Woodford, Day 4

A friend of mine, a veteran of many festivals in the UK such as Glastonbury, came up yesterday. One of the remarks he made was about how clean the festival site is, in terms of litter and general human debris. I was walking around quite early this morning, long before the gates opened, watching all the scuttling, the fixing, the tidying, and it really struck me how small a piece of the jigsaw performers really are when compared to everything else. The bins are emptied at 4:30 every morning by one of those giant trucks that resembles a mammoth navigating the treacherous lanes and alleys (it wakes everyone up the first morning, as it sounds like giant apocalyptic saucepans being hammered by huge-armed Vikings, but we get quickly used to it). There are gangs out with leveling machines (those big vibrating slabs of metal on pole things) sorting out the track and roads, gravel trucks, bark trucks, electricians, people just replacing a damaged lantern. Every venue has the chairs gathered up, the floors hosed and swept, the stages cleaned. There's an electric milk cart that zips around, loaded to toppling, delivering to all the cafes and of course during this, most of the coffee shops are already open serving breakfast. Backstage water urns are refilled, lost property filed, streams cleared, plumbing fixed, artworks straightened, transfers arranged, water recycled, lasers polished, lost children found, snakes removed, doughnut batter beaten. It truly is an endless list. Kudos to you all.

Today is a quiet one, which works well for us as it's also the anniversary of the passing of Helen. We'll get together a bit later for a drink and a few laughs over memories. We'll be at the ceilidh in the afternoon, then I'll be back on Game On 'due to popular demand' (which is Sandy's nice way of saying I didn't do too badly on Tuesday, despite dropping the C-bomb).

If you're still dawdling about coming on up, please do. The weather is lovely now, everything is open, the program is chokas and everyone is smiling.


Paul. 'Less mud, more doughnut'

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Woodford, Day 3.1

We had one of those really special gigs last night the audience just seemed to get into it that little extra more than usual. It was odd really, as I was struggling with my sound and Bridget was under the weather, but for some reason it sparked. Sarah jumping off stage to waltz with Johnny from Fallen Angels was probably the best bit, but really it was just the lovely reaction to our new stuff like the Cure's Lovesong that made the night crackle.

It stopped raining in the afternoon, and the evening was just lovely. It stayed cool, with stars dusting the sky. We tried to play some tunes, but the bleed from the other tents was just too strong so we ended up wandering in search of food. Tomorrow it's supposed to be fine!

BBOD stands at 4. I'm cutting back this year, clearly.


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Woodford, Day 3

Today's blog has been postponed due to inebriation, Byron Bay Doughnuts and Witchy-Poo stockings


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Woodford, Day 2

Bit of a quiet day today. We had a signing at noon which was nice, as we got to meet a bunch of people that had seen us at the Duck yesterday. Sarah and Mannie chugged off in the afternoon to play a show with Nadia and the Fruit Tingles, while I did a stint on the panel show, Game On. It was quite possibly the most terrifying yet fun gig I've done. Partnered with John Thompson, we faced off against Martin Pearson and Fiona Scott Norman in a show that was part 'Mock the Week', part 'News Quiz', but all Woodford.

The BBOD count now stands at 3. Although last night I was feeling a bit adventurous after the show and recklessly went for the Blackberry-filled version. After much Jameson's it wasn't the best idea, but a flagon of Superb Organic Gypsy Coffee soon put things right.

Then we all scattered to the winds. Mannie went for a wander, Bridget played tunes, Sair went off to watch her friend Sarah the fiddler In the stunning WooHoo Revue while I caught the awesome Arrested Development at the Amphitheatre. I think Sair crawled in sometime around 2:30am. No idea about Mannie, his van is a white, impenetrable enigma.

Tomorrow we have another Duck gig, which we can't wait for. Forecast is for fining weather.

Off to bed, and to dream...


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Woodford, Day 1

Yes it's been raining, but that's no excuse not to come. This festival is 100% running, and, if truth be told, I think I actually prefer the rain to the shimmering heat. This is a remarkable place. People just get on. Buy wellies, buy a poncho and come up.

So, today, the Byron Bay Organic Doughnut count stands at 1.5.

I've been a bit slack so far, but that's mainly because we have such great food at Campo De Súnas. I have my sights set on a blackberry one for breakfast tomorrow.

We did our first set of gigs today. First up were two appearances at the rather strange Mystery Bus. If you're coming up, don't miss this peculiar venue. It's part theatre, part music, part Carry On film, and very much fun. Sarah, Mannie and myself had a ball.

Then we officially debuted at the Duck & Shovel -our home venue here. And what a set it was! We mixed a few new ones in with some of the older material, and it just crackled. The packed out audience was incredible, particularly during 'P Stands for Paddy', where they managed to get the very tricky 'stomp-clap' rhythm done perfectly. It was like playing with the world's coolest drum kit! The new flooring is great, though it's nice to still look out and see throngs dancing on the grass. Fingertips held up nicely (though they did start feeling it during 'Crooked Jack', but that's more from the gazouki I think).

Really, all I can say is it was great to be home.

Oh, here's our schedule for the rest of the festival (subject to additions!)

Tuesday
12 midday: Signing, Festival Shop
7pm: Paul in Game On

Wednesday
8pm: Duck and Shovel

Thursday
5pm: Ceilidh
7pm: Game On

Friday
10am Concert Stage

Saturday
10:30 The final Duck & Shovel for the year. Expect many special guests!

Sunday
The Night After Party.

Now I'm out of here. The Cat Empire a firing up, then there's seasoning to be done. Tomorrow brings a day off for most of us, though we are signing at the Festival Shop at midday. I, however, will be in training for the night's edition of Game On. Pray for me!

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Woodford, Day 0.5

It's raining.

Did you really expect me to write anything different?

We're set up in a beautiful gully with a whole other bunch of musos and PeggyHiss, our 7 foot python. The water is literally streaming from the sky. The mountains are wreathed with ever-shifting mist and the valley is thick, green and dripping. At night, it sounds like a jungle, like something out of Avatar (minus the poisonous air and blue people, though this is Woodford, so the blue people are most likely here somewhere). At the moment I love it, but that may change once I work my way through the 10 T-shirts and 10 pairs of socks. Wellies are my best friend at the moment.

