Brace Yourself

It's a bit mad, or is it, that I should start my official blog by talking about none other than the wonderful Damien Rice? Why, you might ask? Well, apart from "why not", and it hadn't been my intention, but since my last Myspace friend request was from someone who, I swear, could be the ricey equivalent to Paul Simon's Chevy Chase in "You can call me AL", I couldn't help but let off a little bit, alright? I mean, why should it surprise a Paddy, that someone from north america might want to emulate a Paddy? Afterall, it makes a pleasant change from some one from Kerry say, trying to take off an Eddie Vedder, or a Jeff Buckley. Beats sounding like Christy or Daniel, right? Or does it? It's what I've heard some folk hanging in and around Dublin call a "mid Atlantic thang or twang". They make a George Hamilton tan sound like cancer. You know who you are-get a wife!

Regardless of what you think about Rice, you just have to hand it to him for getting to where he is. You must give a man his dues. I mean, lets face it, we are, afterall, a country riddled with begrudgery. One of the only things preventing Seamus Heaney from not receiving his Nobel Prize, was the fear that such begrudgery, though typical of us as a nation, would only shame us in the eyes of an admiring world. So, it was awarded him, albeit, begrudgingly. A bit like me saying : "regardless of what you think about Rice, you just have to hand it to him for getting to where he is." That sounds begrudging, doesn't it? The backhanded compliment sort of thing..? See, that's the problem. We all (The Irish that is) like to believe that all the rest of YOU are begrudging, but not I, no, I'm that evolved...yada yada.. Well, all I can say is, go on Damien, you've got there dude, doesn't matter how, and believe me, they do have their theories, but enjoy it man. The point is, it's irrelevant whether I like Rice's music or not, what matters is, that I'm able to wish him well. But, do you know what bothers me more than a begrudger? Or, singers of north American decent trying to "take him off"? It's a Paddy trying to take him off. Ladies and gentlemen, if you think David Gray caused a ruckus, then look around, there are more Rice wanabees than there are grains of rice. I won't name names. Least not in this blog. You do the math.

You'd think I'd be content with the critical acclaim that my debut album, "Steafan Hanvey and the Honeymoon Junkies" received from the Irish and Finnish press, the radio play, my singles, A Hundred Days of Snow & My Woman (I mean, Dave Fanning liked it) making play lists all over the country, the t.v. appearances, the touring, the holiday, the groupies (eh, ok..) -but no, the grass is always greener..I've an axe to grind. Everyone does. It concerns the wearing of braces, and I'm not talking the teeth straightening, expensive kind.. Nor the sexy, ladies lingerie kind either. No, I'm talking about the ones the clown wears. Or Michaell Douglas in Wallstreet. The very ones I've been using for this past 5 years at the behest of my doctor, who said, because of my hiatus hernia, it may be a lot more comfortable than wearing a belt. So, the reluctant trend setter I became, and folk thought that I was trying hard to be different. No, not the case. It was easy. Although, all said, I easily grew into my newly designated attire-perhaps in a similar way to how the Beatles grew into their Epstein suits. We all have our delusions of grandeur. I do realise that Kubrick had the step on me with his clockwork orange thugs and the neo Nazi skinheads and Madness..Thing is, 5 years ago, those parties were past tense. If you wore braces (or suspenders in the Americas) you were under suspicion. What kind of suspicion, is not clear exactly. But suspicion, (like a favourite scope of your choice), you were under, nonetheless. Thing is, they seem to be coming "back in again." This disturbs me. Deeply. Why? Well, think Doors. Oliver Stone. Cash, Walk the Line. No Direction Home. Scorsese. Yip. The number of people I've overheard talking about "this new singer called Johnny Cash".., it just kills me. Snob? Maybe, but come on. I guess it goes back to the whole idea of "ownership". I mean, I liked Cash and Dylan when it wasn't cool to like them, when your parents liked him. When you'd get a kicking for thinking of the melody to "Blowing in the Wind": "How many roads do you want to be left lying down"? kinda thing! I used to (sometimes) frantically, knocking the needle off my Cash sessions, switch over to Appetite, when hearing my (worse than Barry Norman they were) friends knocking at the door of 42a Church St. These unexpected and expected villains appeared, and often caught me listening to Dylan, Joni, Willie Nelson, Luke kelly and Simon and carbuncle. Hell, I thought manys the time I was the one trying to hide a carbuncle. So, maybe you can understand why, at times, when I see reports of "Braces back", or breaking news pieces about your man Buckley from Muse wearing braces as though he just walked straight out of the Clockwork orange set, I get so fucking irked. I wouldn't mind if I was into fashion. Then, I might indeed enjoy or dare I say it, Relish the idea of me, Mr.Junk, being a reluctant setter of fashion. Ownership. The burden. I'm away here to get Tangled up in my blue braces. It's alright ma, I'm only pleading..