Archive for January, 2010

'Lets take a Nitelink snap for Donal'

A good friend of mine, Stephen, works as a barman in what has to be one of the finest establishments in Dublin, Kavanaghs of Glasnevin. If you’re a Dubliner, odds are you’ll know it as The Gravediggers. Just far enough from town to be quiet, but close enough for anyone visiting who has done any research to drop out to, the place is magic. Tellyless magic. No nonsense ‘you can have one of these four pints or go back to the city’ magic. In short, it’s the pub time didn’t change. The Euro was probably the last new addition to the place, and it’s perfect for it’s timeless essence.

Imagine my shock last year then when Kavanaghs somehow didn’t feature in the ‘250 Collection’ of beermats from Arthur Guinness and Sons. O’ Donoghues of Merrion Row? check. The Long Hall? check. In fact, almost all the ‘Dublin pubs’ featured.

All is forgiven now, as they’ve got this one spot on. Behind the pub you can spot the gates to Glasnevin cemetery, where you’ll find Frank Ryan, Brendan Behan, Daniel O’ Connell, Jeremiah O’Donovan Rossa, Luke Kelly and my own great-grandfather. Is there a better way to spend an evening post-graveyard touring than next door in the cosy Kavanaghs? I highly doubt it.

Anyone spotted any other new ones?

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Mise an Fear Ceoil

Seamus Ennis

Seamus Ennis (1919-1982) from the Naul, North Dublin.

Just a short post, I’ll let the music talk.

I’ve been returning to Leagues O’ Toole’s fantastic book The Humours Of Planxty, which has opened me up completely to the music of Seamus Ennis. Ennis essentially served as a mentor to Liam Óg O’ Flynn of the legendary band, and also collected countless songs and sheets of music all over Ireland and indeed the UK.

Seamus spent his last years in a mobile home in the Naul, close to the land on which he was raised and where the sound of his fathers pipes would shape his life. Those very pipes, antique pieces in themselves, were to be played by Willie Clancy and Liam Óg later on in Seamus’ company.

He died in that small mobile home.

Those days will be remembered
Beyond out in the Naul
Listening to the master’s notes
As gently they did fall

Christy Moore, Easter Snow.

The Rainy Day/The Merry Blacksmith/The Silver Spear

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Earlier this week, RTE broadcast a very well made documentary on the history of Nelson’s Pillar. The programme contains amazing archive footage along with contributions from Des Geraghty, Jimmy Magee and David Norris. If you missed it, viewers in Ireland can watch it on RTE Player until Monday, 15 February.

Though it focuses on the bombing of 1966, the documentary tells also tells the fascinating story of how in 1955 a group of UCD students, involved with the Irish National Student Council (INSC), occupied the pillar. Dropping a banner of Kevin Barry over the edge, they tried to melt Nelson’s statue with homemade “flame throwers”. Gardai used hammers to break into the pillar and tried to arrest the students but they had to be released after the gardai were attacked by sympathetic members of the public.

After the statue was blown up in May 1966, Nelson’s head was stolen by NCAD students from a storage shed in Clanbrassil Street as a fund-raising prank to help clear their debts. Wearing sinister black masks, they held a very civil press conference explaining their motives. The head made several secret appearances over the next six months including making its way onto the stage of a Dubliners concert in The Olympia Theatre!

Nelson’s head now rests peacefully in the Gilbert Library in Pearse Street.

“Not us says I.R.A.” Dublin, 1966.

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Dublin firefighters inspect the General Post Office, from 'The Dublin Fire Brigade' (2004,Dublin City Council Press)

Recently, I spent painful hours online attempting to track down information on the Guinness Fire Brigade. Bass, Powers and Guinness all operated functional (and branded) fire services in their respective workplaces due to the nature of production and the risk posed. My interest in the men of what was branded the ‘Arthur Guinness and Sons’ Fire Brigade, centres around the events of Easter week 1916, but is by no means limited to that week alone.

Guinness, along with Powers Distillery , were both called out by Captain Purcell of the Dublin Fire Brigade during the 1916 insurrection to assist the city Brigade, who, along with Pembroke and Rathmines firefighters, found themselves working against the odds.

The Irish Times Focus on 1916 gives some extent of the damage caused to the city during the uprising

Fire had raged from the GPO towards the Liffey, reaching back along Henry Street to Henry Place and Moore Street, advancing towards Liffey Street, almost as far as the Irish Independent’s printing works on Middle Abbey Street. On the Sackville Street frontage, the Metropole Hotel, standing between Eason and the GPO, was gone, and with it adjoining buildings including the Oval bar. Thom’s printing works was destroyed.

