Smoke Trail

Smoke Trail. A one man band's , one man stand against what one man banned.

A man walks into a bar (this isn't a joke), orders a glass of Guinness, sits down with it and begins to write. It's a Wednesday, 9.30ish, and the bar is quiet. A middle aged couple and one other. The couple decide to go out for a smoke. The TV imposes 'Footballers' Wives' on the quiet bar and the man lights a cigarette. The barmaid doesn't notice - or pretends not to.

If she chooses to ask him to put out the cigarette, he will decline as politely as possible and explain that it's not personal and that it won't happen again, in this bar - the Corner House in Croom, Co. Limerick - but that yesterday and every day, since the smoking ban came into force, he has picked a pub at random and done the same thing.

He's still writing and still smoking. The couple have returned from outside. Will they notice? 'Footballer's Wives', the final episode, is riveting. Cigarette finished. No big deal. No EHOs or members of the Garda have disrupted this quiet scene. He'll finish his glass now and point out what and why he's just done what he has - and leave a calling card behind.

This happened on 10th April and when I told the barmaid she was flabbergasted, as were the couple whose main concern was that I'd be fined 3000 euro. I pointed out that I could have recollection problems, like Bertie, and that as nobody had noticed - well I'd probably get away with it, and again tomorrow - and the day after etc. and that I didn't have that kind of money and so would probably have to settle for a term of accommodation - at government expense - in a place where I would be allowed smoke. They said that they'd send me some cigarettes. The barmaid said that she wished I'd asked first. (she was very young.)

Here is a list of the places in which I've had a cigarette - or in some cases begun one and left before finishing it.

Mar. 29 The Long Point (an appropriate beginning), Whitegate, Co. Cork.

30 Jimmy's Bar, Killworth, Co. Cork

31 Stag's Head, Mallow - Cork Road, Co. Cork

Apr.1 Thatch Bar, Dromina, Co. Cork (got barred AND so did my friend who hadn't smoked - maybe they were just kidding, being the day it was).

2 Greyhound Bar, Castleisland, Co. Kerry

3 Hickey's Bar, Mount Uniake, Co. Cork

4 Montegue Hotel, near Ballybrittas, Co. Laoise

5 Batt Murphy's, Middleton, Co. Cork

6 Ulick's, Farranfore, Co. Kerry

7 The Corner House, Croom, Co. Limerick

And coming soon to a bar near you. Suggestions welcome.

How do you know when a politician is lying? - his lips move. Let's leave John Deasy out of that one and give him the 'Politician with Integrity' award.

This will be also posted on the discussion board along with a regular update and your comments.


Tom Chapin @ the Green Room Sunday 4th April

There's a kind of 'nice' that brings a person out in goosebumps and raises the hackles and brings a determined resolve not to enjoy or participate. Tom Chapin sails dangerously close to these waters and then gradually melts you down.

For a start, he's American - yeah, so's Bob Dylan and lots more besides but Tom is almost 'Little House on the Prairie' American. Too sweet to be wholesome or too wholesome to be sweet. One of my favourite songwriter/singers, another American, is Boston based Bill Morrisey. Bill asks himself, in his song, 'Amnesia',"Are my friends all hip? Do they play tenor sax? Or belt their pants round their armpits and wear plastic pen packs?". These lines sprang to mind as soon as Tom walked on stage - and he wasn't carrying a saxaphone. Think black and white movie actor Jimmy Stuart with a guitar and you're just about there.

If you don't know already, Tom had a brother, Harry, who was killed in a car crash, at the peak of his career in the early eighties. Harry is well known for songs like, 'The Cat's in the Cradle' and, one that hugely influenced my parenting, 'Flowers are Red'. Apart from folk singing, Tom has a huge body of songs for children - like ten albums. He describes them as songs for kids 'between Barney and Brittney'. He'd already played an afternoon, 'Kids' gig at the Helix. I didn't get to that but had heard one of his childrens songs on an interview on 'Rattlebag' a couple of days earlier - 'There're two kinds of seagulls, hegulls and shegulls, and hegulls like shegulls - and that's why there's seagulls'. The song goes through two kinds of lots of things - herzarrds and hizzards etc. etc. I'd mentioned this song to Donal McGuirk of the green room when I arrived - though this was billed as an 'adult' gig, and Tom was going to be singing from his folk repertoire, and some of Harry's songs.

