Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Junk

Deep inside where the Beatles reside

2010-02-26T21:20:00.002Z

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

2010-01-20T14:11:00.017Z

(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]

2008-12-17T16:48:00.002Z

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

It'll be grand....

2008-11-25T16:40:00.001Z

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...

2008-08-07T00:38:00.003+01:00

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

2008-07-06T19:34:00.002+01:00

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.

2008-01-29T11:39:00.000Z

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.

On the side

2008-01-26T00:56:00.000Z

3 songs.
The first is Brian Bridges' remix of Desperation.
The other 2 were recorded with Phil Grier of Audogenic.

Enjoy.

Desperation Remix:

Coverage :

[Lyrics/vocals Steafán Hanvey/Music Phil Grier/Broken Bow]

Into the Cave:
[Lyrics/vocals Steafán Hanvey/Music Phil Grier/Broken Bow]

Long Play number 2

2007-11-22T22:18:00.000Z

-photo: Jaska Kuuskajaskari

On November 9 I climbed down into a recording studio, a basement of a converted movie theatre in a suburb of Helsinki and got to work on some new songs, some of which will make it on to my second album. Ken and Carl Papenfus from Relish legged it over (flew actually) from Downpatrick to lend themselves to this record. My old pal Jukka Jylli from the Finnish underground power trio Kingston Wall turned up with bass in tow and songs were recorded.

With Leo Fourastie on decks, olives and Black Bush, the idea this time around was to do as much as possible live. No bedrooms (there weren't any bedrooms maltreated in the making of the first record, well almost none) no click tracks, just "1-2-3" in. 5 days later we had somehow managed to nail 8 songs. Not bad. Almost an album. So, there we are. Sometime next year I'll be delighted to share some of these and other tracks with you.

Where I've been....

2007-10-16T23:38:00.000+01:00

That's me on the left without me Mr. Junk costume. It was summer time you see, 2006, a glorious day and my second time in M's (Paul's M) favourite place. Rockport, ME. I feel I can use the word quaint to describe this little gem of a place- as the yanks use it plenty when visiting our old sod.

After some time spent whiling away the afternoon, pointing towards a wooden shack on a nearby beach, you know the ones like from that Julia Roberts flic, where her husband has her keep the place in proper order?-D (who took this photo), informed me that the house in question belonged to none other than ___________, the man who invented the flusher for the toilet-as we know it. Least I think it was the toilet. A good story. Then, what became a tradition for me (my second time), M stopped at her favourite shrimp sandwich restaurant on the way back home. Divine. Thanks M. Looking forward to my third shrimp sandwich.

After a brief stay in Burlington with my hosts, D left me to the half way point- ("the set down/pick up point"), between Burlington, MA and Montpelier, VT-New Hampshire I think it was. They were allowed to smoke in the restaurants there. This trip gave D the chance to test drive Paul's "Chuc mobile", an Audi something or other. I've no idea of the speed he did on the way back, for I was busy concerning myself with the New Hampshire booze prices. They have a duty free kinda thing going on between states. So there you are.

How and ever, once safely back in Montpelier with an old mucker Mo-ritz, from my days spent at Western Washington Univeristy, I stayed with his goodself & Emma, and promptly visited Thunder road. That was an experience alright.

The next day I rode back saddle on Mo's motorbike up to an airport outside Montpelier where thousands of avid motorcyclists had assembled in order to show off their rides (bikes in North America) -well, actually to snail, convoy style, through several villages before reaching the Mansion house in Montpelier, where they'd dump all their donated toys for the less fortunate children. "Toy run", I think they call it. I made for Montreal, stayed with a friend I'd originally knocked about with in Helsinki years earlier.

"Desperation free" video

2007-09-23T19:08:00.000+01:00

Ladies, Gentlemen, friends and scoundrels..
Cast your eyes upon a video that I made recently up in Helsinki.

Hope you enjoy it.
Steafán
x

Storyboard, smorgasbord

2007-07-31T23:51:00.000+01:00

Desperation is "in the can" as some would say. One friend said upon my return to Dublin that he thought I was in Helsinki making a porno.

"No", I said, and neither was it a promo. I was flattered all the same.

I'm relieved and stirred at having it done and ready to share with folk.
It had always been a toss up between "Rooms" and Desperation", for ever since the album's release last year, the one song that people kept coming back to was "Desperation", closely followed by the former, and now since the opportunity had presented itself to make a video, Desperation was quickly decided upon.

