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Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol. II (CD)


Christer Falck. Tore Jazztobakk. Cameleon Back to top Various: Planet-Goa vol. Reign of Madness. Various: Latina Beach Bar Vol. Chronowax Back to top Various: Hard! Various: Sounds You Can Feel Professor Anarad: feat. Perculator: Apple Tea? Why Not, Come On! Hilde Drange: Love Affair. Dalminjo feat. Also includes two finnish contributions. Various: Essential Underground Vol. Enjoy Production Back to top D. Flying Back to top Y.

Frost: Love! Same tracks as the dBut version. Various: The Chillout Lounge More Ideal Back to top Various: Advanced Music vol. Incoming Back to top Various: Serenity Dub 2. Information: Alien 4 - all star reading CD Information Recordings No track titles available a staged reading of the Alien 4 manuscript, with live soundtrack by Information and Erik Balke. In the meantime it is seen over a hundred times each day. Our next step was to get our audio streams secured httpswhich was extremely complicated, since they are shown on our website but actually come from another location.

A manual programmed 'reverse proxy system' TX2HW gave us the solution. After a lot of testing the whole website finally could get 'padlocked' too. But our playlist music selection group has not been idle, either. About old and new GAS renditions were approved for our audience's listening pleasure.

TX2RS we're proud to offer you a brandnew interactive 'library vault' search module. A huge improvement compared to the pdf files. So on behalf of everybody here at the Great American Songbook Radio Station; thank you all very very much!

January In case you don't know or can't remember the names of these singers; here they are! January, Its symbolized with a little padlock in the url in your browser. It is used for secure communication over a computer network and on the Internet. Thanks to the free and disinterested help of mister 'Hellsblade' we reached our milestone. The whole website, the streams, playlist and guestbook, is secured now. October 13, It felt like a virtual US journey while listening during this the Covid period.

But we decided to delete the page with the real-time US video views. The connection with Eartcam TV which came in with fits and starts too often. It also made the website frontpage slower for you to appear. Plus they served lots of unwanted commercials inbetween the cam shots which didn't happen when we started this. Currently we think about an altenate gadget for you.

August 10, That's way too many people to give a celebration party for, but we are very happy and thankful that we reached that huge number of listeners on tunein. July 31, We renewed our set of American Songbook artist pictures on our frontpage again. Here are their names in case you can't recognize them all. Tony's renditions can be heard at every 'even' hour at about a quarter to the hour.

July 30, Due to a listener request we added a donation module since we didn't have one yet. Your support is welcome to sponsor soft- and hardware costs and all kind of broadcast- and other license fees. It won't be used for acquaring music because this is and will always be brought in for free by our volunteers.

Please feel free to fill it out. June 21, Today we added a direct Facebook link on our frontpage. That page is created for listeners and other people who want to write or exchange thoughts about this music genre. There a lots or rare Sinatra pictures on it too. You'll find this direct link icon on the left side of of our American Songbook logo. May 29, We added a nice little photo album on our most visited 'Listen Live' page. When you click on that, the first test version of a sixteen pieces photo album opens.

Let's see if and how our visitors react on this. The shown images should represent new releases and the main musical ingredients of our radio stream in general. May 5, This website is optimized for tablets, laptops and desktops. Activate 'auto-rotate' on your smartphone and look at our website 'sideways' on your phone, the biggest side on top.

Like most websites it doesn't show huge. It sure needs some enlarging with your fingers to see it all and be able to press the buttons. But we think its much better than the older version of our website. Today we solved two little guestbook issues. The double scrollbars are reduced to one. Also all the written text from the listeners are correct in its frame now. Now we can add more release info items Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol.

II (CD) that page too! March 26, However these tests show that it ain't fully compatible with Microsoft Edge. We hope it will be solved soon! But conflicts with a few internet search apps decided me to do this faster than I was intended to do. March 24 In most cases: just press the F5 button ; which means 'refresh page'. It is a mix of those influences along with trying to figure out what elements of my own discography I still connect with.

