This past saturday, Spriggan played an early morning (for us, at any rate) set at the Holy Spirit Fall Festival. It went reasonably well, despite the fact that I was a bit late (sure, we started on time, but I'd arrived with moments to spare - thus I was late). It's Irish time, what? Usually (and never mind how I may have been in the past, eh?), I arrive to a show with more than enough time to sort myself out. I was due a rake in the face, I suppose.
The set went well enough, all things considered. The weather was fantastic. When we played this festival last year, it pissed, pelted, and gushed with rain, and the tarpaulin over the stage leaked. We and our cables were dodging puddles that crept round behind us. Fortunately, nothing blew or shocked any of us to death. That would have been inconvenient, to say the very least. So, we'd grand weather and a reasonably responsive audience (it was a bit early yet). I did lob a cipín during a tune set, but I covered for it well. I did banjax an arrangement to a song...and I'm still not entirely sure of it. So that'll need a bit of work. It's odd - this is one of our standards, we've had it on the playlist for at least a year now. The arrangement stood, made a little bow, and walked out of my head. What do you do? It happens. To everybody, yes. Regardless of how many times it's been practised.
There, have I made my point? Should I sharpen it a bit?
Moving along...The bodhránaí
Later on saturday evening, we played a benefit for the O'Flaherty Irish Music Retreat
. I'd shirts made for Candace and myself to wear. One side read 'I love O'Flaherty' (only 'love' was actually a heart - I don't know how to make that symbol in html; you'll have to imagine it), and the other side read 'Irish babes drinking team'. They served a multipartite purpose, the shirts: to make people ogle Candace and myself (although she's never lacking in favourable notice); to draw attention to the retreat; to take the mickey out of this fellow
(in a kindly, jovial way).
We arrived to the pub early, and the two of us didn't change our shirts till nearly time to go on. He saw us before we saw him, so the initial expression on his face was lost, but he thought it was great fun. He snapped many photos of us; I've asked him for copies.
Again, our set went reasonably well - barring bolloxing the arrangement of the song I'd had difficulty with during the morning set. I suppose I'd set myself up for it, really. Ah well, it'll get sorted. The psychologist
drove myself and typsygypsy
to our mate's birthday soiree. He's the psychologist. We'd had quite the day, and I spent most of the party lying on a blanket in the grass under the stars. This being infinitely better craic than lying on a blanket in the grass under an elephant.
Not that his has ever happened to me. I'm sure it's happened to somebody.
We laughed, we drank, we talked of...various and sundry things - none of which I can recall now. The mixing board
Sunday was spent at the studio mixing down bits of 'Mind the Gap'. I think we've got the worst of it over, and the rest of it should breeze by. Now it's a matter of getting licences - which is what mishajames
is doing at this very moment. No lie, he's had a slow day at the office, and has spent a goodly lot of it at the Harry Fox Agency's web site.
Here's a bit of how that's going: sprigchik:
i'm for declaring a moratorium on people writing new tunes. sprigchik:
henceforth, it's forbidden.sprigchik:
never mind the 'any tradition that doesn't change dies' tossycock. sprigchik:
it creates too much of a pissing headache. sprigchik:
erm...well, i suppose we'll have to do as suggested by HFA. if we get letters back to the effect of 'why are you bothering me - go to harry fox', more's the better.Michael James:
Heh. Well, that tunes that we've recorded that either definately have a copyright or might not be in Public Domain include
The Earl's Chair
Glass of Beer
Oops forgot Paddy Fahey's No. 1
The Foggy Dew (words)
Lancashire Lads (music)
Step It Out, MaryMichael James:
Considering there are a total 38 works, I suppose that's really not too bad.sprigchik:
not really, no.
Gripping, innit?The punchline
Ooh...it's tea time. Slán.