NOT JUST HOT BUT SCORCHING.

Last Friday I stood in Lismore Castle garden (where I have my new job) and sweated profusely. I leaned against my hoe, the world swooning in and out of focus, the grass was too green, the sky was too blue, the sun burned itself into my retinas and bubbled my blood. This is what self inflicted torture looks like, but it was ohhh so sweet and if you call the results of sleep deprivation due to extreme bliss overload and epic Medicine taking 'torture', then I was a willing victim of it.

Thursday night was sweltering in every aspect of the word. It was, literally, sweltering, but also, it sweltered with unadulterated talent, overwhelming good fun and floor collapsingly brilliant vibes... and that was just The Medicine Sessions, what followed later only added to the meltyness of mind.. (amazing privately shared tunes, laughter and fire breathing).


The Bradley Sisters eased us all into the night with their sublime harmonies and delicate ballsyness. Despite their angelic voices, the Bradley Sausages (one of their many temporary names on the night thanks to The Ronald), hide a savageness in their songwriting, which makes for a nice juxtaposition... I swore I would never use that word on this blog, but it is actually needed here. Ray, their Cajon player and it turns out, stunning singer himself, leant a nice pace to their set made up of rhythm guitar, piano and those vocals. The girls have an easy banter on stage and are completely fearless in their delivery, drawing in a quiet respect from the audience and leaving the first half relaxed, open and spiritulised. The Bradley Sisters (and Ray) are lovely humans!

More lovely humans took to the bay window for the second half. Just by being present during their sound check, we knew this was going to be a special night and The Calvinists didn't disappoint a single head in the house! You know a band were good when, days later, people are still finding you in the street and jabbering wildly about the night, like they had been part of something legendary. Apparently, we found out, the lads even drew people out of the hotel across the road where 'The Lovely Girls' final was being held, where they listened to the
stunning racket escaping from the open windows. Everyone in the room was happy to stay crammed in despite the heat, sweating and howling and yipping and being blown away by The Calvinists' set... and what a set! If ever a band deserve to make their way in the music world and make some actual money from what they do, then it is this lot. To watch them is to watch an obvious tight friendship, musical intuitiveness and first class performance. You are hit by a wall of sound created by four part harmonies, driving rhythm section and complex lead, all mixed up into The Calvinists gypsy/blues/folk/rock/mountain/EasternEuropean/fruitloop/nutjob/madness genre. Apart from their songs being technically, brilliantly put together, which they are, their creations are also lyrically of the finest, only added to by their performed delivery. You could hate this lot for all their talent if you were so inclined, but the fact that the lad's are all so fecking sound, means you'd be a complete asshole to do so.

Oh, and there was more dancing, which involved a large amount of the capacity crowd forming a circle and doing can-can moves, which did actually have the plaster shedding downstairs.. onto an American lady who was on her laptop.

There was a word for last week. EPIC.

A BIT OF SOUL AND WEATHER

Hot! It was a week that contained actual and real heat. People were walking round in shades of reds, pinks and browns. A happy swagger had crept into the muscles of Medicinners, carried by an overdose of vitamin D molecules and warm backs. The mood was goood for Thursday June 13th. All the bands turned up in good time for sound checks, audience arrived in plenty of time before kick off (one of the good things about having an intimate room, regulars know you have to be diligent to get a good seat) and so the scene was set, as the sky outside gradually blurred into pastel shades and the heat rose up from the street outside and the Medicine Room descended into a calmed hush, ready for their treatments.

Cormac O Caoimh opened the night, this being a return visit for him. He managed to perfectly usher forth the change-over between hot day to balmy night with his ever so gently voice, a skillful guitar picking, plucking and strumming. Cormac seems to epitomise calm, his songs speaking of the quieter things in life, the small questions that creep into your thoughts whilst dreaming. Even his more fiercely approached songs, which see him wield a hollow body electric, are born of an easy going frustration. Cormac's set is just a delight to settle into and if you let the easy goingness of it wrap you up, you will be thoroughly chilled by the end of it.

After Cormac, local poet Alan Murphy took the chance to recite a few of his poems, it was unfortunate that most of the room had left for pint refreshing and cigarettes, now in the routine of having a break after the first act. People are almost too easy to train!