It was rather easy in the end, well, that is if you don't include the preparation and storyboard challenges. Several weeks before the shoot, I informed Chuc of my intentions and the brainstorming session began. Chuc came back to me in a flash with a very developed and elaborate storyboard, all mapped out on pdf. Chuc tends not to half do things.

Enthused, I forwarded it on to the Finnish director. Thinking he'd love it and really hoping he would, we sat back and waited. The prompt reply came:

"I would like to make this video someday, but as it stands, it will cost an extra €10,000". Guess that was a no then.

We tried! A new learning experience had begun. I got back to Chuc and told him the news. We sighed together and moved on.

I eventually got my head round a stripped down, slightly less ambitious (realistic), but nonetheless, quite impressive (as it turned out) storyboard. Tweak here, tweak there, logger head here, there, we were on.

Location location: Helsinki

The song "Desperation" was written one end of a summer; beginning of an Autumn evening, in my then flat, in Helsinki. My girlfriend at the time, J, was sitting reading on the bed behind me as I began to put the chords together. My songwriting turned a corner on this one and I could feel it happening as I meandered my way through piecing it together. J, who was quite demure and rarely forthcoming with feedback regarding my songs, offered, "I think you have something there".

Fitting perhaps, as the song was in part inspired by her and our situation, and to a large degree reflected where we were at that time in our lives. We were falling for one another and those fears which should be kept at bay, that niggle and attempt to dampen down the joyful bliss, were thick in the air that night. I'm happy I got it down. I would be leaving Helsinki one day and was reluctant to get involved as I was mentally preparing myself for departure.

So, Desperation was written and recorded. It first appeared on "Sole", a 5 track EP, then, with strings added, on the debut, "Steafán Hanvey and The HoneyMoon Junkies".

As the song was written up in Helsinki and the memory still continuing to occupy a place in my mind, I decided to go back to the scene of the crime as it were, to shoot the video. The result will be shared with you all very soon. My first music video has been made and it was quite a pleasurable experience.

Goodnight.

Steafán

~Photo by Tuomas Valtanen~

Bring Mieka to Ireland! ok?

2007-06-22T03:14:00.000+01:00

www.mieka.com
GiraffeGiraffe.com

Let it Ring

2007-06-22T00:02:00.000+01:00

Carla, a girl whom I used to work with many moons ago, texted me (sms) the other day to tell me she'd downloaded "Rooms", one of my songs, and that it was now her ring tone.

"Problem is", she said, "I don't want to answer the phone now!"

Then she asked me to play at her wedding. Crafty or what?

OK Carla, I'll see you there. But I don't know any Boy George songs, just one or three of my own, ok?

Turn your phone up a bit!

"Come in" they said.. Part I

2007-06-14T23:45:00.000+01:00

I was recently reminded upon visiting my erstwhile home in Helsinki, of how good some folk can be. We spend a lot of our time complaining about one thing or another, finding fault with this and that-when, out of the blue, someone comes along, to shake you up with (as Mr. Vance would say), an "Indiscriminate Act of Kindness".

In 2005, just after returning to Ireland from promoting the Finnish release of my debut album, a dj from Radio Helsinki contacted me to say he was sorry to have missed me. Emails were written and it soon became apparent that he had connected with my songs.

Before recently returning to Helsinki to do some prep work for the Desperation video, I emailed Mikael to see if he fancied getting together for a beer. I got a prompt reply (it's Finland after all!) where my hosts to be, invited me to have dinner in their home-plus beer!

It had been a while since I was pleasantly taken aback by such simple hospitality, for I knew that the most contact they'd had with me up to that point was via a few emails and through my songs, which in the end, according to them, was all they needed.

I arrived and was welcomed into a converted summer cottage. The food was on, the records climbed from the floor to the ceilings on more than one wall. There were instruments strewn around the room. There were separates (amps, cd players etc) cds, cassettes and books. There was a lampshade that belonged to Great Grandparents and an earth globe light that Carita had bought them. I was in the home of music lovers.

We ate and quickly cut to the chase on many a topic. It soon became obvious I was in the company of "my own". Mikael's wife, Maru, was earth-mother incarnate, calming, attentive, generous and kind. Having read a bit about June Carter, I couldn't help but imagine a likeness in Maru, for how I had pictured the man in Black's wife to be.

