Deep inside where the Beatles reside

Just woke from the maddest dream.

I found myself present at a Beatles session, I saw only John and Paul but heard them all as I was behind a sound dampening partition. John said he was about to play a song that he and Paul had just written called “Take me out” and went on to make a wisecrack about an assassin. I almost blurted out the obvious. Upon waking I googled “Take me Out” to double check it wasn’t an outtake I’d missed. It wasn’t. But in the dream it sounded like all Lennon’s gems rolled into one. I could hardly contain myself. My producer, Leo, and I just sat there like children, listening in awe, shaking our heads as the signature voice and drums sound filled the room. Yoko was dancing herself into a frenzy apparently oblivious to those around her. But still, there was nothing strange about this, it seemed natural enough.

I then found myself sitting beside Linda, holding hands of all things, telling her how lucky she and Paul were, as I knew but she didn’t, that their marriage would last. Again, almost blurted out that she would leave earlier than she should. Although I did have a feeling in the dream that Linda and co somehow had an inkling to their own respective fates. Funny because I've never fancied Linda and Lennon’s wisecrack almost seemed like the ultimate in black humour. Maybe we were all going back. Linda then put her head on my shoulder and I jokingly asked if she’d any sisters, cousins perhaps? She laughed for me. Then my dad stumbled in dancing a silly dance, tripped and fell before us. Slightly embarrassed, Linda looked at me as if to say “what's he on?”. He got up, we all laughed, but mine came from behind a computer screen. I wanted to hide my red face. Then I woke up. How deep the Beatles reside.

The French Connection

(Myself and Bertrand Belin at La boulangerie in Paris. photo Léo Fourastié)

I was tempted to do an analysis of what we came to refer to as the "noughties", but I'd like people to actually read my blog, so, I've compromised and decided on a quick dip into 2009 and a wee look at how 2010's shaping up.

Sure, lets start here and work backwards. Got back from Paris on Sunday, after missing my plane on Saturday night. Long story, anyway, made it back. Paris for the most part was kind to me. Post recording session, which I'll come back to in a moment, myself and Karin Hammer found ourselves (on a bit of a pub crawl in Montmartre) celebrating the lack of Parisian arrogance; in fact, we found them downright friendly. "Really?", I hear you say. Really. I've always found this while visiting Paris. You meet their eye, "bonsoir's" replied. Nice. Just like at home, I told Karin.

The session at Sebastien libolt's Snark studio:
Why Paris? To show off? To look fancy? Because I can afford it? No to all of the above.
The, ahem, French connection:

Frenchman Léo Fourastié, whom I met up In Helsinki a few years back, ended up co-producing this record. We started recording at 22 Pistepirkko's studio in Helsinki with Ken and Carl Papenfus from Relish and Jukka Jylli on bass. Two sessions later, Léo had relocated to Paris. I nipped over and did a session in Brittany and several in Paris, culminating in the last piece of the puzzle, song number 10, completely live last week at Le Snark studios. A great bunch of people assembled to play on "Only My Frown", including Hothouse Flowers' frontman Liam O'Maonlai on piano, whom I toured around Ireland with in 2005, Paddy Sherlock on trombone-Irish man based in Paris, Erwan Adams on bass, Bertrand Belin on lead guitar. I was curious, didn't know what to expect as no one had been given a demo of the song in advance. After a bit of pre-production, we got down to taking the track. Before long, it became apparent that something special was happening. I'm used to playing with Ken and Carl and co and I was out of my comfort zone somewhat. Half way through I asked Liam if he'd try some harmonies. It all started coming together. Bertrand came up with a couple of clever ideas and started playing the solo with a coin and around 8pm we wound it down and went for a drink. Not that I need an excuse, but the album had been recorded, done, dusted. So, a few more drinks were had over the course of the week.



Karin Hammer, video editor/movie maker arrived from Vienna to shoot some footage and caught me in the middle of my celebrations. I came up for air once or twice during the week which allowed us to do some shooting and talking about the first video clip that Karin will shoot in and around my hometown of Downpatrick in coming weeks.

