“And when you ran to me
Your cheeks flushed with the night
We walked on frosted fields
of juniper and lamplight
I held your hand”
Paul Simon
My intention this week was to talk about the acts I’ve seen recently. I was going to talk about going to Electric Picnic a couple of weeks ago, about wandering around and discovering new things , like ‘Just Alice’ playing an acoustic set in the afternoon. She’s one of those performers that just stops you in your tracks and you get lost for 40 minutes with others, smiling to yourself.
I was then going go talk about getting swept up in the tide as the whole population of Electric Picnic seemed to rush as one to the shore of the main stage to see Chapell Roan. I stayed to see her arrive on stage to a manic welcome and perform Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl and then fought my way through the crowd to see the act that had brought me to EP in the first place, Self Esteem. Rebecca Lucy Taylor, who performs as Self Esteem, has been an artist I’ve been dying to see since I heard her song ‘Just Kids’ a few years ago. Her new album ‘A Complicated Woman’ has been a favourite since I first heard it, and her performance at Glastonbury this year was stunning. I arrived at the Three stage 15 minutes before she was due on stage, and walked straight up to the front. I began to think that maybe she’d been cancelled as there was hardly anyone else there.
The festival’s hive mind was firmly planted in front of Chappell Roan swirling like a dervish on the main stage.
By the time Self Esteem started there were probable a few hundred people there, and this steadily increased to maybe a thousand by the end. She deserved far more. The show was amazing. And it was a show. Rebecca and her choir/dancers acted out all of songs on her latest album, ‘A Complicated Woman’. It was one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to.
But that’s not what I’m really talking about this week.
I saw Hozier later that evening and took part in the mass karaoke as 50,000 of us sang along to all of his songs. I held up the sign that Jake had asked me to, which read ‘Jackboot Jump , Please’. Hozier shamefully ignored my A4 sized sign from the distant stage. I left there to see the Fun Prods play the Ministry stage in Brutopolis. The Fun Protestants are an electro-pop combo from Belfast who describe themselves as being into techo punk prod core and kinky traybakes. I saw them last year where they played to Robyn, Elliott and I, and 20 others. This year the hall was jammed. They had a dance off with Protestants on one side and Catholics on the other and almost caused a riot by declaring that Northern Tayto was superior to the manna from heaven that is original Free State Tayto. I got my photo taken with them afterwards , wearing my East Belfast GAA beanie.
And after that I saw Jinx Lennon play perhaps the happiest performance he’s ever played. That is probably worth a whole blog on it’s own. But not today’s.
While he was playing I met Vinny from MoChara and he remembered me as Dundalk John’s Robyn’s Dad. Later I got tapped on the shoulder by Benny and he introduced me to a luverly lady called Siofra who said her Mum introduced her to my old worky blog years ago and it inspired her to start writing one of her own…I imagine , thinking, if this idiot can do it, so can I. We chatted for a few minutes , yelling over Jinx. I only realised later, when I looked up her creative page , Jump The Hedges, that my Soulmate, and Robyn , already follow her. I also got a bear hug from Sean Dee, whom I last met at our Ryan’s wedding.
And then I was going to tell you about an amazing day spent with Roger Doyle, composer, pianist, electronica pioneer, his agent, Dee, and his son, Pavel. He was playing on the Brutopolis stage on Saturday evening, and Benny had asked me to go and collect him in Bray take him to EP for his performance and then take him back home, which I did. In Ireland there is an invitation only group of 250 distinguished artists, called the Aosdana. Within this group they select 7 members to be Saoi, or ‘wise ones’. There can only be 7 living Saoi at any one time, and once appointed you are a Saoi for life. You are appointed a Saoi by the President of Ireland and awarded a gold torc. Roger is a Saoi.
Roger had attended the Isle of Wight festival in the 60’s where his tent had burnt down, but hadn’t been to one since and was a little nervous. Mark and Benny had never had a Saoi perform on their stage, and were even more nervous, which I said to Roger which seemed to calm him down a bit. On the journey to EP we talked about cats, recording, call centres, Apple, Bono, the National Concert Hall, and everything in between.
He was warmly welcomed by Nikita, Mark and Benny as we arrived backstage and he was introduced to his piano. They’d made a Green Room for him out of a container. Afterwards he said that the green room was the nicest he’d ever been to, and I asked him if he knew what we called it.
“No” he replied.
“It’s the Roger Doyle green room.” I answered.
“Why did they call it that ?”.
“Because you’re the first person that they ever had one for.”
He was pleased. He’d enjoyed performing to the raucous Brutopolis crowd. He said , on the way home, that he normally plays to an audience that nods their heads politely and sometimes gently applaud, but that tonight people had whooped and hollered , and some had even danced.
I told him that at one point during the performance three lads from Offally had stood behind me and one of them had said :
“Who’s this, and why the hell are we here ? We’re missing Jungle !”
“It’s Roger Doyle. My Dad said he’d kill me if I didn’t go to see him.”
“But who is he ???”
“Dad says that he’s the father of electronica. There’d be no Jungle if if it wasn’t for him.”
There were many moments like that. And I’ll write about them properly some day.
Last week I got to meet John Lydon, formerly Johnny Rotten, in Armagh. I told him that 30 odd years ago I’d bumped into him on Neal St., near Covent Garden and I’d said “You’re Johnny Rotten”, and that he’d scowled at me and just said “Fuck off !”. I told him that it had been a great day. After we’d spoken for a bit, I shook his hand and said thanks and , while still shaking my hand, he smiled and said “Have a great day Paul, now, fuck off !”.
Again, I could write a whole post about that. But not today.
No, today I just want to say that last Saturday night my Soulmate and I went out for dinner together, just the two of us. Robyn was in Edinburgh, Eliott had gone over to see her for the weekend, and Jake had gone to Galway, so we decided to go out. It was only when we sat down to a lovely table for two, upstairs by the window in The Pig, that I realised that it had been years since we’d had an evening like this. We have been out numerous times, but always in the company of others.
It was magic.
We talked and we held hands.
It was simply wonderful.
We met friends afterwards, and we got to see Conor Curley’s set, and even got another bear hug from Sean Dee, who was now safely back in Monaghan, on his stag weekend. But for that wee while when it was just the two of us, like the olden days, on a proper date, it was a wee glimpse of heaven.
I know it sounds silly.
But when has that ever stopped me.
Sometimes we should stop and remember.
Do silly things.
Hold hands.
Have a moment together.
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. Thsi is for my Soulmate , ‘For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her‘
P.P.S And this is an audio of an old ‘Once Upon A Story ‘ blog