On the Saturday night, well into the uprising that had, in the words of Captain Purcell, done at least £2.5 Million worth of damage to the streets of Dublin, it became apparent that there was a very real threat Jervis Hospital was going to burn to the ground. Purcell called on the fire brigades of Guinness Brewery and Powers to assist his Brigade. Occasionally under fire, they worked heroically and ensured the safety of the hospital.

Dublin Fire Brigade,1916 period standard. Las Fallon collection.

Pembroke Fire Brigade helmet, circa 1916. Las Fallon collection.

Little is known about the Guinness Fire Brigade in so far as a date of formation. Their exploits during Easter Week are documented in so far as possible in Tom Geraghty and Trevor Whiteheads ‘The Dublin Fire Brigade’ published by Dublin City Council in 2004 and an essential read for all interested in the history of the city. Yet they were a different Brigade, seperate from the Dublin Fire Brigade entirely. Thus, they have remained somewhat of a mystery.

Firefighters training at the site of what is now the Guinness Storehouse attraction

Some interesting insight can be gained into life for the Brewery fire and rescue squads from Edward J. Burkes recent The Guinness Story: The Family, The Business, The Black Stuff (O’ Brien Press, 2009) The book also provides information on the companies support for the repression of the Easter Rising, which makes for interesting reading in itself (for example a company of Dublin Fusilers were allowed set up in the Robert Street grainstore, and Guinness Daimler trucks topped with railway engine smoke boxes were a popular mode of transport and defensive/offensive tool for British forces)

Guinness firefighters, around the 1950s. Notice the 'AGS' branding of helmets.

From Burkes book, we can gather information of a fire at the Guinness Brewery in 1820, as reported in the Freemans Journal. All breweries and distillers in the area operated a fire-service (No surprise due to the highly flamable nature of the work) and all, along with the insurance companies of the area, helped to ensure no extensive damage occured.

One can only be reminded of recent events when they read the company press-statement which boasted…

“….the damage done is not very extensive, nor of such a nature as to stop the business of the brewery even for a day”

Brewery Fire Brigade piece.

To many people,the Guinness fire-helmets are the most exciting part of the story. Below, I’ve included some snaps of Guinness helmets over the years, from the time of the Rising up until the mid 1900s. AGS, of course, stands for Arthur Guinness and Sons.

A patch from near the end of the Brewery Brigades lifetime. Las Fallon collection.

The AGS Fire Brigade remained in place until the 1990s, with a fine and varied history. I’m always on the lookout for more information on the Brigade, and if you have anything of interest please get in touch with me at donal.falluin.2009 (at) nuim.ie. While obviously a lover of the black stuff (hence our monthly Come Here To Me pubcrawls!), the history of Guinness is in and of itself worthy of closer-examination. This was a powerhouse of Dublin life, employing thousands of working class people in this city through boom and bust alike. The men of the Brewery Brigade, perhaps more than anyone else, show there was,and indeed remains, much more than stout at the heart of Saint James’ Gate.

'Arthur Guinness and Sons' early helmet. Las Fallon collection

Helmet from mid-century period, again branded 'AGS' Las Fallon collection

An interesting side piece, notice the modern Guinness branding on this yellow-helmet from the London Guinness Brewery.

Guinness London Fire Brigade helmet, from their Park Royal Brewery. Las Fallon collection.

Guinness Custom London crest, and the standard London Fire Brigade crest. Las Fallon collection


My thanks to the lads at the contemporary Guinness Fire Service for getting in touch. This image shows the modern service Guinness operate on site.

Credit to D.Doyle for photograph

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The CHTM team (bar DFallon who’s gallivanting in Belgium) will be enjoying a day full of soccer, music and food as part of the African Nations Cup Final celebrations in Dalymount Park this Sunday.

With free entry, traditional African food to taste and reggae & afrobeat DJs till late – you’ll be mad to miss it.

For more information, check out the Facebook event.

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January 30:

After you’ve recovered from the January Punky Reggae Party, head into town on Saturday for the Recession Club. Moving their operation from Shebeen Chic to Pravda, expect the usual classic sounds of punk, ska and rockabilly.

January Recession Club

February 6:

Garage rock n roll with the lovely Laura Lovejoy on decks.

February Retro Revival Club

March 13:

A two room ‘Mod Extravaganza’ featuring the best DJs from Manchester, Edinburgh, Belfast and Wexford.