Stating the obvious, but it helps if you can say at least hello, excuse me and kiss me arse, in French, which about covers it for me. Making the effort makes life easier. This however was not the case when I took a taxi back to Léo's house around 3am on Wednesday morning. "Bonjour madam", says I, feeling very refined in my stupor. I showed her the address on a text (very sophisticated I know) and off we went. A journey that should take between 15-20 minutes started to take a little longer until I realised my taxi driver was lost.

My French being basic at best and her English non-existent, you can imagine, we had quite the conversation. Well, more like two tetchy people talking and later shouting AT one another. I asked her to stop the meter while we figured it out, which she point blank refused to do. I asked her to stop the car, again, deaf ears. I then sent an sos text out to everyone I knew who spoke French better than I did-that's a lot of texts and I was roaming! Silence. An hour later, I reasoned it was probably better to calm down and just sit it out. Although it should have said 15e, the meter now read 60e. Was I, ahem, being taken for a ride? Doing a runner in a strange suburb of Paris crossed my mind more than twice, but god only knows where I was running to. I stayed put. We both calmed down and eventually after several conversations with her agent/boss? we rolled up outside Léo's. I handed her a card to which she shouted "no card, no card". Christ. So, off we went on another adventure, only this time to find an ATM. I did get home in the end and she charged me 20e, but I was an older man and promised to brush up on my French.


All things considered, a great week was had. Liam O'Maonlai came to Paris to lend some of his magic to one of my songs. I got to meet and play with Bertrand Belin whom I've admired for a while now. It was great to meet and play with Paddy and Erwan-another Brittany lad. I got to meet producer Alain Cluzeau and to see the studio he has been producing in for 32 years. Another high point was when we all got together at "la Boulangerie" for some great food and wine. Cheese puffs, deep fried duck skin and a dish that had cabbage on top and inside a mixture of mince and liver. I had armaniac (based on wine fruits as cognac) from 1972, a fine year by the way, and lashings of great wine-red and white. A big thank you to Léo, Agnès and Félix for inviting me into your home.

Now for the artwork, mastering, duplication, promoting and touring of this record. The end? Only the beginning.

I'll go into last year another time. It might take a while.

To view some photos of the session click HERE.

A Thousand Stories [Family news]

Another Hanvey, this time, my father and photographer Bobbie Hanvey, recently had his photograph used on the following book:

It'll be grand....

Place: M50 Dublin northbound.
When: Last Thursday night. 5.15.
Destination: Downpatrick.
Blood pressure: higher than what's healthy.

Why?


Here's why.

2 minutes on to the M50, it became apparent that there were tailbacks. How? Because I was stuck in one of them.
I turned off my teach yourself Polish podcast and turned on Newstalk 106 to see if George Hook, the talk radio show's presenter, could shed any light. No dice. After 20 minutes of George, back to Polish.

Half an hour later, and increasingly conscious of the pressing family issue which had me heading northbound in the first place, I reasoned that perhaps I should call AA Road watch to see if they could provide me with any info. Part of the recorded message (because we all know that hearing people on the other end of the phone only occurs either during office hours or when we call friends and family, or when someone's chasing an unpaid bill) included:

"There are tailbacks on the M50 Northbound".
No kidding. I happen to be in one of them. When the automated voice turned its attention to another part of Dublin, I realised there wasn't going to be a "WHY", or a "FOR LONG". Then I tried to imagine someone who wasn't stuck in their car on the M50, sitting at home with their feet up, punching in the numbers on their phone to check how the traffic was doing? Didn't think so.

After more patience and attempts at pronouncing F**K in Polish, I thought "ah-haa!" I'll call EFLOW, the company responsible for collecting the toll fee, for surely they'll be able to tell me what gives.

Initially, I was pleased to have an actual human being in real time on the other end of the line, someone who "understood" that drivers have needs too and that the roads don't close, even when the offices do. Thought that might be included in the toll? So, after explaining my predicament to (lets call him) Fergus, he said:

"That's not us, it's the National Roads Authority you need to talk to."