It's great getting here early. One gets to settle in before the mayhem and madness. We've already done our poster runs with Cloudstreet, so there's not a toilet wall or tent post that isn't papered.

The only downside to the rain for me is that my fingers are perpetually soggy, and my guitar callouses have literally fallen off. It's going to be fun playing later on. Might have to resort to the old superglue trick if they stay soft like this.

So, tonight we have the secret Troubadour gig. Andrew Claremont, Cloudstreet, Penelope Swales, Ange Takats, Kristina Olsen, Never the Twain... It's a great line up. Wine, Water and Merry!

And the gigs are lining up nicely! Sarah is playing with the Fruit Tingles (so far) and I've been asked to guest in the show, 'Game On', with Martin Pearson, Fiona Scott Norman, John Thompson, and hosted by the erudite Sandy McCutcheon (he told me to say that). I think I'm out of my depth...

Paul, reporting from Moistford.

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New Merch!

Just in time for Woodford and the Summer! We have a very strictly limited run of new T-shirts.




Available in women's and men's sizes, and in a choice of White, Crimson or Sky Blue, each one is hand-printed and unique. Be the envy of your fellow festival goers with this beautiful shirt designed and drawn by our genius friend Dan over at 2 Inches of Water . They'll be available at our shows, the Woodford and Illawara Festivals, and our Store very soon!
(See if you can spot the little Paul plug on Dan's site)

The Teaser Video

Hi Everyone!

This website has been a bit quiet lately, basically because we're in the process of upgrading the whole site to a super new shiny one. Shouldn't be too much longer now. We're spending a lot of time over at our Facebook Page, so hop over there and 'Like' it for the most up-to-date news.

Here it is -the new teaser video for the upcoming album:

Teaser Video

Watch out for the more news early next week!

Recording Adventures, Pt 1

I'm writing this on a brand-new top of the range iPad, in the back of the stretched black Hummer that the ABC has kindly provided to chauffeur us from our penthouse accommodation on Hastings Street, Noosa, to the plush studios overlooking the river at West End (*).

Ferry Road studios is massive. It's the rehearsal and recording space for the Queensland Orchestra, so the actual recording space is about the size of a basketball court, except with funky baffled walls and ceilings, hardwood floors and lots of mic stands. We're trying to record as much of this album as live as possible, so we're set up in a nice little square, close together, with transparent barriers between us to stop the fighting, thrown coffee cups, bodily gasses (and sound bleed). By live, I mean that we're recording together as much as possible. This is really important to keep as much of the energy as we can, and eye contact is also incredibly important. The only time this gets impossible is for the parts when Sarah or Bridget are playing at the same time as singing, and for extra instruments like the bodhràns, mandolin and gazouki.

Yesterday went really well, we got a three-part tune down in the morning, and the afternoon was devoted to one of the new songs. Today it'll be Drink up me Boys in the morning, then perhaps one of Dougie's songs in the afternoon, either Turning Away or Storm.

This is a very different recording experience for us. Martin the producer and Geoff our engineer bring with them about four thousand ear-hours worth of experience (actually, that's sixteen thousand if you think about it), and it's fantastic to get honest feedback (perfect take Paul), and opinion (do your bouzouki *again* Mannie ). Actually, joking aside, it's been brilliant so far. We're stretching ourselves nicely in all the right directions. But it's not all been tea and cookies.

I saw a ghost.

I was coming down the stairs by myself, and when I rounded the corner (the stairs are wide, open plan with a double descent) I saw a blonde haired girl, about 4 years old and dressed in blue, walking silently below me. She didn't pay me any attention whatsoever. I didn't think too much about it until I got the the bottom of the stairs and she was gone. The stairs empty out into the big foyer, so there's nowhere she could have gone to in such a short space of time. Oh, I should mention that the studios are closed on weekends...

I told the others, and surprisingly, neither Geoff or Martin laughed. Martin just looked thoughtful and mumbled something about The Ghost, then wouldn't talk about it any more

Late night trips to the Coke machine have become a whole lot more interesting now.


(*) This part may or may not be exactly true

Exciting Times

You might have noticed we've been pretty quiet recently. Thanks for all the emails asking about our whereabouts. Other than a few gigs here and there, basically we've been closeted away working furiously on a bunch of new material. And by a bunch, we mean an album's worth.

Yep, finally, a new album. I *know* we've been saying this for ages now, but this is different, this is *definite*.

We've just signed a record deal with the ABC. (That's the Australian Broadcasting Corporation for all you non-Australian types)

It's been an interesting couple of months, but this all dates back to May...

While we were down at Colo, we got to meet a very interesting chap called Martin. He was at the festival on behalf of the ABC to interview and film Dougie (and the other bands there). At the end of the weekend, we sat and had a chat and he said he'd be interested in doing something with us in the future. He gave Sair a card and we didn't think much more about it. Surprisingly, we've actually had quite a few promises like this in the past (though admittedly not from the ABC), usually involving a drunk, slurring man giving Bridge or Sair a card and promising to fly us (or just them) to Europe to be incredibly windswept and famous. Oddly enough, no one ever calls.

Martin did.

Basically, he offered us a recording deal with the ABC. At first, we were a bit hesitant, as the ABC isn't really known for its folk and Celtic, and the albums it has produced in those genres are not much like us, not to mention the fact that production was already underway on our next album and, without sounding too farty, we didn't want to compromise our sound for the sake of a deal. After over ten years as a band, we've never bowed to pressure to become more mainstream, more pubby, more anything than what *we've* wanted. But this offer was great. We'd have total say in what we recorded, the style and arrangements would be completely 'us', and, most importantly, we're free to still produce our own albums.

It's a brilliant opportunity.