Maru has long dark hair. She oozed the sixties, and it was almost like at some point a while back she decided, in some ways to stay there. There was a peacefulness. We gradually moved around the house, starting with a little room at the back, where the guitars were taken and songs were sung. My hosts were able to request favorites from my album and who was I to argue. Here was Mikeal Wiik and his wife, Maru, playing and singing along with my songs in their house. It was something. Afterwards I played some new songs, some of which hadn't been played to anyone-which says it all really. I was on my toes and without my Avalon, but after 5 new songs and no comments, I finally got some reassuring feedback. I could relax again.

Having my eyes closed I wasn't sure where the harmonies were coming from, whether it was Jenny in my head, or God knows what. It turned out to be Maru, quietly edging her way into the fray. She wanted to sing, and sing she could. We moved to the piano room.

Mikeal sat down to the Johanna.

"He wouldn't go out of his way.....

2007-06-08T19:49:00.000+01:00

...to speak to you".

I found myself thinking about this expression recently, well today actually. What made me think of it and what does it mean anyway?

I was in the queue in my local spar this morning with a box of start under my arm-obviously hadn't had breakfast yet and the above saying came into my head. I thought it quite absurd, for why should someone go out of his or her way to speak to you in the first place? I mean, would you, driving down a one way street, realising you've passed a neighbour without waving, say to yourself;

"Jesus, I'd better reverse back up (go out of your way) this one way street here and greet my neighbour"?

Of course not because you'd be going out of your way to do so. Might even cause an accident. I stood there in line, wondering when the last time was when I "went out of my way to speak to someone, or when someone went out of their way to speak to me? I couldn't remember. Maybe because people as a rule tend not to go out of their way to greet each other. That's the point, they would if it wasn't out of their way.

Furthermore, if someone did go the extra mile, do an about turn, approach you to say "how you getting on?", you might just look at them funny, and think, "what's wrong with yer man"?

Maybe I should get out more...

Chelsea Hotel

2007-06-08T03:09:00.000+01:00

Just learned that the person who gave Cohen head in the famous song "Chelsea Hotel" was none other than, Janis Joplin. Ruined, forever! Not that I listened to the song every night trying to figure out who it might have been... cracking, ahem, the code as it were.. but still, it's quite the image, with the limo waiting downstairs etc.. Well, at the same time, there's nothing like context to give you perspective. But, to be honest, the song will never be the same again.

Matthew Graner

2007-04-22T01:24:00.000+01:00

Check this out:

Snowplay meets rusty askew

2007-04-22T00:14:00.000+01:00

Some folk have asked: "Stef, why Finland?":

This might help. I am a Nordy afterall!:

The drinking gene

2007-04-05T21:35:00.001+01:00

I'm just back from the offy/off-licence (liquor store for the yanks) there and you'd swear it was the end of the world. Frantic is a word that comes to mind. It was like the scene we didn't see before the opening credits of 28 Days Later-just before it all goes wrong.

Beer drinkers were grabbing cider, whiskey drinkers-vodka. Mass confusion, which reminds me of the whole point of (The?) Easter. Although I don't participate myself, I was under the impression that Easter was a time of prayer and for families to gather and be. A Euro Thanks Giving if you like. For all intents and purposes a spiritual time of year. Going by the random, pin ball-esque to-ing and fro-ing in my local offy tonight, the only thing that was spiritual was the vodka.

The proprietor informed me that they re-open for business on Saturday.

Happy Easter

Adventures of Mr. Junk

2007-02-11T11:58:00.000Z

Transcen-dental-ism

2007-01-19T17:04:00.000Z

I went to the dentist today.

She "checked" my tooth, the one (on the bottom, right-hand side), that's been giving me gip and it seems fine.

As it had been a whole ten months since my last X-ray, she reckoned that the chances of there being anything structurally wrong, were low-so, that ruled out a new X-ray. So far so good. Then she suggested that I eat at the other side of my mouth for a while.

Irish dental solutions?

=(Cutting) edge of Europe. Lets hear it for the Celtic Tiger..Envy of the world!!

The year that was: Part I

2007-01-11T17:47:00.000Z

“Knowing trees,
I understand the meaning of patience.
Knowing grass,
I can appreciate persistence.”
Hal Borland.

This time last year I was gearing up for the Irish release of my debut album Steafán Hanvey and The Honeymoon Junkies. Friends and acquaintances had started to stop me on the street to say they'd heard me on Larry Grogan, Maxi, The Nikki Hayes Show, Fanning and even Dublin Country Mix, would you Adam and Eve it? My da in Downpatrick phoned to tell me that Gerry Anderson (BBC), George Jones (BBC), Gerry Kelly, Maurice Jay (U105), Lisa Flavelle (Downtown Radio) were all playing it.

