Archives for July 2007

A weird package was sent to me recently. The postmark was from Northern Ireland and the handwriting on the envelope was tiny. There was no cover note, no mark of identification. Inside there was a sheaf of printed notes – an arcane design for life. At first, I though it was some kind of junk package. But no, it had been delivered expressly for my benefit.

Was it some kind of spiritual tract, a get-rich scheme or a barmpot proposition? The weight of the document alarmed me, and instead of skimming the contents, I shoved it in my bag. I fetched it out a few times, but there was never the time to read it properly to see what the anonymous character wanted me to know.

Finally, I had my chance. The title was ‘Executive Hubris’, which wasn’t the sexiest come-on ever. But I read on. It had the tone of a motivational lecture – full of big rhetoricals, showstopper punch-lines and a few parables from the billionaires who know better.

The gist of the idea is that people in charge of ambitious projects can often become big-headed with their station. This ultimately ruins their judgement and they make decisions based in their ego, not their reasoning. As your granny would say, ‘pride takes a fall’.

Maybe someone out there thinks I’m a little cocky, that my various schemes are too wrapped up in personal gratification. That may be the case, and certainly it’s helpful to be grounded on occasions, to re-evaluate your plans. So for that advice, I thank my nameless well-wisher.

On the other hand, I believe that Ulster people are far too prudent, averse to risks and the fun that comes with throwing a bold idea into the aether. It’s part of our fundamentalist history, and it’s inbuilt to our rural survival instincts. In the past, our dreamers were often slapped down, or encouraged to leave town. But we’re no longer dirt poor, and the new Northern Ireland is worth a few interesting punts. So hey, we’ll talk the talk, but maybe try not to over-egg the ego.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Once in a while, I come up with an interesting idea for an event. This is the fun part. The tricky stage is when you have to execute the cute little notion. And so the last few days have seen a considerable load of frenzy, getting ready for tonight’s launch of ‘Oh Yeah Computer’.

The plan is simple enough. We celebrate the tenth anniversary of Radiohead’s ‘OK Computer’ by getting local artists to recreate the album, track by track. We turn this into a fund-raiser for the Oh Yeah music centre, something that’s dear to my heart, a group project that’s been rising for the past 18 months. We run this together with the Trans music festival and hope that the public will care.

I’m not sure why this happened, by we’ve got a Polish version of ‘Fitter Happier’. Meantime Iain Archer is flying in from London to do ‘Subterranean Homesick Alien’ while Conor Mason is freshly back from Glasgow to perform ‘Exit Music’. The logistics of getting 12 tracks delivered in a short space to time is a challenge, but we’ve got a great team on the job, and the hope is that we don’t all tumble into Gordon Street after midnight, looking like scarey characters from the fearsome imagination of Thom Yorke.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

2007 is clearly the year of the Spiderpig. As soon as this fabled creature makes its appearance on The Simpsons Movie, the entire cinema audience breaks out in song, chorusing with Homer as he walks his porky pet along the ceiling. It’s such a profoundly daft moment, a tubby guy and his new pal, having a swell time.

“Can he swing from a web?” Homer croons, before reaching the only honest conclusion. “No he can’t … he’s a pig”. The song is child-like and addictive and the return of this theme – orchestrated, at the end of the film, is an additional joy.

The animal has its own appreciation page with nine thousand members, while You Tube is full of it. Sadly, the soundtrack isn’t available this side of the pond just yet, with the exception of Green Day busking out the theme tune, but hey it’s only £18 on import.

After watching Homer enjoying such intimacy with his lodger, combing his hair and stopping just shy of a kiss, you hope that the pairing returns in a fresh adventure. No matter that Maggie has spoken her first word, we want Matt Groening to go the whole hog.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Sunday, 5am and some immense eejit is singing excerpts from The Sound Of Music in the middle of the Sperrin Mountains. He is one of the happy campers who have survived the chill night and the musical bounty that was the Glasgowbury Festival. One of his pals is bashing on some bongo drums and another keeps hollering the intro to ‘Ring Of Fire’ while sporadic Mexican cheers tumble from one side of the campsite to another.