I wanted it to reflect old Dntel records as well as the techno-pop band Figurine I used to be in. I have always considered my music basically being techno-pop, but not referring to pop as popular music - I just like pretty melodies. But with the Dntel moniker, I never had the ambition to produce music for a really big audience. On "Away" he combines a healthy dose of distortion with the most-sticking melodies, vocals and bitter-sweet lyrics he ever came up with — performing all vocals himself, with the help of technology.

When I applied this vocal processing it seemed to bring out the emotions more. I don't see it as the same as the more artificial, autotuned style of modern pop music.

I think it still sounds like it could be a real person singing, just not me. Pop music is a fragile entity, making its kingpins vulnerable. Many emotions reveal a lot of the originator's personality -this is something one has to be prepared for. On "Away", Jimmy Tamborello finds the perfect way of marrying his unique musical personality with both the demands and possibilities of pop music.

Just listen to "Connect" and you'll know what we're talking about. A perfect, yet timeless album for less than perfect times. Duster Numero Group. Y2K prepper-rock for the underemployed. Needle down, candles on. Blue sky coloured vinyl Following nearly two years of global touring in support of their adventurous and acclaimed album, The WildernessExplosions In The Sky paused on the future to reflect on the past.

Celebrating their 20th year as a band with a pair of remastered reissues of early beloved classics — How Strange, Innocence and The Rescue — they embarked on a memorable series of anniversary concerts in It was around then that Explosions In The Sky was approached to craft the score to a new documentary about a place with which, as native Texans, they were very familiar: Big Bend National Park.

The hour-long film intimately follows the lives of native animals amid expansive aerial views of the iconic desert landscape that makes up one of the grandest natural wonders in the world. The band set these sights to an inspired, melodic, and meaningful blend of acoustic guitar, slide guitar, strings, piano, bells, and drums that feels as alive and diverse--and vast and lonely--as the place it depicts.

Big Bend An Original Soundtrack for Public Television takes that mesmerizing score and recontextualizes it as a standalone album. Big Bend: The Wild Frontier of Texas is a film that explores the past and present of the vast, complicated landscape that still holds countless mysteries yet to be uncovered.

Red and cream coloured The record ranges over a variety of topics and themes, including isolation, the world of dreams and delusions, environmental collapse, and the inward and outward chaos of modern life.

Reb Fountain Iris Flying Nun. Limited Translucent Release date: Expected 8 Oct ' Reb effortlessly combines pop elements with her trademark noir folk-punk sound; weaving authentic and anthemic tunes that create an instant and indelible impression.

I wanted and needed to give voice to this essential human spirit; to conjure and hold and commune with the very real, valid and invaluable voices within and around me. ThroughoutReb and her all-star band Dave Khan, Karin Canzek and Earl Robertson astounded audiences around the country on her sold out album release tour. Release date: Expected 5 Nov ' His warm, affable melodies and comforting lyrics earned him fans on both sides of the Atlantic, and now he returns with his sophomore album Wanderkid, a concept album about a wandering anti-hero.

Coloured Red Disc 1, This 25th anniversary edition is presented as heavyweight coloured double vinyl for the first time and features 4 bonus tracks. Cat Number Release date 1 Oct ' The first of a series of Richard Hawley music boxes. Turn the handle to play a snippet of Coles Corner. It'll melt your heart! The 2nd in the series of Richard Hawley music boxes. Wind the handle to play the gorgeous refrain from Open Up Your Door. An absolute gem!

Indies exclusive hot pink Austin indie folk duo make their Grand Jury debut with True Love. This album is about growth and nostalgia. Both band members got married. One had a kid. When we asked The Jesus and Mary Chain if they wanted to do a single to help us celebrate our London shop opening they sent along a recording of their last stop in Detroit in at the historic Fox Theatre just down Woodward from our Detroit HQ and told us to pick a few.

A Welsh rock trio with a predilection for delivering stadium-sized riffs with shoegazey vistas and dreamy post-punk riffage, The Joy Formidable return with their new album 'Into The Blue'. Currently the band split their time between their native Wales and the closest thing they could find in the U.

Limited Edition LP Indie It celebrates its influences but is very much a modern record, being simultaneously brand new and retro. This is a credit to the duo's craft as musicians and songwriters, presenting their influences as a circular interaction between the present and the past rather than a linear one.