March 'From The Vaults' Mod & Soul Night

April 10:

Bubbles, the legendary Dublin 80s Mod night, is back with a vengeance for one night only.

April Bubbles Mod Night.

May 23:

A one day festival featuring the island’s best mod, ska and rockabilly bands. Something for everyone and all for a good cause.

May 'Rockin Road' Festival

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“…in 1966 Eddie and Finbar Furey won the international folk award in Tralee against eighty other groups. For this they got £170 in prize money which they say lasted about three days. ‘It went to charity’ says Eddie. The ‘Guinness charity’ says Finbar”

Finbar and Eddie Furey LP

Finbar and Eddie Furey, Transatlantic Records, 1968.

“You’ll meet a tall, dark handsome man….” she told my mother. Mrs. Furey that was, who used to tell fortunes up in Ballyfermot. “Jesus, she got that one wrong!”

I had a great time recently researching the Liam Weldon article, and got a laugh out of the images and memories it brought to mind especially for my mother. German TV cameras in the front garden, Christy Moore on the wall, a whole family at work musically. The Fureys were much the same, on Spidel Road.

Six in the family, the four boys and the parents. A musicial house to say the least. Another cornerstone of what I consider the great forgotten Trad-scene of Ireland, the Downeys acts. For all the romanticism surrounding traditional music in Ireland at the time (1968), you hear very little about Ballyfermot and what was going on there. The Furey Family, The Keenan Family , Paddy Sweeney (who did some time in the Dublin City Ramblers), The Weldon Family, and all the drop-ins you’d get on occasion for The Phoenix Folk Club, with the likes of Andy Irvine, Jim Page, Donal Lunny, Barry Moore (Better known now as Luke Bloom), Mary Black, Ronnie Drew, Mick Hanly and others. Christy Moore did a fundraiser for the folk club too, and things were really going on to say the least. You were no one without an instrument up there, with mam trying out the fiddle briefly and the father opting for the bodhran.

Anyway, the album.

An amazing array of instruments. Whistles, pipes, bodhrans, guitars, whatever you’re having yourself. Finbar and Eddie were sweeping awards from a young age, with several junior championship awards for pipes under both belts, and the Ulster Senior Trio championship taken along with the father, Ted.

The Spanish Cloak
Come by the Hills
Sliabh Na Mban
Dainty Davy
Tattered Jack Welch
The Flowers in the Valley
Pigeon on the Gate
Graham’s Flat
Leezy Lindsay
Piper in the Meadow Straying
The Curragh of Kildare
Eamonn an Chnuic (Ned of the Hills)
This Town Is Not Your Own
Rocking the Baby

Come By The Hills:

“Eddie’s first song was written by Scottish TV producer Gordon Smith. The words are set to the traditional Irish air Buchal an Eire”

The Curragh of Kildare:

“Sometimes called the The Winter It Is Passed and was said by Dean Christie (Who included it in his collection of traditional ballad airs in 1876) to have been written about a highwayman called Johnson, who was hanged in 1750 for robberies committed on the Curagh, the pen heathland that stretches to the East of Kildare”

Enjoy these two. While currently away in Belgium, nothing makes me long for a Downeys pint like this LP! More on the way friends, more on the way.

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Some friends of ours are organising a benefit night next week to help raise money to erect two monuments in the memory of Charles Donnelly, poet, anti fascist and UCD graduate. The first near his birthpace in Dungannon, Co. Tyrone and the second near the spot where he died at the age of 23 in the Battle of Jarama.

Unfortunately the night clashes with a gig I’m organising but we still encourage people to help to finance the stone’s engraving and its transport to Madrid by attending the event or sending money directly (details below)

The night will comprise music, poetry and song but, more importantly, it will give like-minded people who appreciate the continuing significance of the Spanish War of 1936-9, an opportunity to meet up, have the craic and celebrate the spirit and legacy of people such as Charlie Donnelly.

To reserve tickets beforehand or make a donation, contact:
Eddie O’Neill at 087 271 2864 or eddietyrone@gmail.com.

Note: I wrote an article about Donnelly’s time in UCD last year.

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I’m not sure if the same situation carries here in Dublin, it probably does up in North County anyways, but the mother said something today that put the notion of it back in my head… When I was younger, much younger, you’d hear tell in the house of “Oh, she has the cure for the croup” or “He has the cure for the shingles, he inherited it from his father.” This mysterious cure, administered in secret in the homes of even more mysterious septuagenarians was spoken of in hushed reverent tones in households and bars all over town, and was seen as a gift or a burden, or in some cases, a bit of both. The “man” or the “woman” was generally a bit… odd, and more often than not would be quite pious, but fond of a drop at the same time, their methods for ridding you of whatever they had the cure for, secret to only them.