I had laid the groundwork, done the training, the press-ups, so to speak. I felt like a prizefighter, who, after months of preparation and contemplation was finally “ready”. Last minute hiccups kept me on my toes and awake some nights, but come show time in Dublin's (then) newest venue, Radio City, and notwithstanding the challenging soundcheck, (Andy, did you really have to go to India?) the show went swimmingly. I was proud to share the same stage as my band, The Honeymoon Junkies.

I walked out of the room they call the dressing room to the theme of Hong Kong phooey, (last minute decision, thanks Duncan!) only to find a venue packed with people, most of whom I'd never seen before. I was quite taken aback. I knew that only one family member, my cousin Marselle was in attendance and that I didn't have that many friends, so this was encouraging. I was so used to playing to other artists' audiences that when I walked out and saw the audience were there to see me, you could say, I was rather chuffed. One part of me was genuinely bowled over, the other part warm with the realisation that the turnout made sense, that finally, maybe, the hard work was beginning to pay off.

The audience clapped and laughed in the right places. They left happy.
The Jagermeister, certainly hit the spot. So much so, that some well wishers who came to offer their congratulations and "advice" were soon overcome by (Jagermeister?) delusions of grandeur. For another time.

The further we got into the promo campaign, I felt less like the prizefighter and more like a juggling artist. The opening rounds went well, reviews came in, I gave as good as I got. Hotpress gave the record 7 out of 10, calling it “a rare delight”. They went on, saying I had "travelled to some dark places"-, oh, if they only knew, thought I. They said 'Hundred Days of Snow', was an uplifting swirl of dissonance and sunshine". It pleased.

I had already been through the album release dance in Helsinki the year previous and was aware of some of the rewards and pitfalls of being an independent songwriter. Although the reviews in Finland, my erstwhile abode, surpassed all expectations, there is a satisfaction that goes that little bit deeper when the folk at home start raving about you, and rave they did. News filtered through from Aine (my publicist/guardian angel) that such and such liked it and so and so wanted to do an interview. It was chaotic but enjoyable for the most part. Radio playlisted the singles and I got to promote the record on national television a couple of times. The Honeymoon Tour (my first headline tour of Ireland) beckoned.

"And all our friends came through".
Van Morrison

To be continued

TV3/Ireland am appearance.
Featuring Jenny Wood & Connor McCreanor:

Head Food

2006-11-29T16:19:00.000Z

I thought I'd scribble down some movies and books i've had the pleasure consuming of late. I'm currently reading Sophie Scholl & The White Rose, a book I picked up in Boston last August. It concerns itself with the Nazi (albeit tiny) resistence. Let you know how it goes. Recently finished The Unbearable Lightness of Being, but this deserves its very own blog. Enjoying Martin Amis' essay The Age of Horrorism.

About to get stuck into Saul Bellow's The Adventures of Augie March. Will keep you posted.

I'm still reading my protools manual, and believe I will be for some time to come. I don't recommend this one (not as a good read anyway).

As far as movies go, I've watched a few interesting ones recently.
Lemming
Dead Man's Shoes (for the umpteenth time)
Let it be (on Youtube)
Borat (How could you not?)
Man without a Past (again)
Oldboy (again)
Bittersweet Life
Hidden (Cache)
Sympathy for Lady Vengeance
Hard Candy At your own risk! Hard to watch.

Other stuff:
Chomsky vs. Dershowitz Debate
The Galloway vs. Hitchens debate

Loving per usual Bill Maher on HBO (Youtube), Brian Ross investigates on ABC. Watch the pair of them get the "bad guys'!

Music wise, been listening to a bit of Lambchop, Kila, Paris Combo and daily helpings of jazz. Which reminds me of one of the only gigs I've been to recently. Dave Lyttle& Louis Stewart in The Bleu Note club in Dublin a couple of weeks back. It was great to see Dave accompany this Irish jazz legend. Dave's playing his own gig this Sunday in Bewley's cafe Theatre Dublin.

Also listening to a Van Halen's greatest hits. Still prefer Diamond Dave!

I'm away here to iron the curtains.
Chat soon.

Pram and Run

2006-11-02T12:03:00.000Z

Forgive me father, it's been almost six weeks since my last blog.

