Paddy Kiernan's Blog

Presque Vu

paddykiernan — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 19:03:00 +0000

I went to see A Single Man with my friend Shawna last night, in the Screen. God, I love that place. It’s been refurbished since the last time I was there, they even sell red wine now. The movie itself was really great, too. You could tell it was directed by a fashion designer; everything was very polished and stylish, and it seemed that there were impossibly pretty guys everywhere to be seen. Shawna appreciated that part a lot. We went for a quick drink in Doyle’s across the road afterward. I’d blown all my money on popcorn and Shawna was pretty broke too, so we ended up just getting two Cokes and sitting down for a few minutes. The floor staff were acting really strangely towards us, like they didn’t want us to be there. One of the guys took my glass even though I wasn’t quite finished yet. It really wasn’t pleasant, so we left. I don’t think I’ll go back to that place. I walked her back to her gaff before going home. At one stage, we were talking about actor Wil Wheaton - I couldn’t remember the name of a film he starred in with River Phoenix. I knew the title was from a song, I knew the plot was based on a story by Stephen King… I just couldn’t remember what it was called. For a second, I thought Robert DeNiro was in it, but I was thinking of another movie. It was on the tip of my tongue for half an hour at least. Then, in a fit of inspiration, I remembered – Stand By Me. What a relief.

I was in town again today, for band practice. Unfortunately, it was cancelled after I had made my way in, but things worked out for the best. The new issue of Bass Player magazine was out, so I was able to pick it up. Also, as I was walking through Temple Bar on the way to the studio to pick up my gear on the way home, I happened across a second hand record sale. I was curious to see what they had, so I popped in… And found an original 1983 Kraftwerk Tour De France 12″. I nearly died. For the sum of ten euro, it was mine.

Isn’t she beautiful? I don’t even care that I don’t really have a record player.

Have One On Me

paddykiernan — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 13:32:00 +0000

The weekend got off to a great start – I finally got my hands on the new Joanna Newsom album. I’m still working my way through it, there’s three CDs of music to listen to. The band had a gig on Saturday night, in The Pint on Eden Quay. It was the first post-recession Dublin gig we’d organised for ourselves that wasn’t in Fibber’s, and I was feeling a little nervous about the whole thing. Say what you want about Fibber’s as a venue, but there is practically a guarantee of a crowd there, which is something you can’t say for any other venue in the city. We had arranged to move gear from our studio at three o’clock to give ourselves plenty of time to set up and soundcheck before we opened the doors at half seven. Things felt almost leisurely – until we arrived at the venue to find there was an all-ages gig already happening. We were all shocked, our original plan for the afternoon was to load up at two o’clock in the afternoon to set up a PA system, and now we wouldn’t be able to start soundchecking until seven o’clock, half an hour before doors were meant to open for the show. There must have been two or three hundred kids in the place, all going apeshit; it was like being caught in a live-action episode of Skins. We cordoned off an area at the back of the room for our gear and started to load up through the crowd. Nobody would move out of our way. There was nothing to do but wait with the gear.

After three excruciating hours of listening to a bunch of teenage bands struggling with Kings of Leon covers, the room cleared and we finally got to start setting up. Things started disastrously: the house engineer was pretty inexperienced and could hardly set up the microphones. Luckily for us, we had brought our own engineer – the one and only Dave Best – who expertly fixed all the problems we were encountering. Within a few minutes, he had the stage sounding great, and I could hear everything I needed. Talk about victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. With soundcheck finished, I set up at the door to collect money from people as they came in. The place was pretty empty at this stage, and I wasn’t feeling very optimistic about attendance. Slowly, people started to drift in: one at a time, then two, then the occasional group of friends. By the time we went on to play, there was about a hundred people in the place. I was pretty pleased with the turnout, especially considering there were only a few weeks of promotion.

The gig itself was a lot of fun. We had only played our set a few times since the last gig we had, so things were every so slightly ragged, but I think there was a lot of energy onstage to make up for the lack of tightness. The crowd really got into it too. The set was over before one o’clock, and the van arrived to pick up the gear half an hour later. It was all very orderly, nothing like the end of the average night in Fibber’s. By two o’clock, I was with everyone in Thomas Read’s on Dame Street, having a non-alcoholic Erdinger in my sweat-drenched clothes. It’s nice to wind down like that after a gig, it makes the whole experience more enjoyable. By three o’clock, I was on a bus home, listening to Joanna Newsom.

