“It was twenty years ago today,
Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play…”
Well maybe not to the exact day but sometime in November1989, Chris Byrne and I headed for the Bronx to play Black 47’s first gig.
So much has changed and yet so little. The country was in recession then and would soon head into the Gulf War. We’re in a depression now, winding down an Iraqi disaster and about to dig a real hole in Afghanistan. Makes you almost long for George H. Bush.
The Guildford Four were just out, the Birmingham Six still in, Joe Doherty battled extradition, and Margaret Thatcher was slouching towards irrelevance.
We both felt there was a need for a band that would tell it like it was - to the beats and rhythms of New York City. It didn’t take genius to realize that combatants prefer negotiations to ultimatums, and bringing Sinn Fein in from the cold would lead to all sorts of dividends. How alien that idea was in so many circles back then.
It was a harsh winter but other conditions seemed favorable. Bainbridge Avenue and 204th Street was the beating heart of the modern Irish Diaspora and a plethora of bars had opened in the vicinity during the cash rich mid-80’s. In the downturn that followed most of them needed music to draw a crowd; thus, it was no bother to knock out four or five gigs a week – just what a new band needed
One problem was the “New Irish,” remember them? They adored U2, the Waterboys and the Pogues; we were sure they’d appreciate a blast of originality. Fat chance! All they wanted was U2, the Waterboys and the Pogues, or any carbon copy thereof.
But who wanted to look back at Dublin or London? We were in the city of Bob Dylan, Lou Reed and Public Enemy. Why not put a New York stamp on Irish music?
Eyes on the prize! We recorded on the nights we weren’t being fired up and down Braindamage, as the Avenue was fondly referred to.
Then just in time young Irish-Americans began showing up. They were familiar with James Connolly and Bobby Sands. They liked the beats and the attitude. They spread the word through colleges and cousins around the country.
Fred Parcells arrived one night with his trombone, Geoffrey Blythe with his saxophones, Thomas Hamlin began on percussion and ended up on drums; and before long we were all over the media, and movie stars were lining up to see us at Paddy Reilly’s.
But it was always the music and the message, for who cared if Matt Dillon or Brooke Shields were watching as long as you’re gliding across the beat and stretching notes in a way you never thought possible; for that’s what being a musician is all about, finding your voice and going way beyond yourself.
Yet glancing back down a glittery road littered with broken dreams, bodies and bottles, it’s not the nights on Leno or Letterman that spring to mind, for they only confirmed the plastic nature of transient celebrity.
No, rather you think of your first soundman, Johnny Byrne, and wonder if he’d still be alive if you had said what you should have, and of a St. Patrick’s night shooting when your world turned upside down, and of a freezing February morning of splintering glass and screeching metal while the van hurtled head over heels across the black ice of Route 95.
But measured against those disasters was the gay couple from Woodside who told you that life was much safer now that young Irish-Americans were listening to your take on Danny Boy. Or the night you first played James Connolly in rowdy Paddy Reilly’s and you could have heard a pin drop because you’d finally created a new kind of song. Or the barbed-wire riffs you played behind Chris when he took the paint and hypocrisy off the walls and Mayor Giuliani with Walk All The Days.
And what’s next? Well, a new CD in February and after that who knows, for as Jim Morrison was heard to say, “the future’s uncertain and the end is always near.” That realization makes every night special and we’ve never repeated a set in well over 2000 gigs.
We’ll celebrate 20 years on the road on four consecutive Saturday nights at Connolly’s, 121 W. 45th Street beginning Nov. 21st. Who knows what we’ll play? Some things never change – especially echoes of Bainbridge 1989.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Thank you, Sir Bob
It’s not often I tip my cap to royalty, British or Irish, but I am deeply indebted to Sir Bob Geldof. Without him I would never have kissed Debbie Harry.
Now what in the name of God, says you, would the singer from Blondie be doing kissing the likes of you – the head on you and the price of turnips!
Well, it didn’t happen today or yesterday, but back in the mists of time when I nightly made the scene and was known to guest list keepers the length and breadth of Manhattan.
And so it came to pass that the Boomtown Rats made their first New York appearance at the Academy of Music and great was the buzz around town.
I had seen them in Wexford’s Whites Hotel back when they were an excellent R&B type band of the Stones/Doctor Feelgood ilk and was keen to experience their punk incarnation.
With little problem, Pierce Turner and a gang of us finagled our way on to some guest list or other. All credit to the Rats: they were electric that night and, in fact, premiered I Don’t Like Mondays during their encore.
It was during this song that one of our posse, Neil Kempfer-Stocker, a man with much dander and many connections, broke the news that the Rats would throw a post-gig shindig at the very swanky One Fifth, coincidentally enough housed at One Fifth Avenue.
Neil suggested that, on account of our Wexford accents, we should rush down, pretend we were the Rats, eat their food, drink their booze, and if we could bamboozle a few ladies into the bargain, Geldof would hardly miss them.
Everything went swimmingly. Neil rang One Fifth, said our limo was parked around the corner, that the Rats were about to check out the joint, see if it was up to snuff - all to be done with the minimum of fuss.
The manager appeared forthwith; he was from Italy, well used to La Dolce Vita, and appreciated the fact that stars of our wattage might like to have some moments of peace before our admirers descended upon us.
He did appear a little stunned by the voracity with which we attacked the lobster and shrimp. But he was thrilled that we took so well to his own recipe of champagne and Guinness. This mixture, I might add, though rough on the palette, improved mightily by the pint.
Regardless, it possessed a tremendous kick and time seemed to fly – our initial plan had been to duck out the back after a couple of belts; indeed some of our number had already stuffed shrimp and lobster claws into their pockets.
I don’t remember even being particularly perturbed when the manager filled our glasses one more time and confided that we should meet our guests who were clamoring outside in the lobby.
There was nothing for it but to stand in line and shake the hands of every hip, New York City freeloader as they rushed past to partake of the feast. Most of them wouldn’t have known a rat, Boomtown or otherwise, if it had taken a bite out of them.
And then I saw Debbie Harry approaching and whatever notion I had of time stood still. She was beaming at me, though I must confess, she appeared glassy-eyed and a little unsteady.
I reached out for her, unwilling to have her spoil my moment by toppling off her heels. She melted into my arms and, to this day, I can’t believe how well she fit. Then, she murmured, “You were wonderful onstage tonight.”
Who was I to disabuse her? In no uncertain terms, I let her know that she was looking and feeling nothing short of brilliant herself.
She’d obviously never before had a brush with a Wexford Casanova, for she stumbled once again. It was now or never and so I closed my eyes and gently laid my lips on hers. To my amazement she let them linger, although I suppose she could have been using me as ballast to get a grip on her heels. Still, as she pulled away she winked conspiratorially.
Geldof arrived soon after. He appeared somewhat puzzled and then indignant when the manager sought to corroborate his identity.
Ah well, it’s only rock & roll, Sir Bob, thanks anyway. For every time I hear Heart of Glass, no matter where I am I wink back at Debbie’s lovely unsteady memory.
Now what in the name of God, says you, would the singer from Blondie be doing kissing the likes of you – the head on you and the price of turnips!