So, we're doing an album of Celtic music for a the ABC. I'm not going to reveal what's on it, as we're picking from a very eclectic list that we've all agreed on. I will let slip that Ready for the Storm/The Gael will most likely be there, as will Drink Up Me Boys (a song that Martin heard us perform at Colo, and all-but insisted be included). It's an album where you might be familiar with some of the songs, but it's definitely not a generic cover album. There'll also be a bunch of tunesets on there, and some *very* interesting surprises. There will also be some local and international guests that we're all fizzy about.

So, we hit the studios in Ferry Road next week for a couple of months. We're excited, tingly, a bit nervous, but really confident that it that will be a cracker. We have a couple of lovely gigs coming up (see the Gigs Page) where we'll no doubt be previewing some of the material, and at this stage, the album is looking like a Marchish release. We're going to be documenting the process from start to finish (and of course blogging), and the ABC are even going to be filming parts of the recording for future release. And then of course there will be the life-sized cut-outs of Mannie at your local ABC shop, standing right next to his hero, Andre Rieu...

Wintermoon 2010

Oh dear, I’m going to have a field day with this one…

We love Wintermoon. There is no festival quite like it. It started when we flew into Mackay and found our way squished with luggage in a minibus. When I say squished, I mean it. In total, there was Sunas (plus Bridget’s boyfriend Tom), Ann Vriend from Canada, the entire Perch Creek Family Jug Band – PLUS our luggage and instruments.



See? Complete squishage.

Prior to arriving, I had an interesting conversation with Jenny, the organiser of Wintermoon regarding our accommodation. Mannie would be banished to his very own tent to ensure his purring would disturb as little people as possible. Bridge & Tom would have their very own tent. And Paul & I, well … Jenny asked me an interesting question:

Jenny: ‘Would you mind sharing a cabin with a snake?’
Me: (pause) ‘Erm, define ‘sharing a cabin with a snake!’’
Jenny: (laughs) ‘Well the cabin we’ve housed you & Paul in is open to the elements, that is, it’s got a roof and four walls, but no glass in the windows & no doors. And a six-foot carpet python has made it her home.’
Me: (pause) ‘Um, okayyy …’
Jenny: ‘She’s very docile; she sleeps during the day and won’t bother you at all. We’ve tried relocating her, but she always comes back.’
Me: ‘Well as long as she doesn’t try to cuddle me during the night, I think we’ll be fine.’
Jenny: ‘Oh great! Thanks so much, we were having a hard time trying to convince people to stay there.’

I couldn’t imagine why! Upon arriving at our cabin, we indeed saw this incredible python fast asleep wrapped in her many coils. Our bed was wrapped in a mosquito net across the other side of the room. I eyed the snake again. As long as that she didn’t come anywhere near me during the night we’d get along fine!






It turned out our worrying was for nothing. The snake moved from one beam to the other and wasn’t a bother at all. I gave her the name of Bess Hiss, and Paul & I grew quite fond of her. Outside the cabin, in her enormous web, sat the biggest golden orb spider I have ever seen – as big as a dinner plate. Jenny told us her name was Charlotte, in honour of Charlotte’s Web, but Paul secretly nicknamed her Spawn of Shelob from Lord of the Rings! I’m really not fond of spiders at all, they creep me out. But I didn’t think Charlotte would bother us somehow (otherwise she would be chased out with something long and pointy!), and despite looked both impressive and icky, she kept to her web. Nice spider!



We met and caught up with all manner of brilliant and interesting musicians. I was asked by our dear friend and brilliant songstress Nadia Sunde if I would like to be a part of her Best Band in the World for the weekend. What a treat! Nadia’s music is infectious, there were lots of cheers (mostly from us in the band having far too much fun) and some great guest harmony singing as well as wonderful audience participation.



The entire weekend was basically a great big party – hot days, cool nights & an amazing line-up of performers! On the last night, after a particularly wilting humid day, I decided to have a shower and freshen up for the night of fun ahead. Paul walked into the cabin before I did & stopped, as he had spotted a snake gliding between the rafters. This one was far smaller than Bess and much faster. Oh & had some sort of tiger markings on it ... so after locating Jenny’s partner Chris, he went off to find the Snake Catcher. There’s something both unsettling and relieving in that the Wintermoon organisers keep a bonafide snake catcher on site! Ten minutes pass and the snake decided that our cabin was far too boring, so it headed out into the night. Meanwhile, Chris comes back and announces that he can’t find the snake catcher, but he’ll take care of it. He then produces a snake handling stick in one hand and a beer in the other – what reassurance!

Feeling rather icky about the whole thing, I decide to go and have a shower in Jenny’s organic house – her bathroom has an enormous bay window that faces out into the rainforest, so showering is a wonderfully organic experience with Mother Nature right in your face. I walked into the bathroom when a little voice in my head literally said, ‘It’s time to face your fears, Sarah’. Remember me telling you that I’m really not fond of spiders? Well I had no sooner put my toe in the shower when I saw something in the corner of my eye. There, on the shower taps sat the biggest, hairiest dinner-plate sized huntsman spider I have ever seen. I completely freaked out at this monstrosity, started hyperventilating and actually said out loud, ‘I’m facing my fears, I’m facing my fears ... f**k it; I’m having a sink shower.’ Fortunately a friend of Nadia’s heard me freaking out and quite calmly picked this thing up in her hand and ushered it out of the window! My hero.



Mannie and I got up to quite a lot of mischief at this festival. A drink vendor sold the most delicious fruit slushies we’d ever had, and so on the last night (it’s always the last night isn’t it?) we added a heap of vodka to them and decided to go and catch the our mates from the amazing duo Swoon and the funky Kamerunga. It was such a great night! The guys from Kamerunga played such brilliant tunes & songs you couldn’t help but get up and dance. So. Much. Fun! On a particularly funky ska track, Mannie, breathless but exhilarated, decided to do his infamous pogo-dancing. I’ve never seen anything like it; he jumps really high and then does a dolphin-like wiggle in the air before coming back down and doing it again. I couldn’t move from laughing so hard. He did this throughout the entire song & afterwards we went to catch our breath. Our friend Julie came up to me and said, ‘Was that Mannie I saw dancing up the front?’
Me: ‘Yeah, isn’t he crazy? Hey Mannie, show Julie your pogo dancing!’
Mannie: ‘No, I’m trying to catch my breath,’
Me: ‘Oh go on,’
Mannie: ‘Nooooo, I’ve shaken up all the vodka & I feel sick’
Me: ‘DO IT!’

