It’s been over a week now since the night of the Pigtown Fling, and still the town is buzzing from the success of it all.
True, the Crescent Hall was filled with more hipsters than a skinny-jeans fire sale in a vegan coffee shop, more beards than a Cecil B De Mille retrospective and more intense frowns than a French Art-House parody, but since this is Limerick, there was also pig on a spit, pints on tap and a pile of ne’er do-wells out the back smoking cigarettes and talking shite.
It’s all about the feeling. Every bit of it is about the feeling, and even though that feeling comes from close on sixty unique musicians, all from Limerick and its environs, it also comes from the unique outlook of our people — a bunch almost entirely untainted by the affectations of other towns on this islands, provided you exclude a small coterie of knob-ends in the business community, and even they are a minority.
Limerick is all about the talent, and at the Fling you were falling over it. Everywhere you went it was the same thing. Excuse me, you extravagantly talented person, could I just squeeze past to grab myself a faceful of free roasted pig?
Certainly. Thank you for calling me an extravagantly talented person.
No. Not at all. You are extravagantly talented.
I’m not. The best you could call me is gifted.
You’re extravagantly talented.
I’m fucking not.
You fucking are.
That’s Limerick City, kid. Violently modest.
I loved the Pigtown Fling. I loved every shuddering inch of it, every last chorus, power-chord, heart-melting harmony and athletic hip-hop face-grinding second of it. I fucking loved it, as did my friends, the hundreds of old friends I met, as did my children, astonished by the surfeit of talent available in this little town.
Jesus jumping Christ, where would you get it?
Presenting the show, for some reason I don’t quite get, were Pat Shortt and Paul McLoone, a man who has grown heartily tired of Prefab Sprout jokes over the years with their undertones of derision. They did a fair enough job of it and they deserve thanks, but the people who really deserve the applause are those who laboured to make it a reality and those who went on stage to give it a soul.
I won’t name them, in case I might leave someone out, and also because who the fuck am I to be congratulating anyone? These immensely talented people made it happen while I was just a spectator, though a grateful and happy one. Many of them are my friends, I’m fortunate to say, and together they showed yet again what a wonderful town we live in.
No need to say they should be proud.
They are proud and with good reason.