Well, it didn’t happen today or yesterday, but back in the mists of time when I nightly made the scene and was known to guest list keepers the length and breadth of Manhattan.
And so it came to pass that the Boomtown Rats made their first New York appearance at the Academy of Music and great was the buzz around town.
I had seen them in Wexford’s Whites Hotel back when they were an excellent R&B type band of the Stones/Doctor Feelgood ilk and was keen to experience their punk incarnation.
With little problem, Pierce Turner and a gang of us finagled our way on to some guest list or other. All credit to the Rats: they were electric that night and, in fact, premiered I Don’t Like Mondays during their encore.
It was during this song that one of our posse, Neil Kempfer-Stocker, a man with much dander and many connections, broke the news that the Rats would throw a post-gig shindig at the very swanky One Fifth, coincidentally enough housed at One Fifth Avenue.
Neil suggested that, on account of our Wexford accents, we should rush down, pretend we were the Rats, eat their food, drink their booze, and if we could bamboozle a few ladies into the bargain, Geldof would hardly miss them.
Everything went swimmingly. Neil rang One Fifth, said our limo was parked around the corner, that the Rats were about to check out the joint, see if it was up to snuff - all to be done with the minimum of fuss.
The manager appeared forthwith; he was from Italy, well used to La Dolce Vita, and appreciated the fact that stars of our wattage might like to have some moments of peace before our admirers descended upon us.
He did appear a little stunned by the voracity with which we attacked the lobster and shrimp. But he was thrilled that we took so well to his own recipe of champagne and Guinness. This mixture, I might add, though rough on the palette, improved mightily by the pint.
Regardless, it possessed a tremendous kick and time seemed to fly – our initial plan had been to duck out the back after a couple of belts; indeed some of our number had already stuffed shrimp and lobster claws into their pockets.
I don’t remember even being particularly perturbed when the manager filled our glasses one more time and confided that we should meet our guests who were clamoring outside in the lobby.
There was nothing for it but to stand in line and shake the hands of every hip, New York City freeloader as they rushed past to partake of the feast. Most of them wouldn’t have known a rat, Boomtown or otherwise, if it had taken a bite out of them.
And then I saw Debbie Harry approaching and whatever notion I had of time stood still. She was beaming at me, though I must confess, she appeared glassy-eyed and a little unsteady.
I reached out for her, unwilling to have her spoil my moment by toppling off her heels. She melted into my arms and, to this day, I can’t believe how well she fit. Then, she murmured, “You were wonderful onstage tonight.”
Who was I to disabuse her? In no uncertain terms, I let her know that she was looking and feeling nothing short of brilliant herself.
She’d obviously never before had a brush with a Wexford Casanova, for she stumbled once again. It was now or never and so I closed my eyes and gently laid my lips on hers. To my amazement she let them linger, although I suppose she could have been using me as ballast to get a grip on her heels. Still, as she pulled away she winked conspiratorially.
Geldof arrived soon after. He appeared somewhat puzzled and then indignant when the manager sought to corroborate his identity.
Ah well, it’s only rock & roll, Sir Bob, thanks anyway. For every time I hear Heart of Glass, no matter where I am I wink back at Debbie’s lovely unsteady memory.
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
Pity the poor Health Insurance Industry
All right, I’m giving fair warning to all you Glenn Beck-watching, Rush Limbaugh-listening devotees. Cast your eyes rightward to the writings of Ray O’Hanlon, a sound and decent man, for I’m about to mention both the G and S words many times in the course of this column.
“Oh Jaysus, no! Here he goes again,” murmurs the gentleman up in Pearl River who peppers me with anatomically impossible suggestions of what I should do with myself sexually and otherwise.
But I ask you, what’s a poor Paddy to do? I was raised at a time when the Government was looked upon as an institution that might go to bat for you when all else failed, and in a place where Socialism was just another way of looking at things.
Of course, the times were simpler and you didn’t have to put much thought into health insurance. The Government looked after that by lifting a chunk of change from your weekly pay packet. Far from traumatizing you, this institutionalized lightening allowed more time to ponder important matters like could Christy Moore follow up Lisdoonvarna or would Clare ever manage the hurling and football double?
Health Insurance caused little concern unless you fancied a semi-private hospital room, in which case you dug deep and ponied up a sufficiency of Punts. But even then it was far from an existential, sweat-the-night issue.
Over here, though, I spend a lot of time fretting about the state of the Health Insurance industry. And I’m not even referring to my annual pint-glass smashing rants occasioned when my own beloved provider informs me that it has yet again been forced to raise the premium.
No, like most Americans, I worry about big Government actually going into competition with these altruistic, humanitarian organizations and, horror of horrors, driving them out of business.
After all fair is far, and how can we expect these philanthropic, never-refuse-a-sick-person shrinking violets to go mano-a-mano with over-bloated, steroid-popping, humongous big Socialist Government?
Occasionally, however, in the fleeting moments of clarity around my third pint, I wonder what these humanitarian outfits are so afraid of? Could it be that people might intrinsically prefer big old bumbling Government to private conglomerates who don’t give a tinker’s curse about anything besides the bottom line and senior management bonuses?
I ask you, what’s the most popular institution in this country apart from Oprah and your local Uggs outlet? Hands down, it’s the military, an enterprise run solely by Big Government and funded by our taxes. Sounds suspiciously like Socialism to me. Hey, Bill O’Reilly, you first read about it here.
But let’s give credit where it’s due. Bill, Glenn and Rush have one thing patently correct. This Health Insurance bill inching its way through Congress will cost much more than projected - unless it provides for a Public Option.
The Health Insurance Industry is an ace away from pulling off the score of the century - up to 30 million new suckers being forced into a federally unregulated system where premiums will continue to skyrocket.
Recent polls would suggest that the majority of Americans are ignoring the G and S word phobia fostered by lobbyists and the conservative media. They know that the Health Insurance Industry cleared 26 billion bucks last year. They see the practicality and ultimate benefits of competition.
But with up to 2 million dollars being spent a day to ensure that no meaningful Public Option alternative is offered, I wouldn’t count on big Government arriving with the cavalry. Too many Democrats and Republicans have taken the Health Insurance Industry’s shilling or are up for re-election in states where Bill, Glenn and Rush can make a difference in 2010.
Employing Justice Department statistics it is estimated that the dominant insurance company faces little competition in 94% of markets nationally.
C’mon, guys, give a brother a break! Why not let Big Government take a crack at driving down prices. I mean, everyone and their mother is just dying to live to be 65 so that they can get a piece of Medicare. And Big Government is not doing such a bad job running that.
Oh no, another letter from my friendly health care provider just landed in the hall. Lock up those pint glasses!
“Oh Jaysus, no! Here he goes again,” murmurs the gentleman up in Pearl River who peppers me with anatomically impossible suggestions of what I should do with myself sexually and otherwise.
But I ask you, what’s a poor Paddy to do? I was raised at a time when the Government was looked upon as an institution that might go to bat for you when all else failed, and in a place where Socialism was just another way of looking at things.
Of course, the times were simpler and you didn’t have to put much thought into health insurance. The Government looked after that by lifting a chunk of change from your weekly pay packet. Far from traumatizing you, this institutionalized lightening allowed more time to ponder important matters like could Christy Moore follow up Lisdoonvarna or would Clare ever manage the hurling and football double?