Old People: They can cure you.

Old people: They can cure you.

My first memory of hearing something like this was many moons ago and was a story about the Da, who for thirty years had been burdened with a wart on his thumb the size of an old penny. On his rounds, this caused him great discomfort, be he tweaking at cars, fixing a lock, or replacing a door for the woman down the road or whatever job he was doing in his job away from a job, he often came home with his hand covered in blood. Not nice for him, and not nice to hear about either. One day, my brother in law stopped by for a cuppa on his break from work and said “Jaysus Dick, would you ever get that looked after. I know a man down in Caseys who said to write your name on a bit of paper and give it to him; he has the cure for the warts.” So, with that, the Da wrote his name on a bit of paper and gave it to the brother who went back to work that evening and passed it on to “the man.” Now, I’ve absolutely no idea of what the hell happened after he got the bit of paper, but within a week, that wart of thirty years was gone. Sounds mental, I know, but it’s true.

I could dismiss it as myth and superstition, had I not experienced it myself, having had a similar, though much, much worse ailment to the Da. This time, though, it meant a visit out to a whitethorn bush in an ancient, crumbling graveyard around 12 miles outside of Mullingar. Three visits, dipping your hands in a little pot of water in the middle of the bush each time, and the warts would be gone. Now I’m not superstitious in the slightest; but after three visits, the warts shrinking each time, and a week after my last visit, they were gone. I won’t shock you by telling how many there were but, to say losing them was a relief would be the understatement of the century.

I know of an old friend, crippled with shingles so much that he had to be carried into an old ladies house three times in a week, for “the cure.” He went from being crippled, to being up and about, though having shed four stone in the two weeks he was sick, (I jest not; he wasted away,) it took a lot longer to recover fully. But he went from being laid out in a bed in his kitchen, in so much pain it hurt to blink, to walking around again, it was close to a miracle. Now, I never would have thought this lady was one of the religious types of faith healer, she was closer to the mad cat lady type, but this “cure” worked anyways. The Ma had a similar complaint shortly after the Da passed away and went to the same lady and she described to me how it worked. On each visit, the woman would welcome the Ma into her home, take off her wedding ring, bless it, and touch the inflicted part of her body (In my Ma’s case, it was around her ear) with it, while muttering a few words, of prayer or what, I don’t know. She would do this for a few minutes, and then sit you up and talk the head off you apparently. She was a mine of knowledge, and would describe the healing properties of various common garden plants and herbs, lamenting the fact that a lot of the weeds and herbs are much harder to come by these days, and harping onto the Ma about the wonders of apple cider vinegar . I’d love to get an interview with this woman, the Ma says she’s a wonderful lady; sure we might have a look into it in the future.

My nephew, who is now in his eighteenth year, gave us many a sleepless night in the first year of his life, a small little thing but his body was wracked with croup (Think of the cough you hear from auld lads down the pub, forty a day and ten half ones before bed and put that cough in the body of a wee baba. The cough now IS probably from forty a day and ten half ones before bed but thats another story.) This went on for ages though, the medicine given by the doctor not having the slightest bit of effect, nor the nights of boiling kettles in the room, hoping the steam would clear the chest out. So “the man” was called upon to administer “the cure,” which, if I remember correctly involved him laying a hand on his chest and muttering a few words. Within a week, the cough was gone. I know, again with the jiggery pokery but…

Now it’s an odd tradition, I know. And certainly not one with my political persuasion I should have any time for. But whether it’s a psychological thing or whatever I don’t know, and to be honest, care; it’s an interesting one. So whether it’s a cough that ails you, or you have a wart you need rid of, give me a bell. I know a man.

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Reading On a Jetplane.

Brendan Behan decided to go to Spain- and you must remember this was General Franco’s Spain- on his holidays one time. Now Brendan was high spirited enough when he was working, but when he was on his holidays- well! In any case he arrived at Madrid Airport and the police had obviously been advised and were waiting for him when he went to the passport place.

‘What is the purpose of your visit to Spain, Mr. Behan?’
I have come to attend General Franco’s funeral.
‘But the Generalissimo is not yet dead.
‘In that case’ says Brendan, I’ll wait’

From ‘Sez He’,Part 5 on Ronnie Drews autobiography.

