Céad míle fáilte

The other night, at The Pogues show, I got talking to some guys in the audience, and they started talking about Jimmy Buffett. What his concerts were like, the atmosphere, the lifestyle, and so on. You know it: the Hawaiian shirts, the laid-back vibe, the big outdoor shows and everyone drinking margaritas. It's never been my scene, but hey, a lot of people like it, so that's fine.

But then I got thinking: isn't everyone at this Pogues show pretty much doing the same thing? We're singing along to a batch of well-worn favorites, drinking our specialty drinks (Guinness or whiskey), and more or less proclaiming to be part of some sort of special subgroup in America: Pogues Nation, or Shaneheads. The pseudo-descendants of the Irish diaspora.

And tomorrow is our big day, the day the tricolor gets pulled out and the green clothes and the mumblings of "Danny Boy" or "The Wild Rover" filter through the air.

And it's not even my day, or my group, so to speak. There might be some Irish on my dad's side of the family, but beats me if I know how much. I'm mostly Scottish and German and some English, so my predilection towards all things Celtic is pretty much a sham.


So what's the big deal with the Irish? We could all be victims of marketing. That's what Pete McCarthy struggled with in his book McCarthy's Bar. We could be swilling the Guinness at the Authentic Irish Pubs that dot the suburban landscape because that's been the latest craze, where before that it was Hawaiian tiki lounges in the 50s and 60s.

But can you adopt a lifestyle that isn't your own by rights of ancestry? Is being "Irish" in America no different than being a Parrothead? I think the millions of true Irish-Americans across the country would disagree. Those with actual families back in West Cork or Dublin or Kinsale. I wonder if they get a little cheesed off at the appropriation of a genuine ethic background, especially on St. Patrick's Day, when "everyone's a little bit Irish."

I suppose St. Patrick's Day, and the Irish experience in America, has become the shorthand version of everyone's immigrant past: poor families escape starvation and tyrannical rule to come to America, struggle, and eventually make good. Plus it involves drinking, which helps. And everyone likes a good protest song sing-a-long. So we take our own ancestral immigrant background and celebrate it on Paddy's Day.


I've been traveling to Ireland for several years now, to get myself past my original concepts of what "Irish" is and isn't. It certainly isn't corned beef and cabbage; it isn't craggy-faced old men singing "Danny Boy"; and it isn't a land made entirely of green fields and little white thatched-roof cottages.

All of that stuff is there, of course, for those that come over and want the "authentic" Irish experience. (Except the corned beef and cabbage; I've never once seen that on a menu in Ireland. I'm guessing that's a New York-Irish immigrant thing.)

For a while Ireland was, for me, the rowdy music of The Pogues; the poems of Yeats; and the Guinness in the pubs. Three things I took to immediately. But they don't exactly tell the entire story. That's why I keep going over there. I want to keep pushing past the familiar, well-trotted-out bits of what supposedly makes Ireland Ireland, and understand the place on a deeper level.

After six years of travel over there, I feel like I've just barely begun to understand the place. The stuff I used to know, like the songs and the legends and the troubled history, it's all there, and it's definitely a part of Ireland. But that's like saying that the U.S. is nothing but bluegrass and John Henry and robber barons.

It still intrigues me endlessly. The more I know, the more I want to know. And I know I'm not alone in that sentiment, considering the massive amount of attention paid to Ireland and Irish culture here in America. But if my fascination were merely a Parrothead-style appreciation for whiskey and The Chieftains, that wouldn't do the place and the people proper justice.

It's more than that. What that is, I don't quite know, but I love this long, slow process of finding out.

Happy Paddy's Day, everyone.

Pogue Mahone

Tomorrow I get to spend the night with The Pogues.

And I'll get to hang with the man some call Duder, whom I have not seen in some time.

Because I'm busier than Uncle's Night in a whore house.

I didn't make up that line. I think David Lynch did.

But yeah, I'm busy. Was dating this cool girl, but I don't even have the time to be a proper Dating Man. Too much to do.

The play, it's all about the play....


A quick aside:

Please America, don't pick Hillary Clinton. I don't think she's a ball-busting bitch, but I just want to move this country forward. I fear that electing Senator Clinton will be an acquiescence to Machine Politics and another decade of divisional politics.

And I don't want to see the presidents listed as Bush Clinton Bush Clinton in my textbooks. It's a bit too War of the Roses.

Someone else used that phrase, but I can't remember. So credit to whomever.


Been thinking about summer. About theatre, and travel. I'm looking forward to both, of course.