Unfortunately, Sunday was a complete waste. I was so stiff after the gig that I could hardly move. I really need to do more stretching before I play from now on.

Monday was rehearsal day with the big band… We have our first gig together next month, and we’re working hard on getting a set together in time. A bunch of new charts have been coming in over the last few weeks – Don Ellis, Pat Metheny, Thad Jones… We’re also doing Kenny Wheeler‘s “Gentle Piece” from his Music For Large and Small Ensembles album, which is a favourite of mine. It’s a really nice tune, and I get an open solo at the beginning of it. Fun, fun, fun.

I had a dream last night that I had loosened one of my teeth with my tongue – it was my upper right canine. I remember very clearly. After a bit of prodding, the tooth fell out of my mouth. I tried to get someone to wire it back in, but I was told it was very painful and expensive. At some stage, I looked into a mirror and smiled, and I looked like a toothless hillbilly. I was horrified, I thought I might never be able to open my mouth again. When I woke up, there were a few seconds where I thought the dream was real.

In the Garden of Eden

paddykiernan — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 19:58:00 +0000

I had a really easy recording session for the Electric Penguins this afternoon. There was one track that needed bass before their album goes to be mastered, and I was going to do it. The only tricky part at all was a four-bar solo section that I normally improvise live. The chords are ever so slightly awkward, so I spent a few minutes at home earlier brushing up on a few ideas I had. When it was time to actually get to work, all I needed to do was plug in and play. My first complete take was the one we used, I had a slight false start at the very beginning – G♯ minor is a strange key, after all. The bass sounded great straightaway, without any EQ and with only a little analogue compression. The whole process took maybe ten minutes or so. Why can’t it all be that easy?

In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

paddykiernan — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 12:29:00 +0000

My friend Shawna’s mother is over from the States visiting for a week or so, yesterday was my first time meeting her. We had a whole day to explore the city, and Shawna was really interested in seeing the crypts of St. Michan’s Church near the Four Courts, so we headed up there; I was surprised that I had never heard of the place before. We found it easily enough, it’s the church that gives Church Street its name. We paid our four euro admission fee in a creepy little office before being met by our tour guide. There was a slightly macabre air about him, but I got the feeling that the bulk of the visitors (who seemed to be Americans) kinda enjoyed it. The tour started with a trip into one of the burial chambers under the church – it was built nine hundred years ago, before the Normans landed here. Crazy! I thought about all the things that must have happened right where I was standing. It felt very strange. There were some mummified bodies on display, and we were allowed to touch the thumb of one of them for good luck. It felt smooth, not like what I expected. The guide told us it was the remains of a crusader from eight hundred years ago. God, I hope that’s true. The tour continued into a second crypt which held the remains of some rebels from the 1798 Rising, and the death mask of Wolfe Tone. The guide told us he died by suicide in prison as he faced execution by drawing and quartering. They never taught us that in school. Talk about four euro well spent.

Hansel and Regretel

paddykiernan — Mon, 01 Mar 2010 13:14:00 +0000

I had a very cultural weekend. As part of a film festival here in Dublin, I went to see a couple of Polish films. They were both set in the communist era, which I found really interesting. The first movie – Reverse – was being shown in the new Lighthouse cinema in Smithfield; it’s a very impressive place. I was there with my friend Małgorzata and her sister Anna. It was my first time in that part of town, I think it’s the only place in the city that I had never been to before. The film was a very black comedy set in early 1950s Warsaw; the audience was howling with laughter over some scenes that you would never see in a mainstream Western film. I really enjoyed it. Afterward, the director came out for a Q and A session. A woman asked the director a question about a sex scene in the film – she was shocked that people were laughing at what she considered to be a rape. I was a shocked in turn that she thought it was a rape scene. Yeah, it was a little rough, but this was communist-era Poland – I don’t think many people were having sex by candlelight in romantic bedrooms with Sade playing in the background. So I asked the director if he thought it was a rape scene, and I explained how I thought it wasn’t. I could feel the eyes of every woman in the room burning through the back of my head. He was pretty non-committal in his response, like a real diplomat. I must have looked like such a misogynist.