Finally getting around to this book thanks to some good old Aer Lingus time in the air, and felt the above was most worthy of sharing. Now, lets see if I can get around this and An Béal Bocht in a few days!

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dfallon will be away for a week or so, publicans may relax.

The Bernard Shaw, 12 South Richmond Street, D2

Nothing like cabin-fever, or January exams.

With minimal effort, I’d roped two friends into having a look at the W.D Hogan photo exhibition in Temple Bar.

“You’ve feck all else to be at” can win the day on occasion, and Simon (Previously mentioned in the now infamous battered Mars Bar pursuit) along with Mícheál, a Maynooth student like myself, were in the mood for a quick trip to town.

Of course, us Dubs, we can’t do much without requiring a pint. Looking at photographs from 1922 can be exhaustive. “Jesus, I’m wrecked. I reckon that was worth a pint.”

Handy enough, because so do I. Simon proposes a local favourite, the Hop House. Mícheál is new enough to this big smoke business and will settle for anywhere with taps. Personally, I fancy the idea of somewhere new to ourselves, and now we’re on the southside- why budge? The Bernard Shaw it is.

Like the earlier-mentioned Hop House, it’s a bit of a late opener is this. 6pm on the dot, and not a moment earlier. 6.30, walking in the door, and the house is still getting ready.

The Bernard Shaw Pub- Photo taken by Flickr user spareme66

The Bernard Shaw is also known as one of those “freebie centrals” where before you even see the barman you have the last three copies of Totally Dublin, two Connecteds and a handful of freebie zines under your arm. Brilliant for sitting around a Dublin pub table. “That looks good” “Not that Rosanna Davidson one again” “Five stars for that shite?” etc.

Around at the bar, and quick eyes notice the “10 X 10” deal that has made Twisted Pepper so much fun is also available here at The Bernard Shaw. Essentially, for a tenner, you can avail of one of ten booze promotions. Two cocktails, three pints of Social Welfare (or eh…Beamish), three Coronoas, whatever you’re having yourself really. Still, this is a pub review damn it, and pints of (Dublin) plain it is.

€4.50 a pint of Guinness. I’ll admit, it’s not the best priced pint in Dublin (Or on the street, the fantastic J. O’ Connells a stonesthrow up the road serves a near-perfect pint at €4 on the dot) but it is a fine pint none the less. I’m in good company tonight as far as the black stuff goes, so nods of approvement will suffice.

Having had a cheeky ‘quick one before The Bernard Shaw opens’ up in J. O’ Connells (i.e eh… two pints) the rush for the toilet was on.

“The jacks!” says Mícheál, on returning from his visit. “They’re like an art gallery!”.

Sure enough, so they are.

Eh, my ma…
She can do it tomorrow!

Not an inch of the toilets without a marker, biro or key-scrape added. Great character and (that word I hate again…) banter. Every sticker in Dublin I’ve ever stopped for and gone “what the…?” over makes an appearance too. LOOK! It’s that one with a lamp on it for some reason etc.

The barstaff in The Bernard Shaw are among the nicest I’ve met in this city to date. Chatty types, always good. Having worked in a pub, bar-staff ultimately have a job at hand and can’t engage everyone in conversation, but at 6:40PM (when you only opened the door at 6) and things are quiet, you can engage with the punters. When you’re not a regular punter too, it’s always nice.

Out in the (well heated) smoking area, The Bernard Shaw has a pool table. Unusual in a Dublin pub. I think Frank Ryans, which hxci picked out for his pubcrawl, was the last Dublin pub with a pool table I was in. Out here, they also have another DJ box. I can imagine a good night out here. By about half eight (From our eh…one pint 6:30 visit) there is a good enough sized crowd relaxing out here, watching Simon and Mícheál, at the pool. Brilliant.

A Bottle Of Moosehead Is Your Only Man

The 3 for 10 promo is a tempting one.

First of all, we try Moosehead. A Canadian lager, and by no means a regularly cheap one. Mícheál comes back with three bottles, and won’t take a cent for them at first. Great drinking with non-Dubs on one of their first city centre sessions, it’s like the recession never happened.

“It’s nice” Simon says, the man who has experience in the area of Lager I wouldn’t dare question. “It’s the kind bottle you’d order in a restaurant though, rather than find in a pub. Top back shelf of the fancy off licence stuff” He describes it as a dry lager, but overall the review is a good one. Thumbs up.

Before we know it, shots of Jagermeister appear. Devilish stuff. Another tempter from the specials list. For three Guinness drinkers this is gone like an Abrakebabra ad, with full international tastes.

