"If music be the food of love play on" popped into my head as I was listening (and the realisation those words were written 400 years ago!). You described it all so well Martin, thanks for sharing the experience with us felt like I was there. I do love a good funeral and Shane's has to be one of the best send off's ever. A true celebration of life, I watched it all on YouTube (even spotted you briefly sitting in one of the pews).
One rainy afternoon last week I pulled into the carpark of my local supermarket as a Fairytale of New York came on the radio. So I stayed in my seat, turned it up loud and sang along. A lady returning a trolley walked past and smiled and for the split-est of seconds I felt a bit embarrassed. Then almost as if spirit entered the moment I let go and thought who cares, I'm doing it for the love of good music and to pay my respects. Out the corner of my eye reflecting in the wing mirror, I saw the sun appear between the clouds and beam a ray of beautiful sunlight. That song is such a timeless classic that stays even after it's finished. Your man Glen did a magnificent job and Lisa too, brought me to tears with love.
Happy New Year folks, here's to good endings and great beginnings.
OH Martin, you are a true Bard, you take me places I cannot go and through your eyes and words I SEE; what do I see? you bring the heart and soul of people I will never meet yet know through you and feel blessed, my home is blessed as these unknown friends and their lives fill my living space and you the piper that sings all home and lays it to rest. Thank you with tears in my eyes I can now let go of the old year and turn towards that which is coming and among the new year's gifts, are more Martin Shaw! Love and joy in which we dance together.
When Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes about the wildish woman and how to reclaim her, and you talk about being too civilized, and it strikes a deep cord, and i wonder what it looks like, i read this and I know. The raucous outpouring of grief and love, poetry and exuberance of a shared history with a beloved icon passed, i get it. Freaking beautiful. Thank you Martin.
And a thing I want to clarify is my understanding of wild-ness. I know it’s not simply loud unrestrained behavior. It’s more an unfettered expression of whats true and real down to our core. Unlimited by embarrassment or a need to moderate intensity. Wildness can be quite quiet. It may be the sheer quantity of expression required to exhaust the feelings over a loss such as Shawn. Days’ worth of it. It’s honoring the depth in us which I so rarely do, which creates so much anxiety, and such a pale experience of life. Anyway, thats what Im getting so far, and there’s part of the longing that lead me here to Martin, and all of you. Blessings on us all.
I’m crying at a familiarity of wild beauty that I didn’t really know--at least not in real life--only by heart. No one here seems to allow themselves to become tame as I have, schooled in sickness and shut-in the walls of suburban niceties. There’s a holiness to the raucous joy that seems to be pouring from your words taken from the world of the church to here. And I am wondering now, on the eve of the new year, how to invite more of it in? How to be in and bring more wild beauty into these bones that feel old though I hope they’ve got dance left in them still. Thank you for sharing this moment. Now,
I was hoping that Martin would recount his version of the farewell to Shane and here t'is, an eloquent, very Gaelic tribute to that inimitable of Irish souls, Shane McGowan. it is a fine thing to RING out the old and bring in the new, by being present at the funeral service of an Irish poet, singer& musician, but in true bardic fashion, Martin gives us this mythic telling of McGowan's farewell, with such a sense of immediacy and presence, it was as if I were at the church., actively participating.
Thank you so much for this. Martin Shaw. I have always loved the Pogues [and Sinead O'Connor] and so this story-tribute is a more than fitting way to see in the new year.
"So be easy and free, when you're drinking with me; I'm a man you don't meet every day." Cait O'Riordan, bassist and girl singer for the Pogues.
The book that I found when I was 18, says in the 1927 preface; "I hope [this is] the final text of the poems of my youth". The poem 'The Wanderings of Usheen' (1889) is still spelled that way and ends with the last flourish "... and dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast."
The edition opens with his dedication to the 'twilight companies' of sorrow and content, and with the play 'The Countess Cathleen' dedicated to Maud Gonne.
I have been playing the Pogues a lot this mid winter. Remembering raucous old times of my youth dancing, falling down and up again to the Pogues. I don’t think I really listened to the words of those songs then, I did not clock the poetry until now. It’s so gorgeous to be able to listen again and hear so much more. I caught the funeral on YouTube and the feeling of love and joy came through box. Oh to be loved like Shane. Thank you for this Sunday morning treat. Peace be with you.
