PART I - New York

So we're staying at a place around the corner on the Bowery that's half drunk-tank, half-Titanic plebian quarters. It's clean though, and horrendously cheap and right on our doorstep are all the places and people that we came to see in NewYork.

We're in a large café around the corner from the "hotel" that has just been bought over by two ofthe former employees. 2 cailíns. We're supporting their business. They're rewarding us with coffee (...as we steal their electricity in a highly cheeky fashion. I have one US to Irish plug adaptor... and a plug board... and I'm charging every electrical device I have. We're tipping them well, so I think it's okay.)

Since we arrived we've had the most amazing breakfast known to mankind at the Café Orlin. We've checked out Bua, an Irish bar sans shamrocks and other horrible"Irish" signs, like the Scratcher where we played last night. Friends of ours hang out at Bua all the time. It's next door to the original Sin é, off Avenue A which is a coinkydink, 'cause the Scratcher happens to be owned by Karl Geary who set up the original Sin é back in the nineties. The Lower East Side was a tougher place then. Alphabet City is quite chic now and the artists and students have mostly high-tailed it to Brooklyn – which itself is undergoing the same gentrification now. Where will the artists endup? It's like they're civilisation's own painters and decorators...always moving on to the next house that needs sprucing up.

The trip has been special for me. After six years, I met one of the girls who set up my first solo show and somehow convinced me that I should get all this stuff inside me –out into the open. And it's all been downhill from there. Melissa was one part of what I viewed as a dynamic duo. An inspirational team who I met in Paris. It's heartening to see that she hasn't compromised. Still writing. Still inspiring. It's funny to find that we're facing the same daily challenges in life now... We met upat a gorgeous sunset party in Brooklyn. (It was very brave of Megan, our lovely host, to allow us in, but we didn't break anything and we even mopped up when the toilet flooded.) We've been navigating the city on the subway, and strolling around. It's been lovely, but I must admit that I'm tired now. A mixture of late nights and jetlag.

The show at the Scratcher was beautiful. Jenna and Brendan have been showing us around and looking after us. My trusty Lowden guitar is at home, so I was lucky enough to be given the use of Bren and Jenna's Lowden which is similar to mine. It's a real comfort to use a familiar instrument. It made the gig so much more pleasurable. We had a lovely crowd in, some Irish which was a surprise, so we had a good bit of craic. After a fantastic session in the Scratcher, we ended up on a large basketball court on an East Village roof (we were on many roofs for some reason) looking out over a fabulous Manhattan skyline.

I've been writing this in a fairly piecemeal manner, in my little moleskin notebook whenever I get amoment... so I'm not entirely sure how to structure it now as I'm typing it up...

The only touristy thing that we've done while here has been to visit the Planetarium. Robert Redford wasnarrating the whole story which was unusual. I'm a big fan of the early Robert Redford films. Three Days of the Condor, All thePresident's Men, etc. As the meteors shot across the sky, I kept waiting for the double cross...

Strangely, we had a session that same night on a rooftop on Avenue A with Phil, Grace, Dáire and Shar. That wasn't the strange part. I kept seeing what I thought were shooting stars as I stared off into the distance, but I thought it was just lack of sleep and my dodgy eyes. But Q was laying back on the roof a bit later and started spotting tonnes of them. Q wasconvinced that this was NYC at its best, that this was a normal occurrence. Checking my mail the next day, I discovered that knowledgeable star-spotters were all out the previous night with flasks, blankets and dogs in bushy parks all over the Western Hemisphere to spot the Perseian Meteor Shower. We had stumbled upona once-in-a-lifetime event, thanks to our insatiable appetite for an auld session.

I have a few photos taken around the same time that we met Patti Smith (yes, I thought you'd like that). We decided to go and watch a new film about Patti which was showing in the West Village. So Bren, Jenna, Q and I went down to see it. I didn't know much about her, I'll admit. I knew a few of her songs, Horses and Dancing Barefoot. I was expecting something of a drug casualty, a tragic figure, an honorary member of the stupid club, as Kurt Cobain's mother called them. The last thing I expected was to fall completely in love with this amazingly intelligent, vibrant, creative force. Her Q&A session after the film was hilarious and heartening. Her musings on writing and expression is still resonating with us... It was inspirational to watch that before our show in the Scratcher – which is exactly what Bren had predicted. Hats off to the Killarney boy.

