Vicennial

( vaɪˈsɛniəl ) adjective – lasting twenty years

2025 marks my twentieth year in the band Kilrush. Now, right up front I will concede that there were times where I thought I was done with it and I wasn’t out playing with them. But even during those periods of what I call “my hiatus” I was still never really gone. I’d still get a phone call saying, “Hey, we need a guitar player,” or “You wanna come do this gig,” that I’ve decided that those times away don’t count. 

It was July 30th, 2005 at The Great American Irish Festival in Utica N.Y. The previous month I’d mentioned to Tim, who I recently befriended, that I thought that drum, called the bodhran, I’d seen in the movie Waking Ned Devine looked interesting and fun to play. On our day off we drove to Ithaca and with his help, got one. It cost me $150 if I remember correctly, and in the two decades since, was an investment with returns that one can only wish their stock portfolio had. Some quick and conservative calculations ( and I mean really conservative figures ) gives me an estimate of over $20,000 of free beer alone. That doesn’t count other VIP treatment perks such as meals, swag, hotels, etc., but more on that in a minute. 

As I’ve said countless times over the years, it was the best “buck-fifty” I ever spent. 

Anyway, I was invited to join the guys that weekend and I went, taking along my little drum, which I barely knew how to play. When they mentioned going on stage with them,, I thought they were kidding, I really did. However they weren’t, and suddenly there I was, playing as best I could at my first gig with the band. It wasn’t my first rodeo performing for others; I’d sat in with band here at home and sang a song or two, but nothing of this magnitude, surrounded by many of the greats of the genre. The bands on the schedule that weekend were among the best at the time and even to this day, names like Enter the Haggis, The Prodigals and Black 47, many of whom we’d share billing and stages with for years to come as we got bigger. Perhaps the most meaningful encounter, for me, getting to see the legendary Tommy Makem, the “Godfather of Irish Music” himself live before his death in 2007. ( I’m pretty sure I bumped into and said hello to him in the VIP tent as well. )

The wonderful thing about The Great American Irish Festival, or “GAIF” as it was known, was not only the three stages of all styles of the genre, but the hospitality. This holds true for many music festivals as well. They have volunteers to carry your stuff and perhaps give you a ride from your car to the stage area for you.  You play your set, with professional sound and lighting technicians making sure you look and sound good. When you’re done and your stuff is off stage, volunteers may be waiting nearby, holding clean towels and a tray of cold beer for you to enjoy while people come up and talk to you. Then you make your way to a VIP section somewhere where catered meals and more complimentary refreshments await. You’re in the chow line with or eating next to artists you’ve been listening to and been a fan of for years. We had an all access pass to the show. Watching them perform, their command of the stage and the response from the crowd, we swore an oath: That would be us some day. 

Remember folks this was my first show. 

When the weekend was over, I was in a daze, having had one amazing experience, especially for someone who’d long dreamed of being a musician. And suddenly, just like that, I was in a band. Funny enough, they never formally asked me to join, I just… was in. And hey, a guy could get used to that kind of thing, right?

Right…

The truth is, weekends like that were rare in the beginning. Outside of once or twice a year, it was a lot more work and less glamorous. We schlepped our own gear in and out of whatever place we were playing. We ate whatever gas station food and kept each other awake on those two or three hour drives home in the middle of the night. More than once we slept wherever we could; tents, cars, bar room floors and once a basement so damp and moldy we all got sick the week after. It would be at least another decade before the “rock star” treatment and hotel rooms became more the norm.

 In other words, we paid our dues. 

*****

A while back someone suggested that I write about the “behind the scenes” things that happen when you’re in a band. Or perhaps some stories from being out there. There’s certainly a lot of stories, tales of the highs with some stories of the lows mixed in. But I don’t think they are my stories to tell; I’m only one person in a group of four to six people over the years, and my perspective is only one view of the overall event. That said, I will write about an event that, were you to ask about a time that I’ll never forget, is a top contender. 

I honestly don’t remember the exact year; I want to say it was 2013 and the calendar agrees….I don’t know. At any rate, it was another one of those years where St. Patrick’s Day fell on a weekend which meant we could pack in as many shows as possible and make good money. This particular year we played Scranton PA on Friday, Watertown NY on Saturday, and then on the big day itself, we were back home in Elmira. 

We’d been booked at a sports bar downtown for some time, but as the weekend got closer, the owner called and said he wanted to move the event to his other place he’d recently in a former Ponderosa restaurant in Horseheads. His reasoning was there was a buzz and he felt we needed more space. We were reluctant, because we wanted to play to a packed room but the truth is, what can you do? So we went from knowing we’d have a good crowd to thinking we’d have this huge place that, even with a good crowd, would look half empty. Again, whaddya gonna do?

We doubled down and took a gamble. 

We hired another musician to set up the sound and lighting for us, which would cost us everything we were being paid that night. We talked a popular local radio DJ to come and emcee the event for us. There’s already word on the street that this is gonna be a big deal, right? So we figured make it sound even bigger. 

Elmira to Scranton to Watertown and then back to Elmira is an almost 500 mile trip. Then you have to load in, play a 3-4 hour show, load out, rinse and repeat. Suffice it to say, you’re pretty damned tired by the time you get to day three. And we were. 