We headed to The Cobblestone for pints afterward. I had heard about the place, but I had never been before. It’s a really great little pub, not sanitised like so many places you see around now. It felt like there were gorgeous girls with great haircuts at every table. They also have a very interesting selection of beer – I had a non-alcoholic Baltika.

It was my first experience with a Russian consumer product, and I have to say that I enjoyed it.

Małgorzata and I caught another Polish movie on Sunday – All That I Love. This time the scene was Poland in 1981, after the beginning of the Solidarity movement, and just before the imposition of martial law. The film revolved around the lives of a group of friends who had formed a punk band. The soundtrack was amazing, I thought it sounded completely authentic. It reminded me of my teenage years, listening to Puget Sound on my walkman.

Aquarius Records

paddykiernan — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 16:08:00 +0000

The band had a great jam on Friday night; it was our first time sitting down as a five-piece to get down to some writing. There is some interesting stuff going on, even a hint of psychedelia. There was only one disagreement, between our drummer Matt and I, over an absolutely tiny section of a riff. Everyone seemed a little shocked at how adamant I was, but I’m a creature of habit and I have a logic that I like applying to things. I suppose I’ll have to try to be a bit more flexible when it comes to such matters in the future, even though I find it very difficult.

After the jam was over, I headed up to my least favourite pub in Dublin – Whelan’s – to meet my friend Jessica who was in Dublin for one night. She brought me an amazing limited edition t-shirt designed by Justin Bartlett, black metal artist extraordinaire:

I was well impressed. Whelan’s is still as hellish as ever though. True to form, the same things seem to happen every time I go there at the weekend:

The DJ plays “Blister in the Sun” by the Violent Femmes. This is as inevitable as the sun rising. In fact, the DJ has already played it next weekend, you just haven’t heard it yet.
Some thuggish Liam Gallagher wannabes give me the eye as they walk past. Lip rings, skulls on t-shirts, any reason will do.
Any girl who I am talking to wants to dance, even though I never ever dance.

Yesterday, I headed out to Ikea with my friend Shawna again, this time to pick up some curtains and stuff for her new gaff. It was just as busy as last time. I managed to pick up some little gifts for the family: a plant and an earthenware pot for my mother’s office, a tiny little stuffed panda bear for my granny, and some Swedish meatballs for my bro. For myself, I bought some little shower puffs. It was a good day’s shopping.

This morning, I finished off the poster for the band‘s gig on the 6th of March. We only completed the lineup over the weekend, it was a big relief.

Now we just need people to come.

Jerry Fletcher

paddykiernan — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 18:59:00 +0000

There was a heated band practice last night, as Hytham, Dave and I had a discussion about the “Freeman-on-the-land” movement that H has recently become interested in. I tried doing some research, but for all the talk of birth certs signed with capital letters and admiralty law and quotes from legal dictionaries, there’s not a lot of sober information from unbiased sources available on the topic. And by “not a lot”, I mean nothing. Here’s a sample quote from one website:

What is the benefit to claiming Freeman-on-the-Land status?
You can choose to be governed by a whole stack of statutes, regulations and by-laws that you are incapable of understanding or you can choose to be free of those.
If you can’t see that benefit I can’t help you.

The Citizens Information Board (who helped me a few years ago when someone threatened to sue me) have no information:

Christ, you can’t even find anything about it on Wikipedia, although they do helpfully refer to Brehon law as “void of legal significance and of historical interest only.” Some might call this a conspiracy. Especially conspiracy theorists.

Eventually we actually got down to practicing, and things went well. We got a lot of work done on a new tune idea that had been floating around for a while. It’s pretty wild. The band have a gig in a few weeks in a new venue called The Pint, on Eden Quay. It’ll be nice to play at a decent hour for once. I have a nice poster almost ready for it, I’m really pleased with how it turned out.

When I got home, I finally finished watching Dexter. Heavy stuff. I think I got through the fourth season in four sittings, three episodes at a time. I don’t know what TV show I’ll watch next. Battlestar Galactica is looking pretty tempting, especially considering the whole series is on Blu-Ray in the next room. Decisions, decisions.

