- Then there was the time I was working in the RTÉ CEL studios recording those things you hear on the radio between those other things you hear on the radio. I can’t say it wasn’t a comfortable and pleasant enough job. Most of the people you’d meet of a day were happy enough to be getting on with it and we’d have a laugh. Some days there was nothing to do at all except sit around watching the hours clock up, just in case somebody had an emergency need to say something on the radio. Or, you could go up to the canteen and get some bad coffee and then go and raid the 2FM library of a few obscure CDs. Terrible altogether, so it was. Me being young and.. well young, I wasn’t always too happy about hearing my work on the radio. It was just that I felt it wasn’t really making a huge contribution to the evolution of human consciousness and the elimination of suffering of all sentient beings.
Of course, I had no idea what I thought, I was probably more worried about the positioning of the rips on my jeans. I told myself if I didn’t come in and get handsomely paid for pressing the red button then somebody else would. I invited Tony for the evening and put him and his guitar in the dead sound booth behind the glass. Like a kind of observation room. Sonic observation.
So, i went for a last pint with Paddy up in Kiely’s, shook Tom’s pipe smoking and generous hand and said a mental goodbye to the DJs that had spotted and tried to help me resolve my childish unease with establishment.
Then I got on me bike and drove out onto the Stillorgan Road and into the future.
There’s just no accounting for it.
- Tony Healy – Kissin’ Cousin Man: