Sprig sez

May. 23rd, 2008 04:41 pm
youngraven: (sprig)
On 24 May, Spriggan will be back at the Plaza Pub in Arlington for our last do before we go on hiatus. Come out, listen, and have a drink with us.

24 May 2008
8.00 PM - Midnight
The Plaza Pub
1605 New York (near Park Row Dr.)
Arlington, TX 76010

Here's a map:
Click me

If you've got a Google calendar (which I believe anybody who's got a Google account will have), you can click this link to add this event to said calendar. Brilliant.

Peace out, slán go foill, and wish Chris well on the impending birth of his daughter,

Sprig sez

Apr. 9th, 2008 12:28 pm
youngraven: (sprig)
Well, we survived the St Patrick's season, so in celebration Spriggan will be playing at the Tipperary Inn on 12 April (Saturday) from 8 till midnight. Come out, have a look at us, drink yourselves under a few tables, and buy a CD (or forty) from one of us.

Peace out, slán go foill, and eek - a spider,

youngraven: (sprig)
At the moment, I'm installed in my hotel room wandering about on the Internet. Why am I not off at the feis erm...well, being at the feis? Well, on the one hand, I'm gathering as much introvert time as I'll get before I've got to surround myself with forty thousand of my closest mates. On the other hand...I'm listening to Spriggan's new CD (sure, we haven't got an old one, but what do you do?) to check there isn't anything dodgy lurking within it.

What I mean to say is that I'm having a listen to the product itself. 'Cos it's pressed and boxed and it's all of it here. In fact, most of it's stacked behind me, but what this means is that our CD, Mind the Gap, is out. We're selling them here at Irish Fest, so consider that not a subtle at all hint to go and buy one. And should it come to pass that you'll not be coming out, well you know where to find me, don't you? :D

So, at the moment, I'm listening to myself sing at me (lo, a catastrophe of pronouns - I think I'll use that phrase to describe the way I speak henceforth), and it's a bit eerie. I mean, I'm here, right? I can see my own self reflected back at me in the mirror over the desk (pauses to check - I've not disappeared, no) and yet I'm wafting out into the aether from my wee Macintosh speakers. I mean, I'm by no means a large woman, but I'm not small enough to have been shoved into a laptop.

At any rate, it looks fucking fantastic. This is actually quite a feat for me to be saying that. I laid out the cover and sleeve art myself - and I never compliment anything that I've done. I don't. Call it neurosis, call it false modesty, call it Gregory (I've got to find another joke, I'm half sick of that one). Call it superstition. I trip over that one every frigging time. There's a part of me says 'who are you to say anything that you yourself have made is grand' and another part which wails 'aaaaah, don't say that - you'll die in a fiery crash'. 'Cos the gods, saints, fairies, Goblins of Wrath!!1raaaar can't abide a cocksure mortal.

You'll have to prise my point out of that one with a fucking steel rod. :D One had a bit of a late night, one did. I think I've learnt that if I'm to be playing seisiunna when I'm effectively dead on my feet, I should at least have the good graces to do it pissed. 'Cos then I've got an excuse for the odd dodgy rhythm and the missing of my fucking bodhran. How can that be? I ask you this? Alright, so she's a smaller one than is the favoured size of the day (my one is a 14 and most players these days go for a 15), but still - hallo? Surface area! And a bodhran isn't a fucking dart board (now then, before you're tempted to Make That Joke...) - were it one, I'd understand. At any rate, there were at least three times in which I missed striking my drum altogether and another in which (and I'd broken my usual rule of not playing in on tunes I don't know if I can't lilt them to myself after the first time through) I wandered away in my head and away from the beat. Such that I 'came to' in the midst of it and had to stop.

'Ah, shite,' says I.
'HahahahahHA!!11!!11' says my bodhran maker mate whose playing trumps mine 4000505056,666054004 to one. 'I hate it when that happens to me.'
'Good morning,' I riposte.

My head wasn't immediately hacked from my shoulders, but I suppose it remains to be seen whether I'm allowed into any of the faster seisiunna tonight. :D If I drink first, it'll all be grand.

