Pending last year’s allegation of indecent exposure in Arthur’s Supervalu of Stradbally, the Captain of the Salty Dog sets out to clear his name of deviant behaviour(s) and to go through the motions of clearing one or two of his debts by re-entering the workplace. By cutting staff salaries and looking askance when the subject of band fees arises, progress has already been made. His plan to draw disability benefit for the one eye / one arm / one leg fell asunder when he tried to claim for the other eye / arm / leg too, and the merchandising of the iPatches (“buy one, get another one for the same price”) foundered, so he was left with no choice but to turn to the trusty shipwreck for loot.
To the fortunate festival goer, this magnificent woodland colour-bomb of ship-and-sail—resplendent in nauticalia and lobster pots (pawn shop), porter barrels, glittering buoys, a tangle of fish nets and bustling portside low-life, and a stage that cannot but make you smile at its incongruous lunacy—is back again for more. This long-retired 40-tonne French trawler offers up her deck as a stage for raspy minstrels, and her torn sails as shelter for deluded revellers who spend all three days trying to get into the main arena will see the following acts grace the stage;
KING KONG COMPANY * THE RIPTIDE MOVEMENT * MAD DOG MCCREA * RSAG AND SPECIAL GUESTS INTERSKALACTIC * OPERA THEATRE COMPANY * CHARITY SHOP MANNEQUINS: GRAEME HOPKIN’S CHICAGO AND LOUISIANA BLUESMEN SQUARE PEGS * BUFFALO SUNN * TUCAN * AIDAN KAVANAGH’S BOLLYWOOD SET * BEACHED WHALES * JAWBONE FOLK * SESKIN LANE * COLUMBIA MILLS * THE TRINITONES * STOMPTOWN BRASS * THE NEW BREADWINNERS * GANGS * THE URGES * THE MIGHTY STEF * OLIVER COLE * THE RIVER FANE * THE GREAT SIMONES * SALTY DOG ALL-STARS * OLD HANNAH * THE DARLING BUDS * BEATBOX IRELAND * WILL SOFTLY * MAL WEBB * PLUS THREE TOP SECRET GIGS
Who dares to walk the plank? The unstoppable Lucan juggernaut The Riptide Movement return to one of their favourite stages for an after-Main Stage gig, ahead of a big set late night by stickman RSAG & special guests; the high energy ska spectacular Interskalactic, Graeme Hopkin’s Chicago and Louisiana bluesmen Square Pegs, the string laden Jawbone Folk, twitching Dundalk funk ska posse Beached Whales fresh from a stomper at Longitude, US West Coast (via Dublin) harmony rockers Seskin Lane, Tallaght-based comrades Gangs, journeymen Buffalo Sunn, gospel rock n rollers Columbia Mills, the liability of the three Donegal sirens Darling Buds, college-boys The Trinitiones a capella, some nautical Sunday morning arias from Opera Theatre Company, the tooters and parpers of urban kids Stomptown Brass, bluegrass gentlemen The New Breadwinners, retro racket-makers The Urges, experimental folkies The River Fane, sensational summertime rompers The Great Simones, the big band version of Sligo men Tucan, and all the way from Cornwall Mad Dog McCrea… and the return of our shipwreck residents, including The Salty Dog All-Stars (they meet one week ahead of the gig for the first time) who will take on the seminal Clash album London’s Calling, plus the hypnotic melodies of Ollie Cole, the mighty sounds of Dublin’s big star The Mighty Stef, with a spectacular closing set from the party men of King Kong Company. And for those in the know, they will hear the whispers about the brilliant return of a band who delivered some of the wildest sets of all time on the Salty Dog, and the secret appearance of **** who will be making their boaty debut following a warm-up set in the Main Arena.
Buoyed up by our house parrot (with a pirate on his shoulder) Jig as emcee, and Beatbox Ireland duo Kamil and Amaron from the Crow’s Nest, the pigeons who make their homes in the trees will be holidaying elsewhere.
The Salty Dog is fastidious in its pursuit of spirited indolence. Its audience smells like a haddock in a discarded sports bag, the ladies are shy of teeth, wild of eye, hairy of leg, croaky of voice, blotchy of complexion, low on morals, and high on meth, and they like men who can burp Ireland’s Call after a Dutch Gold. Ahhh, the mothership. A home for the refugees of spiralling M50 Toll Bridge debts, where miscreants wink at everyone that passes—and to hell with the consequences.