by Low D Wed Mar 07, 2007 3:13 am
so here's what i wrote. if you read it, keep in mind that i was still drunk when i wrote it (been edited for typos & the worst of grammer, tho) and writing for an audience who know much less about ireland & irish history than most of you all. and if it seems a bit pie-eyed & optimistic, understand i was still feelin' the love... like, i could probably have mentioned the guy to the right of me (in a few ways, i suspect) who souted out "FUCKING WELSH!" in response to the talk about the poem by the Welsh soldier who shot Connelly. so much for the talk against sectarianism...
Rebel Music
Glasgow, Scotland; early hours of May 20 (2001).
I've just been to see the Wolfetones, a band that's been around since 1968. It's been said that if Sien Fein are the political wing of the IRA, then the Wolfetones are the musical wing of the IRA.
It was a phenomenal show, for many reasons. First of all, the place was packed (a couple thousand people), and almost everybody was wearing Celtic colours. For those who don't know, the Celtics are a Glasgow football team - that's soccer for us - who've been around for just over 100 years now. In times past (and not-so-past), the Catholic Irish were denied just about everything in Scotland - jobs, housing, etc. They were also not allowed to join the football clubs, so they started their own. While the league is no longer segregated, the fan base sure is. Like it wasn't so bad when the Celtics lost to Manchester United last week, 'cause they're also a Catholic team. But the rivalry with the Rangers, Glasgow's Protestant team, is crazy. You don't want to be found in Rangers colours in the neighbourhood that I'm staying in, that's for sure.
Why wait for the bands? The show started with football chants, as well as chants of "The I, the R, the I-R-A!" and "the brits, the brits, the brits out now!" No less than half the audience, probably more, joined in every chant. Eventually, the first band emerged. They were a marching band - drums & piccolos fronted by seven flags: the flag of the Irish Republic and the flags of the six occupied counties of Northern Ireland. The crowd sang along to many of the songs, with the usual chants in between. There were a few, Rifles of the IRA comes to mind, that near EVERYBODY knew & sang along with. Next came the band Partisan. Acoustic guitar/singer, bass, drums & penny whistle/flute. Did some of their own songs & some traditional ones, including Rising of the Moon, a favourite of mine learned from an old Clancy Brothers album. They also played Dirty Old Town, which Irish bands here play as uniformly as Stairway to Heaven was played by all the hippy wankers in my high school.
The audience was interesting. By and large, it was mostly a younger, under-35 group, decked out in their Celtic gear. A bunch of those "football hooligans" you read about in the papers, but maybe more women than you'd see at a match. But there were a number of middle-aged and older individuals, some of them deadly serious looking, and I couldn't help but wonder if some of them were former IRA members, political prisoners, or Republican activists. But the night, thus far, was definitely the hooligans show. I mean, I've never seen bands have to compete with their audience like that, just to be heard. Any quiet beginnings to songs were lost to the chanting.
That all changed when the Wolfetones - five chubby, greying old men - took the stage. On banjo, whistle/flute, mandolin, guitar and bass, with everybody singing, lead vocals rotating around the group, this group commanded respect from the crowd, and they did it without drums! It was amazing to see this boisterous, unruly crowd give a minute of silence to a Celtic hero who died last week, or quiet down to listen to Jimmy Johnston, an older football player who had been a friend of Bobby Sands, then singing Tears On My Pillow, unaccompanied, in a sweet but shaky voice. And sure, that's all football connected, so of course the crowd was rapt with attention, but there was more. Everybody shut up to listen to the banjo player recite a poem written by one of the soldiers who executed James Connolly, a hero of the 1916 Easter Uprising. This poor unfortunate Welsh boy had been conscripted into the British army to fight in World War I, and found himself on a firing squad killing an Irish man. Later, when he learned what it all meant, he had a change of heart. The poem was read as a statement against sectarianism and racism.
James Connolly, was an all-around working class hero, who was also an important actor in the Industrial Workers of the World during his time in the U$A, before he re-immigrated home to Ireland. The poem was, of course, followed by the ballad James Connolly, and I was amazed to see this crowd of drunken football fans singing every word to this 80 year old song. What, do I think only snotty North American folk music fans like me know it? Of course not, but it was just so amazing to witness how ALIVE that song still is, along with many others I know and consider obscure at home.