Check the tickets to Dublin about once a week, and get my heart broken a bit every time. So very, very expensive this year. What happened? Fuel prices? Falling dollar?

While it has been expensive, it has always been worth it. A week or so in Dublin, Galway, or Sligo. Trains and pints and some good friends. Budget tells me that it isn't a good idea to go this summer, but I keep holding out for the financial miracle.


I like Irish things.

She Can Sing Like a Bird in a Cage

In Which I Present in Great Detail the Stuff I Listened To in the Year 2007; Wherein I List Certain Songs, Albums, or Concerts That Mattered to Me This Year; And Where I Ponder Whether Or Not I Still Pay Attention to New Music

The first fact is a cause for concern: I only saw one concert this year. The Pogues in March at the Congress Theatre.

Seriously?

No, wait. I saw Camera Obscura in February.

Still, only two concerts. Damn.

That's important, though. My mind and spending money was elsewhere this year, but that's for another post.

Okay, here's the list, making its triumphant return after taking a year off in 2006. (The winners were Belle and Sebastian and Mates of State, by the way.)


Rilo Kiley: Under the Blacklight

It might be their best album, but I don't listen to it all that much. Maybe because it makes me feel horribly dirty after I finish it. It's all random sex and skanky L.A.

The Darjeeling Limited Soundtrack

Yes, I liked the movie. And yes, I got the soundtrack. Which I like a lot. I accept my position as one of the Anderson Faithful. He is Mighty.

LCD Soundsystem: Sound of Silver

I didn't spend a lot of the year listening to new music (mostly a lot of Bob Dylan and Wagner opera, to be honest.) The albums assembled for my 2007 faves are mostly the latest offerings of bands I got into several years ago. The last time I found a new band that I went ape-shit for was Mates of State, a couple of years ago.

At least I made the decision to buy Sound of Silver, because "All My Friends" kicks fucking ass, to paraphrase Barry at Championship Vinyl. Best single I heard all year.

Paul McCartney: Memory Almost Full

I struggle with my belief in Paul McCartney like some people struggle with whether or not there's a Jesus. Over lunch on Sunday I spent a good twenty minutes discussing with my friend Eric whether or not Paul should have messed around with Let it Be.

But anyway, Paul put out a new album this year, right after a fairly decent one the year before. So he's kind of on a roll. A few songs are kind of bleah, but a good chunk of 'em are some of the best stuff I've heard Paul do in a long, long time. (The folky stomp of "Dance Tonight", for one.)

There's still the sappy, needy Paul, who wants to forever escape from Lennon's long shadow, and there's also the Paul that drags out John's name every time he starts talking about how "this album was written like me and John used to write!" And of course there's "Ebony and Ivory."

But then there's "Here, There, and Everywhere", "Jet", and now "Vintage Clothes." And that early frenetic-Little Richard-howling-mad energy that seemed to possess him until '65 or so. That has to count for something.

It was freezing outside while I loaded the students onto the bus, and to keep warm, and to entertain the kids, I belted out "She Came In Through the Bathroom Window" at the top of my lungs like some crazed evangelist. I still believe in Beatles.

The New Pornographers: Challengers

It's great. They're always great. The Dan Bejar songs are brilliant. Neko is a sexy force of nature. But that's about all you can say about Challengers. Still, a good New Pornos album is 99% better than anything else out there.

The Shins: Wincing the Night Away

Predictably indie brilliance. Does that make sense? "Turn on Me" was lovely, and they were great on Saturday Night Live. A band I have yet to see live.

Wilco: Sky Blue Sky

Some lovely tunes on here, and I understand why Tweedy wanted to write some really nice songs for a change, but it really drags in the middle. If it wasn't for "Impossible Germany" and "What Light" this would have been kind of a shitty record. I spent more time listening to the live tracks from Sunken Treasure.

Radiohead: In Rainbows

This past summer I directed an original adaptation of Julius Caesar. I tried to merge Shakespeare and Hail to the Thief, and it more or less succeeded, because both were about power, corruption, and lies (a quick nod to New Order, which also played a part in the production.) For the longest time I couldn't wrap my head around Thief properly, not like I had with The Bends or Kid A (still their best album.) But it all fell into place perfectly while I was working on that show.

In Rainbows is another great album, but once again I don't think I have it quite figured out yet, and that's what's great about Radiohead: they're so far ahead of everything else out there, it sometimes takes a few years to digest it all and catch up to what they're doing.