And you know, whilst I'm killing time and babbling about bodhranai... I think he's grand, truly, my bodhran maker friend. One never knows what he'll say, which always ushers in an element of chaos - but what of that, really? However, of recent he's become rather vocally against the rule that there should never be more than one bodhranai playing at once. He wants us all hammering away at our poor little goats (or kangaroos, if you would) at once. In a large seisiun, this is no worries, 'cos the people at the other end of the room will only ever hear one of us at a time at any rate. So all we need do to avoid it all becoming so much roar is to stagger ourselves throughout the room. I think last night at the height of the seisiun we'd thirty players - four of them bodhranai. That can be managed without undue rufflings of feathers. What's my point here? Hang on...right. Here's what vexes me a bit: there are times in which I'd rather listen to what the other bodhranai are doing, to what the melody players are doing ('cos I do now play something of a melody instrument, and bedamn I will do it well someday - which means I've got to actually fucking do it, dunnit?). So what does he do when I drop out and watch? He bawls at me to play in. Once at a Gilligans seisiun, I'd stepped away from the circle to chat with my parents (who'd come for the craic - likeyado), and he nearly frogmarched me back into the fray.

I suppose on some level I'm flattered, but how can I nick licks (which is amusing to say quickly) off him when I'm tied up with paying attention to what I'm doing, what he's doing (so that I'll not clash), and what everybody else is doing? We've agreed to steal from each other, for feck's sake! :D

So. Agus ta se ansin. Come out to the festival and gawk at us, would yez? :D
youngraven: (sprig)
Spriggan will be at the Tipperary Inn in Dallas.

16 February 2008
8.00 PM - Midnight
Tipperary Inn
5815 Live Oak St
Dallas TX

Spriggan's LJ Community: [livejournal.com profile] sprigganmusic

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youngraven: (Default)
...whilst at the office, I'll have a go at chasing them away with a post about the weekend (you know, before I realised I'd an ex-plant).

It was rather an involved weekend, and I came away from it wishing it had been longer and I'd time to do Nothing at All. Ah well. So we began Saturday out at the DIY shops in search of lights for the new pub and...something else. Paint swatches for it as well. Both hunting expeditions proved successful, and I've now paint to choose, and the pub's got lights in. Oh, and we've also now got pleasant little solar lights along the pavement to our door and also near to our new fence. We've been meaning to add lights to the pathway for quite awhile now, so that one's off our list of things to do. :)

After we'd shoved the lights into the ground (it was that simple, the entire project took us round half an hour - if even that), we tarted ourselves up for our friend's yearly formal soiree. We looked rather well, I think. Where I myself am concerned, that's quite a compliment coming from me. I can usually find at least one reason that I look like a boy in drag whenever I don a frock, sort of thing. Two of the other females at the do glared at me, so I'll take that to mean that I looked very much unlike a boy in drag. :D

At any rate, I had a grand time nattering with [livejournal.com profile] amalleigh, [livejournal.com profile] colourblinde, and [livejournal.com profile] turtliewings (amongst others who haven't got LJs) about various and sundry things. I even made a confession (in regards to something that happened last weekend - intriguing, I know) that sparked (I suppose that's a bit of a pun - more intriguing, I'm sure) rather a surprising conversation considering the people with whom I was speaking. I was amused, to say the least. If you really want to know all of the incriminating details, ask me privately. It's nothing earth shattering, but nothing that needs to be made public either. ;D So...good times. We stayed later than we'd planned to do, considering the next day's activity, but what do you do, eh?

So after tumbling into our beds, we woke in a hurry Sunday morning to race off to the railway station for a photo shoot. Was I late? Of course I was late. Why need you ask? Actually, I've been really grand with punctuality in recent years - it's only been in the last handful of months that I've found it difficult to arrive to a place on time. I suppose I've a lot on my mind? Sure, I wonder what that might be.../shrug/ At any rate, when I arrived, the others had already talked over a few possibilities with the photogs, so we dove straight into it.

It was a blast - despite the angry little bulldog of a man who came to shout at us towards the end of it. I'm going to write to Amtrak about him (I wish I'd got his name - it would make for a stronger letter). Sure, we were doing something foolishly dangerous in light of the information that he gave us (which conflicted starkly with what [livejournal.com profile] typsygypsy had been told when she phoned ahead to check it was alright), but he'd never a cause to be rude or belligerent, and he was both in abundance. His demeanour bordered on violent, and well...it's sort of turned me off patronising Amtrak. Which is what I intend to tell them when I write. Seriously, the man need's anger management skills. Direly.