What a history lesson the show was, for those who didn't know or needed reminding. But I wonder who at this show would. The Wolfetones said that more volunteers came to the 1916 uprising from Glasgow than from Dublin. And it shows. This crowd was about more than the music, and I believed the band when they said it was their favourite place out of Ireland to play.
Perhaps the most memorable moment was when the entire crowd, young & old, sat down on the beer, spit and who-knows-what-else covered floor as a show of respect while one band member talked about the Irish hunger strikers, particularly the ten who died in 1981 (of whom Bobby Sands was just one). It was show of respect for the departed hunger strikers, but also - more so - for their families, who had to watch them die. It must have been almost ten minutes that people sat through the talk and the song The Ballad Of Joe McDonnell (one of the ten), not standing till the final verse & chorus.
It was telling that, of the many shirts, cds, books and other items for sale, the only thing that sold out were the scarves. In black, green & gold, they carried a picture of Bobby Sands on one side, under the words "Bobby Sands for MP" (while in prison, Sands ran for and won a seat in the British Parliament in Northern Ireland). On the other side was the slogan "Remember the ten!' with the names & dates of those hunger strikers who died in 1981. But one other item for sale is worth mentioning. It was a Wolfetones shirt, and on the back it said; "There is no truth to the rumours that the Wolfetones will be decommissioning their instruments".
The spirit of the whole thing was amazing. Despite these quieter moments, which impressed me greatly, the night was full of wild spinning around in tight groups, rowdier than many a punk show I've been to. It was like the crowds when Rage Against the Machine used to play smaller venues, except this was an acoustic band who played ballads and had no drums, so maybe it was more like the Flying Folk Army playing a much larger venue.
Had my ass pinched by one cute woman, but it was all the sweaty boys grabbing me firmly 'round the waist from behind that really got me off. The band preceded their final song with a talk about British imperialism, and imperialism all around the world in every country. They made the links, played a final song (a real crowd pleaser, it was a song they wrote for the Celtic's 100th anniversary), then left the stage. The crowd left the hall chanting and singing all the way down the street, under the watchful eye of large groups of police and horses (wonder why there'd be so many of THEM out tonight...)
so here's what i wrote. if you read it, keep in mind that i was still drunk when i wrote it (been edited for typos & the worst of grammer, tho) and writing for an audience who know much less about ireland & irish history than most of you all. and if it seems a bit pie-eyed & optimistic, understand i was still feelin' the love... like, i could probably have mentioned the guy to the right of me (in a few ways, i suspect) who souted out "FUCKING WELSH!" in response to the talk about the poem by the Welsh soldier who shot Connelly. so much for the talk against sectarianism...
Rebel Music
Glasgow, Scotland; early hours of May 20 (2001).
I've just been to see the Wolfetones, a band that's been around since 1968. It's been said that if Sien Fein are the political wing of the IRA, then the Wolfetones are the musical wing of the IRA.
It was a phenomenal show, for many reasons. First of all, the place was packed (a couple thousand people), and almost everybody was wearing Celtic colours. For those who don't know, the Celtics are a Glasgow football team - that's soccer for us - who've been around for just over 100 years now. In times past (and not-so-past), the Catholic Irish were denied just about everything in Scotland - jobs, housing, etc. They were also not allowed to join the football clubs, so they started their own. While the league is no longer segregated, the fan base sure is. Like it wasn't so bad when the Celtics lost to Manchester United last week, 'cause they're also a Catholic team. But the rivalry with the Rangers, Glasgow's Protestant team, is crazy. You don't want to be found in Rangers colours in the neighbourhood that I'm staying in, that's for sure.
Why wait for the bands? The show started with football chants, as well as chants of "The I, the R, the I-R-A!" and "the brits, the brits, the brits out now!" No less than half the audience, probably more, joined in every chant. Eventually, the first band emerged. They were a marching band - drums & piccolos fronted by seven flags: the flag of the Irish Republic and the flags of the six occupied counties of Northern Ireland. The crowd sang along to many of the songs, with the usual chants in between. There were a few, [i]Rifles of the IRA[/i] comes to mind, that near EVERYBODY knew & sang along with. Next came the band Partisan. Acoustic guitar/singer, bass, drums & penny whistle/flute. Did some of their own songs & some traditional ones, including [i]Rising of the Moon[/i], a favourite of mine learned from an old Clancy Brothers album. They also played [i]Dirty Old Town[/i], which Irish bands here play as uniformly as [i]Stairway to Heaven [/i]was played by all the hippy wankers in my high school.