Thank you, Martin. I watched the funeral online and shed more than one tear. It felt like watching something very old and very holy. Like the burial ceremony of a druid, interred with tea and records and a shield of memories over his remains. It was beautiful and healing.
Thank you, Martin. It's a precious shell this, brought back from that shore in the carrier bag of your senses and set here in our lap as the first sun in a week finally brings a bit of gold against the grey. The fire is catching against the morning chill as these songs rise in center of room. Siddur starved and so many wakes still to come, this brigand kaddish has that scent of Eden in the wreck that sends me looking for such hands to hold and circle with cause it is proof of Company and Court that can't be denied. Even the blind Rooster is crowing along...still there's light I hold before me, you're the measure of my dreams.
This is fittingly delicious nourishment for the passing of the year. Thank you. Reciprocating your wishes Martin - may the new one be be glorious and outstanding for you as well, in all your shapes and comings and goings.
Thank you for your beautiful words for Shane Martin... On the evening he died I sang my own version of Rainy night in Soho at the local folk club in his honour.. I was so moved at how celebratory yet grief filled his funeral looked from the Nick cave video I saw... Truly an ancestor and not a ghost.
Here's my version of Rainy night in soho... Do forgive the lyrical and musical roughness round the edges. I hadn't ever played it before that afternoon. I changed the ginger lady bit very slightly as it didn't chime with me transposing the song into my own emotional/life-story territory which I like to do if singing live...( I subsequently noticed Nick left that bit out...) https://youtu.be/zIY799lnj3Q?si=TfzhldyQA_6Dgh4W
Bless you Martin. Sending love and the light of gratitude to the ancestors. Smiling with Shane and those unforgettable gnashers. Blasting the Pogues as I enter into to another spiral around the sun. Athbhliain faoi mhaise dhuit. 🙏❤️
"If music be the food of love play on" popped into my head as I was listening (and the realisation those words were written 400 years ago!). You described it all so well Martin, thanks for sharing the experience with us felt like I was there. I do love a good funeral and Shane's has to be one of the best send off's ever. A true celebration of life, I watched it all on YouTube (even spotted you briefly sitting in one of the pews).
One rainy afternoon last week I pulled into the carpark of my local supermarket as a Fairytale of New York came on the radio. So I stayed in my seat, turned it up loud and sang along. A lady returning a trolley walked past and smiled and for the split-est of seconds I felt a bit embarrassed. Then almost as if spirit entered the moment I let go and thought who cares, I'm doing it for the love of good music and to pay my respects. Out the corner of my eye reflecting in the wing mirror, I saw the sun appear between the clouds and beam a ray of beautiful sunlight. That song is such a timeless classic that stays even after it's finished. Your man Glen did a magnificent job and Lisa too, brought me to tears with love.
Happy New Year folks, here's to good endings and great beginnings.
OH Martin, you are a true Bard, you take me places I cannot go and through your eyes and words I SEE; what do I see? you bring the heart and soul of people I will never meet yet know through you and feel blessed, my home is blessed as these unknown friends and their lives fill my living space and you the piper that sings all home and lays it to rest. Thank you with tears in my eyes I can now let go of the old year and turn towards that which is coming and among the new year's gifts, are more Martin Shaw! Love and joy in which we dance together.
When Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes about the wildish woman and how to reclaim her, and you talk about being too civilized, and it strikes a deep cord, and i wonder what it looks like, i read this and I know. The raucous outpouring of grief and love, poetry and exuberance of a shared history with a beloved icon passed, i get it. Freaking beautiful. Thank you Martin.
And a thing I want to clarify is my understanding of wild-ness. I know it’s not simply loud unrestrained behavior. It’s more an unfettered expression of whats true and real down to our core. Unlimited by embarrassment or a need to moderate intensity. Wildness can be quite quiet. It may be the sheer quantity of expression required to exhaust the feelings over a loss such as Shawn. Days’ worth of it. It’s honoring the depth in us which I so rarely do, which creates so much anxiety, and such a pale experience of life. Anyway, thats what Im getting so far, and there’s part of the longing that lead me here to Martin, and all of you. Blessings on us all.