After climbing about and risking life and limb at the railway station (I'm eager to see how the photos come out), we took Chris out for Mongolian barbecue, which was more grand fun. I've not really very many words besides 'grand', 'seriously', and 'sure' at my disposal today. So. At any rate, after that we wandered back home, and sense we'd done so very much in the morning, I'd convinced myself it was two hours later, and I fear I spent most of the rest of the day in a bit of a fog.

But...I did eat noodles.


Sprig sez

Jan. 10th, 2008 10:46 am
youngraven: (sprig)
On 12 January, Spriggan will be back at the Plaza Pub in Arlington for our first do of the new year. Come out and have a look at us - I think we've grown taller.

12 January 2008
8.00 PM - Midnight
The Plaza Pub
1605 New York (near Park Row Dr.)
Arlington, TX 76010

Here's a map:
Click me

If you've got a Google calendar (which I believe anybody who's got a Google account will have), you can click this link to add this event to said calendar. Brilliant.

Peace out, slán go foill, and beware of the penguins,
youngraven: (Boingy!)
I can't think of a title at the moment. Perhaps as I'm writing this, one will come to me that dazzles my senses, brings about world peace, and forces me to delete this entire poxy opening. O, that this thing would come to pass.

I would much rather prefer writing this entry out via my clever LJ client; however, it's banjaxed somehow and carks it whenever I try to log in. That sentence is mostly in English, yes. Speaking of things mostly in English, I found this lot today. Sure, I'm the last to have heard of it, I know. It's amazing what people will do with words.

So, it's been my intent to write about Sprig's bit at the Plaza Pub erm...a handful of days ago. It was the 3rd, I think. This is what happens when I don't write it down immediately. The night went really well - especially well for a new venue. I'm always a bit nervous going into a new venue, and especially one with an established clientele. I've got the sense that we've got to win them over and, well, that fills me with an urge to climb into my bodhran case. Who wants to lay me bets that I'll fit?

In a few ways, the place reminded me of MacHenry's (part the second), although this place has been done up a bit more. Candles would be a pleasant addition, providing people don't use them to do each other a mischief. Perhaps we'll bring a few when we we're next there (which will likely be in mid January). At any rate, there's a large square of a bar at the centre of the place billiards to the left of that, and over to the right hand side are little table and chairs. The stage is smaller than the one at O'Dwyer's (and who can remember that place anymore?) and it's oddly shaped. So Candace and myself were on the floor before the stage, and Michael and Chris were looming slightly above and behind us on the stage. It made for an interesting dynamic.

Speaking of interesting dynamics...it isn't as though we filled the place and that I found odd. 'Cos it isn't odd, we've done it before, filled a place. Only that the people seated at the aforementioned little tables were reacting to us in much the way that festival audiences do. It's entirely different from a pub audience - festival audiences sit still and remain mostly quiet - whereas pub audiences carry on with the ol agus craic and if we entertain them whilst they're at that, more's the better. I'm used to pub audiences ignoring whatsoever any of us may say into our mics, which gives us a bit of an out if something unfortunate slips past the censors.

I've mentioned that we had rather a fine turn out, yes. [livejournal.com profile] amalleigh, [livejournal.com profile] turtliewings, [livejournal.com profile] unclesiko, (my kingdom for a bleeding working LJ client - argh, sez I), [livejournal.com profile] missingworlds, [livejournal.com profile] darthcynthia, [livejournal.com profile] cgronlund, my sister, erm.... and two other ones who I know have got LJs, only whose names I can't recall*. Shite. I'd a point in mind when I began this paragraph, and it's gone right out of my head. Whoosh. So... go raibh maith agat, a chairde. We fear the gnomes (there are always gnomes - always) less when we can look out on familiar faces.

