You are currently browsing the monthly archive for December, 2006.
It took Paul six months to do this poster. He came close to madness.
[w/ Pilotlight]
Really, after all the work we’ve put in, we’ve earned this gig. It brings back memories. Feels like bleeeeeding ages since we’ve done this. Whelans hasn’t changed much, though word on de street suggests that it’s gonna.
We play lots of new stuff. Yes the new album is nearly finished. It’s become like an albatross at this stage. Now it’s been so fucking long it has to be perfect. But will it ever be? Anyway, we’ve got all the tracks and we’re recording and re-recording and the impetus to do stuff is back since the new guys joined. Imagine our surprise when they didn’t want to just sit around moaning and feeling sorry for themselves. Weirdos. Anyway, crucial to doing a good gig, is not to hit Eddie Rockets an hour before stage time. Ugh
Tonight’s stand out is the Train to Balinasloe. Or the Palace, we haven’t decided what to call it. Depends who offers us the most booze, doesn’t it.. Afterwards Simon, who’s now officially dead to us (boo hoo) suggests “fuck the quiet stuff”. He may have a point. Ah well, well met, Si. It’s the beginning of a new era. Lets mark it with a disk, oh please…. PLEASE. No bother. ASAP. New record. You’ll see.
Ah DEADLY. It feels good to be back. We tart up a little bit, everyone brings their shoes and threads. Now that we’ve re-expanded into a nontet again, with the addition of Parx on parps and Alex on sax, we’re in fine fettle to blare at people and attempt swaggers. Well, we’ll try, but it’s been so long, we’re mostly cobwebs. Not Alex or Parx or indeed Mick tho.
The Roisin has changed, and how. We were down here briefly for Paul’s stag, but that has become, quite fittingly, a blur, and we’ll never really know what went on there. The stage is bigger, the venue is bigger, the entire place is bigger. You can still stand outside and peek over into the strip club, were that something you felt like doing.
It feels rusty and weird to be playing again, and kind of giddy. And it’s fucking freezing out, as per usual. But I think this goes ok. The crowd seem to like us, but then they’ve always indulged us down in Galway. Afterwards we do some bonding and someone nicks Parx’s duvet. Welcome aboard.