I remember that when we arrived on Sunday, St. Patrick’s Day, I didn’t even give a shit what I looked like. I had jeans, a tank top and a ripped hoodie on when we arrived. We loaded in, grateful that Brian had all the big stuff there and ready for us to go. We tuned up, soundchecked, and then grabbed a bite to eat. At least I think we did. It’s not uncommon to not have time for a pre-show meal.

My first inclination that something was happening was when I went to the bathroom to change into something more stage worthy. There I ran into someone who told me he’d heard some band was playing a big event and it was the place to be. He was surprised to learn that I was one of the band. 

Any concerns we’d had about an empty room were quickly put to rest as the people started coming. Followed by the buses, carrying people out on a bar crawl, started arriving. Before long the parking lot was full and people were parking wherever they could at nearby businesses and such, and walking to the venue. 

The lights were on, the emcee announced us and we came out to a completely packed house, wall to wall people, even right up against the stage area. And we played our asses off. 

What a lot of people don’t know, I think, is that a good musical performance is a give and take arrangement between the band and the audience. At least for us it is. What I mean by that is, the bigger the crowd, and the more they’re into it, we feed off of that energy and in turn, we’re able to give that much more back, even when we’re sick, completely exhausted, whatever.

I don’t recall much about that night, it was such a blur, and not due to beer or whatever else we were being given to drink. it was like being in the middle of one of those great dreams you don’t want to wake up from, and we didn’t. Two moments stand out to me though. Shortly after we started I saw the “maximum occupancy” sign on the wall. I was, and remain certain that, if the fire marshals got wind of what was happening we’d have been shut down because there was definitely more people than that there. The other thing I remember is looking up at one point and seeing a sign that read something to the effect of, “We’re the authors of our own story.” It certainly seemed fitting, considering all that had happened leading up to that moment. 

That was the year that, not only did things start to pick up for us everywhere, but we began to get the recognition we’d long felt missing here at home. There would still be times it felt like we were spinning out wheels, but in the big picture our overall trajectory climbed steadily upward. It took a worldwide pandemic to bring things to screeching halt for us, and even then, we found a way to make it work for us and come out better than ever. 

But that, as they say, is another story. 

Oh, one more thing about that night: The owner was so happy with the turnout that he not only paid us, but he paid our friend who ran the lighting and sound for us as well. 

****

Twenty years is a long time to do something, but when it comes to being in a band it’s like counting something in dog years. It’s a major committment, requiring sacrifice not only from me but my family as well. It’s sometimes difficult to juggle the committment between the two families, because that’s what a band is, it’s a second family that depend on you to be there when they need you, just the same as your spouse and kids. But still you have to say “no” and not book a date now and then, just the same as you occasionally have to miss birthday parties and other family events. 

It’s unavoidable. And one will bother you more than the other, I assure you. At least if you have your priorities straight. Our two sons were three years old and eight months old when I started this so in many respects it’s perhaps not a big deal to them. It’s all they’ve ever known. But still, I feel like the scales need to tip more in their and their mother’s favor, even now.

As the years go by, going out there gets harder, at least it has for me. Once upon a time I couldn’t wait to hit the road but more recently I’m just fine staying home. Physically it’s gotten harder as well. I’ve long said playing music is a full contact sport and music aint playin’ these days, it’s hitting back a lot harder than it used to. Hauling all that gear, playing your ass off, and then hauling it home is a lot of work and puts a lot of wear and tear on the body on top of whatever your every day, “normal” life has already given you. 

It was with those things in mind that I came to a decision. I initially wanted to just take a year off but I also knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask them to stay home. Nor would it be fair to come waltzing back and bumping out whoever filled in for me during that time. Therefore, 2024 was to have been my last with the group. 

You would think that, as the time got closer, it would become more difficult. It was actually quite the opposite. To be perfectly honest, I was looking forward to having more time at home on the weekends. Even on that very night in November that was to have been my last, I was at peace with the decision. I hadn’t told a lot of people, opting to simply finish the night and ride quietly off into the sunset. But instead, a couple of things happened. 

First, the owner of a venue I’ve always enjoyed was there that night and asked us to play in December. I agreed to stick around for that one. 

Second, and perhaps most importantly, I overheard a young man talking to a couple of the others in our group. He said something about playing in a couple different groups, trying to get to where we are. 

I had a 45 minute drive home that night, and what he’d said weighed heavily on my mind. 

I thought about us all those years ago, watching from the wings as the bigger acts took the stage. 

I thought about the previous months, at major festivals in places like Buffalo. Not only were we now on the same stage as those bigger acts, but now they were watching us, before or after their set, smiling and nodding their approval.

We once promised ourselves that someday we would be there and despite the odds, we’d done it. I was that young guy once upon a time and now here I was, walking away from it. And it was only then, in that moment driving down the highway, that I doubted that decision. 

As you can see, I decided to stick around.

For how long? Well, that remains to be seen. Life changes, and sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to put all of it aside; the writing, the music, the other stuff, and just be “Chris” for a change. Truth is, it’s been so long I’m not even sure what the hell that would even look like. 

And while I do have an inflexible cut off time in mind, I’m not thinking about that right now. Right now I’m taking things one year at a time. Enjoying the moment and living a dream I never thought would actually come true.

Twenty years…

Damn.