The music is in full swing from the Saoirse Sounds lads, and is exactly my kind of thing, not a million miles removed from JayCaraxs choice cuts this stuff. Fantastic Trojan Records stuff, Ska, some classic dub-reggae, brilliant. A poster suggests this is a regular Wednesday occurrence, making the Bernard Shaw a tempting proposal for future visits.

The last trip to the bar results in three pints of unfaultable Beamish. At €3.50, this is a bargain pint. Well served too, and popular enough we’re told with the regulars. There can’t be that many Cork students in exile up here, they must have turned some of the natives…

Something to fix? Well, the pub has something I LOVE to see in any bar. A sort of ‘community noticeboard’ on route to the jacks. Sadly, it hasn’t been updated in a while, and photos from the launch of Bob Byrnes (very good) Mister Amberduke are still sitting there. I’m sick of nightclubs/pubs tagging me on Facebook, a nice proper board like this is a great thing to see in a pub. As for the jacks themselves, you couldn’t complain. Clean and fine.

Plenty of Maser artwork in the area of The Bernard Shaw, like this on the roof.

For all the talk of the clientele pubs like this attract, it’s (by and large) bollocks to be honest. I could see myself even suggesting this one for an early pint with one of the folks, it has a nice little hiding spot to chat up beyond the bar, a quiet enough ‘front bar’ and the 3 tables by the gallery space are good for a chat too. I think I’ll need to return at a later date and , more importantly, time to be absolutely sure- but on the back of a nice pint, nice staff, nice surroundings and A POOL TABLE I would advise a trip. For a ‘5pm, home by 6:30pm’ trip to turn into this was unplanned but most welcome.

I’m exhausted now, reckon that’s worth a pint.

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I’m a big fan of Foggy Notions. I picked up a pretty old copy a few days back and thought to myself: This has to be the only magazine in Ireland with the Junior Boys, Joanna Newsom, !Kaboogie and Planxty within its pages. Leagues O’ Tooles book Planxty too blew me away, and is probably the best “wasn’t expecting that” Christmas pressie of the last 5 years.

They’ve organised two fantastic short-notice fundraisers for Haiti, with another on the way from Whelans in the form of Glen Hansard (ticket information at bottom of post)

Andy Irvine has long been one of my favourites. Literally, across the room from me, are copies of Timedance, The Woman I Loved So Well, the self titled album and other Planxty odds and ends. Planxy excite me in a way I don’t think many other Irish bands ever have.

I’ve seen Andy now in Downeys pub of Ballyfermot and even at the National Concert Hall. A good Wobbly, and a master of the Buzuki, I’ve always found Andy as capable of taking on a song of revolution as one of romance, or of a song of medievil times as opposed to one of getting sloshed in O’ Donoghues. As far as variety go, Andy is unmatched in this country.

Jape are a little newer to my MP3 player. In the student-bar, I believe they would be reffered to as “so hot right now”. Well, Richie does have a Choice Music Award on the mantlepiece now. I got into The Redneck Manifesto a little later than my peers. Still, much as I loved both Oppenheimer and Lisa Hannigans offerings, it was nice to see a lad from Crumlin take the big prize last year.

“When I hit puberty I just listened to American hardcore punk: The Dead Kennedys, Minor Threat, Black Flag and all the SST bands, so there’s a real mix in my musical background.”

-Richie Egan, Irish Times March 6th 2009


I’ve only noticed today Whelans have added a third concert, featuring Oscar-winner Glen Hansard. I won’t pretend to know a thing about his music, all I know is he once used the Cupla Focal at the Oscars and I once said hello to him in Tower Records and he seemed a nice bloke. Sin é.

Sunday 24th January 8pm Glen Hansard (solo)

Sunday February 14th 8pm Andy Irvine (Planxty), The Spook of the Thirteenth Lock, Mumblin Deaf Ro, The Hounds & Big Monster Love

Wednesday February 17th 8pm David Kitt, Jape (solo electronic), Legion of Two, Patrick Kelleher & Goodtime John.

I’ll be the nerd with Leagues O’ Tooles book on Planxty under my arm waiting to ambush Andy Irvine on the 14th, I look forward to seeing you there.

http://www.tickets.ie//WAV box office at 1890 200 078


With regards Haiti, there are no words. All I can say is I’m immensely proud to be a Dubliner when I walk into any local shop, pub, club or even just walk down the street and I see somebody take the time to raise money for people suffering in a manner we will never even be able to comprehend.

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