Health Insurance caused little concern unless you fancied a semi-private hospital room, in which case you dug deep and ponied up a sufficiency of Punts. But even then it was far from an existential, sweat-the-night issue.
Over here, though, I spend a lot of time fretting about the state of the Health Insurance industry. And I’m not even referring to my annual pint-glass smashing rants occasioned when my own beloved provider informs me that it has yet again been forced to raise the premium.
No, like most Americans, I worry about big Government actually going into competition with these altruistic, humanitarian organizations and, horror of horrors, driving them out of business.
After all fair is far, and how can we expect these philanthropic, never-refuse-a-sick-person shrinking violets to go mano-a-mano with over-bloated, steroid-popping, humongous big Socialist Government?
Occasionally, however, in the fleeting moments of clarity around my third pint, I wonder what these humanitarian outfits are so afraid of? Could it be that people might intrinsically prefer big old bumbling Government to private conglomerates who don’t give a tinker’s curse about anything besides the bottom line and senior management bonuses?
I ask you, what’s the most popular institution in this country apart from Oprah and your local Uggs outlet? Hands down, it’s the military, an enterprise run solely by Big Government and funded by our taxes. Sounds suspiciously like Socialism to me. Hey, Bill O’Reilly, you first read about it here.
But let’s give credit where it’s due. Bill, Glenn and Rush have one thing patently correct. This Health Insurance bill inching its way through Congress will cost much more than projected - unless it provides for a Public Option.
The Health Insurance Industry is an ace away from pulling off the score of the century - up to 30 million new suckers being forced into a federally unregulated system where premiums will continue to skyrocket.
Recent polls would suggest that the majority of Americans are ignoring the G and S word phobia fostered by lobbyists and the conservative media. They know that the Health Insurance Industry cleared 26 billion bucks last year. They see the practicality and ultimate benefits of competition.
But with up to 2 million dollars being spent a day to ensure that no meaningful Public Option alternative is offered, I wouldn’t count on big Government arriving with the cavalry. Too many Democrats and Republicans have taken the Health Insurance Industry’s shilling or are up for re-election in states where Bill, Glenn and Rush can make a difference in 2010.
Employing Justice Department statistics it is estimated that the dominant insurance company faces little competition in 94% of markets nationally.
C’mon, guys, give a brother a break! Why not let Big Government take a crack at driving down prices. I mean, everyone and their mother is just dying to live to be 65 so that they can get a piece of Medicare. And Big Government is not doing such a bad job running that.
Oh no, another letter from my friendly health care provider just landed in the hall. Lock up those pint glasses!
Monday, 26 October 2009
Black 47 October Newsletter
BLACK 47 OCTOBER NEWSLETTER
October Sets The Gypsy Blood Astir
In This Issue
20th Anniversary Connolly's Gigs/IBAM Chicago
Confirmed Gigs/New Facebook Page
IRAQ CD Reviews
Joe Burcaw: Bass Player Sept. 2009
B47 @ Connolly's DVD / Green Suede Shoes
New Dates Added / New Black 47 Blog
Oct 31 IBAM Irish Heritage Center, Chicago IL
Nov 21/28 - Dec 5/12 Connolly's, NYC
Dec 11 Keltic House, Fishkill, NY
*Dec 31 New Year's Eve in Connolly's *
Black 47 will do FOUR Saturdays in Connolly's this fall to commemorate our 20th Year on Nov 21/28 and Dec 5/12. Not to forget our annual Connolly's New Year's Eve Celebration in Times Square. Tickets are now available online for the four Saturdays and New Year's Eve at
www.black47.tickets.musictoday.com
And we'll play Halloween Night at IBAM (Irish Books and Music) in a a benefit for the Irish Heritage Center in Chicago on Oct. 31st. http://www.ibamchicago.com
Come along and support the IHC over a great weekend. I'll be reading along with authors such as Malachy & Alphie McCourt, Michael Patrick McDonald, Mary Pat Kelly on Sunday afternoon.
"
In November 1989, George Bush the Elder was President and the country was in the midst of a recession when Chris Byrne and I played the first Black 47 date in the Bronx. I can't remember the name of the pub except that I heard it was later dynamited. Such were the times. The occasion was a benefit,Bernadette Devlin McAliskey was the featured speaker. We were playing the song Desperate when someone yelled out, "play something Irish." To which I replied in some angst and much befuddlement, "I'm Irish. I wrote it. That makes it Irish." We'll play Desperate and many more Black 47 favorites along with songs from the new album due for release in Feb. I hope you'll join us to celebrate 20 years of blood, sweat, joy, booze, tears and exhilaration at Connolly's in Nov/Dec."
____________________________________
IRELAND TRIP 2010
Larry Kirwan will escort a group of people on an historical/literary/political/musical trip in 2010 from July 7th to 12th. Call John Hammond at 866-486-8772 for details. Ideal for high school/college graduation gifts, it will be suitable for all ages, and those making their first visit or traveling alone.
Inquiries to Hammond Tours:
mhammond@hammondtours.com
1-866-486-8772
________________________
Black 47 New Blog:
"War is just too important to be left to politicians and generals. And yet here we are again, facing escalation of an eight-year battle in Afghanistan while still mired in a six-year Iraqi morass. "
To read more go to http://black47theband.blogspot.com/ The new blog site is interactive - add your comments and stay abreast of Irish issues both in the US and in Ireland.
BLACK 47 FACEBOOK
Black 47 has assumed responsibility for our page at www.facebook.com/black47 Join us for updates on gigs, rare videos, etc. and news of the new CD.
Larry Kirwan
will give a talk/performance on
The Radical Heart of Irish-American Music
Irish College 2009
Saturday November 7 10 am - 3 pm
The commons
Sacred Heart University
5151 Park Avenue, Fairfield, CT
For Info: The Wild Geese, tel. 203-325-1750 or eheaphy@optonline.net
Friday, December 4, 2009, 4:30pm
Larry Kirwan
Rock and Read
Fund for Irish Studies Series
James M. Stewart '32 Theater
PETER B. LEWIS CENTER FOR THE ARTS
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
185 NASSAU STREET
Princeton, NJ 08542
http://fis.princeton.edu/
For info: jbraude@princeton.edu
Open to public, admission free
Recently Added & Upcoming Gigs
Oct 31 IBAM, Irish Heritage Center, Chicago, IL
Nov 21 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Nov 28 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 5 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 11 Keltic House, Fishkill, NY
Dec 12 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 31 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Mar 12 College of Staten Island, NY
Mar 13 Shamrock Festival, Washington DC
Mar 14 World Cafe Live, Philadelphia, PA
Mar 17 BB King's, NY, NY
All Tour Dates & Full Details go to Tour at www.black47.com
IRAQ CD IN STORES AND ON LINE
IRISH BAND DOES DEFINITIVE IRAQ WAR COMMENTARY
The Iraq War has inspired quit a few songs, but you'd be hard-pressed to hear a musical portrait of it as vivid and detailed as Black47's "Iraq." From "Sadr City" to "Battle of Fallujah" the inveterate troupe approaches the defining struggle of our age from all sides. What's surprising is that it took a band of Irish expats to do it.
