Gigging Festivities

Typically Saturdays for both my sister and myself don't exactly involve much more than spending our hours than portraying the creatures from 'Monsters, Inc', interpretive dancing past the waves/wrath of our father's farting or gulping cranberry juice from a wine glass whilst impersonating classy adults (please, no judging). However last Saturday July 13 it was a different agenda as we were off to the one and only Phoenix Park for some chorusing, shimmying and outdoor sweltering. Now typically a day that ends up involving buckets of sweat, multiple bruises and partial deafness is a good day and this my readers was no exception. Here's some musings from the day that made The Killers headlining event one killer day.

No sooner than the day dawned did we realise the importance of the idiom 'don't count your chickens before they hatch'. We assumed the day would have no hiccups after concurring slumber vile and securing the required bus on time (tardiness it a inheritable trait of our family). But no, once entering the bus we were greeted by this loud Scottish woman who made it her business to introduce herself to the entire commuters on the bus (this greeting was later extended to the woman parked in the toll booth on the motorway). The woman took it upon herself to play 'teacher/tour guide' for the entire day as her own three daughters were going to the concert and she was clearly going through some form of identity crisis. Therefore for the bus journey segment of the day each member of the twenty-one seated bus were subject to a lecture on the dangers of alcohol consumption and the finger pointing did extend as far back as the thirty-four year old couple stationed behind us.

The security when we reached the venue were exceptionally strict and sexist. Girls were treated to a jubilant high-five, a mild handbag search and complementary knife-sharpening kit. Whereas all thee boys were vigorously searched by the security guards, wallets ransacked (he took particular interest to my local Chinese loyalty card) and plenty of not so welcoming glaring. 

The concert was basically a dustland fairytale.
We barged our way to the front of the venue and throughout the concert there was this bizarre couple or brother/sister Spanish combo planked beside us and 'human-giraffing' the view for the fan-girls behind them. Throughout the night they mounted at the real front with their arms crossed and took it upon themselves to put their hands to their ears in disbelief whenever an act exceeded their accustomed noise level, even when the crowd cheered. Other apparitions included a group of cornflake munchers (they activated a cereal picnic in the midst of the concert), the downbeat teeth-less women settled outside the portaloos and the camera men who managed to support the crowd's high spirits almost as much as the epic weather.

Sister-occupied folk/R&B group Haim (pronounced Hime) opened the show. They were fantastically perky, energetic performers ~all the aspects the sister and myself admire about them. Danielle's face pulling and pouting was a highlight and the recent hype neighbouring them is warranted. Expect huge success for this multi-talented band. 

Two Door Cinema Club were next to grace the stage and there was a lot of hard-core fans there, so there was little apprehension that they would fail to electrify the crowd. Throughout the set-list they had everyone animated and cheerful. Their classics went down sensationally and my sister's voice was gone at this stage but she soldiered on. I was a fan of them before the gig but now you may successfully upgrade me to obsessive devotee.

Third in line was Frank Ocean, he was always a risky addition to the line-up and I'm still unclear whether or not his inclusion was a hit. His performance was more suited to a smaller, more intimate venue and his musical direction differed to that of the other three bands. The man can undoubtedly sing but his slot was all focussed on being very slick, cool and it hindered the momentum of the concert down slightly but nonetheless it was no biggie his latest album is a cracker. 'Thinking About You' and 'Lost' remain firm favourites.

The killers were last to enrich the spotlight after what seemed like a week to brace and equip the stage. They were utterly unbelievable. The set-list couldn't be faulted, it was hit after hit. The entire crowd chanted every word of every song effortlessly back to them and the buzz and build-up for those ninety minutes was epic. The lightening, Brandon's presence, the venue were all incredible and I feel in this instance less is more as I'd only leave vital memories out. All I can say is that I would gladly sell my sister if the opportunity materialized to experience them live again.
Dumb and Dumber awaiting the musical madness to kick-off. 

Summer Scorching

Here in Ireland we aren't as fortunate as our European neighbours when it comes to the weather (but hey! what we lack in sunshine we do make up for in endless caskets of tea bags). However, over the past week we've been treated to a parcel of exotic 'meteorological conditions' (my year of geography in college wasn't a complete loss), gloating Facebook statuses and several fashionable 'crocs'. Here's a batch of scenarios that always come to light (pun intended) once there is a squint of an Irish heatwave.
1. Even a minor change to the Irish climate incites the entire nation to function foolishly. If you lounge out in the sunshine for the entire day without shielding yourself with some sun-cream then logic will intrude and leave you sunburnt. Thus, don't waste your or my time weeping about it on Facebook or to your family/friends.
2. There's a glimpse of sizzling in the sky and cooking instantly ceases. ''It is salad weather'' becomes an adequate excuse for the week and you find yourself unjustly gorging on more lettuce, coleslaw and tomatoes than ever before.
3. Since the dawning of our little reclusive emerald isle the ice-breaker of every conversation has been weather related. Generally it involves criticizing the constant rainfall and persistent substandard climate but once some winsome sunshine arises (which we'd been longing for months on end) we complain about it because we are a country of professional pessimists.
4. Being the population of scroungers we are, we prioritise to salvage complete advantage out of every given opportunity. Accordingly, once the high-temperatures propel crates of family members are launched into a tractor-trailer and deported off to the nearest dreaded bog. Exactly like the scenes of slaves in a sweltering crop-field you're forced for days to foot the turf for the winter. Similarly every bed-sheet, duvet cover and table-cloth are dragged out from the house to the clothesline for this legendary 'drying weather'.
5. Every man, woman, child and dog will have received an ice-cream this week. It is simply the way we as a society operate things.
''One for everyone in the audience''.

Hometown Glory

You can tell a lot about someone based on their origins as a person's character is often defined by their home town. We moved once or twice when I was young so this ideology never really had an effect on me until the clan eventually settled at our now permanent location in the midst of the west of Ireland and although I have always despised my home-land (more importantly the people in it), I have inadvertently developed a natural attachment for the place. Indeed there is now unfortunately a pinch of red neck hillbilly tendencies strong within me. Here's a scatter of random facts about my village and the neighbourhood I love to hate. 
1. Geographical locations generally have a purpose or logic behind their title. Our village disregarded this train of thought and dubbed our parish 'Milltown' despite the fact our quarter in county Galway has never even had a mill nor knows what one is. 
2. IBaile an Mhuilinn we do proudly possess the highest ratio of civilised human beings to Muppet cast members. With more pedophiles, junkies and supernatural free-spirits inhabiting life in our rural suburbs and society than any other community.
3. My locality is astonishingly one of the crime hotspots of our entire nation. CSI: Milltown distributes more multi-million euro drug raids, helicopter chases and burglary lawsuits than a series of CrimeCall
4. Modernizing the local area suitably is just too much work and effort for the local parishioners, hence they execute their renovating rather lazily. Our main grocery store is a reconstructed sheep shed, our gratifying five star restaurant was once a nineteenth century abandoned bakery and every Christmas season we bombard aul Santa Claus off to our dwelling's infamous vacant thatch cottage stationed in a waterlogged pit behind our park. 
5. Everything in our vicinity is settled on Ireland's most dangerous, accident prone main road. There is always a disaster awaiting around the corner and no, I'm not talking about the strawberry sellers parked up on the pavement.
For Milltown folk helicopter chases are the custom in order to make mass on time. 

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