BBC RADIO 2 ALBUM OF THE WEEK
August 5, 2009
My cousin and her fiancée are cooking me dinner in their Brooklyn apartment. It’s a sticky August night and it feels like three in the morning. I’ve been back home in New York nearly two days now, after being on the road in the UK and Ireland for the past three months.
The end of the tour was a blur. Last Tuesday seems like eons ago, when I opened for Buffy Saint-Marie at Queen Elizabeth Hall in London. The show was a lot of fun; 800 capacity and sold out because Buffy hadn’t played in London in nineteen years. I confess I didn’t know much about her beforehand, but found a priceless You Tube video of her playing the mouth bow on Sesame Street. The acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Hall were inspiring: I could hear my voice bouncing off the back walls, such a pretty natural reverb in the room. When I played my single “What Does It Take” there was some recognition from the audience, who heard it on BBC Radio 2. That felt good.
The next day we heard the news that I’d stayed on the BBC playlist yet another week, making it nine weeks on the Radio 2 rotation. Music Week actually listed me on their Top 50 UK Radio Airplay. I entered the chart at a cool no. 48.
On Thursday I played in Camden with the London trio: Bernie Gardner on drums, Mike Ursin on upright bass. It was a late night catching up with friends I hadn’t seen in awhile.
I got up early Friday morning to fly to Ireland for a marathon weekend of festivals. Three in 72 hours.
I landed in Ireland by noon, had an interview with Women’s Way magazine at two, and by six I’d driven several hours to the first festival, Le Cheile in Co. Meath. I was opening for Mundy, who was a sweetheart, and invited me to join him on a cover of Neil Young’s “Ohio,” but unfortunately I had to leave early, with so much ahead of me on Saturday.
I drove back in the pouring rain, getting to Dublin by 1 am, and left for Skibereen at eight the next morning. Festival Number 2, “Cork by Southwest” in West Cork, was a good six hours away. I need a driver! But the scenery in that area of Ireland is something to behold. Trees fold over the roads in lush curves that follow rivers and streams. Traffic slows to a painful stop in each colorfully painted village. It feels like Old Ireland.
For “Cork by Southwest” I played at the Debarras Living Room Tent, run by my friend Gavin Moore. He joined me onstage for “Fulsom Prison Blues” and “Ring of Fire.” It was a great festival in a sea-side town on a beautiful sunny day, and I ran into loads of people I hdan’t seen in over a year. I’m starting to realize I’ve been collecting families all over the world. Going “home” is becoming more and more relative.
The Waterboys headlined that night, as well as the lovely Lisa Hannigan, and my friends in the band Fred, who did a great job of riling up the crowd. At the end of the night, just as soon as I started to resent the cold, muddy seeping wet feeling in my heels (yes, yes, I know, but I left my wellies in England), the festival promoter kindly offered me my very own luxurious hotel room (thank you Karma). I enjoyed every minute of the hot bath and fresh sheets.
Sunday morning, take-out coffee in hand, I left early for the third and final festival of my weekend, Castlepalooza. It was four hours drive by car to Tullamore. I arrived in the afternoon to a muddy, narrow one-lane road that led up to a literal castle. The guy at the gate didn’t have my laminate pass; the parking attendant said there was nowhere to unload equipment; my rental car nearly got stuck in the muddy side ditch. It wasn’t a happy welcome. All along the “road” dazed-looking festival-goers ambled slowly, blocking traffic. I hiked in with my guitar on my back wearing flip-flops, feeling very tired and alone in the world. After I introduced myself to the sound engineer, the security woman wouldn’t let me back into the artist green room in the castle – “no laminate, no exceptions.” I finally convinced a nice girl named Sarah to guard the door of a mouldy basement construction site while I hopped around changing into my dress, trying to look somewhat presentable. It was admittedly a half-ditch effort, my last show of a three-month run. I rocked a $5 polyester red frock from a thrift store and quickly pined some flowers in my hair.
At first, there were only about 15 or so people in the HMV tent. By the end of my set, there were about 250. That’s what I love about a festival – the spontaneity of a crowd and how quickly word can spread. People danced in front of the stage, loving the up-tempos. By the end my right arm was in spasm and I could barely hold the pick. I’ll admit I started off thinking, “Just get through this.” The audience helped me out though, clapping along and keeping the energy going. They totally turned it around for me and I ended up having a wonderful time.
On the drive back to Dubin, I got the call: my single had moved from Number 48 to Number 26 in one week on the UK Top 50 Radio Charts, sandwiched in between Paolo Nutini and the Pussycat Dolls.
The next day I met a reporter from the Evening Herald for my last interview before flying home.
Back in New York on this sticky August night, exhausted and beat-up from three months on the road, I just got the best news of all:
My record “What Does It Take” is BBC Radio 2’s Album of the Week.
It’s all kicking off, dear reader. It’s all kicking off.