Doug Wallen, The Hartford Courant
Black 47's new CD, IRAQ, on United for Opportunity Music is available in stores and online at itunes and other outlets including SHOP at www.black47.com or ufomusic.com. Lyrics can also be accessed at black47.com.
"Black 47 has long been known as New York City's top Celtic band, but today they very well may have established themselves as the finest NYC-based rock band ever with this stunning and righteous release. Tuneful and enjoyable, with albums as fine as Iraq, this band will tour for decades to come." Good Times
Check out the video for Sunrise on Brooklyn.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBBA6sgHqj0
http://www.myspace.com/black47iraq
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-47/11951825265
Joe Burcaw Featured in September 2009 Issue of Bass Player Magazine!
In-case you missed it, Black 47's very own groove-meister. Joe Burcaw was featured in a full-page article in September 2009's issue of Bass Player Magazine (including a pin-up photo sure to be gracing the bedroom walls of swooning young aspiring bassists world-wide ;-) ).
Read the article in the Bass Player archives here:
http://www.bassplayer.com/article.aspx?id=99867&terms=Joe+Burcaw
or
in The REEL BOOK Archives here:
http://www.thereelbook.com/groups/Black47/press/BassPlayer.pdf
Black 47 at Connolly's/New Year's DVD
Times Square is the crossroads of the world, and on New Year's Eve it becomes the eye of the hurricane. Since 1989 Black 47 has played within shouting distance of the dropping ball. We wanted to catch the excitement and the thrill of the various New Years' we've spent in Connolly's of 45th Street. Watch Black 47 rehearse and unveil a new song, New Year's Eve in Olde Tymes Square, and ring in 2007 with classics like Funky Ceili, Green Suede Shoes and Forty Shades of Blue, and the stories and background to many songs.
PURCHASE ONLINE @ black47.com
Green Suede Shoes/An Irish-American Odyssey Memoir
This rock 'n' roll Angela's Ashes begins in County Wexford, Ireland, in the late 1950s, a now unrecognizable, priest-fearing backwater suffocating in superstition and strangled by sexual fevers. After an escape to New York City, Larry finds himself, like a musical Zelig, side by side with the Ramones and Blondie at CBGBs; the brothers McCourt, Lester Bangs, and Nick Tosches at The Bells of Hell; the Guinness soaked regulars of Paddy Reilly's; Cyndi Lauper, Joe Strummer, Rick Ocasek, Neil Young, and Shane McGowan. The shootings at the Academy and the tragic death of soundman Johnny Byrne punctuate the revels and excesses and presage the gloom cast by 9/11 and the loss of Father Mychal Judge and other friends. Green Suede Shoes remembers three decades of a lost New York, and celebrates the music and song in which it now lives.
Get your autographed copy today at our SHOP at black47.com for $15.
·
Autumn Special:
All 11 Black 47/Larry Kirwan CDs PLUS Black 47's 2 DVDs for $150 or all CDs for $130. Euros, Sterling & other foreign currency orders accepted & shipped promptly. Go to the SHOP at black47.com.
Also at the Shop a full selection of T-shirts, hoodies, caps. The new Black 47 Road Sign T will be available at the end of October.
Now Available at the SHOP: DIGITAL DOWNLOADS of most of the in-print catalogue of Black 47 / Larry Kirwan Albums.
Want to keep up-to-date on Black 47 Gigs? Go to:
www.black47setlists.com. and find out what we're playing plus reviews of performances. Bob Silkowitz has gathered set lists from as far back as 1992 (including names of songs we've performed but never recorded, and much other information).
Check out the chords and lyrics of all Black 47 songs, and covers performed over the years (often with annotated comments from the rehearsal sessions) at REEL BOOK. Fred Parcells has collated charts of songs that the rest of us can't even remember playing. Go Freddie with the mean memory!!! Windows 95 forever!!! See the chord charts & lyrics of songs we just recorded for the new CD including Long Lost Tapes of Hendrix, Izzy's Irish Rose, Celtic Rocker, Rosemary (Nelson), That Summer Dress, Long Hot Summer, American Tragedy etc.
***ANYONE who would like to be part of The BLACK 47 Street Team: to put up posters, fliers and get the word out - in return for free admission to gigs and meeting the band, drop a line to: fieldagents@ufomusic.net.
***Black 47 is looking for some good people to sell our merch during gigs on the road.
www.irishecho.com
Check out Larry Kirwan's controversial weekly column on politics, music, literature and life page 5, Irish Echo
CELTIC CRUSH: Sirius XM Satellite Radio
Tuesday 11pm ET show added
Celtic Crush, hosted by Larry Kirwan, can be heard on Saturdays from 9am-noon ET at The Spectrum, Ch. 18 on Sirius, Ch. 45 on XM and Ch. 832 DIRECTV and can now be also heard on Tuesdays at 11pm ET
Celtic Crush is the only Celtic show available throughout all of the US and Canada. It features music from the 8 Celtic nations and their related cultures.
Hear Larry interview Swell Season, Dolores Riordan, Hothouse Flowers, Ray Davies, Sinead O'Connor, Steve Earle, Dropkick Murphys Moya Brennan, Flogging Molly, Richard Thompson, Lúnasa, Bell X1, Damien Dempsey, etc.
Swell Season Interview this Saturday 24th Oct.
and Lisa Hannigan soon.
Check out facebook page at
siriusxmthespectrum
Black 47 | 47 Forty Deuce | New York | NY | 10036
October Sets The Gypsy Blood Astir
In This Issue
20th Anniversary Connolly's Gigs/IBAM Chicago
Confirmed Gigs/New Facebook Page
IRAQ CD Reviews
Joe Burcaw: Bass Player Sept. 2009
B47 @ Connolly's DVD / Green Suede Shoes
New Dates Added / New Black 47 Blog
Oct 31 IBAM Irish Heritage Center, Chicago IL
Nov 21/28 - Dec 5/12 Connolly's, NYC
Dec 11 Keltic House, Fishkill, NY
*Dec 31 New Year's Eve in Connolly's *
Black 47 will do FOUR Saturdays in Connolly's this fall to commemorate our 20th Year on Nov 21/28 and Dec 5/12. Not to forget our annual Connolly's New Year's Eve Celebration in Times Square. Tickets are now available online for the four Saturdays and New Year's Eve at
www.black47.tickets.musictoday.com
And we'll play Halloween Night at IBAM (Irish Books and Music) in a a benefit for the Irish Heritage Center in Chicago on Oct. 31st. http://www.ibamchicago.com
Come along and support the IHC over a great weekend. I'll be reading along with authors such as Malachy & Alphie McCourt, Michael Patrick McDonald, Mary Pat Kelly on Sunday afternoon.
"
In November 1989, George Bush the Elder was President and the country was in the midst of a recession when Chris Byrne and I played the first Black 47 date in the Bronx. I can't remember the name of the pub except that I heard it was later dynamited. Such were the times. The occasion was a benefit,Bernadette Devlin McAliskey was the featured speaker. We were playing the song Desperate when someone yelled out, "play something Irish." To which I replied in some angst and much befuddlement, "I'm Irish. I wrote it. That makes it Irish." We'll play Desperate and many more Black 47 favorites along with songs from the new album due for release in Feb. I hope you'll join us to celebrate 20 years of blood, sweat, joy, booze, tears and exhilaration at Connolly's in Nov/Dec."
