It was too easy to take the piss, it was like being in the Gaeltacht again but without the cynicism. All these very innocent Irish speaking types sitting around a table, bright eyed and bushy tailed in a De Valera-esque way. And then the four of us - the boredom, the boredom, shouting for Class A's as a wind up and sticking on techno as an experiment in population control in a confined space. No use. This lot were not up for it. But then again who were we to define the parameters of being up for it? When all of a sudden a mandolin was produced, next an accordion, up came the flute and guitar and such a transformation I have never seen - they went mental. Whenever there is loud/live music at a party you never leave, it's a steadfast generational rule passed down from piss head to pill head.

Before you could say 'that scene from Father Ted with the inbred kid on the rock' there was yeeeeooowwws emanating from all corners and some bloke with a Mohawk stomping Riverdance to terrify Satan below. It took but minutes to convince some compadres to stall around. Was it worth it? Seeing a couple of tunes battling out the tunes on traditional instruments, and others giving heart tearing renditions of 'Ireland independent and free' type hymns had me as startled and entertained as I've been in quite awhile. Bizarre. Bizarre. Bizarre. And they seemed so quite. Fuck knows what the neighbours thought was going on.

Labels: Music, Rant, Society