After the break, the weather broke. A Good Rain was falling.. well, not so much falling, but rising, or perhaps were the risers, creators of musical weather. What a storm they made! Four people, three with glasses, created such a rich tapestry of sound that at times it felt the room was filled with at least four more musicians. Percussion, rhythm guitar, cello and sometimes four part harmony, with two main leads, singing songs that are lyrically rich and musically lustrous, The Good Rain were just ace! Each band member played their part fully involved and with meaning and enjoyment and the friendship between the individuals was evident in secret nods and smiles and winks. It's always great fun to see musicians experiment with their instruments, something that The Good Rain seem particularly adept at. Front man Klaus, at one point using a cello bow on his guitar to create a noise not unlike a singing bowl and Leah the Cellist plucked, scraped and plonked her Cello, not to mention the delivery by The Good Rain percussionist, who swapped between Cajun, cymbals, shakers, tambourines and djembe, sometimes in the same song!

All in all, another great night to chalk on the long list of great nights of The Medicine Sessions

Until next time Medicinners! Cheers!

VITA & THE ART CRIMES BAND

Yin and Yang. My brother got a tattoo of the symbol on his arm when he was younger, back in the eighties. I thought it was the coolest thing EVER. Of course now, the double tadpole has become much over-used, adorning teenager's dope boxes, crustie's handbags, and posters in trippy Ibiza neons full of predictable hippy iconography... anyway, my brother was very much into Judo at the time, which involved a lot of that martial art philosophy, zen-like states, harnessing your own power to over power your opponent, be quiet in your mind so that you may be loud in your intent etc etc. Back then, he would shut himself in the garage and do meditative things and reflect on the nature of the yin & yang. The duality of being.

So last Thursday was like that. It was like we were all inside the mind of a martial artist, meditating, struggling with his own duality, trying to be completely 'middle way' but slipping from one extreme thought process to another, but ending up his meditation by being rewarded none the less for the experience and feeling rejuvenated.

VITA has played The Medicine Sessions now a few times and has a strong fan base earned by now, he has some strong support of his dark, experimentally inclined, stories and intense delivery and true to his talented form, he performed like a shaman, channelling dead hunters, heroin addicts, alcoholic beat poets who never knew fame, scurvy ridden sailors from the Atlantic Ocean and ethereal middle-men from houses of ill-repute. It is true, one person left the room in disgust, but given he was twenty or so Fosters beers worse for wear, I think that was because he couldn't handle the images that were being created in his head, he stumbled away muttering before almost falling head first down the stairs. Those of us out on the landing ignored him and turned back to be engulfed by the dark matter being invoked from the Universe inside and revelled in every last molecule.
So, here was the Yin. The dark place, the bit of the night that brought us into our own heads to contemplate and challenge ourselves and the nature of sound. Here was the Yin master, sat before us with a grimace and snarl, creating intimidating soundscapes complete with mountain ranges, dark City streets and the characters you might find living in them.

The Yang then, arrived after the break. All six of them. The Art Crimes Band were already in full swing when I returned from puffing on my cigarette. I ascended the stairs to a wall of sound which cascaded from the room like a joyous, Caribbean festival. The room again was so jammed with people that I had to huddle on the landing and peek in, to see the band as they summoned in everything that was light and shiny and joyful and lovely. Metaphorical glitter and confetti rained down in soundwave form upon the Medicine Room with each beat of the Cajun, exuberant strum on the guitar, funk of bass,  smooth squanch of the saxophones (two of them) and sexy lilt of lady vocal. The room was ready to party, hold hands, dance down the street, kiss, copulate in a youthful manner, sunbathe on glorious beaches, reminisce about every good day, remember the sweet touches of past loves, the laughter of childhood and plant a million acres of scented wildflowers. The Art Crimes Band enjoy what they do and perform with smiles all round, shimmies and knowing nods and winks to each other.

So you see, true to The Medicine Sessions philosophy, of keeping everything eclectic,
Thursday 9th May, may well have been one of the best nights of duality we've had. Each act delivering their art seamlessly, with genuine talent and intent. Credit goes to The Medicine audience, who show how open and supportive they are to the material. The fact that both bands had a full house to play to, makes me proud to be involved in organising The Medicine Sessions.

YEARNING FORNOFF SYNDROME

I recently had a discussion with someone about the lengths you should go to as an organiser to facilitate performers. I had just told them I was going to to pick up a poet from the nearest bus stop 30 minutes away and that a friend of mine had offered to put them up for the night and drop them back the next morning. “Are you mad!?” was the response, “nobody would do that for you!”. Maybe not, but then I’ve never asked anyone to. I’d like to think someone would, in the spirit of fair treatment and genuine artistic support, help out if needed. If not, then why not? Because it would cost them time, effort and petrol money, a bit of food and 6 scoops of coffee? Have these things become so coveted in modern day Ireland that the old Celtic philosophy of the welcome has been lost? As far as I’m concerned, if you can’t offer to pay a performer in actual monetary units for their time, effort, and talent, then you should at least repay in kind, however that may manifest itself. 