So Mannie grinned (he just couldn’t help himself), pogo jumped three times, landed heavily on his left foot, looked straight at me and said, ‘I think I’ve hurt myself...' and then promptly threw up behind a tree.

Not. Good. Poor Mannie! The benefit to all this is that women everywhere came out of the woodwork and helped Mannie get comfortable. One bandaged his foot, another mopped his brow, one gave him drinks of water, and the rest made sure he wasn’t going to try to walk. Turns out Mannie partially tore his Achilles heel and spent two months with his foot jammed into a special boot to avoid surgery.

The next morning we had to play a gig on the main stage at 9am (sob!), and Mannie the Brave (held together by coffee, nurofen & a little bit of water), managed to just get through it (sitting down, of course). We have an interesting sound file of that concert that we'll throw up in the next day or so :)

Colo Celtic

Firstly, huge apologies for the lack of blogs recently, this is the first in a series of entries called The Catch-Up Blogs!

What do you do when an opportunity presents itself to spend a weekend with a Scottish folk legend & his amazing family in a sleepy town north-west of Sydney?

You go. And you come prepared for anything, because anything can happen when Dougie MacLean & his wife Jenny are in charge.

The town of Colo hosted Dougie and his family as a stunning end to his Australian tour, which also served as a part holiday. Sunas was asked to perform in the series of concerts over the weekend, which was just an excuse for a big catch-up, really.

As we drove into the retreat, an extremely tanned man came over to greet us. Dougie, in his own personal style of greeting everyone, was, well, brown. There's no other word to describe the colour of his skin, he was a deep brown hue. Baked is the word I would use!

'What do you think of my tan, eh?!' was the first sentence out of Dougie's mouth. Dougie's daughter Julie told me that he just loves the sun (not surprising seeing as it rains in Dunkeld 300 days out of the year) and spent literally about four hours per day of the entire tour soaking up the rays. I just laughed. Bridge & I were now the whitest people there -not really a great Australian representation!



The first order of business was a dip in the lovely freshwater creek, which was incredibly refreshing. Again, Bridge, Paul & I slathered on the sunscreen, ever-protective of our pasty skin, while Dougie just ran straight in.

The walk back to the retreat was followed by an absolutely incredible foody chat between Paul & piper Ross Ainslie, who have found a kinship when it comes to anything gourmet. After that it was on. Silences would be punctuated by Ross & Paul discussing in mouth-wateringly delicious detail the dinner menu they would be preparing for us. There were no problems from anyone else!

The next day we were in concert prep. Floors were vacuumed, chairs were placed out, sound gear was meticulously set up. Then Jenny informed us that the ABC were coming to film the concerts. None of us are particularly keen on being filmed, particularly by the ABC! We get uncomfortable, then we man up, get onstage & then... nothing else matters. The music takes over & everything feels right.

Concerts with Dougie mean you are kept on your toes. There was another local band performing with us called Frozen, so rehearsals began in earnest. Dougie songs, tunes with Frozen, and Mannie being asked to accompany Ross on an epic set of tunes, he on bouzouki and Ross on the Highland bagpipes. I could literally see the 'freakout' cogs turning in Mannie's head, but the rest of us knew Mannie would do a great job & were really proud of him. It didn't stop him requesting six or seven rehearsals with Ross though, to which he good-naturedly obliged!



The ABC crew arrived and we met a lovely chap called Martin and his assistant Monica who were busy interviewing Dougie & Ross and filming our rehearsals. Martin started chatting to Mannie, and before Mannie knew it, Martin had set up the camera and began interviewing him as well! I had a bit of a giggle that I'd gotten away with being interviewed before I heard Mannie say to Martin, 'if you need any more info you should speak to Sarah, she knows everything about our tours & trips', to which Martin's gaze (& camera) were directed straight at me. Time for my 'freakout' cogs to turn! The entire time I was being interviewed I was thinking (along with my other bandies, no doubt), 'Speak slowly & don't swear!’ (which, after BBC Cornwall, is the new band motto).

Meanwhile the concerts went off with a bang. Like all good things, it was all over so quickly! Highlights were Dougie yelling at the crowd to ‘Make weather noises (cue audience making terrible whooshing sounds), Dougie’s son Jamie playing the VB beer carton as percussion, Mannie & Ross playing crazy piping tunes and the enormous session of everyone performing the finale of a mash-up of ‘Singing Land’ and ‘Waltzing Matilda’. They were both pretty epic shows, and we finally got to fulfil a long ambition of playing Ready for the Storm with the man himself. Magic.




And then one of the best moments was everyone chilling out on the couch under the carpet of stars with a cider and listening to silence. What a great, great weekend!

Russia -Behind the Scenes

After Paul’s nice shiny blog about snow and fun, here’s the real truth. For those of you who think being in a band is a glamorous, exciting and easy job, I have news for you:

It’s not.

Well, not quite, anyway. The performing part is about 20% of the package you see in front of you. The rest is a massive flurry of action behind the scenes: networking, rehearsing, travelling to and from gigs, setting up and packing down from gigs, recording, correspondence via email & phone, promotion, festivals, planning and organising.

To a musician, the performance side is simply the best part of being in a band. To a manager, that sweet moment after booking a nice gig is the best part. When you do both like I do, these two elements combined are moments of pure and utter elation.

In mid-February I received a call from former Súnas member and good friend Brendan who asked if we would be interested in playing a nice gig on Sat 13th March for the upcoming St Patrick’s Day celebrations. I said of course, where’s the gig?