The Arcade Fire: Neon Bible

I didn't really get what the big deal was about The Arcade Fire when I bought Funeral a while back. Heard they were good live, the album had a few bright spots, but overall.....eh?

Then I bought Neon Bible and I became a convert. After a bunch of decent half-albums from the old standbys, this was the only album that I really, truly cared about this year. "Antichrist Television Blues" makes me pee my pants it's so good.

Good Music That Made Me Say Meh: Or, Gee, That Wasn't As Great As I Thought It Would Be

Modest Mouse: We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank

More of the same. I haven't heard anything truly outstanding by them since most of the stuff from The Moon and Antarctica.

Bruce Springsteen: Magic

I'm not sure why people thought this was so brilliant. I still stand by Devils and Dust as the better album. And the Seeger album was fun, and different, at least. Magic is growing on me, though, so we'll see.

Feist: The Reminder

Well, it's kind of good, but because of the iPod commercial and fucking Grey's Anatomy I can't associate the songs with anything else.

Album That I'm Sure I'll Love Because I Got All the Rest, But For Some Reason I Haven't Gotten Around to Purchasing

The White Stripes: Icky Thump

But the fact that I haven't bought it yet says something, doesn't it...?



So there was, what--one album that I really got into this year? That can't be right. There was plenty of music that really got to me this year, but a lot of it didn't come from the year 2007. Right now I'm listening to Bob Dylan's Bringing It All Back Home, and there's this song on there called "She Belongs to Me," and I have to admit--I've never heard that song before. Or at least I never noticed it before.

And it's brilliant. It's so good, and it's like hearing a Dylan I never knew before. I had that moment a couple of years ago when I heard "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues" for the first time. I was at rehearsal, and Brems was playing some music, and the song just jumped out over whatever I was doing, and I was like, "Jesus, I never heard that one before."

I would have, had I gotten around to buying Highway 61 Revisited. But I hadn't.

You see, I hold Dylan back a bit. I could have gone out and bought all the essentials a while back when I really started getting into him, but I held off, just buying an album here and there, every year or so. I want there to still be surprises left in a guy like Dylan.

I do the same with The Beatles. That's what The White Album, or A Hard Day's Night is for me: that last bit that I don't quite know backwards and forwards, the stuff that'll still sound new to me.

Nick Hornby had it right when he talked about that moment when you hear a song by an artist that hasn't been played to death on classic rock stations:

If you can hear Dylan and The Beatles being unmistakenly themselves at their peak--but unmistakenly themselves in a way we haven't heard a thousand, a million times before--then suddenly you get a small but thrilling flash of their spirit, and it's as close as we'll ever get, those of us born in the wrong time, to know what it must have been like to have those great records burst out of the radio at you when you weren't expecting them, or anything like them.

from Songbook.

Walkers

My head hurts a little, and my vision is blurry, but it's just a hangover from too much celebrating last night. Feel like writing a bit so I'll try and catch everyone up.

Not going to write about what's going on at work yet; I'm in the middle of Deciding something and would prefer to just let the thoughts stay in my head a bit longer before laying them all out. It'll all turn out well, though, and I'm okay with where it's going.

Last night I drank wine with beautiful people and indulged Duder's growing obsession with The Pogues, and then I dropped by for a couple glasses of rum with some of the boys and discussed many things relating to this show and we probably also were wiseacres at some point, but that's a bit fuzzy.



There were these two guys walking in the halls of my school yesterday. Late middle-age, shorts, big backpacks, weathered skin. Walking sticks. I immediately liked them. They were a grandpa and an uncle of a 5th grade girl and they were giving a presentation on The Appalachian Trail to her class. We talked about the trail for a couple of minutes, and Bryson's book, which is what everyone does I suppose, when talking about the trail.

Weather was overcast and drizzly, temperatures cool but comfortable yesterday. I loved it, while everyone else looked forward to their warm spring break destinations. For me, that's good walking weather, and although I haven't looked out the window yet, I'm hoping it's about the same today, because I'm going to make me a quick breakfast of eggs and hangover cure-all, take a shower, and go for a long walk in the bare, mucky woods.

Ides of March

Started to write something about job frustrations and recent developments with said job that would explain the whole "something didn't happen that I thought would happen" comment, but then I realized I was repeating myself.

Go back and read the March archives from the past couple of years and you'll read more or less the same thing: restless guy who doesn't like his new job talks about travel and Ireland and the inability to change. Good thing about this blog is that I can now go back and realize that I'm just saying the same shit over and over again.

