Tuesday, April 24, 2007

294. Oisin at 'Chez Kao' - April 22

Down to Kao-san's for the monthly seisiún ... good craic as usual! We tried out a couple of new numbers on the crowd once we were pretty sure they were drunk enough not to notice the mistakes -- and we'd had enough in not to worry about mistakes, either! There were hardly any slip-ups, to be honest. We're getting better all the time, probably because we are playing more often together.

I think what it really comes down to in the end is knowing exactly what key to start in with for each song and getting the timing down for when the different instruments come in. It's a ferocious lot of things to remember when you're doing 20-25 songs one after the other but it gets to the point where we all know what's coming next and don't need to be thinking about it. Still, we need a clatter of new tunes and songs. There's plenty of them out there. Thank you, Ireland!! In other news, NORI-BO, the SANSHIN (samisen) player from Okinawa with the black specs and the fedora will be joining us as a guest player down in Shizuoka next week. The sound fits in well. I'm thinking of asking him to join the band as a regular. I know damn well he wants to. OK, kid, we'll give you a trial ... but it ain't that easy!!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

293. Oisín at 'Mein Schloss' - March 31st

Satoshi had set up a gig for us at the local German Beer hall, a huge place that brews its own beer -- the best beer in town. We played two good sets on Saturday, March 31st, in front of the usual weekend crowd and a whole bunch of friends who came in to cheer us on - all in all, about 200 people. It was great. Good stuff!

First Set:

1. Foggy Dew
2. Rights of Man
3. O'Neill's March
4. I'll Tell Me Ma
5. Lord Mayo's Reel
6. Si Bheag Si Mhor
7. Chicago
8. Molly Malone
9. Dunmore Lassies

Second Set:

1. Kerry Polka
2. Irish Washerwoman
3. Australia
4. Star of the County Down
5. Tabhair dom do lámh (Carolan)
6. Cooley's Reel
7. Whiskey in the Jar
8. Wild Rover
9. Dirty Old Town
10. Oro Sé

PLUS!! -- Oisín Live on YouTube

Thursday, April 05, 2007

292. Lance Corporal

There’s nothing further to be said.
Lookit, lads, I’m nearly dead.
Will I have a drop of whiskey? I will.

Ahh, God, that’s good. Simple and plain.
Down the red lane.
Tell me, lads, yer names again?

Is it Tom and Dick and Harry?
Hee-hee. Listen, never marry.
Never marry the first lass what asks yer!

That were a joke.

I do be old, decrepit and bollock
Naked under this here sheet,
Just like the Scots under their kilts.

Hee hee hee,
Cough, cough. Spit.
Where’s that bloody whiskey?

The parson went out after the battle,
Large and pious and smarmy,
And used his little officer’s cane
To flick over the kilts
On the bare dead buttocks,
To make it decent, like.

I had no time for him
When I were in the Army,
Nor his Tory religion.

We was sent to France
To fight for King and Country.
King never did bugger all for me,
And Country did fook all as well.
I went over because I were sent
And because of the lads, of course.

I’m a hundred fookin eleven, m’dear,
Here in this bleedin hospital,
Not thinking of heaven,
Not thinking of nothing much.
Been trying hard to forget
For ninety fookin year.

“Last Survivor Succumbs!”
The television crews
Want to put me on the News.
Them lousers ...
Let them suck their bleedin thumbs,
As me heart falls down me trousers.

Not that I’m wearing none
Under this sheet, like. Hee hee.
Are ye hiding that whiskey?

I have nothing to say.
I have nothing to say to that shower
Of cunning runts, what we call
The Highborn Ladies Running Team.
Hee hee. Pass over the bottle.
That were a joke in the Army.

I have nothing to say, lads.
I have nothing to say to them.
I have nothing to say to youse.

I have a lot I’d like to say
To Bert and Tich and Tommy G,
To Jimbo, to Fishface, to Bumblebee,
And to that pink-faced young Leftenant.
All killed. Killed dead ninety year ago
In front of me eyes. No surprise

Since it were war. Happened long ago.
So why can I remember their faces
And forget what happened yesterday?

Is that bottle dead? One last
Drop won’t kill me, but if it do,
I won’t be sad. I’d rather be dead
When reporters hover round me bed
Like carrion crows. God knows
I’ve been hanging on too long.

Whenever I close me eyes
I still see them grey Flanders skies,
And I can still see their faces.
They were so young. I was so young.
I want to sleep, ye young lads,
I want to sleep and wake up beside them.

It’s me, I’ll say,
No need to be afraid.
So sorry, boys,
I were slightly delayed.