Tom was joined on stage by Michael Mark, who played a mean bass and harmonized, as well as singing a couple of his own songs. I had travelled up from Cork with my girlfriend and her daughter who is seriously 'cool' and potentially as truculent as only twelve going on thirteen year olds can be, when things aren't going their way. From about the third or fourth song, we all relaxed and got into the show. When Tom did Harry's, 'Flowers are Red', Mike did the boy in the song and the transformation in him when he went from being the enthusiastic first day at school to the product of an unimaginative teacher was perfect.

I have never seen an autoharp being played - I was given the remains of one, picked up from a hucksters shop, years ago. Tom played his for a couple of songs and watching this was like watching a man waltzing with his 'sweetheart' and magic. Another magic moment was when Tom sang a song - not one of his own and I didn't catch the writer's name - 'American Jerusalem'. This has got to be the best September 11 song.

Half way through the second half of the show, he said that, while this was his adult show, there were people in the audience who'd come all the way from Cork to hear 'Two Kinds of Seagulls' and sang it. I still don't know who told him but I suspect it was Donal. Thanks. I suspect that in Tom's world the term 'adult show' doesn't have the connotations that is has elsewhere as none of his material would be unsuitable for children. I did find that, probably as a result of writing so much for children, that apart from a few of his own songs and Harry's and 'American Jerusalem', his melodies were very simple and without much subtlety. Great lyrics though and not a nasty bone in his body I suspect.

The Green Room is the venue at the Holiday Inn, with ex IMRO man, Donal McGuirk at the helm. Donal is one of the greatest champions of singer/songwriters I know and after 18 months of dedication there, is finally getting recognition for the venue - despite it's unlikely parentage. It's there that the IMRO writing collaborations take place and - hopefully many a future 'hit' is premiered (I'm talking about my Christmas song here - check out the journal on my website if you're reading this on musicsceneireland or check out their site if you're already on mine)

Should you go to a gig at the venue, and you should, bring your sunglasses or suffer the effects of the bar staff's 'green' shirts - which must surely contribute to their grumpiness - bordering on rudeness.

Just to digress while I'm on the point. Imagine, if you will, you've bought a CD from me and it skips. You come to tell me about it and I tell you that I'll have my expert look at it. It comes back to you and doesn't skip but you're not happy 'cause the case is covered in blackcurrant jam and chip fat. You contact me to point this out and I say, defensively, that my man is unlikely to be responsible and perhaps it was that way when you gave it to me, but that I will check it out and get back to you - but, sure, couldn't you just clean it yourself? 'Not the point' you say. I don't get back to you.

Six months later, you bump into me and remember how pissed off you were about it and you ask me why I didn't get back to you. I avoid answering that but tell you that I did check it out and that it couldn't possibly have been my 'man' as he assures me that he only uses marmalade and axle grease. Do I go up in your estimation? I think not.

What is the point of this absurd story? Well, it's metaphorical for an experience I had with one of the managers at the Holiday Inn. To spare his embarrassment, I'll just call him 'Clever T' (Ian Dury fans will have a head start on this one). Here's what did happen. Last August I drove up to Dublin, top down in my old but good Eunos Roadster (Mazda MX5). I'd treated it to a wash the day before. I like my car - though not the point of obsession.

There is an underground car park at the Holiday Inn - just as well, it's located on Pearce Street - and while I engrossed myself in co-writing sessions organized by IMRO and stayed inside for most of the four days, my car was being dripped on by something mysterious from the ceiling above the space in which I'd parked. Probably nothing to worry about but better point it out to the management and suggest they block off that space, till they fix the problem - lest a Pat Kenny lookalike from Lucan, with a black 02 Audi TT (see Good Friday in my journal) should park there for a day or two.

'Clever T' looks at the situation and says he'll send down the handyman and so I return to bar - they do good coffee - until 'Clever T' comes to tell me that it washed off fine and it was detergent dripping from the kitchen above - he also pointed out that there was no lacquer coat on my car and that anything would mark it. I'd bought it 13 months earlier and polished it once and it was, for a thirteen year old, not in bad nick - lacquer coat or not.

At a glance it looked OK in the dim light of the car park - BUT. When I pulled up in front of the hotel - I'd left my phone charger behind - the brilliant sunshine revealed that the front of the car had scouring marks in circular patterns, over half it's surface - heavier where the drips had been and in fact still showed.

For what went on from there, go back to the metaphorical story and you, with the CD, play me with the car let 'Clever T' replace me, in the story and you'll get the picture - especially if my final comment was that - anyway, your CD player was a heap of shit. Public relations?

This has been written and will hopeflly appear in a new e-zine www.musicsceneireland.com (or .ie - not sure)