Session musicians and friends were also booked to introduce trumpet and string sections giving the album an added depth and orchestral texture. To pierce through this abstraction, the vocals are intentionally more expressive.

Rooted in observations from everyday life, they speak often about the worlds and thoughts that arise from the end of the night. Like with many of the best albums, the record seems over all too soon and has you instantly wanting to play it again. On each listen you decide on a track that you think is your favourite from the album only for it to be replaced with a different one on the next listen.

The songs and production have hidden depths that seem to evolve and morph the more you devour them. Moments of pure pop, moments to fall in love, moments to contemplate. This journey is rich in musical vitamins and nourishment, but like all the best things still leaves you wanting more.

A warm and intoxicating listen, bringing to mind any number of cinematic accompaniments. Up is due September 24, and is heralded by dreamy lead single "She's A Waterfall" and its accompanying video.

All I could see was stripes and paisleys. I became instantly obsessed with tracking down this mystery band's complete discography. Influenced into existence at early gigs by The Jesus and Mary Chain and Shop Assistants, The Roundies wanted to change the world or at the very least make some noise, shake things up and be a part of the happening. The gang established a clubhouse in early and began rehearsing, recording and gigging.

Rumor has it that Noel Gallagher roadied their final show. There were also talks of a flexi-disc that, for whatever reason, never saw the light of day. But by the end of the 80s, the gang had all gone their separate ways and the recordings along with so many other things were thought to be lost forever Tune in, turn on and make up your own mind. Enjoy the trip. How did the music industry miss these talented teenagers? They were fucking idiots, that's how. From super-catchy pop songs to ambitious minute improvisations, the band had everything but a recording deal.

Ambitious live performances where friends were satisfied with spitting out fluff often forgotten in 2 and a half minutes. You lucky lucky mofo's Ministry Moral Hygiene Nuclear Blast. After enduring a year likeno one could have possibly expected Al Jourgensen to stay silent on the maelstrom of the past 12 months.

As the mastermind behind pioneering industrial outfit Ministry, Jourgensen has spent the last four decades using music as a megaphone to rally listeners to the fight for equal rights, restoring American liberties, exposing exploitation and putting crooked politicians in their rightful place—set to a background of aggressive riffs, searing vocals and manipulated sounds to drive it home.

And most importantly doing so with the lens of what we as a society are going to do about it all. Trump being elected president—though Jourgensen says this new album is more informational and reflective in tone. With the release of Moral Hygiene, Jourgensen is more positive than before. We could just treat each other nicely and be treated nicely in return. I never thought Ministry would be in the position of preaching traditional values, but this is the rebellion now.

O from the stunning '???????? Pond 9 Spinning Top. Indies exclusive Coke Black LP is g vinyl Given the pace at which ideas whizz past your head, it makes for a dizzying listen. Take lead single Pink Lunettes, which opens up thumping like ESG eight hours into a session at Berghain before climbing aboard a gargantuan synthship and disappearing off over the horizon. Lyrically, too, 9 takes Pond into uncharted territory. If it was only a fraction as enjoyable to make as it is to listen to then they must have been having a hoot.

Indies exclusive green These are values rooted in the enduring mystery and majesty of everyday, ordinary lives. Cloudy clear vinyl, The inner-sleeve also contains a brand new, unreleased photo of Caitlin. Nashville in was a time and place bristling with potential.

Nashville has long been characterized by a sort of underdog spirit, and inthat spirit was in full display at DIY punk venues, run-down honky-tonks and hole-in-the-wall dives. Most of those bands are long-gone, but not Caitlin Rose. Then as now, Caitlin — my roommate and fellow Holly House member — shined bright as a songwriter and performer. I always grinned when I overheard someone asking the question. Own Side Now was the product of that long journey. Enjoy it. Turquoise Vinyl LP vinyl Very limited clear vinyl Truly, the luscious, soulful new album from Manchester singer-songwriter Caoilfhionn Rose pronounced Keelin moves through a tapestry of curious musical inflections; nods towards folk, jazz, ambient, electronica and even a subtle influence of psychedelia, it never stands still to take a breath, despite its ethereal and delicate core.

