Barry’s Rants: Coffee, Pt. 2.

This week Barry declines my invitation for a coffee and goes on another expletive-filled rant. Starbucks, the mighty coffee giant, falls under his scrutinous gaze.

Jaysus, sure what are ye after now? Coffee? Where? Not a hope in hell am I going back to that Starbucks place. After the furore the last day and my girls giving me stink over that bleedin’ French press I said I’d go and have a look when I was in Blackpool. By the way, the only time I want to hear the words ‘French-press’ in my presence again are when the rugby is on. And even then, rugby is not allowed in my presence. Especially at God-awful o’clock in the mornin’! Good Irish games like football, hurling and soccer only. Maybe the tennis.
Anyways, I was down in Blackpool, looking at the shops and I said I’d walk over to the cinema. I saw a load of the boys from Sunbeam back in the day sitting outside Starbucks. Jimmy, Carl, Paudie and a few others. I went over and asked them what were they at. Should they not be walking around aimlessly or sitting next to Jack Lynch or Ronald McDonald over in the shopping centre like the rest of us auld lads?
“Ah sure, Starbucks does a great latte, Barry”, piped up Paudie.
“Do they do coffee?”, I asked him. The laugh the boys got out of that. I hadn’t a notion what they were chuckling about but I laughed along as if I made a joke. I was always the joker of the group inside in the factory.
“Ah, you’re gas, Ray. I’d say you’d be a mocha man, would you?”
I nearly lifted him off the chair with a slap before I stopped myself. I’m a tea man, and if anyone says any different I’ll run him up and down Shandon street until even the four faced liar asks me to stop.

Anyways, in I went. I’ll admit to you now, I was half nervous, and not just because of the coffee. The lads behind the counter were smiling away mad. “How are you, sir?”, and “Lovely day isn’t it, sir”, and I barely in the door. They all had hair that was too long for them. One fella had a long ponytail down to his arse. I tell ya now if I found a long, shitty strand of hair in my coffee I’d have torn the place asunder. The other fella had hair down to his shoulders, blond tips and all. They were too happy for my liking anyways. Nobody should be that happy in work. It’s grand having a laugh with the lads but by God you shouldn’t be smiling and laughing the whole time. You should be at the very least, a little miserable.

So I went up to the counter, right, and I said to myself, ‘feck it’, I’ll chance this mocha. If that leaves this conversation you are fecked, by the way. I said I’d chance the mocha, just to sound like I knew what I was at. “One mocha, please,” says I.
“Would you like to try the blond, sir?”
Well, I nearly hit the roof! “I don’t know who’s been spreading lies about me but I’ve been a brunette man all me life.”
You should’ve seen the two lads faces. Almost puce! I looked outside and there were all the lads pointing and laughing at me. I felt like going outside and throwin’ the three of ‘em into traffic. I turned around and the two lads were crouched over trying to hide themselves and their giggles. Eventually, after paying five feckin’ euro, I got my, “mocha”. Hot chocolate in a feckin cardboard cup! I saw your man going to put whipped cream on top and he nearly turned to stone with the look I gave him. Medusa wouldn’t be too distantly related to us as far as I know, so one of the uncles in Michael’s tells me.

I’d say I made it to Woodies before ditching that rancid muck. Never again. I’ll go to O’Briens for a tea and a club sandwich and that’s about as exotic as I’ll be going again!

Ballad of the Rescuer – The Lost Gecko

Image result for ballad of the rescuer — Artwork for the band’s latest release

Happy Friday, folks. I hope ye all have a lovely weekend planned and that the sun will shine, or at the very least the rain will stay away. In my last post, a review of Meghan Ali’s new song, Far Off Shores, I waxed lyrical about the talent that Cork has to offer. What I would like to clear up is that that is not a new phenomenon. Cork is the real capital and with legends like Rory Gallagher and travelling troubadours like Clare Sands to talk of, we can be very proud! Emerging talents can be found in any number of pubs, clubs and venues around Cork, plying their trade in the hope of making it big.