A Streetcar Named Marge

paddykiernan — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 17:19:00 +0000

It was my friend Shawna’s long-delayed housewarming last night, only a month after she moved into her new gaff in town. For me, the party started on the bus on the way in, when a horrible alcoholic homeless dude got on. There was a girl sitting alone across the aisle from me in a miniskirt, and it was with a strong sense of inevitability that I saw him lurch towards her, like a zombie in search of fresh brains. He stood only a few inches away, well within her personal space, and started mumbling stuff. She looked really uncomfortable. Now, I have been on the receiving end of unwanted attention from older guys on the bus before, so I know how horrible it can feel. So I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing, and I told him he should get back to the front of the bus. He turned to me with his horrible breath and started giving me a typically repetitive drunken spiel: “You don’t tell me what to do, I tell you what to do… So shut up. You can’t tell me what to do, I tell you…” This went on for a few minutes. Eventually, he challenged me to get off the bus and fight him. Tempting, but no thanks; I had places to be. For reasons unclear, my left hand TOUCHED his filthy coat at some stage. I could feel the germs climb on to my skin. Eventually he just moved away and sat on the steps near the front of the bus, staring at me and making comments I couldn’t hear before getting off a few stops later. My hand still felt like it had leprosy on it; all I could think about was getting to Shawna’s gaff and washing the disease away. As I got to the lift up to her apartment, what did I find? A hand sanitiser. I could have kissed it.

Sterilised and refreshed, I finally made my entrance to the party. It was pretty cool, there was a nice mix of people I knew and people I didn’t. Like the songs says, a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met. There were some explicit stories (and a re-enactment or two courtesy of yours truly), conversations about art and sex and gender, good tunes, chocolate biscuits, and Coke for non-drinkers. With the central location of the flat, I was two minutes’ walk from the Nitelink afterward. Good times.

A Small Good Thing

paddykiernan — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 23:05:00 +0000

I stopped into my friend Bren’s tea shop for a quick cuppa with Johnny on the way into practice tonight… The shop stocks a wide variety of exotic teas (about 180, actually) from all over the world, and Johnny had a pot of this strange Brazilian tea ready-made, so I had a cup or two. I’m not normally a tea drinker (it just tastes like leaves to me, obviously), but this was nice stuff. It had a sweet aftertaste, not unlike caramel. Bren mentioned that it would give me a “kick up the arse”, and like a fool I thought that he meant that it would be invigorating. Wrong. Within a few minutes, I felt like I was falling asleep; I hardly wanted to leave the tea shop. By the time I got the studio a little later I felt like I was lapsing into semi-consciousness, like that time I took Nurofen Cold and Flu a few years ago. I ended up going for a coffee to try and wake me up, but it did nothing. I could have climbed onto the little table we were sitting at and fallen asleep. I don’t know what was in that stuff.

The Dark Passenger

paddykiernan — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 21:33:00 +0000

The band played Fibber’s on Saturday night. The night followed pretty much the same routine as every other gig there: lift heavy gear, arrive early for soundcheck, wait for a few hours with nothing to do, play gig, wait for a few more hours soaked in sweat, carry more gear back to the studio through a drunken crowd, struggle to make last Nitelink home at 4 AM. There were two main differences about this show, however:

1./ The place was packed to the rafters. Probably the biggest crowd I’d played to in Fibber’s since the first Dime-ination show a few years back.
2./ This was my first metal gig with my new bass, Erin O’Connor. It was great to be able to play without my shoulder going numb. Natalie, my old Warwick six-string bass, weighs fourteen pounds. Erin weighs less than nine. She sounded pretty good too.

The gig itself was OK. My vocal mic died after the first song, but I don’t think anybody really wanted to hear me sing anyway. I felt sick as a dog afterward, though. Luckily we won’t be playing there again for a while.

Sunday was a complete waste, I woke up at around eleven or so and hardly had the energy to get out of bed for a coffee. I think I literally hung around on the computer for most of the day, only moving to watch a few episodes of Dexter. I’ve gotten as far as season 3 now, it’s getting very tense.