The audience was interesting. By and large, it was mostly a younger, under-35 group, decked out in their Celtic gear. A bunch of those "football hooligans" you read about in the papers, but maybe more women than you'd see at a match. But there were a number of middle-aged and older individuals, some of them deadly serious looking, and I couldn't help but wonder if some of them were former IRA members, political prisoners, or Republican activists. But the night, thus far, was definitely the hooligans show. I mean, I've never seen bands have to compete with their audience like that, just to be heard. Any quiet beginnings to songs were lost to the chanting.
That all changed when the Wolfetones - five chubby, greying old men - took the stage. On banjo, whistle/flute, mandolin, guitar and bass, with everybody singing, lead vocals rotating around the group, this group commanded respect from the crowd, and they did it without drums! It was amazing to see this boisterous, unruly crowd give a minute of silence to a Celtic hero who died last week, or quiet down to listen to Jimmy Johnston, an older football player who had been a friend of Bobby Sands, then singing Tears On My Pillow, unaccompanied, in a sweet but shaky voice. And sure, that's all football connected, so of course the crowd was rapt with attention, but there was more. Everybody shut up to listen to the banjo player recite a poem written by one of the soldiers who executed James Connolly, a hero of the 1916 Easter Uprising. This poor unfortunate Welsh boy had been conscripted into the British army to fight in World War I, and found himself on a firing squad killing an Irish man. Later, when he learned what it all meant, he had a change of heart. The poem was read as a statement against sectarianism and racism.
James Connolly, was an all-around working class hero, who was also an important actor in the Industrial Workers of the World during his time in the U$A, before he re-immigrated home to Ireland. The poem was, of course, followed by the ballad [i]James Connolly[/i], and I was amazed to see this crowd of drunken football fans singing every word to this 80 year old song. What, do I think only snotty North American folk music fans like me know it? Of course not, but it was just so amazing to witness how [i]ALIVE[/i] that song still is, along with many others I know and consider obscure at home.
What a history lesson the show was, for those who didn't know or needed reminding. But I wonder who at this show would. The Wolfetones said that more volunteers came to the 1916 uprising from Glasgow than from Dublin. And it shows. This crowd was about more than the music, and I believed the band when they said it was their favourite place out of Ireland to play.
Perhaps the most memorable moment was when the entire crowd, young & old, sat down on the beer, spit and who-knows-what-else covered floor as a show of respect while one band member talked about the Irish hunger strikers, particularly the ten who died in 1981 (of whom Bobby Sands was just one). It was show of respect for the departed hunger strikers, but also - more so - for their families, who had to watch them die. It must have been almost ten minutes that people sat through the talk and the song [i]The Ballad Of Joe McDonnell [/i](one of the ten), not standing till the final verse & chorus.
It was telling that, of the many shirts, cds, books and other items for sale, the only thing that sold out were the scarves. In black, green & gold, they carried a picture of Bobby Sands on one side, under the words "Bobby Sands for MP" (while in prison, Sands ran for and won a seat in the British Parliament in Northern Ireland). On the other side was the slogan "Remember the ten!' with the names & dates of those hunger strikers who died in 1981. But one other item for sale is worth mentioning. It was a Wolfetones shirt, and on the back it said; "There is no truth to the rumours that the Wolfetones will be decommissioning their instruments".
The spirit of the whole thing was amazing. Despite these quieter moments, which impressed me greatly, the night was full of wild spinning around in tight groups, rowdier than many a punk show I've been to. It was like the crowds when Rage Against the Machine used to play smaller venues, except this was an acoustic band who played ballads and had no drums, so maybe it was more like the Flying Folk Army playing a much larger venue.
Had my ass pinched by one cute woman, but it was all the sweaty boys grabbing me firmly 'round the waist from behind that really got me off. The band preceded their final song with a talk about British imperialism, and imperialism all around the world in every country. They made the links, played a final song (a real crowd pleaser, it was a song they wrote for the Celtic's 100th anniversary), then left the stage. The crowd left the hall chanting and singing all the way down the street, under the watchful eye of large groups of police and horses (wonder why there'd be so many of [i]THEM[/i] out tonight...)