He replied, ‘Russia.’ As you do (my hands started to shake here)! I have to say big thanks to Brendan for thinking of us for this gig, because if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t be writing this blog for starters. From there, it was three weeks of the most incredible amount of stress that I have ever experienced in my life (and this was even before we had boarded the plane!), but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Here’s how our amazing gig came about:

We were asked to submit an email to an entertainment agency, and the email was to list who we are, our sound, hi-res pics, pricing and video. Bear in mind, all we knew was that the gig was in Russia (no idea where), it was for one night and if we were successful we’d be flown there & back with all expenses paid. Well we in Súnas don’t do anything by halves. Paul & I worked for NINE HOURS to get this email together – the majority of it was a crash course in learning how to cut the footage taken from our concert at Perthshire Amber last October. Once the email was satisfactory to our critical eyes we finally sent it off in the wee hours of 17th Feb (something along the lines of 2am) and then played the waiting game.

It was five long days before we heard anything. Because I was listed as the primary contact, poor Mannie, Bridge & Paul were on tenterhooks in daily contact with me on the off chance that I had heard something. My most used expression during that period was, ‘As soon as I hear anything I’ll let you know’.

On Sunday 21st I was contacted by a man named Alan who said that it ‘looked as though’ his clients liked us and would ‘probably’ go ahead with us.
That wasn’t a yes in my book! I updated the others, but we still waited. More phone calls flowed between Alan & I regarding visa types and contracts etc, but I couldn’t do anything because we still hadn’t received the all clear! I’m sure he was thoroughly irritated by my constant calls, but I wasn’t going to get my band’s hopes up on the word ‘probably’ (having said that however, Paul gathered everyone’s passports at Sunas HQ, just in case). Regardless of everything, I had a great feeling about this possible trip from the word go. And I bloody held onto it over the next week, let me tell you! Don’t tell me we can’t do it, tell me that it’s a problem and that we can get around it. Never take no for an answer.

After another week of tense waiting, we were given the Official Yes late on Friday 26th Feb. I received one more phone call from Alan telling me all about the gig: It was a private gig for an oil & gas company in a town called Yuhzno-Sakhalinsk in very far eastern Russia. So far eastern that it wasn’t even on the mainland, it is on Sakhalin Island located above Japan. We would be gone for five days in total, including our performance. Alan finished our call with: ‘You need to organise the visas pronto’. I had heard from a few people that Russian visas were a logistical nightmare, so I got straight onto the Russian Embassy website and brushed up on my knowledge. We had to get the visas sent to the embassy in Canberra by Wednesday 6pm at the absolute latest for them to be processed and returned before we flew out. However (of course), it wasn’t as easy as that. Firstly, which visa do we apply for? Business or tourist? My first inclination was tourist, since we were only performing one gig – but because we were performing a gig I then looked at the possibility of the much more complicated business visa. Oh help.

Cue my introduction on Monday 1st March to our absolute angel Svetlana, the company contact who spoke beautiful English tinged with a Russian accent – she sounded like someone straight out of a Bond movie. Svetlana told me we only needed to apply for a tourist visa, and could I email our scanned passports ASAP to book flights please?

Bugger. Our scanner had packed it in. So instead I called Mannie & that night we went straight to his work and scanned the passports (thanks Theo!) while he filled in & signed his visa form & gave me a lovely visa photo that made him look like an illegal immigrant. I then drove across town to Bridget’s place where she filled in her form & gave me a visa pic that was absolutely stunning – she’s so photogenic, not even a visa pic would look bad! Paul & I added our absolutely awful pics – he looks like he hasn’t slept for a year & I look like I’ve swallowed a lemon. I was organising our applications the next morning and feeling quite overwhelmed with the documents we needed when I stopped and looked at our visa photos laid side by side. It made me cack myself laughing!

So I sent out an All Points Bulletin to my bandies:



HAVE YOU SEEN THESE MUSICIANS

• known to be of the Celtic music equivalent

• Slightly hairy, but not smelly

• Will do anything for a pint

• Considered cuddly and extremely dangerous

• Have a penchant for banjos

• Also known by rather naff nicknames

SUBJECTS ARE KNOWN TO SPONTANEOUSLY BREAK INTO SONG OR TUNES. ENSURE YOU KEEP YOUR DISTANCE. IF YOU SEE ANY OF THESE HEATHENS, PLEASE CALL 1800-PATCHOULI.

Aren’t we a pretty bunch. After everything was organised I was speaking to Mannie's wife Annette and filling her in with all the details. The first thing she said was, 'Thank God you didn't send those awful passport photos with the visa applications!' Oops, sorry Annette :)

Lesson: When stressed, find something to laugh about. It lifted my spirits tremendously! There were times through it all when everyone around me was doubtful that it would go ahead, but I chose not to listen. If worst came to worst, it would still have been lovely just to have been asked.

I was then in almost hourly contact with Svetlana. There was so much paperwork we needed for the visa applications, such as booked flights, hotel reservations, hotel vouchers, official invitation to Russia from Svetlana’s company, official invite and details from the Russian travel agent, official ministerial stamped papers allowing us in the country …

Tuesday passed, Wednesday arrived. Svetlana had sent through everything except the Russian travel agent invitations & the official stamped ministerial invitation. We had until 6pm to get the applications in the post before I would panic and have to fly to Canberra in person to get everything done. I spoke very nervously to Svetlana that morning, and she said that it would come through, she would get it organised.

I arrived home from work at 3pm and Svetlana had emailed letting me know that we would receive the documents by 4:30pm that afternoon. I had two flute lessons to teach from 4-5pm, and as soon as my second student had left just after 5pm I raced to the computer, my heart in my mouth.

No email.

Paul already had that defeated look on his face. OhGodohGodohGod, please don’t let this be happening. So started my frantic international dialling to Svetlana, over 20 times which normally put me straight through every time, but Murphy’s Law, this time I was unlucky. I emailed her, knowing she was probably as stressed as I was, but hoping to receive something soon!

5:05pm. Nothing.

5:10pm. Nothing. I will an email to magically appear in my inbox.

5:15pm. Still nothing. I felt like a group of rubber bands stretched to breaking point.