Out April 9th on Gondwana Records Mammal Hands, Portico Quartet, Matthew Halsall, Hania Raniin Truly, the young singer-songwriter has accomplished a body of work that is both sonically and lyrically wise beyond her years. Rose also professes to a love for beautiful, stripped back, piano based music, such as Dustin O'Halloran and label mate Hania Rani. Truly came to exist due to a deep-routed need to create — even though its conception was interrupted as Caoilfhionn Rose recovered in hospital from an illness, she found strength within writing music.

We played several gigs in the UK but unfortunately the Denmark part of the tour was cut short as I was taken ill. I was hospitalised for several weeks and have taken the last year out to recover" says Rose. This record marks a difficult time of my life and writing it helped get me through that. I am really grateful to have music as an outlet. Rose's beautifully restrained vocal is all at once soothing yet mesmerising. She demands and holds attention through her evident talent yet hypnotises the listener into a trance with her experimental tendencies.

Finishing bits of songs, writing lyrics and recording vocals helped me get back on my feet and get better. It's about finding peace and feeling wonder again" says Rose about the track. It's about feeling hopeful about the future 'though there may be dark clouds the sun will always come'.

There are references to older lyrics I have written. The line 'free from all the chaos' is a nod to a song I collaborated on with The Durutti Column. The song is about acknowledging Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol. II (CD) past and moving on as 'time is always healing'. It's a self-reflective song really, reminding myself that 'life can take you bysurprise', there are going to be ups and downs along the way" Elsewhere on the album, Rose explores the connection between nature and life on single To Me.

I have a very optimistic outlook and I find solace in the small things like being outdoors. Prior to this, the artist collaborated with one of her biggest musical influences, Vini Reilly of The Durutti Column. I no longer just write as a therapeutic or reflective process; I can write more abstractly and outwardly.

Collaborating with The Durutti Column was my first experience of recording music with other people in a studio. It was inspiring getting to work with Keir and I've learnt a lot from his approach of just experimenting and seeing what works. Sababa 5 Rosenzweig Batov Rosenzweig Smilansky. On their latest 45, Sababa 5 take their feet off the accelerator just a little to slide into the most infectious pair of grooves this side of the Mediterranean.

On "Rosenzweig", the four-piece blend their Turkish psych-influenced style with a Jimmy Smith jazz groove. Another essential pair of instrumental grooves from Sababa 5 and Batov Records, perfect for the beginning or end of the night. Rosenzweig B. Pitchfork 9. Their break-through album that propelled them to international fame winning numerous awards and selling over a million records.

Tracks from the album have been synched in several notable films such as Vanilla Sky and The Life Aquatic and the album was placed number 2 on the Pitchfork albums of the year The out of print vinyl record comes packaged on 2 x inch heavyweight vinyl to the exact original packaging spec. How did he know I loved stones? You just know. And of course, he gave me something he loved.

My own bird-watching in Ireland had been confined to my feeder—gold finches, coal tits, stonechats and blue tits, with magpies and the occasional flash of a pheasant in the field behind the cottage. Dermot had a great knowledge of birds and wildlife. It fed his spirit and his poetry and made conversation with him, for a longtime interloper on Irish soil like myself, fascinating. We mill about wishing for magic.

The moon is overly bright. Sean starts to sing and do a little jig in the roadway. Dermot joins in. Two grown men are dancing and singing before the seeming corpse of our jeep.

Finally, we all gravitate back to the problem and study our case. Leland offers to push the jeep with her disproportionately small car.

We shout our thanks as I jump aboard, waving at our moonstruck friends, who are in no hurry to close down the evening by going inside and leaving the festival of stars over their heads. When I look Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol. II (CD) they are still singing and dancing in the receding roadway. He had done them well—of which more anon. Sad to be speaking to you in death, to have to lay my pleas in passive ash, because the turning wheel has taken you from me—poor brother!