So my Ides of March pledge to you is to shut the fuck up about all of this. I'll get it figured out sooner or later and let you know how things go, but I'll spare you any more posts about me not making up my damn mind.

Meanwhile, Shane MacGowan broke his foot the other night in Boston and The Pogues cancelled last night's show. Hope he's up and moving around in time for phoenix's show on Saturday.

Now to make plans for Saturday...

The Pogues

March 5, 2007
The Congress Theatre, Chicago

Last night The Pogues played Chicago as a complete unit for the first time in over 15 years. I had the great fortune of seeing them last year in New York over Paddy's Day weekend, but once I heard they were coming here I scooped up a couple of tickets and convinced Duder to come check 'em out.

If there's anything that Duder loves, it's big crowds and a crappy part of town. Oh yeah, and I made him stand down in front with all the big obnoxious drunk guys. The crowd itself was pretty interesting: a lot of Chicago Irish mixing with next-gen youth apparently living the 80s punk scene all over again.

Girl in a Coma opened the show, a trio of Texas girls who tore that shit up.

The band finally took the stage and it was great. I was down in the thick of it, singing along with every word and still amazed that Shane MacGowan looked pretty good, all things considering.

Set list hasn't changed much from a year ago, and well, it hasn't changed much in 15 years. Rumors of new music float around, but Shane says it might be best to stay out of the studio if they want to stay together. Fair enough, I suppose, but I hope more comes out of this than a few rounds of reunion concerts.

"Fiesta" closed the show, we ate The Greatest Burritos Ever, and headed home, grumbling about having to get up and go to work in the morning. Thankfully we kept our Guinness intake to two apiece.

Incredible show, from start to finish. It was the opening night of the tour and they sounded tight and seemed to be having a good time. Shane had trouble keeping up with some of the faster songs ("Bottle of Smoke" was a bit rough), but then they slowed things down with "A Rainy Night in Soho" and Shane proved that he can still get it done.

Here's a quick bit of video from the show: the first 60 seconds of "The Body of an American" for ThePhoenixNYC. Enjoy the show next weekend, my friend.

NOTE: Video link was showing up funny in IE. Apologies for those of you not using Firefox; I imagine the pictures sometimes are coming up a bit oversized. I only use IE at work and don't notice when things are off-kilter in different browsers. I'll work on this later and try and get it fixed.

The Pogues are Coming

Thanks to thephoenixnyc who just tipped me off about The Pogues playing NYC on St. Patrick's Day again this year. Brems and I headed to the big city last year to see 'em play Times Square and it was simply awesome.

Turns out they're playing Chicago this year as well, on March 5th and 6th. So now I sit here and try to decide what I should do: see The Pogues on my own turf, but on a Monday night, or make another weekend trip to New York and maybe meet a fellow blogger or two.

Chicago tix are already on sale so I need to act fast. $50. Damn. Good thing I got a roommate now.

I am also off to see this tonight. More to follow.

QUICK UPDATE: Looked into getting a ticket for that Paddy's Day show in New York, but it appears to have sold out already. Too bad, because a plane ticket was next to nothing. Got two tickets for March 5th at the Congress in Chicago instead. Second ticket hasn't been claimed yet, so if you're reading this and want to go, you know what to do.

The Pogues, Remastered

You can now get every single damn song The Pogues ever recorded on iTunes.

Okay, most of 'em, at least. A bunch that weren't available before. And all of the albums are now remastered.

My freshman year of college, I was playing a Pogues album. Probably Peace and Love, since that's about all I owned at that point. This guy knocks on my door. Indian guy. "Are you playing The Pogues?"

Yep.

His name is Sujit. And he has a copy of their first album, one of the ones that you can't get in the U.S. (This is back in the days of Imports, kids.) I make a taped copy of it and it lasts a year or so before getting eaten by a portable stereo back home in the shower.

I eventually found Red Roses For Me at a record shop, but it was missing three songs that I knew from Sujit's version. Apparently he had an Asian version that had bonus tracks or something.

But thanks to iTunes, after 15 years, I now have those missing tracks, plus a dozen or so new ones that I never heard before.

The Pogues fucking rock, ya'll. Yes, Donal, it's just a variation on diddle-ee-ii music, but I love that shit, because that's what created American bluegrass, and that's what my grandpa loved, and that's what my mother loved, and because that's the way these things work, that's what I love as well. That crazy drunken folk music that people sing in the corner together and understand their present and their past all at the same time.