The band that I’m talking about today are far beyond the moniker of ’emerging talent’. It would be much fairer to call them an established set-up. Having formed in 2006 in Cork, The Lost Gecko have recorded 9 EPs, released an album and are due to release another later this year. They have performed in festivals in Amsterdam, Finland, and numerous ones in Ireland.

Image may contain: 1 person, text — The Lost Gecko merchandise is available on their Facebook page

If you get a chance to listen to their 2018 album, Solasta, meaning ‘Luminous’ in Scots-Gael, I would recommend Fan Liom as the go-to track. This song stood out to me not just because of the Irish language but because the arrangement before the verse kicks in is uplifiting and magical. Which brings me onto the song we’re hear to read about!

Ballad of the Rescuer was released on Spotify on May 20th. It has over a 1’000 plays on Spotify, and a good 100 of them are from me the last few days since I first heard the track. It is hard to describe the feeling I get when I hear the opening section of the song. The fingerpicking pattern that opens is beautiful and sad, especially when the low notes of the cello accompanies it. Then, an ethereal, mystic voice fills your eardrums and the ballad of the rescuer begins. For a brief minute I thought to myself that this song and sound was Bon Iver-esque. I copped myself on and saw it for what it was: authentic, beautiful sound from a talented trio.
“There’s nothing left inside of me” is a line that sticks out from the first verse, the minor notes picked at just the right time. I became invested in the rescuer’s journey, living every dip and dive in his mission.

Image may contain: 2 people, people on stage — Malcolm, John and Elaine at a gig last year

A cacophony of sound greets us toward the end of our journey as the percussion comes to the fore. The ballad of the rescuer rings out as all three members of the band give their all for the last act; Malcolm Urquhart on guitar and vocals, Elaine McCarthy on cello and John O’Connor on percussion. It lifts you up for the final scene of the song, an image of the rescuer, exhausted and on his knees at the end of the day, played out by the same beautiful guitar playing and cello accompaniment that we heard at the start.

Well, that review got quite a bit more emotional than I ever intended! You will agree with me once you hear the haunting opening of the song. I can guarantee that as I never lie. Honest Cian, they call me.

Look out for The Lost Gecko’s new album, The Ghost That Minds the Crows, due to be released this year at Claycastle Studios in Youghal with John Burke. They are on Spotify and Youtube so give their pages a follow! The Lost Gecko are playing a number of gigs around Cork in the coming days but they are also supposrting Meghan Ali next month in Maureen’s bar in Cork City. June 23rd, pencil it in. Keep an eye on the blog for more music reviews and news of the bands and artists I’ve already reviewed. Have a good one!

Far Off Shores – Meghan Ali

Image result for meghan ali

Cork is full of thriving, talented musicians. From rap to traditional, hip hop to indie-pop, the Rebel County is a hotbed of young, up and coming artists. I am lucky to have played with some, attended the gigs of others, but one of my greatest honours is calling some of them my friends.
Meghan Ali is a singer songwriter and guitar player from Rathpeacon. Technically, she is from just off the Mallow Road/Old Mallow Road, but we’ll claim her here in Rathpeacon when she goes big. She has been making music her whole life, but it has really been the last six or seven years in which she has been most productive. She has released popular single after popular single, receiving generous airtime on Cork radio stations. Her latest release might just be the best of the bunch, and that’s saying something.

Far Off Shores was released earlier this week and with already over a thousand plays on Spotify it is showing how Meghan’s star continues to rise. On first listen to the lyrics it espouses the same message as Meg’s previous releases Coming Home for Christmas, which was later re-released as Coming Home (ft. Clare Sands). Each of these songs tells the story of our generation; always going to far off lands, never knowing when we’ll be home next and hoping that our relatives are doing O.K. without us.

The song starts with the low notes of a flute resonating around us, a faint chime in the background, echoing the sounds of the hit Irish animated feature, Song of the Sea. Meghan’s music is undoubtedly Irish, her accent shining through in songs as well as her use of the violin and acoustic guitar. Each instrument provides a light backing for Meghan’s powerful voice through each verse, rising to a crescendo just before each chorus. Far Off Shores is catchy and the chorus will play again and again in your head after each listen.