Thirty years previously, Garret and I had driven to a Cavan border town for the launch of Fighting with Shadows, also known by the Greek name for that idea: Sciamachy. Now Garret was at my first meeting with Dermot, in We were photographed together at a reception for the Hennessy Literary Awards. That day we were both winners. If my calculations are correct, I was 21, and he We both wore our hair long, as was the fashion for young men forty years ago. A world that Dermot was destined to know much better than I.

We had a lot of fun that night and remained friends. Apart from meeting Dermot, I have two memories of the awards ceremony. The judges were V. Edna was strikingly beautiful with her red hair, peachy skin and black designer dress. Dermot and I did not begrudge them the moment. The prize, apart from some money, was a statuette of the Hennessy dog; a St. Bernard dog with a little barrel of brandy hanging from its neck; the kind of dog which finds you and saves your life when you are trapped by a blizzard in the Brenner Pass.

I had too much brandy on board and promptly dropped the dog. To my embarrassment, its leg broke. For the photograph, Dermot grips my elbows, keeping me upright. The flavour was intellectual.

Dermot did not go to university. In my view, the source of his power as a writer is his direct apprehension of the physical presence of people, animals and objects in the natural world. Yeats wrote: John Synge, I and Augusta Gregory, thought All that we did, all that we said or sang Must come from contact with the soil, from that Contact everything Antaeus-like grew strong. He compelled all comers to wrestle with him and killed them when overcome.

He was made stronger when thrown into contact with his mother the earth. He was defeated and killed by Heracles, who suspended him in the air. He introduces them to a real house, one with windows, doors, a garden, a roof. We cross a threshold and enter the world of Dermot Healy: For a few bewildering seconds, Jim Philips, on the day of his retirement, queried late morning sounds he had not heard in years.

Then his solitary sense of freedom began. He looked with leisure at the low pink boards that ran the length of the ceiling, yellowing at the fireplace, brightening at the window.

Light was hammering on the broken shutter. Shadows darted across the mildewed embroidery of dogs and flowers. He cleared his womanless bed with a light heart, glad to have outgrown the ache in his smothered loins, outlived his job that he might die in a time of his own making. The plot embraces a rural world—even underworld—which he does not explain to the outsider. If you are not in it, he pulls you in. At the end, you may not quite grasp what has happened. But you realise you have experienced something, bracing and vital, like a mountain stream, or a storm in a wood.

The characters in the story endure a succession of problems. Well, there was a piper from Gurteen, a fine piper in his day who drank nothing but French wine and oddly enough just played once in a fine house. There was no hue or cry and the Gurteen man took her on his short travels for money and baby clothes. The coffin was put up on a cart drawn by a dray horse and no-one following from the cobbles of the Spanish Arch.

And the piper began a lament, not too slow or too quick on account of his losses, and the men in the fever hospital sweating from their labours counted four thousand mourners as they crossed Loch Ataila for Forthill graveyard. This story, from history and folklore, from memory and from the racial unconscious, comes from the soil of Ireland. Dermot does not unravel its many layers. He dishes it out whole and you must swallow it that way. He went to live in rugged, beautiful Ballyconnell upon the Atlantic shore, which prompted the title for the magazine he edited: Force He was always a great collaborator and I was delighted to work with him on two projects of mine that connected with mediaeval Sligo.

It is represented through a mural in the County Library. The second attempt did materialise. Among many texts we find the first ever translation of The Aeneid into a vernacular language: Imtheachta Aeniasa. In English, this work is known as The Irish Aeneid. Poetry is rendered into prose. The time-scheme is reworked into a linear sequence. Some material—genealogies and speeches of the gods— is cut out.

Some well-known passages from Irish literature are inserted. Aeneas in places resembles Cuchulain, for example when he first appears to Dido. The emotional and sensuous matter of The Aeneid is heightened: the beauty of the landscape, the pain of the defeated, jewellery, the sorrow of parting.

Each was supplied with a literal translation—as not all were Latinists. Dermot Healy: A Cavan Antaeus 61 This is poem Aufillena, bonae semper laudantur amicae: accipiunt pretium qui facere instituunt. In the literal translation of F. Cornish:2 Aufillena, kind mistresses are always well-spoken of; they get their price for what they purpose to do. In cruelly tricking me of that which you promised, in continually taking and not giving, you are doing wrong. To comply were handsome, not to have promised were chaste, Aufillena: but to grab all you can get and cheat on the obligations exceeds the conduct of a grasping harlot who prostitutes her self with all her body.