As with microwaving popcorn, where the silences between pops get longer, so too has the time between the bangs of halloween fireworks-which means, once again a good night's sleep can be had. In fairness, there have been less bangs and thuds this year as a result of new laws requiring folk to have on their person, a fireworks licence. It seems to have worked, just like the smoking ban. It appears after years of "you'll not tell me what do do" 'tude, that the Irish are in fact starting to, dare I say it, toe the line. I wonder how many prams (baby buggies) were decommissioned at the recent weapons amnesty? If you know, I'd be grateful if you'd share that particular stat with me.

I remember being knocked off the bike once by a driver on Camden street. Laying there on the footpath, I began to observe the mangled remains of my poor bicycle. I was alright but my bike was trapped under the driver's car. The driver comes running over, first does a quick check for scratches, then bounds towards me frothing and barking about how I could have "fucked up her car". I wouldn't have minded only, I was still lying on the footpath, my bike lying twisted under her car and to be honest, her car was, simply put, and 'oul banger. Even with two witnesses, the garda said as I didn't have any serious injuries, (apart from the cycle-ogical trauma incurred), there was nothing they could do. Where was the justice Minister when I needed him?

So, ever since, when I find myself the victim of a hit and run pram attack, I just tend to let it slide, much in the same way as I would after getting soaked, resigned, singing: That's just the way it is, by Bruce Hornsby. Infact, i've become quite adept at second guessing some pram drivers, imagining myself with a football, which the dastardly pram wants to steal from my possession. I weave, duke and attempt to dummy the pram-sometimes with staggering results. Sometimes I get brought down. I know I'm not the only one who has experienced these pram and runs on Henry Street. (or any street for that matter!) I often see talented pram dodgers doing their magic until, in one foul swoop, that Keane or Rooney pram takes them down.

I have actually witnessed several of these pram and runs but out of fear for what might happen if the pram basher ever discovered my true identity, I've held my whist (kept quiet).

There's a nip in the air alright, as we gradually slide in to November and bigger electricity bills. My right knee is sore from last night's yoga session. OK, so I'll write a song about it. I've been enjoying my daily walks around the parks of Dublin. Although it is colder, the sun is shining and the daylight, which was denied me during my Helsinki winters, makes dealing with things like bigger electric bills more fathomable.

I recently acquired an Mbox2 that runs the music software protools and before you think I've joined the bedroom movement, just hang on a minute and hear me out. I'm still an advocate of live music, live, as in people assembling in a room, doing the old, one, two, three..and in. Thing is, the last long play has me rethinking a lot of things.

I've decided, instead of abusing my or anyone elses bedroom, to use a friend's living room to start laying down some of the new material. I intend to work with a lot of the same musicians who played on the Honeymoon Junkies record and also with new people I've had my eye on for a while. This will once again involve quite a bit of traveling, but hell, someone's gotta do it, right? It's time to hit the park for the daily stretch. Get the daylight while you can.

The new laws regarding fireworks seem to have made Halloween a less terrifying time for the cats&dogs, I wonder would the minister consider introducing a similar law for people in "control" of prams and buggies? A bit like applying for a gun licence or a drivers licence where the pram driver would be subject to on the spot breath tests.

If, you are a pram driver yourself and feel it's time to decommission your buggy, you're too late. The weapons amnesty deadline was on the 31st of October.

In the meantime, maybe we could petition those responsible for dictionary entries to consider including the word pram (to pram) as a verb.

The Aura of Nostalgia

2006-09-22T01:36:00.000+01:00

The Autumn, or what the Americans call "The Fall", has arrived. Yesterday, I walked into what I suppose you'd call 'a light shop' here in Dublin. The whole window was lit up, full of lights, lamps, Chandeliers, spotlights-you name it, they illuminated it. I was, however, after none of the above. I dandered in and asked the poor, unsuspecting guy behind the counter:

"Dya have any of them SAD lights?..Think they might also call them light boxes..you know, the ones that help you adjust to the seasonal darkness, and that"..

I looked at him, and instantly realised, with the the help of his expression, how crazed my request may have sounded. Fairplay to him for not bursting into hysterics and saying in one of the Dublin accents :

"mister, you're fuckin' sad you are!", or "I'll bleeding lamp (or box) ya!"..

No, in fairness, the guy just looked at me as if expecting a punchline, or some other stranger to jump down out of one of the chandeliers and exclaim :

"smile, you're on candid camera"!

