 'window tinting' and 'wheel alingment.' I needed neither. Up past Queens in Flushing is the largest Chinatown in the world. outside of China, that is. Entered a gigantic run down warehouse masquerading as a food-hall. Found a table, somebody went to fetch a few six-packs while the others read the menu which boasted such delights as roasted rabbit, tripe and shredded intestines. I decided to stick with vegetarian dishes. The food was incredible. Tasted nothing like the Chinese food you get in Ireland or the UK or anyplace in the western world. Heavily spiced cucumbers,shredded potatoes, veggie dumplings.

 

Read parts of Hew Trachans book about the First World War trying to get my head around what sparked it off. Now I know. In Other Records in Manhattan they were playing the new Psychic Ills LP and it sounds very good indeed. Book store, gift shop, Dorian Grey's bar and and Indian restaurant on First Avenue were all visited and good times were had for sure. Walked the long walk from Columbia Street along the shore arriving out where both the Brooklyn Bridge and Manhattan Bridge almost meet, taking photos along the way. Called into visit a florist friend of Jacks and then to 68 Jay where we have a gig on Saturday. Posters are up, we had a drink before J. Lynch went out to New Jersey to do a TV show.

 

Rain was heavy and unrelenting. Shot some video, recorded a song and Jackson took  photos. Went down to visit Red Hook before catching the Roots and Ruckus gig at Jalopy with The Four O'Clock Flowers, Feral Foster, Dolunay, Ommie Wise and Rashad Brown.

Played Rod and Gun to an appreciative crowd on Friday night, and 68 Jay down in Dumbo under the Brooklyn Bridge on Saturday night.

September to December

Thurs 20 Sept Clonegal -  The September sun hovered without heat above me as I walked the 4 miles to Clonegal having disemberked the bus at Kildavin. There’s no taxi’s out here. But it wasn’t the first time I walked several miles to get to Huntington Castle to meet Lady Olivia Robertson. At 92 shes a fascinating character who had know A.E. and WB Yeats and a lot of the Golden Dawn crew. She showed me around the castle and we visited the subterannean Temple Of Isis where I recorded her tales of magick, visions, artistic endeavour and her general philosophy. I intend to record some music and use her voice in the piece. Had dinner in Bunclody and then took a bus to Dublin.

Sat 22 Sept Feakle, Co. Clare – Hours spent with Les and Jessica in the jam jar on the way to the west. Passed through Roscrea, Cloughjordan and Killaloe on the banks of the Shannon. Between 1002 and 1014 Killaloe was essentially the capital of ireland as High King Brian Boru lived there. Onwards to Feakle, once home of another type of royalty - Biddy Early. The event of the day was Al and Mercedes Handfasting Ceremony. Witches, druids, sorcerers, pagans and whatever your having yourself were assembled for a great celebration.

Wed 26 September Göteborg - A Clarence Carter EP of peviously unreleased material arrived in the post. This wonderful occasion prompted a ramble through youtube where I found some footage of the 65 year old Mr C.C alive and well and still gigging. Put on a record by the Ethiopian soul star Mahmoud Ahmed and then one by Billie Holiday - “I’ve got a right to sing the blues.” Not a bad start to a day.

Thurs 27 September Göteborg - Took John Fitz to the upstairs bar at Haga Bio where we stationed ourselves beside the monumental projector. He soon struck up a conversation with two guys and proceeded to educate these willing listeners on the history of their own land. Across the bar a girl in a zebra print jacket ordered a drink. She looked like a young Geraldine Chaplin. The waitresses were all business. Johns history of northern Sweden continued as dinners were delivered to tables and drinks were poured at the circular bar.


Saturday 6 October, Alingsås – A good night in a strange town. And Nono gave me a lift home and I didn’t even nod off once on the drive back .

Sat 13 September, Göteborg – Played at Teater Trixter, Mark Griffin hanging out, a grey and bitter cold evening. Enjoyed the set but was tired. Short and sweet.

Sat September 27, Gotham City – Andy ate dinner with the roller derby girls while I had a drink and the original Nosferatu movie was on the wall. After playing at Hagabio Terje kept telling me I should check out Wall Of Voodoo, and I did, but don’t see the connection at all. Lights flickering far away, I couldn’t sleep a wink.

Wed 28 November, Göteborg - Lights gone in the bathroom, turn table belt is worn out. 78 player is playing too slow.   Was going to send a wave file to Clarence Winter, but the hard drive crashed taking with it countless songs, hundreds of photos and films. And now they linger in that dark corner of the multiverse where all lost and deleted digital information resides. A hell of one’s and zero’s.

I later remixed the song and got it over to Clarence by default invoking the spirit of Speedy West in the process. The king of the pedal steel was Speedy West. During the 40’s and 50’s he played with Tennessee Ernie Ford, Tex Ritter and the mad bad wife murderer Spade Cooney. Speedy played on over 6000 records. I reckon that’s more than Nikki Sudden.

 

Wednesday 5 December, Göteborg - The Birthday Party ‘Mutiny’ EP was on the stereo. Hadn’t heard it in years. Desolate and haunting, four tracks of feral power. Later on Tift Merrit took to the stage in Pustervik and delivered a great set. I’d been a fan since she dueted with John Howie in The Two Dollar Pistols. Met the lady afterwards and she was sweet as her voice but not as tall as I’d imagined her to be.

Thurs 13 December, Limerick – Got there and set up and met Debra and we played and it got loud and nobody complained and we got the money and nobody robbed the cars and coffees were bought for the drive back east and alcohol was consumed and stories were told and I slept in Finglas and woke up in Finglas and went to the solicitor and then to Horslips in the Olympia and onwards to the County of Kildare and didn’t fall asleep on the bus and thus didn’t miss the stop at Clane.

Sat 15 December, Dublin – Fell asleep on the bus from Clane and ended up in Busaras, but got down to Sin E not too late. Clarence had his band with him tonight and they were great. A rowdy bunch of xmas type party people were in. Amateurs night out big time. It was all a bit messy but I think we enjoyed it.  And Bun and Eamon Kelly were there. The DJ was drunk, but he played Althea and Donna “Uptown Top Ranking.”