I stumbled across these guys last week while trying to negotiate a drink from Bill, the kindly old proprietor of Foleys fine music and drinking emporium.
Bill did a nice job on the old place, taking down the horrible barricade and making a bit of a stage in the corner, so that bands no longer have to stand on the same level as the patrons. This is a great thing for the musicians’ teeth and knuckles.
(Teeth because drunken bastards kept bumping into the microphones and knuckles because drunken bastards kept bumping into the microphones).
These fellas have been around for ages in various guises, combinations, permutations and associations. They’ve been calling themselves the Small Mercies lately but I think they might be about to change that again because there’s some Australian band of the same name, who might come around and break their legs
Or drink them senseless.
Anyway, for now we’ll keep them incognito. Na Trócairí Beaga seems like a good codename. What do you think?
I’m having a bit of trouble with the video camera at the moment. It keeps cutting out if it thinks the music is too loud, due to a safety feature. A safety feature? How safe is it for a camera to be tossed into a river?
Anyway, I’m casting around for solutions, and meanwhile, here’s a song I managed to get (most) of. It cuts off a bit abruptly at the end which is a bigger pain in the arse for me than for you, but I apologise in advance anyway.
One of their own: Dry Land.
Graffiti spotted on the condom machine in Foleys.