Kev's Blog

Friday, November 25, 2005

Syllian Rayle - 23/11/05 - Slatterys, Capel St., Dublin

Re-emerging from a lull in high profile gigs of late, Syllian Rayle geared themselves up for a show that would leave all the critics reeling, and they delivered.

Arriving early to avoid the crowds of fans they set up their kit, always careful not to disclose the details of the set list even to the sound engineer (who'd been flown in from a break in the Rammstein tour especially for the gig) with great efficiency. They relaxed in their private room before the gig, decked out with a 50 inch flat screen TV for the Chelsea match and a few groupies.

I was talking to the lead singer, Moe, before the performance. He said that he'd been feeling a little ill coming up to the gig because he knew that it was going to change his life. Today he was in an internationally successful Metal band and life was peachy but tomorrow .... he along with Ross, Simon and Rob may be considered Gods. He discussed the possibility of vomitting on stage he felt so bad.

In the mean time, Ross was sticking to his well practised relaxation technique of drinking Carlesberg and watching Chelsea win football matches. Ross tends not to get involved watching their support bands, as this may incur unwanted influence on his own act.

Rob doesn't get stressed before gigs at all, and I think this stems from an extreme confidence in his own abilities. Whether this confidence is justified or not ... well you had to see the show to determine that for yourself. Let me say but this: He doesn't bring this laid back attitude into the performance itself.

When I first arrived at the venue I met Simon as he was making his way in the stage door. He has a great talent for slipping under the radar of the fan possie by simply dressing to appear as if he is in some local unheard of this-is-our-second-show-but-we're-great rock band, a support band if you will. This was accomplished by donning a large black raincoat and drinking a pint of milk from the carton while entering. In a nice touch as well, Simon chooses to carry his own base guitar to the gig instead of letting the roadies pack it, only reinforcing the support band image.

The atmosphere before the gig was electric, and the packed out crowd were chanting "Syllian Rayle" and "CuntFace" before the last support act even graced the stage. I left the bands room (through the studded velvet door) to joint the ruccous upstairs. The penultimate band were a good band, if only a covers band. They got the crowd warm with tunes from AC/DC, Velvet Revolver, Audioslave and Judas Priest. They left with their integrity intact.

In the darkness, while the army of roadies were performing their well choreographed routine to set up the stage, I could hear young people whisper to their freinds about legendary gigs of days past that they only heard about from their parents, and how this was sure to be a life changing event.

This intro music played ... the crowd erupted ... the band emerged ... Rob ... Moe ... Ross ... Simon (6 girls around me instantly fainted when seeing Simon) ... they opened "Dirge" up at 11 ...

...

When it was finally finished (with a final flurry from Rob and the destruction of his most impressive drum kit) I was covered in other peoples sweat and emotion. I wanted to stay forever. The lead singer, Moe, announced a previously unreleased gig on the Friday night following in a small intimate venue called Isaac Butts in Dublin. I had to get a ticket, I'd give my arms for one.

Tonight's the second gig and I have a ticket - after being a guest at the first gig, only two days later I had to pay a tout in South Africa 1,400 euro for a ticket. It promises to be even better.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Living in La Verna

I thought I should try to document what is entailed in living in a house with so much carisma as 9 Clonkeen Rd. Later on I'll go through a typical weekday and a tyipical weekend day, but first I have to introduce you to the people I live with:

Ross (Cuntface) Duffy.
Probably the most offensive person in Ireland, and if all goes his way with a lot of effort, the world. Ross enjoys the simple things in life and in many ways resembles, in actions and appearence, the Neanderthal man. His main loves are digging holes, Heavy Metal, ranting about rave, destroying everyones senses with his ass, drinking beer, not liking people and Sky Sports News. Ross is a bit of a hermit. He only leaves the house on very rare occasions, and even then at great distress. He has been spotted in Fibbers and formerly Bruxelles but recently he only strays as far as The Grove. Ross has problems not with big words, but with words in general. He tends to rename things to suit how his brain works, leaving everyone else in the dark. A normal afternoon with Ross in the house would be charachterised by porn (scat, dwarf and animal mainly), racism against everyone that isn't him (e.g. women, men, foreigners, Irish people, jocks, princesses, ravers, scumbags, homeless people, physically disabled people, mentally disabled people and the elderly). He's always the first home after work and the first to bed. He's clean (surprisingly) and is the best cook among us.

(Menstual) Moe Curtin.
The one with the dreds ... Moe's never there. Well in fairness now that Dave has moved out he's around more often. Moe either loves you or he hates you, and it can change in a flash. He probably has more fun than anyone I've ever met. The man also has the ability to stop time. He manages to get more productive stuff done in a day than I can in a month. Doesn't like sleeping alone and rarely has to. Showers once a week I think. More energy than the national grid.