I’m crying at a familiarity of wild beauty that I didn’t really know--at least not in real life--only by heart. No one here seems to allow themselves to become tame as I have, schooled in sickness and shut-in the walls of suburban niceties. There’s a holiness to the raucous joy that seems to be pouring from your words taken from the world of the church to here. And I am wondering now, on the eve of the new year, how to invite more of it in? How to be in and bring more wild beauty into these bones that feel old though I hope they’ve got dance left in them still. Thank you for sharing this moment. Now,
I was hoping that Martin would recount his version of the farewell to Shane and here t'is, an eloquent, very Gaelic tribute to that inimitable of Irish souls, Shane McGowan. it is a fine thing to RING out the old and bring in the new, by being present at the funeral service of an Irish poet, singer& musician, but in true bardic fashion, Martin gives us this mythic telling of McGowan's farewell, with such a sense of immediacy and presence, it was as if I were at the church., actively participating.
Thank you so much for this. Martin Shaw. I have always loved the Pogues [and Sinead O'Connor] and so this story-tribute is a more than fitting way to see in the new year.
"So be easy and free, when you're drinking with me; I'm a man you don't meet every day." Cait O'Riordan, bassist and girl singer for the Pogues.
That's really too much Martin. Too well written. Too deep at the heart. I should have better prepared!
Yeats' bed!
The book that I found when I was 18, says in the 1927 preface; "I hope [this is] the final text of the poems of my youth". The poem 'The Wanderings of Usheen' (1889) is still spelled that way and ends with the last flourish "... and dwell in the house of the Fenians, be they in flames or at feast."
The edition opens with his dedication to the 'twilight companies' of sorrow and content, and with the play 'The Countess Cathleen' dedicated to Maud Gonne.
Looking forward with you all to next week! Smile.
I have been playing the Pogues a lot this mid winter. Remembering raucous old times of my youth dancing, falling down and up again to the Pogues. I don’t think I really listened to the words of those songs then, I did not clock the poetry until now. It’s so gorgeous to be able to listen again and hear so much more. I caught the funeral on YouTube and the feeling of love and joy came through box. Oh to be loved like Shane. Thank you for this Sunday morning treat. Peace be with you.
And after all we’re all poets
After all…
No worse than verse
however we pen it
Life expressed
whether song, spoken word or…
}:- a.m.
Thanks again young teller, onward “further up, further in”…
Thank you, Martin. I watched the funeral online and shed more than one tear. It felt like watching something very old and very holy. Like the burial ceremony of a druid, interred with tea and records and a shield of memories over his remains. It was beautiful and healing.
Thank you, Martin. It's a precious shell this, brought back from that shore in the carrier bag of your senses and set here in our lap as the first sun in a week finally brings a bit of gold against the grey. The fire is catching against the morning chill as these songs rise in center of room. Siddur starved and so many wakes still to come, this brigand kaddish has that scent of Eden in the wreck that sends me looking for such hands to hold and circle with cause it is proof of Company and Court that can't be denied. Even the blind Rooster is crowing along...still there's light I hold before me, you're the measure of my dreams.
"We left the camp singing...." Indeed.
This is fittingly delicious nourishment for the passing of the year. Thank you. Reciprocating your wishes Martin - may the new one be be glorious and outstanding for you as well, in all your shapes and comings and goings.
What a beaut for tucking in this year and sending us into the next. Images linger and the telling is exquisite. I read it. Then listened to
It by the fire. Then listened again on a walk with my licky kissy dog. Deep bows and gratitude. Blessings to you in the new year.
Thank you for your beautiful words for Shane Martin... On the evening he died I sang my own version of Rainy night in Soho at the local folk club in his honour.. I was so moved at how celebratory yet grief filled his funeral looked from the Nick cave video I saw... Truly an ancestor and not a ghost.
Here's my version of Rainy night in soho... Do forgive the lyrical and musical roughness round the edges. I hadn't ever played it before that afternoon. I changed the ginger lady bit very slightly as it didn't chime with me transposing the song into my own emotional/life-story territory which I like to do if singing live...( I subsequently noticed Nick left that bit out...) https://youtu.be/zIY799lnj3Q?si=TfzhldyQA_6Dgh4W
Bless you Martin. Sending love and the light of gratitude to the ancestors. Smiling with Shane and those unforgettable gnashers. Blasting the Pogues as I enter into to another spiral around the sun. Athbhliain faoi mhaise dhuit. 🙏❤️
Nice to hear about Tommy. I used to sit and listen to him playing at parties in M’s house.