Watching the video after listening to the song changes the meaning. This is a tribute to Meghan’s late grandfather, played by his twin brother, John. The video is just like the singer herself, full of love for family close and far. It is truly a Maguire and O’Brien affair!
It would be criminal to mention the video and not bring your attention to the awesome panoramic shot that leaves John looking out at a lake/river/water feature, circle around and then back in to the main man himself.

This is a biased review in that I’ve known Meghan for years and love all of her music. However, it is also a truthful article because we’ve all lost someone. Although the song deals with the loss of a loved one, as I said before it could also be a homage to those closest to us departing these shores for a better life abroad. Therein lies the beauty of Meghan’s songwriting.

Meghan Ali can be followed on all social media platforms. Far Off Shores is available on Spotify now, and the video is on Youtube. I’ll even post the video below here so you don’t have to type anything in. No problem guys! Happy Thursday.

Country Girls

“Take what you can get from Ireland and scoot… Leave before it takes your belief from you, or worse, buries it within you.” So says Finn, a down on his luck poet living in Dublin, advising our main character Kate to leave the Emerald Isle and seek pastures new. His appearance and announcements coincide with the bleaker view of Ireland we see in the latter parts of the play. At first we are told of the haunting beauty of the lakes and the bogs, learning later that even Irelnad’s rugged beauty can not keep someone whose heart is broken by the people and the place.

Edna O’Brien’s debut novel, The Country Girls, was published in 1960. Like the rest of her work in that decade, the book was banned, as were the two sequels, The Lonely Girls, and Girls in Their Married Bliss. On viewing the play last night, one can see why it was banned in the Irleland of the time; Full of sexual innuendo, some playful scenes, a hint of a lesbian relationship and full on mockery of nuns, the crowd would have been up in arms!

Kate and Baba are our two country girls. After Kate’s mother dies in a boat accident and needing a place to stay away from her drunken, abusive father, she goes to live with Baba and her parents. The two girls go to the prestigious convent, St. Enda’s, where Kate excels in all things studious, while Baba is content to study her body and not much else.
Following an incident at school, the country girls make the move to Dublin. The vibrance and non-stop clock of the city life will set the girls on two different paths; Kate on one of heartbreak; and Baba on one of self-discovery.

Instead of drawling on about the different acts and scenes of the play, I think a good indicator of how good this play was was the ending. After Kate says goodbye to Ireland and her past the whole cast comes out and performs a small dance number, with Kate finally running towards the back of the stage as if towards her future. The stage goes pitch black and you’re left to wonder how will she get on in London? I audibly gasped, which I take as a good sign.
The set design was innovative and enjoyable. Every prop was suspended above the stage, ready to be released down when needed and pulled back up again when the scene finished.
Catriona Ennis who played Baba, the foul mouthed and wayward friend, was hilarious and a joy to watch. She commanded the stage when present, generating healthy laughs from the audience.
While the rest of the play was full of life, music, dance or movement, the scene between Kate, played by Grace Collender and Mr. Gentleman, played by Steven McCarthy fell a bit flat. In contrast, the fantastic Collender was a giant in the scenes with her father.

As the play opened, we saw Kate and her mother dancing and running around the stage. I immediately sank into my chair, preparing myself for two hours of an Irish novel told through interprative dance. I’m very glad I was wrong.

The Country Girls is playing in the Opera House until this Saturday the 20th.

Can You Ever Forgive Me? Review.

Image result for can you ever forgive me?

“Back once again.” The reviews are back! Ger Canning has uttered this iconic phrase in countless G.A.A. matches broadcast on live television over the last number of decades. I reached out to him to ask would he record it for me so I could have it playing whenever someone opened an article of mine. Ger, ever the joker, replied via his family, agent and the Gardai, and said, “For the last time, leave me and my family alone. I rue the day I stopped and talked to you in Tesco in Mahon Point. Legal action will follow unless you stop cold calling me in the middle of the night. I don’t know how you got my house number. I am a human being and you are driving me insane. May God have mercy on your soul.” Ah Ger, what a chancer. If you’re reading this, I’ll get onto you later around 2 a.m. Keep the phone on!