Dermot Healy: Aufillena, a kind mistress is well got; she names her price and does what he wants her to. Not you— you took from the very beginning and took all you could without ever giving; it was a wrong thing to do.

You broke your word. And with every day that passed the mad debt grew. Not to have made a pact would have left us both innocent. Are you listening, Aufillena, the bond, that oath still stands, despite the promise that turned to avarice, and the arrogant demands The whore would at least have done her duty but you exceeded the harlot in all her art. Obligation played no part— as your very mind turned to a gnarled knot of theft. Thus Dermot brings Aufillena to Cavan. Now and forever, hello and goodbye, oh my brother.

Ronan Sheehan. Dublin: A. Farmar,vi. The wife is in a book club. The Bend for Home, like. You were there when yeh read it. Who wrote it? Healy—Dermot Healy. Researching the effects of alcohol on vertigo. Thirty or more years ago. He stood on the pool table, a Commanding Officer of words, declaiming to an Officer Commanding the local IRA that he could beat any man in the bar at pool, challenging every and any man to a game. I was there to meet him for the first time and was a little late because there was a British army patrol in the area which might have hassled me.

Just walked in and started. Do you want a drink? Then he giggled, from the pit of his stomach that was his trademark. The hunched, accordion shoulders. A giggle that I was to hear many times throughout the times I knew him and which represented mischievousness, guilt and innocence. The coffin shook and we all laughed and cried. Later, we went to the off-licence for wine, Blue Nun or Black Tower the woeful vintage then in vogue, and went back to my house.

He gave me his book of short stories, Banished Misfortune. Dermot and I lost contact for a few years while I was in prison. One day the censor gave me a letter which turned out to be from him. A postcard will be put up on the cell wall for months, a letter treasured and re-read many times. Dermot wrote to me several times and we talked about life and love, how low he had at times become but that he was writing poems and a novel, a fated love story which would also cover the Troubles.

In a letter around January he told me that he was moving into a cottage on a cliff overlooking the sea, a few miles outside Sligo town where he was working on an arts project.

He had a face for the cliffs and storms and the sea, the weather-beaten face of a boatman, the mane of a Viking but a Viking without violence or malice. The new hallucinating light that precedes the rainbow covered everything, killing all colours except the simple green that cannot be defined as colour only, but is a state of being that follows on the heels of summer rain.

We stayed in the haggard beside the cottage. Late into the night we talked about books and Dermot read from the manuscript of his forthcoming autobiography The Bend for Home, which had us in stitches. What I learnt to appreciate over those few days with him was just how committed, conscientious and honest you have to be if you want to be a serious writer, which I was striving to become. A Song for Ireland 69 Mortality punches you on the chin in one account of young Dermot, his father, an aunt and uncle, out fishing when they are caught in a storm, lose an oar and are in real danger for several hours before they touch land.

Dallan is jumping up and down on a giant inflatable and is advised by his father to concentrate and stop looking at him. Dallan ignores the advice, jumps higher, watching his father watching him throughout, misses his footing, and falling, strikes his head on the pavement.

And suddenly Dermot remembers that when he was a child boxing a punch ball his father advised him to watch the punch ball and stop looking at him. His account of the descent into senility and the slow death of his mother is extremely moving, and haunting.

His eighty-year- old mother once looked after the half-deaf Maisie, her senior, and resents that Maisie now gives out the advice.

But the two old dames love each other, even in bedlam: You should eat for Dermot, Maisie says, raising her voice. Mind your own business, says my mother. What did she say? On another Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol. II (CD) Dermot is sitting with his mother: Your father never drank, she says and nips me. Yes, he did. Mother, he did. Never, Never, Never.