There was one. slight. mishap, and at least I had the luck that it happened towards the middle of the third set - so we were nearly done for the night. Otherwise, it would have been a drag. Whilst thoroughly entrenched in a set of reels ('cos evidently it's much like trench warfare, right?), I moved my head in the Bad Way. This happens to me - I move my head in the Bad Way, and the world falls off at an angle. That isn't actually merely a whimsical way to describe my vertigo - I do literally perceive (for a second - but it's enough) everything being tilted or warped or moving or however my eyes decide to fuck with my odd wee brain. I'd been standing (rather stiffly as I'd soon discover) with my head tilted back a bit and my eyes shut - not the best of combinations. So, I opened my eyes, the world fell off to the left a bit, and I thought 'yargh'. Unless it's rather a nasty bout, I can shake it off quickly, and no-one's ever the wiser. Only I'd adopted a posture that I'd been warned against doing in all of my nigh unto twenty years of performing, hadn't I? As I shook my head to clear it, I unlocked my knees and down I went. I never stopped playing; however, I'm reasonably sure I was actually unconscious for about a millisecond.

I do know better, yes. And this is the last time (at least it bloody better had be) that I tell this story.

I spent the rest of the night trying to clear my head.

Ooh shite. It's late, and I really don't want to end this with 'she's no fun, she fell right over'.

So, grand night, all told and...we won the hearts of the usual clientele - hurrah that. And I'm keen to go back there.

I'll write about the rest of the month tomorrow. Perhaps. ;D

Slan go foill,

* Right, youse, so if you forget where you were that night, then it was out with us. 'Cos otherwise I've likely worn out your names. ;)
youngraven: (sprig)
[livejournal.com profile] mishajames found these videos on YouTube (shot by 'ryleh') of us at CelticFest this year. I thought I'd share them round. They were all shot at our acoustic set. We didn't realise going into it that we'd have an acoustic set, and thus we were a bit startled.

Well, I was startled.

The sound quality isn't the best ever, and my bodhrán had decided to spend most of the festival in a loose and floppy state (it's rather humid in Jackson, MS - where the festival was held). Thus it sounds a bit weird.

Have a look. )

Agus ta se asin.
youngraven: (sprig)
On 1 December, Spriggan will be at the Plaza Pub in Arlington This is a relatively new pub, and the proprietor has just started having bands in to play. Since so many Irish bars in the Dallas/Ft. Worth area are Irish in name only, it's fantastic to have another pub in the vicinity that supports Celtic music. As you can guess, we're rather looking forward to our first show there. So, we're asking all of you lot to come out not only to hear us, but to show support for this new venue!

1 December 2007
8.00 PM - Midnight
The Plaza Pub
1605 New York (near Park Row Dr.)
Arlington, TX 76010

Here's a map:
Click me

If you've got a Google calendar (which I believe anybody who's got a Google account will have), you can click this link to add this event to said calendar. Fantastic, innit?

youngraven: (sprig)
Rumour has it that there's been a rumour going round that we've been accepted to NTIF for 2008.


It isn't a rumour. We received the acceptance letter this morning. We'll post back with details as soon as they come to us.

Slán go foill,
youngraven: (sprig)
In theory, I'm supposed to be erasing Lucy Liu's cleavage from a poster that's to be printed tonight. Sure, it's to that depth which I've sunk. Ah, the cleverness of me. I've seen nothing of this poster yet, and I'm beginning to believe that somebody else got booked to work on it. Not that I'm complaining, really.

'Cos in the meanwhile (as I'm pissing the rest of my day away), it gives me a chance to write about the festival a mere day after it happened rather than two bloody months.

They gave us a set on the main stage this year at CHF (I should provide youse a link - remind me to do that, eh?), and I'm content to believe it's because we're that frigging grand. We filled it, so. And it all went well. The only sort of scary moments happened when Chris's concertina made some sort of odd feedback which sounded much like a jet was about to land upon us and smash us all flat.

We laughed it off. No rocks fell, nobody died. Ha. Which reminds me that I've said nothing of Tara Road. In which one rock did fall and it did hit me square on the head. But that's another story (never mind, anyway).

So...Saturday was grand...we did our bit for the cause, I didn't blurt out something eejity or stare off into space with that horrified expression I often get when I realise that I really should be Saying Something, yet I've Got Nothing. I do this to myself, you see, I'd got it in mind that I should be something other than the small and quirky one who's likely unhinged. The trouble is, when I try for anything else, I make a pig's breakfast of it. So...I suppose this is to tell my mates (who read here) that...you're stuck with the aforementioned description. Sort of thing.

Back me up, then? 'Cos...

Right. Blah blah blah. My head is...elsewhere.