I replied:
"Fergus, you're telling me that even though you are the people I pay for the pleasure of using this particular stretch of road, that outside collection, EFLOW takes no responsibility for providing drivers with information concerning tailbacks/delays?"

Fergus: "Correct".

Ok, so, still stuck on the Dublin side of the M50 tolling area, and no further forward along the road or in my attempts at discovering how long the delay might last, I decided to call "The National Roads Authority"-because, although Fergus could not provide me with information concerning a road his company collected tolls for, he did sound believable.


I called the National Roads Authority only to find, yip, another automated message. Only this time the all too familiar:
"Office hours are from......."

I guess the National Roads Association also feel that once the office closes that drivers cease to require road information.

At this stage, I wondered if that counting to 10 thing actually worked and finally decided to call Newstalk. Upon telling the guy on the comments line about my recent quest for road info, he resignedly sighed and compassionately giggled, and said he'd pass it on to George Hook, the show's presenter, for George to read out on air in the hope that someone in AA Roadwatch would hear, be suddenly overcome with a wave of social repsonsibility and call the studio with a prognosis. Off with the ipod and on to Newstalk. Ears peeled they were. But, nadda.

A journey that usually takes 2 hours and 20 minutes took twice that. 2 hours stuck on the M50 and I'm still no further forward-and we're expected to pay for the pleasure?
Maybe I should have saved the money on calls and kept the Polish on and said to myself:

"Auch sure, it'll be grand".

Perhaps, but then again....

Seriously cheap downloads from Amie St...

Nearest, dearest, friends, foes...
Do check out : http://amiestreet.com/artist/steafan-hanvey-and-the-honeymoon-junkies/
My whole album is available for FREE download for a limited time only.
If you get there to find a fee beside the song in question it's because they've already started to go up. But it's the lowest they've ever been available.

EP no. 2 & LP. 2 are close to completion.
This offer on the first record draws a line under "The Honeymoon Junkie era". A tear shed, but bursting with enthusiasm to share the new material with you.

Blogs to follow very soon on the US Tour. Just over the jet lag, so bear with me.
Hope you're all keeping well.

Peace and Love,

Steafán

xx

Hat on Hat off

Sitting here in Montpelier on a friend's deck, it's about 88oC. (What's that in Euros?) Too hot. I know. I left a cold, rainy Ireland, but getting sunburnt a few days back just means i'm avoiding the sun more. Suits me.

Gigs going well. I feel like all the shows deserve their own seperate blog and although I won't go that far, I would like to give the experience more time and attention, blog wise. So, just to let you know I'm half way through, getting some nice quality time with some friends too, meeting some great people, and getting to play my new songs to new audiences.

Has to be done.

I'll be back soon with the details.

Take care.

x

From one survivor to another.

I'm sitting here quite stunned as it happens. Thought I'd stick on the talk radio station here in Dublin as background din to my morning coffee. Having visited Auszwitz recently, it was interesting to hear Holocaust survivors talk candidly about their experiences and memories of the liberation of Belsen. Heart-rending stuff. They were then thanked by the interviewer for sharing those difficult memories.

Grand.

Then to my chagrin (yes, a certain amount of desensitisation has set in over the years, irony not lost on me here) the following segment dealt with, wait for it, speed dating. Ok, radio being radio, and maybe a producer's idea of "something light" after the previous heavy segment, isn't perhaps, that shocking after all?

Fair enough, but the word that sealed it for me, came when the interviewer introduced the voice at the other end of the phone-in. It went like this:

"So (Kathy, for example) tell me about your experiences of speed dating. I believe it's not as bad as some of us think. Give me a survivors' guide if you like".

Now, if once wasn't bad enough, she, once again, (in case her listeners or her previous survivors hadn't heard her) announced "give us a survivors' guide then will you?"


Well, after that and my morning coffee, I can now say that I'm awake.