____________________________________
IRELAND TRIP 2010
Larry Kirwan will escort a group of people on an historical/literary/political/musical trip in 2010 from July 7th to 12th. Call John Hammond at 866-486-8772 for details. Ideal for high school/college graduation gifts, it will be suitable for all ages, and those making their first visit or traveling alone.
Inquiries to Hammond Tours:
mhammond@hammondtours.com
1-866-486-8772
________________________
Black 47 New Blog:
"War is just too important to be left to politicians and generals. And yet here we are again, facing escalation of an eight-year battle in Afghanistan while still mired in a six-year Iraqi morass. "
To read more go to http://black47theband.blogspot.com/ The new blog site is interactive - add your comments and stay abreast of Irish issues both in the US and in Ireland.
BLACK 47 FACEBOOK
Black 47 has assumed responsibility for our page at www.facebook.com/black47 Join us for updates on gigs, rare videos, etc. and news of the new CD.
Larry Kirwan
will give a talk/performance on
The Radical Heart of Irish-American Music
Irish College 2009
Saturday November 7 10 am - 3 pm
The commons
Sacred Heart University
5151 Park Avenue, Fairfield, CT
For Info: The Wild Geese, tel. 203-325-1750 or eheaphy@optonline.net
Friday, December 4, 2009, 4:30pm
Larry Kirwan
Rock and Read
Fund for Irish Studies Series
James M. Stewart '32 Theater
PETER B. LEWIS CENTER FOR THE ARTS
PRINCETON UNIVERSITY
185 NASSAU STREET
Princeton, NJ 08542
http://fis.princeton.edu/
For info: jbraude@princeton.edu
Open to public, admission free
Recently Added & Upcoming Gigs
Oct 31 IBAM, Irish Heritage Center, Chicago, IL
Nov 21 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Nov 28 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 5 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 11 Keltic House, Fishkill, NY
Dec 12 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Dec 31 Connolly's, Manhattan, NY
Mar 12 College of Staten Island, NY
Mar 13 Shamrock Festival, Washington DC
Mar 14 World Cafe Live, Philadelphia, PA
Mar 17 BB King's, NY, NY
All Tour Dates & Full Details go to Tour at www.black47.com
IRAQ CD IN STORES AND ON LINE
IRISH BAND DOES DEFINITIVE IRAQ WAR COMMENTARY
The Iraq War has inspired quit a few songs, but you'd be hard-pressed to hear a musical portrait of it as vivid and detailed as Black47's "Iraq." From "Sadr City" to "Battle of Fallujah" the inveterate troupe approaches the defining struggle of our age from all sides. What's surprising is that it took a band of Irish expats to do it.
Doug Wallen, The Hartford Courant
Black 47's new CD, IRAQ, on United for Opportunity Music is available in stores and online at itunes and other outlets including SHOP at www.black47.com or ufomusic.com. Lyrics can also be accessed at black47.com.
"Black 47 has long been known as New York City's top Celtic band, but today they very well may have established themselves as the finest NYC-based rock band ever with this stunning and righteous release. Tuneful and enjoyable, with albums as fine as Iraq, this band will tour for decades to come." Good Times
Check out the video for Sunrise on Brooklyn.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EBBA6sgHqj0
http://www.myspace.com/black47iraq
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Black-47/11951825265
Joe Burcaw Featured in September 2009 Issue of Bass Player Magazine!
In-case you missed it, Black 47's very own groove-meister. Joe Burcaw was featured in a full-page article in September 2009's issue of Bass Player Magazine (including a pin-up photo sure to be gracing the bedroom walls of swooning young aspiring bassists world-wide ;-) ).
Read the article in the Bass Player archives here:
http://www.bassplayer.com/article.aspx?id=99867&terms=Joe+Burcaw
or
in The REEL BOOK Archives here:
http://www.thereelbook.com/groups/Black47/press/BassPlayer.pdf
Black 47 at Connolly's/New Year's DVD
Times Square is the crossroads of the world, and on New Year's Eve it becomes the eye of the hurricane. Since 1989 Black 47 has played within shouting distance of the dropping ball. We wanted to catch the excitement and the thrill of the various New Years' we've spent in Connolly's of 45th Street. Watch Black 47 rehearse and unveil a new song, New Year's Eve in Olde Tymes Square, and ring in 2007 with classics like Funky Ceili, Green Suede Shoes and Forty Shades of Blue, and the stories and background to many songs.
PURCHASE ONLINE @ black47.com
Green Suede Shoes/An Irish-American Odyssey Memoir
This rock 'n' roll Angela's Ashes begins in County Wexford, Ireland, in the late 1950s, a now unrecognizable, priest-fearing backwater suffocating in superstition and strangled by sexual fevers. After an escape to New York City, Larry finds himself, like a musical Zelig, side by side with the Ramones and Blondie at CBGBs; the brothers McCourt, Lester Bangs, and Nick Tosches at The Bells of Hell; the Guinness soaked regulars of Paddy Reilly's; Cyndi Lauper, Joe Strummer, Rick Ocasek, Neil Young, and Shane McGowan. The shootings at the Academy and the tragic death of soundman Johnny Byrne punctuate the revels and excesses and presage the gloom cast by 9/11 and the loss of Father Mychal Judge and other friends. Green Suede Shoes remembers three decades of a lost New York, and celebrates the music and song in which it now lives.
Get your autographed copy today at our SHOP at black47.com for $15.
·
Autumn Special:
All 11 Black 47/Larry Kirwan CDs PLUS Black 47's 2 DVDs for $150 or all CDs for $130. Euros, Sterling & other foreign currency orders accepted & shipped promptly. Go to the SHOP at black47.com.
Also at the Shop a full selection of T-shirts, hoodies, caps. The new Black 47 Road Sign T will be available at the end of October.
Now Available at the SHOP: DIGITAL DOWNLOADS of most of the in-print catalogue of Black 47 / Larry Kirwan Albums.
Want to keep up-to-date on Black 47 Gigs? Go to:
www.black47setlists.com. and find out what we're playing plus reviews of performances. Bob Silkowitz has gathered set lists from as far back as 1992 (including names of songs we've performed but never recorded, and much other information).
Check out the chords and lyrics of all Black 47 songs, and covers performed over the years (often with annotated comments from the rehearsal sessions) at REEL BOOK. Fred Parcells has collated charts of songs that the rest of us can't even remember playing. Go Freddie with the mean memory!!! Windows 95 forever!!! See the chord charts & lyrics of songs we just recorded for the new CD including Long Lost Tapes of Hendrix, Izzy's Irish Rose, Celtic Rocker, Rosemary (Nelson), That Summer Dress, Long Hot Summer, American Tragedy etc.
***ANYONE who would like to be part of The BLACK 47 Street Team: to put up posters, fliers and get the word out - in return for free admission to gigs and meeting the band, drop a line to: fieldagents@ufomusic.net.
