by Traci Nubalo
Metaverse Tribune - March 7, 2012
Metaverse Tribune - March 7, 2012
When I was growing up on the east coast of the United States one of my uncles had an Irish music band. It was himself on guitar and vocals with his two sons on guitar and banjo. There were also a couple of assorted side men on fiddle, whistle, bodhran, etc. The family would take me along when they went to gigs and I can remember having the best time. I loved hearing the authentic Irish ballads and trying to learn to dance the jigs and the reels. So I grew up steeped in Irish music.
I would always wonder, though; at every show during the second set a waiter would arrive at the stage carrying drinks for the band. The room would come to its feet, glasses raised as my uncle, who had served as a paratrooper in the US army during WWII, would always make the same toast: “To the British - may you have an itch without benefit of a scratch.”Years later I came to learn that my uncle (and some others in my family) were hardcore supporters of the Irish freedom fighters.
** ** **
He first grabbed my attention when he walked to the microphone wielding that guitar like it was a battleaxe. “Gonna give you some celtic mayhem for the next hour,” MarkSeery Melodie tells the waiting audience.
The Dublin resident steals my interest again a second later when the room fills with a dreamy intro, a mournful cry on slow fiddle and pipes with an eerie keyboard underpinning. The guitar comes up, the pace quickens and the opening notes of the traditional reel “The Fair Maid of Barra” sweep through the room. We all ecstatically erupt into dance.
Before we get our breath back Seery attacks an authentic version of “Whiskey in a Jar”, the traditional Irish rocker that catapulted to fame when Thin Lizzy rode it to the top of the world charts in the early 70’s. It was also covered - still authentically and quite a bit more muscularly - by Metallica, who won a Grammy for the song in 2000.
Just two songs in and it was already beginning to dawn on me that we have a real Irish heart and soul present among us as Mark whips the crowd through the singalong ending of “Whiskey” and barrels headlong into “Blood of Emeralds”, bringing me out of my chair. This one is a classic from the great Gary Moore, also of Thin Lizzy fame. We lost Gary to the bottle just a year ago, and a lump formed in my throat as Seery wailed the chillingly-prophetic lyrics sung by Mr. Moore himself a mere handful of months ago.
Through the thunder and the rain,
the deepest blood of emeralds
was running through our veins.
Some of us will win and some of us will lose,
the strong will survive.
Some of us will fall,
some of us won't get out of here alive.
Blood of emeralds.
the deepest blood of emeralds
was running through our veins.
Some of us will win and some of us will lose,
the strong will survive.
Some of us will fall,
some of us won't get out of here alive.
Blood of emeralds.
Seery, who comes from a family of classical musicians, blasts through this epic with all of the confidence of the original, winning my heart along the way. Then, to the astonishment of the breathless crowd he wheels headlong into “The Worker’s Song” from the Boston-based celtic punk band Dropkick Murphys.We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky
And we're always the last when the cream is shared out
For the worker is working when the fat cat's about.
And when the sky darkens and the prospect is war
Who's given a gun and then pushed to the fore
And expected to die for the land of our birth
Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth?
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky
And we're always the last when the cream is shared out
For the worker is working when the fat cat's about.
And when the sky darkens and the prospect is war
Who's given a gun and then pushed to the fore
And expected to die for the land of our birth
Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth?
From highwaymen through the personal struggle to survive and into the realities of the lives of all oppressed peoples, he weaves the beauty and the tough spirit of his countrymen-and-women into whole musical cloth. And then he wraps us up in it with his smooth Irish wit:
“I have a new tin whistle and let me tell you it’s not the most hygienic instrument. I thought about it and realized that if I can be incompetent on guitar I can also be incompetent on tin whistle,” he reveals. What Mark seems less quick to tell is the fact that he’s had a long recovery from a power tool accident in 2007 in which he sustained tendon and nerve damage to the fingers of his left hand: the fretting hand. To listen one would never guess. Mark Seery is a musician of significant talent. He creates his own backing tracks, playing all the instruments himself. And his guitar skills - injury notwithstanding - are exceptional. His vocals are clear and expressive - perfect for the musical storyteller role that he has adapted.
Not done with his work day just yet, he slams us all back to the dance floor, this time in couples for “The Worst Day Since Yesterday”, Flogging Molly’s wistfully-sad-but-beautiful ballad.
Then the unmistakable stacked-guitar attack that screams Thin Lizzy introduces an insanely-energetic rendering of “Black Rose” which, of course, includes the “Danny Boy” theme we all know so well. A mysterious keyboard wash then trances into “Lord of the Dance” just in case anyone had any sweat left in them. Seery sends us home with “In a Big Country” the major hit from The Crossing, the scorching 1983 album by Scottish band “Big Country”.I’m not expecting to grow flowers in the desert
But I can live and breathe and see sun in the wintertime..
And in a big country dreams stay with you
Like a lover’s voice, fires the mountainside
Stay alive.
But I can live and breathe and see sun in the wintertime..
And in a big country dreams stay with you
Like a lover’s voice, fires the mountainside
Stay alive.
This warrior has thoroughly entertained the room for an hour through his well-developed and expertly-executed musical craft. But he also reopened my heart to the beauty of the music I was brought up with. And I was reminded of the nobility and strength of my people - the Irish. Born and tempered in oppression and struggle, this music still speaks to us in voices which celebrate the simple joy of the living.
He faces us at the microphone, that battleaxe now sweaty and slick from his efforts. He says two final words: “Stay alive.”
An unearthly, explosive roar fills the room and my headphones begin to rumble like they want to fall off my head as thick brown clouds of fog envelop the stage.
When the smoke clears he’s gone.
Then an eerie disembodied voice (which sounds suspiciously like a playful Mark Seery) announces: "Mark Seery has left the building."
July 13, 2019 at 1:31 PM
This guy was a massive talent. I remember him well. Wonder whatever happened to him