Had the big birthday bash on Friday. We had a diverse crowd and a whole lot of fun...my parent's place is a great place for a party and they've got a sound party ethic (although they throw them seldom). Lots of the guests didn't know each other or even their hosts, but the general jollity o' the scene made everyone relax and enjoy themselves. We tasted a few wines to determine the wine of choice for Jon and Beth's wedding...and we settled on something...I can't remember what now. We talked about guns and church and video games and Jackie Chan and Las Vegas and Matthew Henry. It was great.
On Saturday I went out with Marion and Sarah Clark and Luisa Geary to Durty Nelly's, the local quality Irish pub. We were there to see [drumroll please] Irish-musician-now-settled-in-Jacksonville Froogle McDoogle. No, wait. Spade McQuade. Or McCade. Really. His name is Spade.
I walked into an alehouse I used to frequent...
I'd bought a stubby little cigar for the occasion, and sat in a corner table a-sippin' (a little Maker's Mark) and a-smokin', listening to the rowdy action of guitar, mandolin, and washboard (oh, yeah).
I told the landlady me money was spent...
The best part about the McQu/Cade's set was the audience participation, with clapping (any of you familiar with Wild Rover know of one fun clap-along), sung responses, and profane choruses. The ladies and Marion left a little after midnight, but I was still nursing a drink so I hung out a little while. I would've loved to stay for the entire set...
...but alas, I had to be at early service the next day.
I asked her for bread and she answered me "Nay,
Such custom as yours I can hire any day."
He covered a lot of songs that The Pogues have done, or wrote themselves, especially in the early part of McQu/Cade's set. That made me sympathetic toward him, but I felt a true psychic bond with him for all the (trad.) he played, Wild Rover, Dirty Old Town, Whiskey In the Jar, Mountain Dew, The Irish Rover, some-others-I-can't-call-to-mind-I'm-sure.
All in all, a great couple of weekend evenings, and the sort of fun-upon-fun that doesn't come around too often.
On Saturday I went out with Marion and Sarah Clark and Luisa Geary to Durty Nelly's, the local quality Irish pub. We were there to see [drumroll please] Irish-musician-now-settled-in-Jacksonville Froogle McDoogle. No, wait. Spade McQuade. Or McCade. Really. His name is Spade.
I walked into an alehouse I used to frequent...
I'd bought a stubby little cigar for the occasion, and sat in a corner table a-sippin' (a little Maker's Mark) and a-smokin', listening to the rowdy action of guitar, mandolin, and washboard (oh, yeah).
I told the landlady me money was spent...
The best part about the McQu/Cade's set was the audience participation, with clapping (any of you familiar with Wild Rover know of one fun clap-along), sung responses, and profane choruses. The ladies and Marion left a little after midnight, but I was still nursing a drink so I hung out a little while. I would've loved to stay for the entire set...
...but alas, I had to be at early service the next day.
I asked her for bread and she answered me "Nay,
Such custom as yours I can hire any day."
He covered a lot of songs that The Pogues have done, or wrote themselves, especially in the early part of McQu/Cade's set. That made me sympathetic toward him, but I felt a true psychic bond with him for all the (trad.) he played, Wild Rover, Dirty Old Town, Whiskey In the Jar, Mountain Dew, The Irish Rover, some-others-I-can't-call-to-mind-I'm-sure.
All in all, a great couple of weekend evenings, and the sort of fun-upon-fun that doesn't come around too often.
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