At 5:20pm I sat back in my chair. I couldn’t believe it. For the first time in the past two insane weeks I actually doubted that we would be going Russia. I looked at Paul and tried desperately not to show on my face that the infamous Súnas optimist was firmly and completely pessimistic at that very moment.

5:25pm. An email from Svetlana marked urgent and containing two words (‘It’s done!’) and multiple attachments arrives in the inbox. I stare at it in complete shock and then scream at Paul, ‘IT’S HERE!!!’

5:30pm. Each application is printed and assembled in military precision. I am focused, I am in the zone. I am actually beyond obsessed, I am completely BAT-SHIT MENTAL.

5:35pm. We’re in the car, gunning it to the closest Express Post Box (literally only two minutes away, but we weren’t taking any chances). Paul is driving as though he’s in a rally and we’re in the lead.

5:40pm. I stand at the post box and post the now-very-thick application.

And then I burst into tears. I just could not believe it. It was gone, we could focus on being excited!

Everything went well until Friday morning. We had flown down to Hobart for the Fleadh Ceol and had just finished having a morning coffee (good sign) when my mobile rang. A lady with a thick Russian accent named Natasha (I kid you not!) was calling because there was a problem with Paul’s visa application.

I was gobsmacked, felt the familiar tightening in my stomach and prepared for the worst, only to be told that we had simply filled in the wrong form. If we filled in a specific one and faxed it to her straight away she would process Paul’s visa as long as we sent the original that day. So we called on the magnificent Alistair, publican of the New Sydney Hotel & host of the Fleadh Ceol, commandeered his computer & printer then set about filling the damn form in. It was a lot more detailed than mine, Bridget’s & Mannie’s! Luckily, there was an Australia Post next door to the pub & the form was faxed off before midday with no problems. I emailed Svetlana the details of what had happened, and we spent the remainder of the day getting ready for our gigs at the Fleadh.

Fate was surely smiling on us that day, because at 4pm Svetlana sent me a text telling me that she had spoken to the embassy in Canberra and that our visas had already been completed and sent in the mail!

There was just one other thing to say to my bandies: WE’RE GOING TO RUSSIA, BITCHES!

Needless to say, I was utterly elated

The Big Russian Blog

Sometimes we get a gig that is just so odd, so outlandish that we have to accept it. But there’s been nothing like this before.

We were invited to Russia, for a single show.

I won’t go into the details of how we got this gig, as Sarah has a whole separate blog coming on the hair-ripping agony that was putting this together. I’m just going to write about the trip.

It started at 3am on the Thursday, getting to the airport to catch the first flight to Sydney. Because of the extreme late notice of the gig (we had under two weeks, from the first call to leaving), we’d missed all the direct flights, so we had to catch a flight from Brisbane to Sydney, then on to Seoul where we’d stay the night, then catch the plane on to Sakhalin Island in the morning. And so began the first adventure. We only had an hour and a half window between landing domestically, claiming all our bags and transferring to the International Terminal, and checking in. The minimum time allowed is three and a half hours. But we managed it, huffing and puffing a guitar, bouzouki, mandolin, flute case, fiddle, bodhran case, four bags and a cd briefcase between us.

More adventures in Seoul. The check-in chap in Brisbane had marked it so we would reclaim our bags in Seoul for the night stopover (which we were glad of as the thought of the instruments sitting somewhere was somewhat hairy). So, we landed, cleared customs, immigration, and picked up our bags… only to discover that no one had heard of our hotel. After literally walking miles around Seoul airport (possibly the most boring in the world, except for the food) we eventually found out that the hotel was actually inside the ‘sterile’ area of the airport (where we’d got off the plane) and there was no way back inside! After much more walking from disinterested Korean help desk to disinterested Korean help desk, we eventually had someone from the airline graciously check us in on the next flight (8 hours early and after many managerial phone calls), and give us the boarding passes that would allow us back in. After all that, we had a pretty decent night’s sleep after a ripping supper of Korean food.



I think we all expected the leg to Russia to be on an old DC10 or the like, but in fact is was a wonderfully new 777. We were still flying Asian Airlines at this point. Air Russia would come later…

So, my first view of Sakhalin Island. It wasn’t snowing, but it was cloudy and it looked fecking cold. Conifer forests made way to very uniform streets and square, almost stereotypical Russian buildings. There was a lot of grey. The airport was very scary, with just a couple of smoke-stained rooms, the immigration booth and a lot of very hard-looking guards, most of them blonde women who could probably kill me with a single judo chop. We met a very happy-looking Svetlana there, our wonderful Woman in Russia, and were quickly bundled into waiting 4WDs to the hotel.



It was cold, and there was a lot of snow.

About 6 foot of it.



It was everywhere, and under the snow was about 8 inches of solid pack ice. As we were driving, I was shocked at the state of the road, only to realise we were on ice, and the pot holes were just where it had broken up. It was an eye-opening drive. The Russians are almost as bad on the road as Brisbane drivers, and they’re utterly unfazed by snow and ice (as I guess they would be). The scenery alternated between beautiful winter stands of silver birch trees and extremely run-down buildings, most with smoke coming from the chimneys meaning people lived there. The actual city of Yhuzno-Sakhalinsk switched between looking like a regular city (except for the walls of piled snow to either side of the roads) to echoing one’s worst stereotypical idea of Russia. Square apartment blocks in serious disrepair, beautiful orthodox churches, shops that are nothing more than porched doorways, their wares unidentifiable by the gaudy signs, and the people, hatted, huddled in thick coats, just shapes against the cold. And it really was cold. Walking from the warm car to the hotel, it was like a slap in the face that left behind a million ice splinters, although Svetlana told is they were having a mild patch at the moment!



The Hotel Belka (Hotel Squirrel!) was warm and lovely –a big double room each and a super spa shower. The whole place was made from real logs, and looked a bit out of place, but it was great. The view from the window was brilliant:



We spent the rest of the day exploring (i.e. arsing around in the snow), and meeting the Riverdancers that were also part of the show. We then had dinner with Svetlana. Food in Russia is pretty average, with warm cold drinks and somewhat interesting taste combinations and some truly classic spellings (Porc stake in beer and hony anyone? Or how about following that with sheese and crackers?), but the company was fantastic, there were a lot of laughs, and we left to find it snowing outside.