Now, onto serious stuff. The movie Can You Ever Forgive Me? caught my eye due to the many nominations the cast received across multiple academies and committees. Also, it was the only thing that I knew would be quiet at my local cinema, the Reel Picture Blackpool ( hashtag ad). I knew it wasn’t a comedy but with Melissa McCarthy leading and Richard E. Grant in a prominent supporting role I had a feeling there would be some comic moments.

McCarthy plays Lee Israel, a down on her luck author who has just lost her job for drunken behaviour, has a fraught relationship with her agent and is months behind on her rent. Israel does not have any redeemable qualities that we can see and is told by her agent that she, “…is not famous enough to be an asshole.” She has a sick cat that she cannot afford to take care of and the biographies that she is writing to stay afloat are on the sale rack. After selling a letter of a famous author toa bookshop owner played by Dolly Wells, she quickly realises that she could make a hefty profit by forging letters of other well known figures. She has made a living writing books about other people so she knows she can impersonate them in her letters.
She meets Jack Hock, played by Grant, at a bar in Manhattan, remembering when she first met him and he went to the bathroom in a closet (hashtag Jonny Melia, hashtag ad). Hock is hilarious, flamboyant and the perfect positive tonic to Israel’s cynicism and misery. After letting him in on her secret cash cow and after duping half of Manhattan’s bookshops and collectible dealers into believing her ruse, she and Hock come under the suspicion of the FBI. Sabotaging her rathionship with Anna, the bookshop owner and Hock himself, Israel is finally caught and sentenced to house arrest, probation and monetary restitution.
The movie ends with Israel and Hock reuniting in the same grimy bar they met in. They bury the hatchet and he agrees to let her write a book about their escapades, ever his funny, charming self. This never happened in real life but it was a good end to a fine movie.

The movie itself is enjoyable if a bit slow. The topic of literary forgery does not sound all that interesting but the revelations that there are seedy characters in the literary world such as Israel herself, made it an easy watch. The fact that the FBI were involved in her subpoena was amazing to learn. The dynamic between McCarthy and Grant was brilliant and really saved the movie from being a bore. That said, it dragged towards the end and I did find myself looking at the clock on my phone. While I know that with a film such as this the devil is in the details but if the movie was about fifteen minutes shorter then it would’ve been a small bit more enjoyable.
I couldn’t think of anyone that I would recommend the movie to after watching, but it wasn’t a total waste of an hour and forty minutes. If I was to give it a rating out of a number that I will make up right now, I would give it a 3.5/5. Some funny moments but I’m not sure if this book warranted a movie. That said, the performances of McCarthy and Grant saved this production and both, especially McCarthy, deserve their nominations.

On the Banks of My Own Lovely Lee

It has been 375 days since I’ve last been in Cork. A year and ten days. Prior to this, the longest I had stayed away from the Rebel County was for four months when I studied in New Paltz, upstate New York. I was home that Christmas and didn’t really miss it as I was studying in this new, exciting environment. This time, up until the year mark I hadn’t really missed the People’s Republic at all. I missed the people, my family and friends and the craic we have, but I never really thought about the place that much. It was almost as if a switch was flipped on the 365th day. All of these fond memories came flooding back of places around the city and the countryside. I realised I missed Cork more than I let myself believe, and there is plenty to miss.

Image result for Cork city

I miss living a thirty second walk from the G.A.A. pitch, climbing over the fence to go smash footballs and sliotars wide of the post.
I miss living a ten minute walk from the local pub, the Country Squire, putting pints away until the wee hours.
I miss playing Championship in Ballinlough with Rathpeacon, especially when we beat Whitechurch in the football six years ago.
I miss going to town with the older lads on the team, getting into the Secret Garden at 18 years old because you knew someone who knew the bouncer. That was a great feeling.

Image result for blarney woolen mills

I miss going to the Woolen Mills in Blarney and looking at the Americans buy about twenty Aran sweater vests for their family portraits later in the year.
I don’t miss working there, though, for the exact same reason!
I miss seeing all the old school friends as we drink together in the Muskerry Arms, old stories retold, as funny as the day they happened, especially the ones about drinking underage in the GAA woods.