***Black 47 is looking for some good people to sell our merch during gigs on the road.
www.irishecho.com
Check out Larry Kirwan's controversial weekly column on politics, music, literature and life page 5, Irish Echo
CELTIC CRUSH: Sirius XM Satellite Radio
Tuesday 11pm ET show added
Celtic Crush, hosted by Larry Kirwan, can be heard on Saturdays from 9am-noon ET at The Spectrum, Ch. 18 on Sirius, Ch. 45 on XM and Ch. 832 DIRECTV and can now be also heard on Tuesdays at 11pm ET
Celtic Crush is the only Celtic show available throughout all of the US and Canada. It features music from the 8 Celtic nations and their related cultures.
Hear Larry interview Swell Season, Dolores Riordan, Hothouse Flowers, Ray Davies, Sinead O'Connor, Steve Earle, Dropkick Murphys Moya Brennan, Flogging Molly, Richard Thompson, Lúnasa, Bell X1, Damien Dempsey, etc.
Swell Season Interview this Saturday 24th Oct.
and Lisa Hannigan soon.
Check out facebook page at
siriusxmthespectrum
Black 47 | 47 Forty Deuce | New York | NY | 10036
Thursday, 22 October 2009
Afghanistan - Should I Stay Or Should I Go
War is just too important to be left to politicians and generals. And yet here we are again, facing escalation of an eight-year battle in Afghanistan while still mired in a six-year Iraqi morass.
Why do we so casually abrogate our rights to those who fly in the face of the Founding Fathers, most of whom would have been horrified by our attempts at nation building on the far side of the world. It seems odd, particularly when the American people – apart from settling matters with Osama Bin Laden – have rarely been partial to foreign military escapades.
Still the old demons have legs and are regularly trotted out – the Domino Theory for Vietnam, supposed Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq, the sheltering of Al Qaeda in Afghanistan.
Then when the dust clears, we find that the Viet Cong were capitalists in waiting who just wanted to run their own turf; Saddam Hussein was far too busy writing romance novels to be devoting time to WMDs. While if we’re so fearful of Qaeda setting up shop again in Kabul then why aren’t we invading Somalia and Yemen where they strut the streets like two-bit coke dealers.
Probably because we’re easily conned, as befits a populace that’s over-entertained and under-informed. But who wants to know what’s actually going on in the world when we can watch Tom Delay dancing, marvel at various Democrats shimmying in the pockets of the Health Insurance industry, or when we can just fuggedaboutit all in the cozy familiarity of Facebook?
The one man who could have stopped the Iraq War, Secretary of State, Colin Powell, put it best, “you break it, you own it.” That’s why we’ll be spending billions on Crazy Glue in Baghdad at least until the Mets win the World Series.
That’s where we’re heading in Afghanistan too, binding together a state that ranked 4th in the world’s most corrupt180. President Karzai’s government is so on-the-make that elements of his own ethnic group, the Pashtuns, were seriously considering voting for his opponent Dr. Abdullah Abdullah, whose mother was a member of the hated Tajiks. We’ll never know if they did since Karzai’s opium-running brother stuffed so many ballots some of the boxes burst open.
It is conservatively estimated that only 20% of foreign aid – including thirteen billion over the last 8 years from the US - actually gets past the hands of warlords, bureaucrats, and the ruling elite. This is the foundation upon which we hope to construct some facsimile of a Jeffersonian democracy.
Is there a political solution? It’s doubtful. Should Abdullah Abdullah win in a proposed run-off, it would probably lead to civil war as the Pashtun majority is unlikely to tolerate even a half-Tajik as president.
It’s no secret that the only person capable of uniting the country, Ahmad Shah Massoud, was unfortunately assassinated the day before 9/11 by either Taliban CEO, one-eyed Mullah Omar, Osama Bin Laden himself, or the Pakistani Secret Service (ISI), take your pick.
Still history, as ever, provides some guidance. Afghanis of all ethnic backgrounds and levels of Muslim fundamentalism abhor foreign dominance and unite at the drop of a hat to battle invading infidels be they Brit, Soviet or American. However, as soon as the enemy departs they revert to their old divisive ways.
The Taliban, as we somewhat erroneously label the current coalition of fundamentalists, drug dealers, nationalists, and cut-out-of-the-action hustlers battling Karzai and NATO forces, boasts among its leaders, Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, ruthless heroin dealer and our old Mujahadeen ally in the war against the Soviets. This rather savage gentleman has long been associated with the ISI, despite the fact that we’ve blithely tossed Pakistan 11 billion dollars since 9/11. I kid you not.
Where will it all end? Well, more than likely, when the Karzai government implodes from greed and lack of popular support, and we get tired of pouring lives and money into a sinkhole. Then Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, after a consultation with his ISI handlers, will no doubt text Mullah Omar.
“Yoh One Eye, what up babe? Listen, later for the crazy Bin Laden dude, yah hear me. Yankee bombs bad for dope business! C U in Kabul. Peace Gul.”
Maybe it’s time we switched off Dancing With The Stars and got our noses out of Facebook; a lot of young American lives are on the line – not to mention trillions more in deficits. This looming disaster is too important to be left to politicians and generals.
Why do we so casually abrogate our rights to those who fly in the face of the Founding Fathers, most of whom would have been horrified by our attempts at nation building on the far side of the world. It seems odd, particularly when the American people – apart from settling matters with Osama Bin Laden – have rarely been partial to foreign military escapades.
Still the old demons have legs and are regularly trotted out – the Domino Theory for Vietnam, supposed Weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq, the sheltering of Al Qaeda in Afghanistan.
Then when the dust clears, we find that the Viet Cong were capitalists in waiting who just wanted to run their own turf; Saddam Hussein was far too busy writing romance novels to be devoting time to WMDs. While if we’re so fearful of Qaeda setting up shop again in Kabul then why aren’t we invading Somalia and Yemen where they strut the streets like two-bit coke dealers.
Probably because we’re easily conned, as befits a populace that’s over-entertained and under-informed. But who wants to know what’s actually going on in the world when we can watch Tom Delay dancing, marvel at various Democrats shimmying in the pockets of the Health Insurance industry, or when we can just fuggedaboutit all in the cozy familiarity of Facebook?
The one man who could have stopped the Iraq War, Secretary of State, Colin Powell, put it best, “you break it, you own it.” That’s why we’ll be spending billions on Crazy Glue in Baghdad at least until the Mets win the World Series.
That’s where we’re heading in Afghanistan too, binding together a state that ranked 4th in the world’s most corrupt180. President Karzai’s government is so on-the-make that elements of his own ethnic group, the Pashtuns, were seriously considering voting for his opponent Dr. Abdullah Abdullah, whose mother was a member of the hated Tajiks. We’ll never know if they did since Karzai’s opium-running brother stuffed so many ballots some of the boxes burst open.
It is conservatively estimated that only 20% of foreign aid – including thirteen billion over the last 8 years from the US - actually gets past the hands of warlords, bureaucrats, and the ruling elite. This is the foundation upon which we hope to construct some facsimile of a Jeffersonian democracy.
Is there a political solution? It’s doubtful. Should Abdullah Abdullah win in a proposed run-off, it would probably lead to civil war as the Pashtun majority is unlikely to tolerate even a half-Tajik as president.
