Friday thread: Your Summer tracks?

A couple of summer tracks from Emma Ni Fhioruisce. The first a translation of ‘Better Together’…

And the second a great rendering of the more traditional Cailin deas cruite na mbo…

Summer always takes me back to Donegal, give us tracks that bring summer home to you?

  • Sergiogiorgio

    Different generation Mick’baby – summer was always Ibiza – can’t do the link thingy but try Rudimental, track is called “Not giving in” off the Home album……

  • Nevin

    Summertime for me usually means an influx of folks from the diaspora, hoping to tread on the sod their ancestors did some generations back. The internet has made the world a much more intimate place. I did some Broughshane look-ups for a new acquaintaince in Montana on Monday past and received this email the following day:

    You mentioned a Moorhead family tree belonging to Mary McKague. By what must be a remarkable co-incidence, Mary McKague and her husband are visiting us to-day. They live in Florida, but were up in Montana at a family re-union in Havre, and drove the extra 130 miles north to visit us. We were acquainted via family tree, but had never met them before. They were quite delighted to see your reference.

    For those who would love to be here but can’t make it:

  • fordprefect

    “In The Summertime” by Mungo Gerry when I was about 10. I think the year before that, it was “My Sweet Lord” by George Harrison. 1976, “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee. 1983 has to be “You Can’t Hurry Love” by Phil Collins. Every time I hear any of those songs, the sun comes beating down on me. In the ’90’s, I’m not sure, can’t think of any.

  • Katie-o

    Summer? It’s mainly been bucketing down all day! ;(

  • fordprefect

    I can think of the 90’s now, “Rhythm Was A Dancer”.

  • mickfealty

    Ah, but inside, it’s still summer Kate. What are you gonna ‘deal’ us? Come on? Live a little!

  • mickfealty

    Nice one… There’s no trick I can find to the link thing (I experiemented a little bit)… I think if you just stick the link in Disqus will eventually get round to embedding it…

  • Nevin

    Around about thirty years ago, two young traditional musicians, Deirdre Havlin (tin whistle and flute) and Clodagh Warnock (fiddle) played for our JCSS group in the Croi in Corrymeela. Years later they played in Déanta and on Thursday night I took some American friends to their first traditional session in the Springhill Bar in Portrush; it was led by Dee. Here are Dee and Clodagh in the intimate surroundings of Johnny Joes in Cushendall:

  • Comrade Stalin

    This is one of my all-time favourite songs, and the unplugged version is great.

    A lot of Pink Floyd’s songs – I’m still discovering them – seem to be bittersweet, about regret, the past, alienation, difficult relationships etc. I don’t think the song is about wishing that a faraway person was present.

  • Comrade Stalin

    I’m not into fiddly-dee or Irish music at all.

    This song reminds me of summer, probably because I first heard it on a really warm summer’s day when walking home from school. Music has a way of evoking memories of times past and people who are long since gone.

  • mickfealty

    What about Van the Man, for the times that are in it…

    It is an easy thing to triumph in the summer’s sun,
    And in the vintage, and to sing on the waggon loaded with corn:
    It is an easy thing to talk of patience to the afflicted,
    To speak the laws of prudence to the houseless wanderer,
    To listen to the hungry raven’s cry in wintry season,
    When the red blood is fill’d with wine and with the marrow of lambs:

    William Blake,

  • MalcolmRedfellow

    Wife and I were both teachers. We learned that sanity involved having car and kids ready for instant escape that last Friday of summer term, via Calais, then the autoroutes.

    It doesn’t matter which way one heads south, there comes a moment — between Dijon and Lyon, or entering the Dordogne — when the temperature, air and mood change. After that, it’s piddling along the routes nationals. By this time, too, the daughters in the back seats have woken up and need to be entertained:

    — the rat-wagon game. Spot the most decrepit, rusting, vehicle on the road, and award points. Inevitably each day’s “winner” would be a decaying Citroën H Van. And you’d have been following in for twenty minutes, at 45 km/h.

    — it is a well-known fact that all French dogs come in just three categories: rat, rug and demi-cheval. Each dog observed has to be classified accordingly. This may cause extended debate on which trait is the most dominant.

    — the “Monsieur Blob” game. This, I have to admit, is distinctly un-PC. It involves electing the fattest personage in each town, and electing them as a quarterfinalist, semi-finalist …

    So two from Charles Trenet:

    La Mer — [There’s Rue Charles Trenet in Toulouse, and the street where he was born in Narbonne],

    and: Route Nationale Sept —

    Heading home, we left Sète the day before Georges Brassens gave his last concert. I missed it (though my wife offered to stay another day) and feel forever denied and guilty. So:

    Supplique pour être enterré à la plage de Sète —

  • carl marks

    Walking from Ballycastle to Glenariff I got caught in a thunderstorm at the top of Orra, soaked and cold I decided to cut the walk short and turned towards Johnny Joes for a pint and the use of the fire, there was a session on and one pint led to another the fire dried and warmed me and it ended up as one of those nights completely unexpected and great craic.

    It’s one of those great wee pubs you can still find in the glens. A friend of mine from Rathcoole took over Cushendall youth hostel and on his first day decided to check out the local pubs (purely for market research you understand) going into Johnny’s he ordered a pint, the barmaid looked up and said “you’re a prod” he replied “is it written on my forehead or something” and she said “everybody else is off the booze for lent! It became his local.

  • carl marks

    now this is summer!