Image result for heineken brewery cork

I miss Dino’s potato pie meal, Hillbilly’s chicken tenders meal, but most of all, I miss Sloppy Foley’s from Murphy’s chipper in Blackpool. Pure perfection.
I miss walking through Blackpool to the city, passing by the Heineken Brewery and smelling the making of my favourite drink.
I miss the view of the Opera House as you come upon the Christy Ring Bridge.
I miss going to plays in the Cork Arts Theatre, the Opera House and the Everyman.

Image result for Grand Parade Cork

I miss grabbing a coffee in Gloria Jean’s in the Savoy and then walking toward Grand Parade. You never know who you’ll see on your travels but you will see at least two people you know.
I miss walking up Washington Street, looking in all the shop windows before you see the gates of U.C.C. loom in the distance, and the beauty of Fitzgerald Park not too far behind on the other side of the road.
I miss grabbing a nice pint of Heineken in the Mutton Lane, the nicest bar in Cork, in my opinion, before walking through the English Market, smelling the fish, the cakes, the vegetables and listening to the chat.
I miss sitting in Peace Park watching the pigeons startle themselves in the water of the fountain.

Image result for oliver plunkett cork

I miss going to Mahon Point and spending an absolute bomb in the food court and the Omniplex. Also, the Reel Picture in Blackpool is better which is a true fact.
I miss going to the cinema on my own, too, in fairness.
I miss going to the Guitar Shop on MacCurtain street and Pro Musica on Oliver Plunkett street, playing for a while before realising I’m broke.

Image result for oliver plunkett street christmas

I miss the bars in Cork. I know the bouncers can be a bit tough to deal with sometimes but I can also be a drunken ass, so let’s call it quits when I’m back, yeah?
I miss the carnage that appears on Oliver Plunkett street on a weekend night. Good carnage, but carnage all the same.
I miss the taco sauce from John Grace’s, especially after a feed of beer.
I miss the music in the Oliver Plunkett or the Crane Lane.

Image result for the river lee cork

I miss my family and friends too and will probably mention them in different posts but this is just about a place. It’s also about mainly food and drink huehuehue. A place my family moved to when I was nine years old. It is the place that made me into a more confident young man and is the place where I made my best friends, bar college and woodlwan of course. I will be back next month for a while. Who knows how long for? I certainly don’t. It is funny that these thoughts only came into my head since the year mark passed. I don’t know how my friends out here who literally can’t go home have been able to do it for three years and some change. Fair dues to them. I think I could manage it but I can only imagine how tough it must be. I am lucky that next month I won’t have to miss it as I return to the banks of my own lovley Lee.

Differences

I’ve always been amazed at how fast time seems to go the older we get. I read that it is because when we are young, we are experiencing everything for the first time, such as school, inside jokes or playing sports. Time was not a blur of routine and familiarity that it is now. Indeed, the first time you take a new route to work or try a new bar or restaurant will stick clearly in the mind for longer than your fiftieth time at the same place, or the monotonous ride on the 4 train.
It is still alarming, however, to know that the older you get, the less new experiences you will get to enjoy. Then you realize that it’s already August and that colder weather is not too far away. The G.A.A. season is almost over in New York and the euphoria of the summer will be replaced by the contentedness of the Fall. That’s not a bad thing, but it leads me to question how many memories I will retain of this summer, or even of the whole year! Truthfully, it has been probably the best year of my life, narrowly beating out my years in college.
It doesn’t seem like a year and a half since I left Ireland, and I will be returning in the New Year. I have no doubt that I will be back to the States after my Masters but I know that initially I will struggle with whether or not I made the right choice of leaving this place that is filled with money, the craic, more women than I can handle and my best friends. It is something I struggled with after finishing college too, but I soon realized that not everything can last, and you have to do what you think is right. I am still in contact with the people I consider my best friends from U.L., and I know I will be in contact with both groups of lads for the rest of my life. As I said earlier, I’ll be back! I’ll probably do a post just for myself on some funny memories in the future. For now, I’ll get away from the totes emosh side of things and give you what I think are the major differences between New York and Cork. Forget about the weather and the money; this is some real shit!