So, the scene was set. One gifted poet was installed in Lismore for the night, ready for her spot at The Sessions. Erin Fornoff, Daughter of Appalachia, regular of the Dublin spoken word scene, including Brownbread Mixtape, The Monday Echo, et al and dab hand of the festivals too, with Electric Picnic already under her belt and with a spot at Glastonbury looming this year. Why would you not put yourself out for such a lady? Erin is spell binding, genuinely. With a warm honey voice and heart-felt gestures on stage, her poetry is rooted in the earth of American characters, the lost and the brazen souled. Although only gracing the stage for too short a while, Erin managed to tease out tears, goosebumps, reflective sighs and quiet revery. Not a shabby exchange for the spin and a lodging house!

Yearning Curve opened the night, winding their strangely eclectic mix of tunes which moved everywhere from soft jazz, mild country and electro-pop that could have been scooped straight out of the eighties. The duo (sometimes four piece) have a charming stage presence, Bairbre, the lead, self doubting herself on the guitar, but playing more than adequately along with her electric guitar and keyboard wielding band mate and singing their quirky songs with a beautiful, pure folk voice which suits their various genres well. 

Goldfish Syndrome returned to The Medicine Sessions too, performing some new material from their soon to be released album. You will not meet a nicer gaggle of lads, hard working and serious about their music, but with a sense of fun firmly secured in their performance. The lads are tight, both in their delivery and their friendship and their songs are well constructed pieces of gold, which contain the right amount of earworm magic, melody wise, to make the songs memorable. James, the front man, is well able to drum up even the smallest crowd into a roomful of hand-clapping teenagers, roaring along to the Goldfish Syndrome brand of rockpop. 


 Each performer landed themselves a deep pocketful of shrapnel by the end of the night, kind donations from the audience and added their atmosphere’s to the thickening mojo of The Medicine Room. Thanks to all the guys for travelling to perform for us and to Medicine go’ers Matt Tull and Áine Davis for helping out Erin Fornoff and sharing the Medicine philosophy. 

THE ÁINE DUFFY & THE GRUNTS

A dark and misty twelve months ago, I first read 'Just Kids', an autobiographical account of life in The Chelsea Hotel heyday, written by Patti Smith. The book made me want to go back in time to a place where characters existed, music pumped out of every venue, be it a hotel room or a lush cafe. Where artists mingled with their fans and became willing audience members in a circle of support and community. Of course, this is the 21st Century and 'progress' means that the spontaneity of such an existence could never happen, because, the sharing of joints is illegal, the playing of music too loud and at a late hour is illegal, because drinking past a certain time is illegal, smoking inside is illegal, hanging about on the street in large numbers is illegal, cramming too many people into a room is illegal, wearing no shoes carries an EU regulation.. the playing of music in a public place needs a license!  So what do we do? How do we create something that just about lays within all the laws, yet still retains some genuine character? What can we do to create a vibe that boosts the preacher and the congregation?.. We create The Medicine Sessions, that's what we do. Holy crapola! But hasn't it been going for a whole year now, without even faltering! Even in worry-some moments, like bands or audience turning up late, the night inevitably takes on its own life and hurtles its charisma into the essence of everyone in the room and even leaks from the windows, luring people into the bar below just by its being there!

When you have performers like we had last week, it really is no wonder that the village comes flocking! Áine Duffy returned to grace the stage, casually perched on a high stool, weaving her blues creations into the souls of the minions. Sparse electric guitar, played with the ease of an old bluesman accompanied her ballsy voice, which swam easily between low and high, loud and soft in a swaying delta'esque breeze. Humour touches Áine's performance too, from her bizarre mash-up of fleetwood mac/metallica/beyoncé, to her pure Cork banter between songs, she takes an easy seat as a performer, naturally portraying herself with power and surety, without the need for big ego, even drumming the crowd up to accompany her in a rendition of 'got my mojo workin' Áine Duffy is definitely worth looking up and finding live and deserves much more attention in the future.

The Grunts threw their gauntlet into the ring of Medicine firmly, three dab hands with their instruments, which comprised of the classic combination of guitar, bass, drums, voice. This band are the perfect example of the sound that can be created by such a simple format, when the songs are good, the tunes are sound and the hearts are in it.. and the amps are LOUD! The Grunts stormed through their set with gusto, electric guitar squealing with just the right amount of reverby grunt, drums hard, fast and spot on and bass deep and pulsing, with a voice with just enough hint of punk fuck you about it to turn the tunes into a slice of potential insanity. Indeed, the Medicine Room engaged in its first hysterical dance session, the audience performing everything from old skool head banging, raving, interpretive robot, and po-go-ing, an example of the combination of genres The Grunts manage to touch on in their performance. It's a special thing when the ceiling of the venue threatens to shed plaster..