Instead, he was met with a prolonged glare of sincerity, an ernestness, a "this guy's for real" look, which didn't seem to help either of us.

So, no closer to sniffs of a light box, I thanked him, smiled in recognition of my strange request and left.

I'm most prolific in the Autumn. Maybe it's got something to do with the beginning of the school year, renewal, and the feeling of starting afresh. Come September, while living in Helsinki, I used to reflect on the year that had past. Reflection was something that just happened to me. I still do this. Melancholia was thick in the air. Memories of the fireside, the nights drawing in and " the losing of the hour", all came flooding back to the forefront of the mind. Songs were written. Memories probed. Nostaglia teased. The past looked, seemed better. The following quote from a book I'm currently re-reading, Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being", sums the looking back part up wonderfully:

"In the sunset of dissolution, everything is illuminated by the aura of nostalgia, even the guillotine"..

I equate The Scottish band, The Blue Nile with melancholia, especially "Hats". They recently invited me to be their Myspace friend. I was flattered to say the least. One of my influences inviting me to be their friend-even if it was just a Myspace friend, it still warmed me. Who would have thought?

After enjoying a summer away in Boston, Vermont and Montreal, my thirst for what I love is returning. I'm currently enjoying putting the finishing touches to songs on my new guitar. Musically, I'm trying new things and having fun with it. My good friend P is still in the land of the living, after chest pains had him admitted to hospital. I'm enjoying my yoga, Relish's new album, and all the looking back, melancholia, nights drawing in, having an old friend back in the neighbourhood who's teaching me how to play chess and Thom Yorke's new album.
And not a light box in sight!

Life's good right now.

Brace Yourself

2006-09-06T00:55:00.000+01:00

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..

The Semifinal Club

2005-02-11T01:48:00.000Z

Last night was magic. Where to start? The vibe was amazing. The snow storm (heavy even by Finnish standards didn't prevent a great night from unfolding. First off, the opening band ; Suuri Valliriutta were great, despite Jussi blowing up his amp at the soundcheck. After running about town like a mad man (in the snow storm) he eventually got his hands on a replacement amp. Their gig went well. Thanks for doing the gig lads!

When I took the stage I recognised some familiar faces. Glancing down from time to time during the gig I did notice some new faces, hope you enjoyed the gig. Everything more or less went according to plan. The strings sounded amazing, thanks to Seppo Santala. In fact, the whole band sounded great Seppo, thanks a million man. I'd also like to thank Jan forstrom and Zaida Bergroth for filming and making the video for pretty much cost price. Priceless. Thanks to Mikko Ojanen for recording the gig. Turned out well. Thanks to Léo Fourastié for the loan of your camera and DAT machine. Once again, you came through. I'm working on getting you that stick!

Now to my band. I've thanked you all in my own way, but again, thanks to Sanna Helen (for your time, encouragement, hugs and for bringing Seppo to do sound!) Nicce Lindholm for great drumming, humour and a practice place, Jukka Jylli for your great playing, lending yourself selflessly to my thing & for finding Nicce! Suski for your backing vocals at such short notice, you did it!, Jaakko Kyro for his violin and arranging the music with Sanna and Tuukka. Thanks to Tuukka for your great playing and your time. Last but by no means least, thanks to Neff Irizarry on lead guitar for playing a blinder, you were great man.

Thanks for everyone who came down including Kaisa and your friend for coming all the way from Turkku. Bless. Hope it’s not too long before I see you all again. Thanks for making the night a very special one.

Love to you all

Steafán

Snow In Helsinki

2005-01-28T01:42:00.000Z

In Helsinki now a week. There have been the obvious challenges. Guitar player (not Neff!) is experiencing a "domestic crisis" and is less available than originally expected. The cds which were due to leave Dublin on Friday the 21.1 were "caught up" in the postal dispute, according to the guy I finally got to talk to at SDS. I've been assured that they will be here on Monday, Wednesday at the latest. It's no
wonder they're threatening to lay these guys off.

Snow is falling all around, it's very beautiful. At times wondering why I ever left. The bus, which comes on time, is warm, clean and cheap, if you get the public transport travel pass. (which gets you on everything, yes, EVERYTHING!) Take a leaf out, what?

The sun is shining, got my first (shining) Finnish review in a magazine called "six Degrees". Pleased as punch. More to follow I'm told. I'm off to help my friend Jaakko, who plays violin in the band, paint his new flat. Got to pay the man somehow. Then it looks like it's sauna time. Feels like I've come home.