Pigeons

This is no joke. There is a stark contrast between the pigeons and general birds we see around Manhattan and Cork City (and I’m not just talking about yer wan from Gurran, wha!). The pigeons in Cork are numerous and annoying. They’re everywhere, sparking rumours of a gang war between the pigeons and the emos on Paul street. However, they’ll get out of your way in a hurry if you walk towards them, alerting all the other pigeons in their gang to the danger of human feet. A blur of grey-blue wings is all that meets the eye when you assert your dominant authority. Pigeons in New York, on the other hand, are a different breed. They’re arrogant and have no intention to give you the right of way. They’re like every other C You Next Tuesday on the feckin’ street that stops dead in the middle of a busy street to get their bearings. You walk towards a cluster of pigeons in Madison Square Park and they have the absolute audacity to look at you as if to say, “Oh, you tryna get through?”, and then move into your path. As you walk around them, they say, “That’s what I thought, bitch.” I enjoy cooing at pigeons as I walk by them. It’s funny for me, weird for passers-by and I assume, confusing for the pigeons.
Public Transport
Cork’s public transport is seen as a bit of a joke, mainly with regards to buses transporting people outside of the immediate city limits. Now, I’ve never had any trouble with the buses I’ve needed to take, and while I might have had to wait for the next bus to Limerick once or twice, I decided to smoke a few rollies and move on with my life. However, I wasn’t in a rush and I have read enough posts on Facebook to know that waiting two hours for a bus to Bishopstown or Balincollig is not ideal. Not that I’d set foot in either of those places, am I right keeds?!?!?! NYC’s public transport system is full of problems and train delays and the like, but is only really seriously scrutinized by New Yorkers. I’ve cursed the 4 train and the R train and every other feckin’ letter train but without it I’d be lost. Since my schedule changed I haven’t had to deal with rush hour as much anymore, but By God would I prefer to be waiting in Parnell station for the 215 for forty minutes rather than chain smoke while everybody around me chain smokes, waiting a half an hour in the baking heat for the 34 bus or the 16. Everyone crams in, pressing up against people you don’t know and body parts you didn’t even know existed. Harrowing stuff. I still get nightmares and wake up screaming, “Please stand away from the door! Please stand away from the door!”
Television
For the love of God, make sure you have a Netflix/Hulu membership or download Showbox or Megabox onto your phone or tablet because the amount of ads on television over here is sinful. Half an hour sitcoms are split into three or four parts, depending on how many times Celino and Barnes want to tell us that they are the best injury lawyers around. It will still only be a half an hour of your time but the enjoyment of your show will be diminished because of those two amadans. Catchy tune though. “Celino and Barnes, Injury Attorneys, 800-888-8888”. Although the T.V. in Ireland consists of sport in the summer and Friends reruns all year round otherwise, at least we don’t have to put up with ads every five minutes.
Food
NYC wins in the food department. Local bars and restaurants in Woodlawn serve up delicious food, and the area surrounding us in Yonkers also has plenty to offer up. Meatloaf from the heritage is just class. Unreal. Followed by about eight pints of Heineken. Vitamin H. Unreal.
Pizza from Angelo’s in Woodlwan and Bravos in Manhattan would put Fast Al’s to shame but I must say that Centra, Spar and Dunnes delis are a mile ahead of their New York counterparts. Give me a chicken fillet roll over a greasy, manky, end of the line chicken cutlet hero. Blegh.
The Craic
I’m afraid to say that New York wins out again. I love nights out in Cork. It is great craic on a Thursday night when all the students are out and the weekend is fantastic with the older crowd and a load of Spanish Erasmus students floating about! But there’s something about the phrase, “Yeah, we went out in the Brooklyn to a concert in the park and then went to karaoke in Koreatown.” It sounds cocky and pretentious but that’s how it is. Don’t @ me.

So with my limited time left in the Big Apple for the foreseeable future I’ll probably start doing some really clichèd ideas like, “5 best bars to go to”, or, “Best spots for a night out.” “5 really shit ideas for a blog,” would be a good one too. I’ll put my own spin on it but like I said, it’s all a bit of craic at the end of the day!