I love snow at night. I love the hush of it, and there, well, it was magic.

We spent the Saturday exploring with Zara, Aioffe, Cathal and Sean, and it was great fun trying to find the Bank of Moscow in a blizzard. It was truly Baltic (-10 to -18) and at times, the wind would somehow stab through my thick woollen coat, my trusty Paddy Pallin Polartec pullover, my Merino layer and long-sleeved T-shirt…



Later that afternoon, while the girls had a nap, Mannie and I decided to go exploring, despite the still-falling snow. A quick aside here: Sakhalin is on the same time zone as Brisbane, even though the seasons are utterly reversed, so there was no jetlag to speak of, only the exhaustion of sitting in a plane for half a day, and after the adventures in Seoul, we were all quite buggered, but I said to Mannie, ‘screw this, we’re in Russia, let’s explore!’. So we did. I’ve got a pretty good sense of direction, so we wandered off to have a look at the church we’d stumbled upon the other day. We also found out a secret. Russians have these little things they wrap around their shoes, a bit like cowboy spurs, but on the underneath, to stop them slipping. Nothing screams ‘TOURIST’ as much as seeing someone slipping and sliding along the pavement. Poor Mannie nearly broke his arse trying to walk and film at the same time. We managed to find a beautiful park that we *think* is dedicated to Uri Gagarin (there was a big statue of him looking terribly cosmonauty). It was just magic.



The snow came down quite heavily, and it was just wonderful walking along the barely-cleared path, seeing all these little cut through tracks people had made through the trees or across what would be greens come summer. Huge ravens gurgled at us from branches. In the distance, the mountains hunched, visible through the breaks in the clouds, scored with ski runs that were lit at night. I’m not a skier, but I imagine that would be brilliant fun. There was a Ferris wheel deeper in the park, but it was quite a chilling sight as it did nothing more than remind me of the famous one in Pripyat, the town next to Chernobyl –my overactive imagination and the fault of playing a certain computer game set there before we left! It’s a pretty obvious thing to say, but everything was so… Russian. It’s quite like being inside every bad cliché you’ve ever seen, heard or read about a country. Thank you James Bond. It’s very beautiful, though incredibly hard. You can see it on the faces of the stunningly made-up women in fur coats or the flat haired, rough-featured men. It really is just like you’d imagine it. We took a different route back to the hotel, through the residential area that was almost eerie. Squat, grey apartments that looked very well lived-in, streets clear but snowing over, cars filthy with brown slush, salt and mud, icicles like dragons’ teeth hanging from broken gutters, windows taped up with fluttering plastic bags…



We got back with just enough time to shower and get changed. The gig itself was only one block away, so we walked, which was a bloody stupid thing to do with instruments and not a set of grippy spur shoes between us.



The gig itself turned out great. I say turned out, because there were more adventures to be had before hand. We warmed up (physically, not musically), then sat and watched the dancers run through their stuff. Excuse the language, but holy shit. I’ve seen a lot of dancers, but these guys were the absolute shiz. They were fully jet-lagged, having been flown in from Dublin just for the night, but even so…Mannie has some stunning video. We were waiting for our soundman to turn up, as there was no gear except for a dj’s console.

And of course, in complete realisation of my worst musician nightmares, our soundman turned out to be the dj, Ilya.

Who spoke not a word of English!

And of course had no idea how to set a band. So we did it ourselves, using whatever gear we could find, but having to forgo foldbacks as we just couldn’t get them working. Ilya and I developed a great communication style based around laughter. I would continually get these huge static shocks off the deck, yelp, swear, and he would laugh. Súnas. Breaking down barriers wherever we go.

But the gig was great. The sound was workable, but kept us on our toes. We played some tunesets for the dancers and they managed to get folk up and dancing, and all our worries about having the right material (remember, we don’t do stuff like Danny Boy) were completely unfounded. The Russians loved it, the Irish company was happy and it was a great night all round. We received a few offers for next year (and even a few ideas for a small tour), so hopefully this is the start of something.



And so, after just a couple of hours, it was over, so we did you one would do when in Russia.

We hit the vodka.

In Russia, vodka comes in the kind of glasses we serve lattes in, so it wasn’t long before there was some very spectacular dancing by certain members of the band that shall remain anonymous, and much merriment. We got back to the hotel sometime around 3am, and spent a good deal of time once again arsing around in the snow. As before, it was fecking freezing, but the vodka acted like a special pair of cosy thermal underpants, so we were immune!



The flight out was at 6am, and how I got up and packed was a damn miracle and mystery all in one, but we made it to the airport, said our goodbyes, managed somehow to get tickets and check in luggage at the single desk surrounded by hundreds of people, Alsatians, goats, smoking guards etc… The Air Russia plane was a classic 1970s 737, full of vinyl, faded curtains, ashtrays in the seat arms, rattles, shakes and odd timewarp hostesses. Standing on the runway, in the early morning with a snow front looming across the mountains and being dreadfully hung-over is not my ideal start to the day, and it was the only time I felt truly, uncomfortably cold. The wind whipped down from the snow fields, gathered pace over the flat expanse of the runways (only just snowploughed) and skated over the pack ice to bite our bones. We must have looked quite pathetic (and me quite green) to the laughing Russians waiting to board. The takeoff was pretty horrendous, as the plane skidded and shuddered across the iced runaway, and I’m not sure what alarmed me most, that, or the lack of a barfbag in front of me. I’d drawn the short straw and was sitting away from the others (small airlines generally only have rows of 3 seats). The lady next to me was quite friendly, but dressed in a fur coat that looked to have only been cured a week ago. Needless to say it was a very uncomfortable flight. As a result I’ve pretty much sworn off alcohol for a while now. Rock and roll!