It’s no secret that the only person capable of uniting the country, Ahmad Shah Massoud, was unfortunately assassinated the day before 9/11 by either Taliban CEO, one-eyed Mullah Omar, Osama Bin Laden himself, or the Pakistani Secret Service (ISI), take your pick.
Still history, as ever, provides some guidance. Afghanis of all ethnic backgrounds and levels of Muslim fundamentalism abhor foreign dominance and unite at the drop of a hat to battle invading infidels be they Brit, Soviet or American. However, as soon as the enemy departs they revert to their old divisive ways.
The Taliban, as we somewhat erroneously label the current coalition of fundamentalists, drug dealers, nationalists, and cut-out-of-the-action hustlers battling Karzai and NATO forces, boasts among its leaders, Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, ruthless heroin dealer and our old Mujahadeen ally in the war against the Soviets. This rather savage gentleman has long been associated with the ISI, despite the fact that we’ve blithely tossed Pakistan 11 billion dollars since 9/11. I kid you not.
Where will it all end? Well, more than likely, when the Karzai government implodes from greed and lack of popular support, and we get tired of pouring lives and money into a sinkhole. Then Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, after a consultation with his ISI handlers, will no doubt text Mullah Omar.
“Yoh One Eye, what up babe? Listen, later for the crazy Bin Laden dude, yah hear me. Yankee bombs bad for dope business! C U in Kabul. Peace Gul.”
Maybe it’s time we switched off Dancing With The Stars and got our noses out of Facebook; a lot of young American lives are on the line – not to mention trillions more in deficits. This looming disaster is too important to be left to politicians and generals.
Thursday, 15 October 2009
Back in the studio
How the music world has changed since Pierce Turner and I first stepped in the doors of Dublin’s Trend Studios back in the early 70’s!
We had sent “We Have No More Babies Left” – a lament for a disaster in Bangladesh - to Polydor Records; to our amazement Head of A&R, Jackie Hayden, offered to “sign us up.”
We were granted four hours to record this “maudlin masterpiece,” as some critic later labeled it, and only at the last moment remembered that we needed a B-side. With a Big Tom wannabe impatiently tapping his snakeskin boots in the reception area, we raced through a number appropriately entitled “Neck & Neck,” possibly the most out-of-tune track ever committed to disc.
Recording, in many ways, is an analogy for life. You can have all the money and facilities but they won’t amount to a hill of beans unless you’ve got something to say; indeed, if the song is strong, you can hum it into your Auntie Nelly’s cassette recorder and you’re in with a shot.
Of course, if no one but your Auntie Nelly hears this work of art you won’t be doing many interviews with Eileen Murphy, or have Steve Duggan buying you pints of porter while waving a pen and contract under your nose.
How do you know if a song is any good? Try performing it for a roomful of roaring drunks – if you emerge with all your teeth and a dollop of dignity, you’re on the fast track.
Still, as any student of Shakespeare knows, you can’t totally trust the instincts of the seething mob. “Maria’s Wedding” occasioned nothing but yawns for six months in Paddy Reilly’s, but one night it clicked and a year later Black 47 was performing it on Letterman.
I’ve worked in studios with the good, the bad and the extremely ugly. One engineer was actually in the midst of a mental breakdown and, in my innocence, I just assumed he was having a bad hair day. He was probably of the Lennon school, for it was Johnnie’s considered opinion that the best producers pretend they know what they’re doing and shout louder than anyone else.
Ric Ocasek of the Cars fit neither of those descriptions and yet he was the best I worked with. Mind you, he was confident enough, as befits someone who has sold over 40 million albums. But he generally spoke in whispers and was unfailingly courteous.
After the band had finished the basic tracks of our CD, Fire of Freedom, I added the final touches in his studio. A wonderful illustrator, Ric would sit there sketching, only looking up when he sensed a problem. With a well-placed word of advice or encouragement, he would instantly get the work back on track.
The only time I ever saw him get peeved was when he had given the engineer and me the task of mixing a song. When he returned some hours later, we had made little progress. With flashing eyes, he banished us to the back of the room, twisted a couple of knobs, shifted some faders, and Bob’s your uncle, the track was finished.
It probably didn’t hurt that his wife, the model Paulina Porizkova, in jeans and sans makeup, was wont to float in and out, adding ineffably to the mix.
EMI once spent over a quarter of a million on one of our CDs; eighteen months later we made another one ourselves for less than ten grand. To this day I’m not sure if I prefer Home of the Brave or Green Suede Shoes. I do know that my favorite Black 47 recording, Bobby Sands MP, came from the budget disc. And so it goes, money helps but songs rule.
I’m back in the studio now producing a new Black 47 CD. What a long strange trip it’s been since the day I strolled into Trend Studios. Back then I was blown away by all the knobs, faders and blinking lights.
It took me many years to realize that, as with life, the only magic is that which you carry inside yourself. If you learn how to knock sparks out of that essence, the technology will take care of itself. Failing that, there’s always your Aunt Nelly’s cassette recorder.
We had sent “We Have No More Babies Left” – a lament for a disaster in Bangladesh - to Polydor Records; to our amazement Head of A&R, Jackie Hayden, offered to “sign us up.”
We were granted four hours to record this “maudlin masterpiece,” as some critic later labeled it, and only at the last moment remembered that we needed a B-side. With a Big Tom wannabe impatiently tapping his snakeskin boots in the reception area, we raced through a number appropriately entitled “Neck & Neck,” possibly the most out-of-tune track ever committed to disc.
Recording, in many ways, is an analogy for life. You can have all the money and facilities but they won’t amount to a hill of beans unless you’ve got something to say; indeed, if the song is strong, you can hum it into your Auntie Nelly’s cassette recorder and you’re in with a shot.
Of course, if no one but your Auntie Nelly hears this work of art you won’t be doing many interviews with Eileen Murphy, or have Steve Duggan buying you pints of porter while waving a pen and contract under your nose.
How do you know if a song is any good? Try performing it for a roomful of roaring drunks – if you emerge with all your teeth and a dollop of dignity, you’re on the fast track.
Still, as any student of Shakespeare knows, you can’t totally trust the instincts of the seething mob. “Maria’s Wedding” occasioned nothing but yawns for six months in Paddy Reilly’s, but one night it clicked and a year later Black 47 was performing it on Letterman.
I’ve worked in studios with the good, the bad and the extremely ugly. One engineer was actually in the midst of a mental breakdown and, in my innocence, I just assumed he was having a bad hair day. He was probably of the Lennon school, for it was Johnnie’s considered opinion that the best producers pretend they know what they’re doing and shout louder than anyone else.
Ric Ocasek of the Cars fit neither of those descriptions and yet he was the best I worked with. Mind you, he was confident enough, as befits someone who has sold over 40 million albums. But he generally spoke in whispers and was unfailingly courteous.
After the band had finished the basic tracks of our CD, Fire of Freedom, I added the final touches in his studio. A wonderful illustrator, Ric would sit there sketching, only looking up when he sensed a problem. With a well-placed word of advice or encouragement, he would instantly get the work back on track.
The only time I ever saw him get peeved was when he had given the engineer and me the task of mixing a song. When he returned some hours later, we had made little progress. With flashing eyes, he banished us to the back of the room, twisted a couple of knobs, shifted some faders, and Bob’s your uncle, the track was finished.