Rob Jackson.
Action Jackson to anyone who's ever been to Schull. The newest member to the fraternity, Rob holds his head high, and his mind higher. Lived in Bray beforehand (we forgave him for that before he moved in (he sucked us off)) and so we know he's good with a weapon if zombies ever do attack.

A weekday in the life...
I'll describe Wednesday as it was a very typical day in my life in this house. I woke with my alarm raging at 8am after a unrestful nights sleep. I changed the alarm to go off again at 8:15, at 8:15 I changed it to go off at half 8. I got up then, put on my shower robe and went into the hall. I said "Hey" to Claire (one of the nurses who works in the house) and had a shower. After I got dressed, watched a bit of the news and went to work at about 8:50. Work was very normal that day. Got home at about 6:30pm. Ross and Rob were already home as always, Ross was drooling over football and Rob was lighting a fire. I cooked myself some spaghetti bolognese, got a bottle of Tuborg and sat in the living room with the guys. Ross was ranting about how these goddam unskilled ignorant refugees are taking all his jobs and pissing on him in the street. Ro O'Leary arrived and had a beer, while he waited for Moe to do some rehersal for Dead Girls & Boys in the garage (converted to band room). Then we watched "Hellraiser" and Ross nearly shat himself it was so good. Whelans ensued for Ro, Moe and I, the other two hate the place. Ro went home after one and Ciara arrived. Stayed there till near closing time then Moe drove home. I rolled a joint while watching some softcore porn, smoked it then went to bed. And that's the typical weekday.

A weekend day in the life...
Woke hungover, went to a play in Trinity and Ross & I left half way through to get food and watch the second half of the Ireland Austalia match in Doyles. Moved to Bankers for a few more Guinness and met Simon after the play. Simon left to do the second performance of the play. Moved to Mojo's on Henry street for some cheap pints. Went to a Japanese kareoke restaurant where red wine was poured down my throat by Grainne. Said happy birthday to Niamh and went to get some cash. Smoked a joint with two random strangers and had a chat on the street. Briefly went back to the restaurant but then headed off to Fibbers. Saw two fantastic metal bands (Itchy Trigger Finger & Speed King) for 2 euro and got very drunk. Went home.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Schull 3 - The Turning of the Clocks

It's gone for another year. Finally starting to feel slightly human again. I had a small bowl of dry noodles for dinner today, and I didn't finish lunch. Haven't finished a meal since The Return actually.

Vague memories of things I used to know well are slowly returning. When I got back and first sobered up I realised that I didn't know the words to my favourite songs, or how my favourite movies ended. I got a call from my oldest freind and didn't recognise his voice.

The clean up operation begins now, both cleaning myself and the mild trail of destruction behind me. Luckily that extractor fan went back on, but it took a lot of swearing to get it to fit again. Didn't have to wipe the Helmans mayonaise off my sheet, but that was Ross's fault though, thank God Gainne was there to save me from the full extent of Ross' rath. Fuck, the more I think about it the more I remember. The conversation I had with the localsin "Drink, Drink and more Drink" in which I described that fact that we were on a holiday to celebrate that our freind Simon was getting divorced. I did this only as a post mortem to a story I told 2 years ago, when we went there on Simon's stag. I told them how Simon was getting treated so badly even before they got married an I, unlike his other freinds, told him not to go through with it and how now, less than 2 years later, here we were ... except for Simon, who himself couldn't face it.

I told the story of Simon and Valerie going to Paris and they were appauled. Of what she did in his absence when Simon was in hospital after being in a car accident. They hated the girl and demanded more gossip. Even when I admitted that everything I'd told them was complete fiction and there was no such person as Valerie and Simon was single, they still demanded that I tell them more, to the extent that they wouldn't let me go to the next pub after my freinds had left for it. The shit we can talk sometimes.

I remember chatting to the musician in Hacketts, playing for booze (in a way I was too), about the getting barred from the pub next door because I'd taken milk out to put in my tea, then getting back in when I hugged the bouncer.

Don't remember anything from the house really, or anything on Friday night or Sunday and Saturday daytimes ... or Sunday night.

Wonder if I'll ever remember,
wonder if I'll get my keys back,
wonder if they'll bar us next year,
wonder if I'll be sober by then,
wonder if the bar girl in Hacketts will ever be my wife,
wonder if my camera will recover,
wonder if Con will ever forgive me, or if he'll ever come back,
wonder what would have happened if that wave was a bit bigger and i'd fallen off the rock into the harbour,
wonder what would have happened if Simon was down (FUCK!),
wonder if I ate during the weekend,
wonder if I'll ever meet that man in Bray.

I hope not.