THE LARGE-SCALE outdoor music festivals kicked off last weekend and my first port of call was Festival of the Fires on the Hill of Uisneach.
When it comes to sessions, this site has form. There were festivals on the hill as far back as 800AD. Aslan played the first one. The hill is a place of historical and spiritual significance. Signal fires were traditionally lit here to celebrate the arrival of summer. The panoramic view over more than 20 counties is spectacular. The Celtic mysticism and spirituality were right up the ley lines of Kíla and Liam Ó Maonlaí, who were topping the bill.
LOCAL LAD
Local boy made good, Bressie took to the stage amidst much screaming and excitement. I’m reliably informed that he’s six foot six inches of rideyness. I watched the bould Bressie for the first couple of songs of his set, but then . . . sssshhhh, don’t tell anyone.
The Button Factory Stage was less mainstream, with Raglans and Rural Savage lighting my fire.
Propeller Palms played a stormer and got the crowd dancing in the early afternoon. But it was when the sun went down and the fires were lit that the atmosphere cranked up a notch or two. Jape got us jumping. I have a feeling this might be more than a one-day “do” next year.
VANTASTIVAL VIBE
Vantastival in Co Louth initially catered mainly for camper van enthusiasts, but it has also flung it’s gates open to tents and day-trippers.
There was a good line-up of bands with God is an Astronaut headlining and rocking the axles off the circled wagons. La Galaxie also played a great set that had the crowd heaving. This festival had more of a family vibe going on, with plenty for kids to do and an enjoyable camping cook-off led by Cully and Sully, who travel in their own culinary camper.
Smaller crowd but no less enjoyable for that. Kudos on the cans of beer being €2.50 – they were €4.50 in Westmeath. You could bring your own booze to both gigs, but do you ever bring enough?
Extremely friendly crowd. I was invited in to Tanya’s van for an Irish coffee and we talked about carburettors – swoon. When not rocking out, we’re a quirky bunch.
RIGHT, TED
There are things happening at festivals in Ireland that feel like they’re straight out of Father Ted. The Howya Festival in Durrow for example, a festival of welcomes, friendship and scarecrows. There’s the Egg-Throwing Championship at the Culchie Festival in Mohill. I’m in training for the Turnip Tossing in Ballydehob in August. I’ve started with parsnips and hopefully by August I’ll be able to lob the turnip equivalent of Marty Morrisey’s head. The festival that kick-started my grá for these surreal events is the Bucket Singing Competition in Downey’s Bar, Dungarvan, Co Waterford.
It’s a form of traditional singing that harks back to a time when the bucket was an integral part of rural life. Was the bucket first put over a singer’s head out of shyness, to enhance the acoustic or to create a loophole that permitted singers to sing outlawed songs, banned from public performance (“I was the only one in the bucket your honour.”)? No one can say for sure.
They came from America, Britain, Austria and even from the wilds of Carrick-on-Suir to compete. The tinny ringing of the bucket suited some singers more than others. Inside the steel container the temperature and pressure was fierce. Taking a long time to deliberate, the judges decided that the title was to go to a man who had some Dungarvan blood in him. Feckin’ me! Not only am I the All-Ireland Conker Champion, now I am also the All-Ireland Bucket Singing Champion. Bring on the turnips.
My main event this weekend is the Camden Crawl in Dublin. 100 Bands over 15 venues. Wish me luck!
Safe travels, don’t die.