On the way back, we passed a regular Manhattan building with surrealist touch. Alongside a misnumbered clock is a statue of Lenin. Not Lennon, but Lenin. A Communist figurehead in downtown Manhattan, facing Wall Street with his outstretched arm... It's surreal. It's nice actually. There's nothing like a bit of juxtaposition to set the head-gears in motion. The owner of the apartment block found the statue in a backyard in Russia. The piece had been commissioned but never paid for, due tothe breakup of the USSR. It's one to watch out for.

In the Red Lion on Bleecker Street, we played for a crowd that we brought along and some random diners. The sound was woe-jous. It was like the sound system had a really badflu. I had the strange experience of starting my Marvin Gaye impression before realising that I'm in the States, and my mid-song patter might be construed as me just taking the piss... so I closed my eyes, just went for it, and hoped for the best. It went down well thankfully. Philo did a marvellous Dylan song and we finished quickly and high-tailed it out of the place and back to the faithful Scratcher. I should mention that Q has been on fire of late. His solos know no bounds, and I'm dead jealous. I must learn how to solo!

PART 2 - To Michigan

We're in a Pontiac G6 heading outtowards Michigan with XM radio blaring. We're listening to the 60sstation. It's nice to finally get to hear these stations over the airwaves as opposed to the internet. Q is driving first, we're about to switch soon. The GPS system reckons we'll be there by 11.30pm without stopping... it's a long drive.

Meeting a turnpike toll-booth somewhere in Ohio, I think, we're looking for change and wondering how muchit's going to cost us – "see, if she'll do it for a fiver", Colm offers helpfully. We paid six, but the thought of her reaction to that keeps our spirits high.

So we arrived at 2am on the 14^th in Bay City, MI - the burial place of Tony Hoffa reputedly, and the birthplace of Avis's founder. Our gracious host Pete stayed up tolet us in to his home. I crashed straight away.

In the morning we had just enough time to get up, shower, and stretch our legs and fingers before driving to Frankenmuth. Frankenmuth is a peculiar town, home to the largest Christmas shop in the world. It was founded by German missionaries around 1870 who were hoping to convert the local Native American tribe to their Lutheran faith. The missionaries were from Bavaria...and the town has a bizarre mix of Bavarian-style architecture and signwriting coupled with American vehicular behemoths. It's just downright strange. We probably made all the jokes that everyone visiting the town before us have made. We introduced ourselves in German, changed the lyrics of songs... oh what larks!

XM satellite radio is fantastic. Strange but fantastic. They have stations for every possible taste. Much like satellite television. We've focussed on the 60s, Bluesville and XM Comedy, but they've even got a purely Metallica station (which I'm assuming frowns on home-taping!). It's insane. The lyric police however don't seem to be out in force. Some of the lines have us in stitches for miles.

The show in Frankenmuth took place in alarge town hall with amazing acoustics. The kind of sound that supports you, nurtures you, and eggs you on to reach that impossibly high or improbably long note. There was a plethora of local acts playing on the same bill, which was super. It's great to see what other bands are up to from close quarters. I love the spirit outhere. Like the frontier spirit. There's none of this "you CAN'T do THAT!". With the result that you can see some really strange instruments being used and some great line-ups. The show was a resounding success, and the guys and girls at Travelling Kid Productions put on a fantastic show. I want to say a huge thanks to Pete especially for really pulling out all the stops, between organising press for the show, flyers, lovely advertisements, ticket sales, everything... and the whole night ran so smoothly. We're dying to get back and do it all again.

After another long drive home, done mainly on a hearty omelette breakfast, helpfully pointed out to us by Laura & Mammy Koth, and a crazy dash through Manhattan traffic to Avis HQ, we hit the usual haunts with our trusty team of wild Dubliners. While we've not really eaten much over here, we've certainly eaten well. After yet another morning session on a rooftop on Avenue A with two new cohorts from LA, Mandy and Jessie (from a band called The Willowz), we reluctantly grabbed a few hours sleep before running to catch a greyhound bus from Port Authority.