So, Saturday...running jumping climbing trees. Caught you haha flag. That sort of thing, yeh. It went really well. Sure I've said that five times by now.

We played, and then had a bit of a seisiun, and then [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and Casey played, and after that [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes and [livejournal.com profile] unclesiko and myself went off for Mexican and beer. See, there's no drink allowed at this particular festival, so by the end of it...right. Good craic, nonetheless.

Sunday also went well. We sold most of the past product that we'd brought, and got the card of a girl who'd missed out. She seemed very earnest that she be able to buy this particular one, so. She shall have it. You know, that's the thing about everything going well - I'm really tempted to leave it at that. It was grand. Hurrah. This is why I'm not a writer. Innit.

Well, cheers to everybody who came out. It really is a pleasant festival, and the rumour thus far has been that the closing numbers were good. So here's to its continuance.

Peace out, slán go foill, and eek a spider,
youngraven: (cuppa)
The priest
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
Afterwards, [livejournal.com profile] shaddowshoes drove myself and [livejournal.com profile] 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 [livejournal.com profile] 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: :)
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
Brenda Stubbert's
Cooley's Reel
Duncan Johnstone
The Earl's Chair
Glass of Beer
Golden Keyboard
Michael James: Oops forgot Paddy Fahey's No. 1
Songs include:
The Foggy Dew (words)
Lancashire Lads (music)
Step It Out, Mary
Michael 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.
youngraven: (whack-fol-lol-de-ra)
I'm finishing up the Jackson Logs - now that it's been half a month since the festival. I wonder if this is the entry in which I reveal that I hate writing? I mean, I must do; I rarely can seem to force myself to do it.

At any rate. Erm...

Right, so the last day of the festival was a bit harried at the morning, and then...we all sort of lingered about. Ooh. Gripping, eh? Actually, it was this time that I wished we'd hired a car. It would have been interesting to drive about and have a look at the city.

Our set for the day was at 10.30 in the morning. Which is mad, really - even with (most of) us behaving ourselves the night before, it was still the morning after. Oish. We played on the main stage. Behind us was a great black...cyc? Some sort of theatre thing whose name I used to know. Help me out here, [livejournal.com profile] turtliewings, please. It was black, fabric, covered the back of the stage, and it was dotted over with tiny fairy lights which changed colours.

We are magpies. All of us.


See? The lights are still distracting me. Right, at any rate...I learnt that certain songs need to remain off the play list if we haven't got the proper instrumentation for them. I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't, actually, thinking. I blame it being the Morning After. So one bit out of...however many we did that morning fell arse over tit rather gracelessly. Fortunately, nobody else seemed to care. We made up for it with the Experimental New Piece. No blood, no foul, ooh...sparkly.

Afterwards, we haulled our gear off the stage...talked with people who wandered up to get a closer look at us, and were at our leisure for the rest of the day. We wandered about the grounds, shopped for souvenirs, and drank stout. Watched a world-famous uilleann piper struggle to keep his consciousness. Had an interesting chat with one of Jackson's denizens. I hope he and we come back to the festival next year. I'd like to spend a bit more time chatting (or rather, listening politely as he and my more erudite and learned companions chat); he's had rather an involved life.

Isobel fetched the four of us who remained (the others had cars and left out earlier) to the airport, and thus began the Adventures in Air Travel portion of the day. Lesson learnt: a direct flight is preferable after a long day.

Agus ta se asin.
youngraven: (sprig)
Nicked from a message from Ken Fleming:

For those of you in the Dallas/Fort Worth Area, we will be having our annual O’Flaherty Retreat Benefit at Trinity Hall Pub this Saturday, September 29th to raise funds for the O’Flaherty Irish Music Retreat. The music is being donated by some of our area’s finest and will get underway at 6 p.m. and go until closing. There will be drawings and Trinity Hall is donating a portion of all meal sales. Admission is free. Please join us in support! Here is the schedule:

6 p.m. – Trinity Hall Session Players

7 p.m. – Shift

8 p.m. – Spriggan

9 p.m. – Jigsaw

10 p.m. – Beyond the Pale

11 p.m. – Amberhawke

12 midnight – Trinity Hall Session Players
youngraven: (sprig)
I've got all of the vigour of a dead eel today. So if this isn't entertaining, well. Sure there are ten thousand other thing one could be doing rather than whiling away the hours at reading blogs, right?