Seoul was easy, just boring, as we had to wait six hours for the flight back to Sydney. Seoul airport is a huge crescent about a mile long, but unlike say, Singapore, it just has the same six shops repeated every 50 yards or so. BUT… it has awesome food. We noshed on traditional Korean dishes like Bibimbam and some of the best sweet and sour pork I’ve had (I was feeling a bit better by this point!). The Starbucks there managed a decent coffee, but I nearly made the barista cry trying to explain what 55 degrees for the milk meant. So much for my efforts at miming me burning my lips and frothing milk. I think she thought I wanted 55 shots of espresso. Actually…

The flight was fine, except for me deciding to sit through the dreadful 2012. If the cutlery hadn’t been plastic I might well have stuck it in my eye. Rewatching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid more than made up for it. I love that film. Another good few hours at Sydney awaited, and it was there I discovered the mysteriously-shaped hole in my guitar case. To me, it looks like a Russian bullet hole, and although that’s not at all likely, that’s what it’ll be from now on. I’m pretty pissed as it’s an expensive case, but the guitar inside was ok so that’s the main thing.




A reminder of the oddest Súnas adventure so far!

The Russia Trip

We've just come back from a whistle stop trip to play a gig in Russia. It was the most amazing, surreal gig we've ever done, and needless to say there are a few blogs on the way.

Until then, there are some photos available Here. I'll upload the full lot to Flickr and link them here as soon as I catch my breath!


Listening to: "Diamond Wheel" by Kate Fagan

Back to the Fleadh

I have to start by saying that this blog would not have been possible without the help of Henry, one of the cooks at the New Sydney Hotel who just gave me the wonderful latte he’d just made for himself (I think I must’ve had a desperately needy expression). It pretty much sums up what it’s all about down here. Within moments of arriving, we were using the owner Al’s computer to hurriedly finish off some of the Russian documents for next week, had pints in our hands and were all ready smiling.

I’m sitting here doing something I really love to do when we’re on the road; I’m sitting in an empty pub in the early morning. Everything is clean, tidy and arranged, and the old lady (the New Sydney Hotel was founded in 1835) is just resting, getting some much-needed sleep before it all starts again and midday, as it has for the past years. In my mind I can still the the ghosts of the hundreds of people that were here last night, singing, dancing, playing instruments. I love this pub. It’s my favourite one in Australia, and about the closest thing I’ve found to a ‘proper’ pub. There’s no Keno, no poker machines, not even a jukebox. It sells locally produced beers and ciders (they even have a Kentish Ale that I’ve fallen in love with) along with drinks we don’t get in Brisbane, like Magners pear cider and even genuine Strong Suffolk Ale, the walls are covered with flotsam that is just fascinating, and the food is fantastic too, so hats off to Henry, and the New Sydney.

As most of you might know, we have a very special relationship with Tasmania, and to say that we’d been looking forward to these gigs at Fleadh Ceol is like saying that I like the occasional coffee. It’s an oft-used phrase, but for us it’s perfect.

It’s like coming home.

In a way, Súnas wouldn’t be the band it is now without the Tasmanian adventures. It was the first small tour down here that really woke us up to the fact that people may actually come out to listen to us (that sounds a bit self-deprecating, and I guess it is, but really, we’d never taken ourselves all that seriously). Tasmania made us re-think that. There’s also the whole Helen factor, and although each of us have different meanings and thoughts there, it’s still very much a part of it. This is our first trip down here since she passed away, and even though it’s only been a couple of months, It’s still very much on our minds, and the people down here that knew her too. Sarah told me she had an odd moment on stage last night where she looked up and really expected to see her out there somewhere. I think she is, there’s just too much joy and happiness for her not to be.

Last night’s gig was brilliant; hot, hard, fiery, fast, unpredictable. But to be honest we had more fun watching everyone else perform. Tonight will be a little different, more relaxed I think now that we’ve got over the initial performance bump with Jamie (who’s standing in for Bridget for this weekend). But then maybe not. We never seem to be able to control these things!

Gigs, Things and Happenings

We have been out of radio contact for a while, apologies to everyone. I haven’t really had the motivation to write anything since our beloved Helen passed away. She was a monumental figure in our lives, and will be missed always. Thank you everyone for your wonderful wishes of strength and support –I can’t begin to describe how they held us together at the end. We have all had good and bad moments since then, as I’m sure you can understand.

Since then, we in Súnas decided after an enormous 18 months of festivals and touring to have a quiet six months to renew energies and begin rehearsals for the next album. Judging from our busy gig guide our carefully made plans quite obviously went to pot, didn’t they? The plans are still there, they’ve just been postponed until after an utterly mental March.

This coming Thursday (4th March) we visit our wonderful friends in Tasmania for the Fleadh Ceol at the New Sydney Hotel in Hobart. We’re performing alongside Martin Spurway-Smith and Zac Johnston as well as our good friends the To’rags, Daideo and the Blue Mosquitoes and Mick Flanagan. The last time we gigged at the Fleadh it was 2008 and we had a cracking time, so I mean it when I say it will brilliant to see everyone again!





The following Thursday takes us to Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk in Russia for a private St Pat’s gig with the Irish Riverdance crew as support. As you do. We are utterly blown away at an opportunity such as this (and are trying to act cool, but failing spectacularly). I hear Russia is lovely this time of year – in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, on Sakhalin Island, the temperature ranges from -5 to -30 degrees. Can you hear Mannie sobbing from here?

Then, 1 day after we return, comes the madness that is St Patrick’s Day. On Wed 17th we’re performing at Harrigan’s Drift Inn at Jacob’s Well from 12-3:30 and then at the Down Under Bar on Edward St in the city from 7-9. Come and say hello!

And THEN we cap March off with a flying visit to Colo in north-west NSW to perform at Dougie MacLean’s Colo Celtic Festival from 19th – 21st. You can check the details out here. It’ll be great fun to get up with Dougie again and play some songs. Hopefully he’ll bring some of his divine 12-year single malt Caledonia whisky with him!


Currently Listening to: 'Eclipse' by Imogen Heap.