PART 3 – Saratoga

The crosstown train was fine, but the uptown train took an age and a half to arrive, and we were sure that we'd missed our chance to hit Saratoga in upstate New York. We reached the doors as the final passengers for Montreal were boarding. A miracle. So, Saratoga - here we come. Colm is asleep by thewindow. I have nothing to lean on and I'm really bad at sleeping upright, so I reckon I'll get no sleep. It's a three hour plus drive I believe, so we've a journey ahead of us, but it's a killer  line-up... Bob Dylan, Levon Helm (of the Band), Steve Earle, Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, Conor Oberst, and The Swell Season from little old Ireland. The traffic is really heavy now so I'm hoping we'll make it in time to catch the earlier acts.

We stopped off in Albany at a dubious looking Greyhound station, our bus heaving with Québécois. It's funny. It sounds like French but with an American twang. It'san aural delight that I haven't experienced in a long time. Kerouac, author and hero of the road culture, spoke québécois as a child. English was his second language. He did well out of it! Kerouac if I remember correctly, is a Breton name... so he is in a roundabout way one of our Celtic cousins. Anyway, we're now one stop from our destination and I cannot wait to get there, chill out, and enjoy the tunes. Even though I know I've got a mountain of tasks awaiting me when I get home...

Well Levon Helm's Midnight Ramble was incredible. Anyone who has seen him play and heard him sing will testify to his genius. He's much frailer now, but wears a permagrinand is clearly delighted to be playing for huge crowds still. The show was seated but there were standing ovations galore. They played some wonderful southern blues numbers and some old classics from The Band... The 10, 11, 12 piece band was fantastic. I'm so glad that Igot to see them. It's the closest I'll ever come to seeing The Last Waltz. The Weight featured Steve Earle, Alison Moorer, Gillian Welch, Dave Rawlings, Glen Hansard, Graham Hopkins, etc... it was super.

After the show, and a bit of a nightmare for the Swell Season who were plagued with sound problems,we teamed up with the Irish at a bar in Albany after a 30 minute drive.

Our Greyhound trip from Albany to New York was straight out of Satan's secret playbook. We had a puncture on a front wheel which was fine for a while, but after two hours of sitting by the side of the road with no idea what was happening, it got irritating. Our flight was at five so we started to organise later flights for $300 extra each! Our bus was supposed to arrive at 12.15... it's now 15.41 and the bus is running again after the driver, who pretended that there were difficulties with the door, took us on an impromptu tour of Hackensack, New Jersey before stopping on a residential street and asking for directions. It's never a nice feeling to be late, on a bus, passing the same buildings over and over again... Frightening. Apart from the lie about the door, we haven't heard any news from the driver since before our flat tyre. Perhaps she's a kamikaze driver. At this stage, if she doesn't do the deed herself, there are about 30 people here who will. The Swell Season were travelling for the later flight, and if our puncture hadn't been repaired, ten minutes later they'd have picked us up on their way... I'm regretting getting on this bus again.

After a formal complaint at Port Authority, our weary travellers, ate, picked up our bags from our friends (to whom we're extremely grateful, Grace, Shar, Phil and Dáire), and then made our way to JFK at 18.30 (for our flight at 17.00 – anyone spot the anomaly?!) After some charming banter and some anxious moments we were able to convince the desk of our genuine delay. We were placed on standby for the Dublin flight. We made it through. Strangely security on the way out of America seems very lax indeed. I've seen harsher security at Arnotts on Henry Street. They're no doubt glad to be rid of us dirty musician types. The Swell Season and Pete, a charming character from Dublin are also aboard and are looking a little fresher than myself and Colm. I could sleep for days. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll get any shut-eye. Although there's an empty seat beside me, to which I'm going to lay claim. We're slowly reaching cruising altitude and I'm fast reaching melting point.

We've landed at Dublin Airport, back tothe dreary rain and floods, that's becoming worryingly familiar. I don't want to go home. I'm hoping I'll be whisked away somewhere warm... although if the rain keeps up, I'll probably be swept away somewhere - house and all. Time to shift up a gear and get all our plans ready for the making of Rid of Her, the video. We may not have the weather for it, but we're going to need to do the video this weekend anyway.

Colm and I have decided to make this trip again soon. We've had heaps of fun, made great friends, destroyed ourselves with lack of sleep, but it's been a great experience. Very rewarding. Our next trip will be longer I think. Let's hope.

Thanks everyone! See you next time!  xo TC