Nor did he smoke. He died of smoking, said Dermot. We met. I was to follow his car on my bike. But first, said Dermot, you will be wanting a hot whiskey. He only remembered me when he was a mile down the road and had to come back. Dermot and Helen were married in The reception was held in Lissadell Church of Ireland Hall where there was a banquet and dancing till all hours. It was like the extended wedding scene from The Deer Hunter except the war was over, there was no draft, and we had life to look forward to.

Dermot could appear from nowhere. I remember him landing into my house in Belfast on one occasion with 5lbs of mussels, bread, a tub of double cream and a bottle of white wine. I think it was before he was due to appear at the Elmwood Hall on stage with E.

Annie Proulx. A couple of times a year he would ring: always after nine at night. Something would have been on the news about the North and he would have had a brainwave. And now there shall be no more phone calls. No more advice.

No letters. No sudden times. But there are the books, the poems, the films. And there is my wedding video! It includes him and Helen arriving at our house and later him on the floor in the Felons Club like a gazelle, Lord of The Dance—which he was in the early stages of creating and choreographing for Michael Flatley!

And, of course, there are the stories we will tell about him and the stories Dermot has left behind as our Dermot takes the bend for home.

His name was Dermot Healy. I was standing in the open as I spoke, on the upper storey of the house, the roof and walls from the upper level gone and a clear view down the wooded valley. I stepped into the dim empty pub and wiped away the tears caused by the icy wind gusting in the street. The wind was what I was trying to get away from. He was anxious to get home, but the logistics were looking tricky.

I recognised him from the photograph on the back of one of his books. I was jobless at the time but I happened to have the keys to a borrowed car in my pocket. An hour later we were on the road, heading north. I had turned thirty a couple of weeks before in a windowless unit in an industrial park outside Athlone, earning money by 1.

We are grateful to the editors of The Stinging Fly for allowing us permission to reprint it. I wrote stories in longhand and threw most of the pages away. I never sought the company of writers, either the published or unpublished kinds, and probably Dermot Healy was the only writer I would have wanted to meet.

The other ones who interested me were dead already or in foreign countries. I had read it twice. Its mood of strangeness and disorientation intrigued me. The central character was undergoing a mental breakdown, concurrent with the collapse of a relationship with a woman, and a lot of drink was mixed in. There were scenes of paranoia and jealousy set against the background of the sectarian hatred of Belfast, others against the landscape of the west coast of Ireland, familiar yet transfigured.

Lyrical, cunning writing that pushed you off-balance even as it drew you in. Healy ruled a space where another set of rules applied. It was because I was a writer. I agreed I was, though I was unsure if this was true. He was a man who liked to lean into very strong wind. His home was an old cottage that he had renovated.

He had to keep dumping truckloads of boulders on the shore because the Atlantic was taking chunks out of the land, advancing towards the house.

He said he could feel the shock of the really big waves through the rock as he lay in bed. We drank and talked and read poems—this was new to me—and I read a translation of an old anonymous Irish one that was wild and like a prayer, and I read it well. It was a clear morning and ahead of me was Ben Bulben, gleaming with frost and snow. At that point I had decided I was a writer. I met Dermot on a couple of occasions after that.

The last one was in earlyjust before I left the country. I knew the time had come for me to settle down to work and that it was just a matter of getting a little room in one of the cheaper neighbourhoods of Bucharest and closing the door behind me. I had been working as a security guard on night shifts. Im An Errand Girl For Rhythm - Various - In-Cafes Cool Vol. II (CD) was a good way to save money because the hours were so long you had no time or energy to spend it.

I worked through the winter and hardly saw daylight during those months. A couple of weeks later I was on my way east. All I needed for my new life fitted in a sports bag. In the bag was a rock, a fossil Dermot picked up on the shore behind his house when we were walking. He gave it to me and I put it in my pocket.

You can see he worships you. About six years later my editor sent him an advance copy of my first book and he wrote back with more enthusiasm than I could have hoped for.

We drank and talked until late, on that night before I left the country, and—yes—read poems aloud. I had the pull-out bed in the living room. Out there, where everyone figures out the angles and the margins. And your desire to arrive, finally, as a writer—this sacred thing you had in your mind— will always recede away from you, as if in a dream, the harder you pursue it. It is something that will never be in the world.