Are we amused? Actually no. The Bailie family have decided to pitch our tent in the middle of this Bruegel landscape, awash with cider and insomnia. A group of deeply unfunny souls is trying to recreate the Monty Python sketch about the Knights who say “ni”. Can I kill them now, please?

Our only comfort is the memory of the previous day under Eagle’s Rock, where we thrilled to the music of Oppenheimer, Duke Special, Triggerman, Mojo Fury, Joe Echo, Henry McCullough and more. There were 1500 people on the site, elated to be involved in this pivotal event. The catering was basic and the portaloos were severely challenged, but still a magical thing took place.

Our chief recommendation for next year is that there are extra food vans and yes, a family camping site for people who would actually use their tents for restful purposes. It’s what they were designed for – right?

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Last night, the Cellar Bar in Draperstown was rocking. Sublime music from Henry McCullough, Cat Malojian, Oonagh Clarke and John D'Arcy. A proper, rowdy audience. Unscripted live music from Junior Johnston. Much conversation from the likes of Paddy Glasgow, who is rightly pleased that today's Glasgowbury Festival is close to selling out.

How mad is that? For seven years, Paddy has been shouting about the beauty of the Sperrins and the challenge of rocking his rural parish. He's delivered some fine music over that time, and he's raised a great army of volunteers, but this surely feels like a tipping point, the occasion when a crazy dream becomes tangible.

We've packed the tent and stowed away the wellies as a precaution. We suggest you try to catch this historic gig and in the meantime, listen to last night's fun, on demand.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Tonight, I'll be broadcasting live from the Cellar Bar in Draperstown. It's the eve of the very wonderful Glasgowbury Festival, and so our musical sessions will reflect this. Stay tuned for Henry McCullough, Cat Malojian, Oonagh Clarke and John D'Arcy. Apparently the weather up there is decent, the Eagle's Rock site is primed and the legendary Paddy Glasgow will be giving it socks. Yeeeeeo!

Van Morrison is on the cover of the new Word magazine. As you know, the chap doesn’t do a lot of press, so it’s always interesting to hear the latest. Before even starting, you assume that he’ll be talking about his fave old records, his impatience with celebrity stuff and there will be some mention of his masterpiece, ‘Astral Weeks’. These are the unspoken guidelines. It’s also a fair bet that the article will be accompanied by some approved, press shots (he likes to control his media dealings) of Van looking tetchy and uncomfortable.

And sure enough, he obliges. We find him in conversation with Barry McIlheney, a Belfast guy who once worked for Melody Maker and Smash Hits. Baz knows his music and by Van standards, it’s an affable meeting. Morrison gets to rave about Ray Charles, Mose Allison and Bobby Bland. He bellyaches about his business misfortunes in the Sixties and muses on the songwriting process. Apparently, it can be annoying to have these ideas running though your head. “Sometimes you just want it to f*** off and go away.”

We learn that he doesn’t own an iPod, and that the Hyndford Street of his youth was awash with musical talent. And he defends his habit of writing lyrics about fame: “Well, because I am famous and this is my experience, and f*** you”.

If there was ever any doubt, now you know. He is the Father Jack Hackett of rock and roll.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Outside broadcasts with John Toal are normally good value. The Radio Ulster trucks roll into some mad-for-it location, the guests are primed and their strange habits are relayed to the listening nation.

The Saturday Magazine see-saws from daft conversations to jaw-dropping news. Animals and vegetables often feature and John pinballs between each feature with cheery aplomb. Paula cooks up something swell on a primus stove and I jabber about the new albums. It seems to work.

So when we go to an animal sanctuary, a country fair or a mind and body event, the results are often good fun. Last Saturday we went as far as Letterkenny, where the Earagail Arts Festival was kicking off. The magnificently bearded Paul Brown is now in charge of this project. He’s a Derry man who brought life to Belfast events such as the Bedlam Club and the Moving On Music company. Now he’s rightly proud of a schedule that includes The Skatalites, Patrick Street, Jarlath Henderson, Pat McCabe and an Irish exclusive for Joan As Police Woman.

Other guests are talking up the Special Olympics while the giant Luminarium is being inflated in the park below us. Just as the show is winding up, the sun makes a rare appearance and John Toal sweeps his arms upwards with much satisfaction. Smiles all round and another fine piece of radio all sorted.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

On a damp Monday morning, it’s no bad thing to stay in and listen to the new Prince album. In this case, a free record, given away with the Mail On Sunday. The fella has been throwing stones at the music industry for a long time – famously changing his name and writing “SLAVE” on his cheek, but this move is particularly bold.