It probably didn’t hurt that his wife, the model Paulina Porizkova, in jeans and sans makeup, was wont to float in and out, adding ineffably to the mix.
EMI once spent over a quarter of a million on one of our CDs; eighteen months later we made another one ourselves for less than ten grand. To this day I’m not sure if I prefer Home of the Brave or Green Suede Shoes. I do know that my favorite Black 47 recording, Bobby Sands MP, came from the budget disc. And so it goes, money helps but songs rule.
I’m back in the studio now producing a new Black 47 CD. What a long strange trip it’s been since the day I strolled into Trend Studios. Back then I was blown away by all the knobs, faders and blinking lights.
It took me many years to realize that, as with life, the only magic is that which you carry inside yourself. If you learn how to knock sparks out of that essence, the technology will take care of itself. Failing that, there’s always your Aunt Nelly’s cassette recorder.
Friday, 9 October 2009
A Special Person
My sister passed away recently. I wouldn’t normally write about such things but Ann was a special person. She had Down’s Syndrome.
Hers was the first generation of Irish people with that condition to be fully accepted into the community. Up until then families tended to shelter them for fear of ridicule or out of guilt and shame.
Two people changed all that in Wexford - President John Kennedy who had his photo taken shaking hands with a Downs Syndrome boy. My mother treasured that picture. If the most powerful man in the world could socialize with someone like Ann, then why not everyone else?
Father Tony Scallan had an even greater impact. He was only recently home from the missions in Brazil when he took up the cause of the mentally handicapped, as we then termed people of special needs.
He combed County Wexford in an effort to identify all such people and informed parents of their rights. Then he badgered local and national authorities to establish homes where people like Ann could live full lives, and workshops where they might develop useful skills.
There is a sadness when a close family relative has special needs. One is always faced with the great “what if?” But that is often balanced by the particular love that such people engender.
My mother’s love was fierce. Her main goal in life was that Ann always be provided for and never be a burden on anyone outside the family.
Ann’s birth changed her. Before that she had explored other religions and beliefs but soon thereafter found solace in Catholicism. Though still liberal in attitude, she needed the stability of strict beliefs to deal with the doubts and uncertainties that became her everyday lot.
There is a humbling element that comes with having a family member of special needs - a sense that something has been visited on you that is very much beyond your expectations and, sometimes, your capabilities.
But though there is inevitable regret there is also growth; for you have to deal with a situation that is beyond yourself, and you must of necessity become a bigger person than you thought possible.
You also gain a community. At Christmas parties in “Ann’s house” we gathered with the parents and siblings of the other occupants – people that in the normal scope of things you might have little in common with.
But within our particular cocoon we could relax, for we were dealing with the same intractable problem and cherishing the same small victories. A part of you had opened that you never knew you possessed – it’s quite similar to the feeling you experience when you have your first child - just a tad more complicated.
And that part of you generally helps to soothe the anger and hurt when you hear some unaware person make an unthinking and inhumane remark in relation to special needs people, as so often happens in daily life.
As ever in families, it’s the women who take responsibility and deal with the emergencies and routines that are part and parcel of having a relative of special needs. After my mother passed on, my sister, Mary and cousin Aileen stepped into the breach.
And then there was Josie, a young woman who became Ann’s companion. Josie casually, but firmly, integrated Ann into the everyday life of Wexford town. I would occasionally accompany them downtown to “do the messages.”
How many people smiled and bade Ann a good day or stopped to engage them in conversation; for people with special needs often bring forth a special kind of love and compassion.
Ann loved wine. As my father used to say, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Nothing pleased her more than to drink a glass or two and sing along to a Joe Dolan cassette. She loved Joe’s big-hearted songs.
She liked Black 47 too but the music tended to “make her rowdy.” And so it was saved for special occasions, with no alcohol - probably, a first in the annals of this band.
Her other love was Turkish Delight. And during her funeral mass, a small bottle of red wine and a bar of Fry’s were on hand for the Offertory. All that was missing was a Joe Dolan heart-stopper.
Everyone has a part to play in life. If Ann’s was to bring out love in those around her, then this special person succeeded in a way that the rest of us can only aspire to.
Hers was the first generation of Irish people with that condition to be fully accepted into the community. Up until then families tended to shelter them for fear of ridicule or out of guilt and shame.
Two people changed all that in Wexford - President John Kennedy who had his photo taken shaking hands with a Downs Syndrome boy. My mother treasured that picture. If the most powerful man in the world could socialize with someone like Ann, then why not everyone else?
Father Tony Scallan had an even greater impact. He was only recently home from the missions in Brazil when he took up the cause of the mentally handicapped, as we then termed people of special needs.
He combed County Wexford in an effort to identify all such people and informed parents of their rights. Then he badgered local and national authorities to establish homes where people like Ann could live full lives, and workshops where they might develop useful skills.
There is a sadness when a close family relative has special needs. One is always faced with the great “what if?” But that is often balanced by the particular love that such people engender.
My mother’s love was fierce. Her main goal in life was that Ann always be provided for and never be a burden on anyone outside the family.
Ann’s birth changed her. Before that she had explored other religions and beliefs but soon thereafter found solace in Catholicism. Though still liberal in attitude, she needed the stability of strict beliefs to deal with the doubts and uncertainties that became her everyday lot.
There is a humbling element that comes with having a family member of special needs - a sense that something has been visited on you that is very much beyond your expectations and, sometimes, your capabilities.
But though there is inevitable regret there is also growth; for you have to deal with a situation that is beyond yourself, and you must of necessity become a bigger person than you thought possible.
You also gain a community. At Christmas parties in “Ann’s house” we gathered with the parents and siblings of the other occupants – people that in the normal scope of things you might have little in common with.
But within our particular cocoon we could relax, for we were dealing with the same intractable problem and cherishing the same small victories. A part of you had opened that you never knew you possessed – it’s quite similar to the feeling you experience when you have your first child - just a tad more complicated.
And that part of you generally helps to soothe the anger and hurt when you hear some unaware person make an unthinking and inhumane remark in relation to special needs people, as so often happens in daily life.
As ever in families, it’s the women who take responsibility and deal with the emergencies and routines that are part and parcel of having a relative of special needs. After my mother passed on, my sister, Mary and cousin Aileen stepped into the breach.
And then there was Josie, a young woman who became Ann’s companion. Josie casually, but firmly, integrated Ann into the everyday life of Wexford town. I would occasionally accompany them downtown to “do the messages.”
How many people smiled and bade Ann a good day or stopped to engage them in conversation; for people with special needs often bring forth a special kind of love and compassion.
Ann loved wine. As my father used to say, “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Nothing pleased her more than to drink a glass or two and sing along to a Joe Dolan cassette. She loved Joe’s big-hearted songs.
She liked Black 47 too but the music tended to “make her rowdy.” And so it was saved for special occasions, with no alcohol - probably, a first in the annals of this band.
Her other love was Turkish Delight. And during her funeral mass, a small bottle of red wine and a bar of Fry’s were on hand for the Offertory. All that was missing was a Joe Dolan heart-stopper.
Everyone has a part to play in life. If Ann’s was to bring out love in those around her, then this special person succeeded in a way that the rest of us can only aspire to.
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