After the Event Glenn Patterson Two hours after the event I am still trying to work out how you did it, how you turned me interviewing you into you getting me to answer the questions I had asked you—There you are! A man in a hat like the hat was the whole point of him, what he had been heading towards from the moment he left the ground. Who wears a hat like that? Who wears a hat like that to a pub like this? Who insists on keeping it on all the way through his first pint standing at the bar?

Who goes to the toilet still wearing it? Who follows him? Who comes out from the toilet in two shakes wearing the hat? Who and whose mates, all rugby-sevens of them? What follows that? Not what in that first heated minute seemed inevitable. What follows is an exchange of songs, the hat a kind of conch, bestowing—imposing—a voice on the wearer.

You conch the Sash out of me. Like the books and the stories, the poems and the plays. Is that another question? I think it is. There could be something in it.

There you are! I first read Dermot Healy in when Aidan gave me a copy of Fighting with Shadows, and told me Dermot was the best writer currently working in Ireland. I immediately felt completely at home with Dermot. It was like having another version of Aidan to hand, closer to my own age, only two years older as opposed to Aidan was helped at the beginning of his career by Samuel Beckett, mentored, we would say nowadays, and he did what he could to encourage Dermot. But just as important as practical help, were the hours that Dermot and Aidan spent walking around London, no doubt visiting the occasional pub, talking, exchanging ideas, sparking off each other.

Like Aidan, Dermot was largely self-educated. Both were voracious readers, and most of the time both found American literature and literature in translation more interesting than the works of their English and Irish contemporaries. Aidan immediately recognised a kindred spirit in Dermot.

Aidan is chiefly known for Langrishe, Go Down, but it is his least typical novel, and the one he likes least. Instead you have a collage-like assembly of visual images, historical fact, dreams, anecdotes, lists, polyglot references, dialogue, embedded quotations from other writers and philosophers both famous and obscure, their origins often unacknowledgedand detailed descriptions of physical surroundings so accurate that you smell the noisome Spanish latrine as vividly as you see the dance of sunlight on the Mediterranean.

In Bornholm Night-Ferry, love letters written between the author again lightly fictionalised and a Danish poet, are used apparently verbatim, so that rather than reading about the affair, the reader is plunged right into the affair, experiencing its progress firsthand. It is another novel totally devoid of literary shit. By outlawing telling, and the rhetorical tropes that accompany the telling, you banish the authorial voice, and the writerly ego.

Both Aidan Higgins and Dermot Healy know what Samuel Beckett meant when he said that when you listen to the voice in your head it is not literature that you hear. He would have liked that, most likely he would have laughed, but he would have liked it. His greatness lay not only in the extraordinary body of work that he produced, but in his generosity and kindness to other writers, which I have experienced firsthand.

I published two novels with Hamish Hamilton London in my early thirties, and then got stuck in a loop with an impossible historical novel. After about ten years of rejections, I decided to write another contemporary novel, and I called it The Wind that Shakes the Barley. Apart from the horrible coincidence of the title, the film was being made on my doorstep; the whole of south County Cork was dotted with discreet little signposts for the film crew: WSB.

I started to think maybe there was something wrong with it. Dermot kindly volunteered to take a look at it. I posted him a bound typescript, and he sent it back to me with comments all over it in his strangely childlike handwriting, and a three-page, single-spaced typed letter, dated 8 April, Before the letter, there was a long phone call, to let me know as soon as he knew, that he liked it, a typically kind gesture.

Aidan once looked at some stories for me. His advice was to get rid of the all-knowing narrative voice, the voice telling the story, and let the story emerge through the speech and actions of the characters.

Go daft sometimes. In her dialogue we will learn who she is. Let the narrator stay quiet. Aidan Higgins. He went into an old bachelor one day. Dermot was afflicted with an unruly mind that could never quite attend to the mundane because of the sacred anarchy beneath the surface of everything, which drew him in and allowed him to write such viscerally beautiful poetry and prose.

I remember when I was fourteen going into a little cafe in Cavan, where he lived, to meet the twenty-year-old, who even then was acknowledged as a great poet. I was terrified. He arrived with a big smile.

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