Yet again, another night of anything could happen (and did), sound heads, mad banter, eclectic eccentricities and genuine joy.. all without the need for a certificate of merit, or the breaking of any regulations (except that one.. but we shan't say any more about that).

THE POWER AND BATTESON IND

"Physician heal thyself". There was a bit of that going on last Thursday. The Medicine Sessions fell on Valentines night, not the easiest night to find bands for, but it turned out fine in the end. We cobbled together the ever reliable Joe Power and made the decision to finally play at our own event, properly this time, plugged in, with a rehearsed set and a new Bass player. Personally, I'm not the most confident "front" member, not in the performance side of things, just in the self belief, being a long term sufferer of self doubt. After having a long run of very disheartening gigs, we gave up playing live altogether, our abilities and dare I say it, our egos, worse for wear. I've managed to resist playing to our 'home crowd' for a long time, just in case everything went tits up and I came away ready to bin all our songs and burn my guitar. Happily though, despite a few minor mistakes due to a couple of nerves, we were embraced heartily by the ever glorious Medicinners. They generously called for more and some even sang along to some of our songs. Our hearts and souls have been restored a little and the experience gave me a first hand account of the brilliant affect playing The Medicine Sessions has on a performer.

The night couldn't have opened more weirdly, with audience members starting to fill the room from 8.30 onwards, whilst we were still sound checking. A friend of ours was busy setting up a million mic's and his sound desk so that we could be recorded in live multi-track splendour. No pressure. By the time 9.30 came, the room was stuffed full and the great Joe Power launched into his history of love in verse through the Centuries, which included everything from ancient Irish dirges, Ted Hughes poetry, German Opera to Music Hall, Tom Waits and Rolling Stones. Joe inhabits his characters to the full and is a showman in every sense of the word, grabbing props from around the stage (a chair used as a jail, the microphone used as a lover). He works the space, using every square inch to sit, stand, wobble, gurn and kneel in. He is a rare bird indeed.

The night went brilliantly all in all, the pub packed, laughter, banter and praise for all of us involved. Thanks to Joe power for opening the night so well and the Medicine audience for restoring our joy in playing live. You're the best!

I will say, it's the hardest job in the world trying to edit your own video, as I am extremely aware that we've done all the songs a million times better at home.. but anyway, I had to choose one, so this is it... as for the live recording... well, the lead fell out of the laptop somewhere in the break, so the hour long set up was all in vain... just as well really... there will be plenty more times now to catch us... now the buzz is restored.

DRIVE DIMITRY...

Sometimes things break. Sometimes they don't work. Sometimes it's an issue when that happens. But not at The Medicine Sessions. Sound checks can be interesting at the best of times, but when vital pieces of kit go wrong, a good medium sized drama happens which has the ability to create minor heroes, almost breakneck speed car journeys and the beaming grateful face of a delighted musician.

Northside drive (Jon Pearson) was the grateful musician on the receiving end of not one, but two rescues after some essential wiry things didn't work. Thanks to the bottomless pit of muso bits at Matt Tull's house though, (a local Medicinner) the night was saved. Thank feck it was, as Northside Drive created an entirely beautiful set, meandering between classical solo piano and electronic experimentation. Jon's set was split into two halves, the individual pieces of which he played back to back allowing the audience to fully submerge themselves in whatever story they decided to create for the music. I was pleased to see the entire room lapping up North Side Drive's set, with an absolute silence as we watched Jon bend over his keyboard in taut delicacy, his fingers intricately and precisely pressing out notes with obvious talent.

At the break the room dispersed for cigarettes and top ups and discussions of music and remembering. It was cold outside as we smoked, cold but good, warmed from the knowledge yet more music was to come.

Dimitry Datus played the sessions back last April when The Medicine Sessions was still finding its feet. Yet again they played a great set, not without the odd minor drama of their own. It is the measure of a band though when they can hold their hands up and draw on some heckles and join in with the banter and self deprecation, despite feeling like everything is falling apart.. which it wasn't... and didn't. The lads from Dimitry Datus are good heads, a fact which the Medicine audience saw and appreciated and thus, everything they did was embraced fully. They have a very distinctive style of rock'ish'ness with some great songs, lyrically of which are clever, witty and original. The band have the slightly unusual set up of lead guitar, bass, drums and voice and like The Police before them, make it work very well, though I'm sure Aiden might not appreciate the comparison to Sting.  All out, Dimitry Datus finished the night on a high, putting everyone in the mood for a good weekend. Job done!