Prince is taking the new market conditions to extremes. Most artists don’t make anything on record sales. The internet has devalued the idea of buying albums – why not simply pay for the best tracks or source an illegal, free version? On the other hand, people are now prepared to pay a premium for seeing a musical legend in concert. It’s perceived as the real thing in a virtual, confusing world. And so Prince can play his 21 nights at the O2 Arena and issue a buckshee album by way of a souvenir. He's still in the money.

So how good is ‘Planet Earth’? Well, it’s less frantic than ‘3121’, its patchy predecessor. The return of Wendy and Lisa is something to celebrate, and the recent single, ‘Guitar’, still reminds me of ‘I Will Follow’ by U2. Elsewhere, there’s a tendency to noodle, but when he’s focussed, the likes of ‘Chelsea Rodgers’ is uniquely great.

The music biz is furious that their function has been bypassed. Me, I can’t feel sorry for an industry that still sends out its over-priced products in plastic cases that fall to bits in your hands. So yeah, Prince is excellent value. He’s still the great pretender.

Stu Bailie presents The Late show on Radio Ulster, every Friday from 10pm until midnight. See his playlist here.

Back in 1935, the songwriter Jimmy Kennedy was so inspired by the prospects of a Portstewart evening that he wrote the awe-struck ‘Red Sails In The Sunset’. His lyric featured in the songbooks of Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong. So here I am 72 years later, walking the rain-lashed seafront and I’m asking myself, what did Jimmy see in the place?

Was the author a romantic soul who could find a transcendent glory in an average seaside town? Or did Portstewart have something special back the, before the shops started peddling their plastic tat? Was there a vibrant harbour with real, red sails? These are things that I need to know.

Yes I know, it’s a great place if you like golf. And if you’re in the market for Terylene twin sets and ancient Gabicci sweaters, then the shopping prospects are also pretty hot. Mind you, there are some new-fangled coffee shops, but if it’s internet access you need, then the town library is your only chance. They’ve got an arts centre, but little sign of life aside from an amateur gallery and summer scheme.

Portstewart Strand is genuinely lovely and the toilet facilities may even be open by the end of the summer season. Just in time for the Red Sails festival, with its fireworks and the appearance of Jimmy Crickett. They’ve got a version of It’s A Knock Out and live music from Pickled Onions and The Duvet Brothers.

I’m thinking about ‘Red Sails In The Sunset’, but I’m hearing a Morrissey song: ‘Every Day Is Like Sunday’.

My festival clothes have been through the wash twice now, but the persistent slime of the Oxegen site will not be moved. My bones are sore, my boots may never be functional again and the waterproof claims of my impermeable jacket have been exposed to ridicule. Every July I make a bedraggled exit from Punchestown, vowing that I'll pass on the following year - leaving the work to a younger folk, more tolerant of the catering vans, the latrines and the parade of young artist with skinny legs and scrappy songs.

The Oxegen landscape had the consistency of well-churned butter when we arrived on Saturday morning. By Sunday night, we were shin-deep in foul-smelling gruel, splishing everywhere. And of course there's a breed of festival person - in tabloid speak, a "reveller" - who thinks it's amusing to dive into the schuck.



We don't call them revellers, we know them as Munchies. By day, they wear sports shirts and they spend the summer season in packs, swillling beer and being loud. They don't care for music, but Oxegen is regarded as a midsummer rite. Munchies buy comedy hats, they wallow in the mire and they think it's really funny to grab unsuspecting girls and to hurl them into the mud.

Music writers often resort to war metaphors when they describe festivals. It's was just like Apocalypse Now, they say. Or maybe the siege of Stalingrad. The worst moments of Oxegen certainly seemed like the last helicopter out of Saigon. But then the lucky people of Vietnam didn't have to contend with Muse guitar solos. Or the chuffing Sawdoctors.