Erm...yeh. )

So, there's most of Saturday. I think the heaviness of the air stopped me creating a great many lasting memories.
youngraven: (sprig)
Sure, it's about bloody time.

Innit. )

Well, thus ends Part the First. Speaking of seisiunna...


Sep. 9th, 2007 02:05 am
youngraven: (sprig)
Well, as I wrote in my myspace blog (which is a bit awkward to say, regardless of how it's phrased), CelticFest has gone really well, I think. We had a fantastic set last night (it's early Sunday morning. I don't know why the devil I'm awake and writing journal entries, I've got to play again in nine hours. Oish), and we drew quite the crowd.

Sure, I could go on about that, but it would only be boasting and I'm not terribly good at that, so we'll leave it at 'grand'.

The festival grounds are quite lovely; it's about as large as the Celtic Heritage Festival (which we'll be playing next month - mark it down in your diaries, youse), so there wasn't a worry of getting lost or falling into a well or anything.

It's late.

I scarpered out of the seisiun when I realised that it would be best to save a bit of myself for tomorrow...today. I don't know when I am.

Erm...so, right, it's all gone very well and we're all of us having a fantastic time.
I'll have more tales to tell about it later, when the clock isn't shaking its red blinking fingers at me.
youngraven: (sprig)
So, erm...almost a fortnight ago, we went for another round in the studio.

Ha. I typed that entire sentence whilst staring up at the ceiling. Killer, innit?

Studio, yes. It went really stupidly well. I've got a list of things now that will be Left Alone till the mix down. Sure, it's a list - and it's more than two items on it. Over. The. Moon. So, in short, we're nearing completion on it all. There's a bit of tarting up left to do, but that's all there is of it: tarting up. There are no more gasp-arghs that direly need repair or It'll All Be Over.

So...right, there will be an announcement soon, and I think we've got the thing named, at last, so there's that.

And it's not 'agus ta se asin', although I'm sure that'll show up someplace. I wonder if we could convince Chris to tattoo it on himself somewhere. A sort of Irish tribal band. It's really fucking late, I think, and thus the absurdity does flow.


Oh, and lastly, Sprig will be playing at the Celtic Heritage Festival in October. There will be a real announcement about that a bit closer to the actual event. So...with that, we're booked through to November.
youngraven: (sprig)
Bob, our booking agent, told us tonight that we've been accepted to CelticFest in Jackson, MS. It takes place the weekend after Labour Day. This is the farthest we'll have ventured thus far. We've heard rather glowing things about this one from some of our seisiun mates who have played there, so when I'm actually awake and not fagged from a bit of a rough gig (speaking for myself - and more on that tomorrow), the realisation will hit me and I'll freak the fuck right out be over the moon.

Oh, and again - if any of youse find yourselves free tomorrow night, come out to the Tipperary and have a look at myself and [livejournal.com profile] typsygypsy. I think I could do with the moral support, me. :D
youngraven: (sprig)
So, [livejournal.com profile] typsygypsy is for ever making the grandest little signs for us. Am I doing anything creative at all? No. rather I'm doing this:

Sprig's playing...
3 August 2007 (Friday - holy shite, that's tonight!)
8.30pm - 12.30 am
Trinity Hall
5321 E Mockingbird Ln
Dallas, TX 75206

And the aformentioned [livejournal.com profile] typsygypsy and myself will be playing tomorrow night at the Tipperary. Speaking of which, here's what the good people at the Tipp have got to say about that:

Join us as Michelle Feldman & David Lovrien (Gallus), Gypsy Youngraven & Candace Winship (Spriggan) and John Burleson (formerly of Lost Tribe) get together for an evening of celtic music.

The Irish TIMES Band is the brainchild of Jigsaw member Ken Fleming, and its sole purpose is to combine some of the area's best talent to raise money for the Traditional Irish Music Education Society (TIMES), a non-profit organization founded by Fleming that produces the O'Flaherty Irish Music Retreat in October and other educational programs year-round.

You can still find the Tipperary Inn in its usual corner: 5815 Live Oak St, Dallas 75214

Peace out, slán go foill, and mind the gap (and I'll keep saying it, bedamn. ;))


youngraven: (Default)

April 2013

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