Review: Murder By Death at Crane Lane

Living on the verges of the city, I rely heavily on public transport to get me in and out of gigs and other such entertainments. Having very sensitive ears, I rely heavily on my iPod to save me from the kind of toss they play on national radio and broadcast on public transport. Not that there are strange political war-cries or creepy calls to arms or any of that … no, even without media-sponsored social upheaval, Ireland has her own aural crosses to bear. And Irish country music would be the splinteriest of ‘em all. Having been brought up in South County Galway, Clare FM was a constant in my early life, in the same way that the parish priest is a constant in the life of local head shop owner; it niggled and whined and battered me in-fucking-cessantly. Philomena Begley in the morning. Nanci Griffith over the tay. And … There’s more