Still, I was in the photo pit of the Pet Sounds tent when Brian Wilson arrived. I was maybe six feet away from one of the greatest composers of the last century, watching him play 'Wouldn't it Be Nice', the extended 'Smile' version of 'Heroes And Villains' and a sublime 'God Only Knows'. That's a moment to keep for perpetuity.

I'm also glad to have watched Rufus Wainwright warbling the John McCormack weepie, 'Mecuslah', and to have seen the Brazilian delerium of CSS. Those Romany punks Gogol Bordello were better than I'd hoped, while the arrival of The Arcade Fire was a masterclass in how to make a sound that's fresh and wondrous and weird again. At the side of the stage Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon were getting lost in the music, and we were in that zone also.

You can follow our reports on Radio Ulster's ATL site, including reviews, photos, news stories and vido clips. There is footage of myself interviewing Sinead O' Connor. Her hair is a stately shade of grey these days, but the eyes still regard you like a Vulcan mind probe. She's class.

So maybe it wasn't so bad. In time, Oxegen 2007 will become another campaign story, the essence of myth and monsoon, cleaned up in the spin cycle. Onwards to the Sperrins and the festival promise of Glasbowbury, July 21, replete with Oppenheimer, Duke Special and more.

I've just realised that tomorrow will be my eighth year at the Oxegen/Witnness festival. Every one, of them, to be exact. I've done a half-dozen Glastonburys, a load of Fleadhs and Feiles, a bunch of Phoenixes and too many soggy Readings to currently recall. I guess you could call me a veteran.

Although I tend to moan a bit, it's been a source of fun and vivid experiences. How many people have seen Bonnie Tyler being pelted with plastic cider bottles, filled with human urine? Isn't it a major life experience to have wallowed in the mud of Somerset, or to have camped in the middle of a hundred psycotic Scallies?

Well, the Belfast shops have all sold out of welly boots and my plastic poncho has been located. I will start moaning in a few hours, but for now, the anticipation is rather swell.

It's good to hear that The Rotterdam will open again on the Belfast waterfront, after the property developers seemed intent on knocking it down. It would be nice to think that public opinion and a feisty myspace site had something to do with the change of fortunes, but doubtless there were lots of behind-the-scenes deals.

Anyway, the publican Chris Roddy is taking over for a year, aided by music promoter Nigel Martin. It's a good combination, and hopefully the sentimental outpourings from the public will be manifest in a strong turn-out for the gigs they deliver.

We were thinking about such things last Saturday evening, when the Laganside was alive to a BBC Blast event and a maritime festival. Good weather had brought loads of people to Custom House Square and the ajoining bars. The most rewarding place was the Lifeboat Bar, commandeered for the evening by David Holmes. Like a true underground spirit, he recognised that the best club setttings are often the ones that haven't been blighted by gormless refitters. And so we huddled in the half light of this funky interior, listening to Martin Rev and The Louvin Brothers, digging the Shangri Las and watching some novelle vague movies onm the wall. Shortly after midnight, David played out 'Stoned Love' by the Supremes and this punter was slayed by the euphoria and the uncommon fun. There's still some life coming up from that muddy water.

A few days with the family on the north-west coast demands a new summer soundtrack. This means we have to spend a few hours on the computer before we leave, burning the tunes of choice onto a series of CDs. The Bailie girls are rolling with Lily Allen, Snow Patrol and Natasha Beddingfield. I've managed to sneak in The Ramones, 'Come On Eileen', The Zutons and a few other esoteric tunes that may expand their musical interests.

We've also put together a CDs comprised entirely of songs that mention my children's names. You can go a long way with Lily and Rosie/Rosalie, but Betsy has send us scurrying to the obscure parts of the Beach Boys and Nora Waterson catalogues. That said, the only Stuarts I know are in a a very obscure Dead Milkmans' song and Led Zeppelin's 'Boogie With Stu'...

Anyway, thanks to i-tunes, each compilation has a bespoke sleeve, showing a family member doing something daft. And we're currently listening to a freshly burnt CD that gathers together 16 Duke Special rareties, live tracks and B-sides. He's singing songs made famous by Marc Almond, Nina Simone and Brian Wilson. There are excellent songs recorded at the Ulster Hall and the Empire, while we've even found vintage versions of songs, put together when he was in Booley House and Benzine Headset. Excuse us now, 'cause we're gonna freewheel...