‘Of course,’ I say.Moveable Feast is one of the few ‘boutique’ festivals in the country that has actually kept its independent, distinct vibe.It takes place in a different beautiful location every year.The headline acts are always spectacularly good, especially for such a relatively low-capacity festival, and tickets always sell out within five seconds of going on sale.The calibre of the performers is so high that highlights are now televised and streamed all over the world.
‘So I’m actually headlining Sunday night this year, and I know it’s six months away but I was wondering …’ Am I imagining it, or does he look a bit nervous?‘I was wondering if you’d like to play with me.’
I stare at him.
‘On stage, I mean,’ says Tadhg, when it’s clear that I’m not going to say anything any time soon.‘At the gig.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I say.‘But … why?’
‘Why?’says Tadhg.‘Well, first of all, you’re one of the best guitarists I’ve ever played with.And second of all, Cara, who usually plays lead in the band, is moving home to New Zealand.So I’ll be looking for a guitarist to do this show anyway.It wouldn’t be a huge time commitment either.We’d just have to practise every week for a few months coming up to the festival.’
‘But it’s in front of thousands of people,’ I say.‘And that’s not counting people watching it online.’
‘Yeah,’ says Tadhg.‘But, you know, you’ve played gigs before.An audience is an audience.’
‘Tadhg,’ I say, ‘I haven’t played in front of anyone for, like, over a decade.And you may not remember this, but we weren’t playing to massive crowds back then.’
‘I know it’s a big ask,’ says Tadhg.‘And obviously you don’t have to decide now.But will you think about it?’
‘Of course I will,’ I say.
Not only will I think about it, I know I will be thinking of nothing else for the next twenty-four hours, and possibly the next six months.Possibly the rest of my life, regardless of what I decide.Playing a gig.And not just any gig, a massive festival.I think of the thrill I got playing live back in the day.I imagine feeling that thrill again for the first time in sixteen years.I imagine having regular practice sessions with Tadhg and Sam.Being in a band again.Just for a while.
We decide to spend the day working on arranging the new songs we already have rather than starting new ones.It turns out that messing around with Tadhg’s state-of-the-art sound desk is just what I need to stop myself overthinking his offer and what the future might hold.
‘This software is amazing,’ I marvel in the afternoon, as we listen to a gorgeous cello line stream out of the speakers.‘You’d never know that wasn’t an actual cello.’
‘Speaking of amazing software,’ says Tadhg, ‘I rang Tara yesterday and asked if she can arrange to have my old minidiscs digitised.’
‘The ones you made of our old practices?’I’m stunned.‘You still have them?’
‘Yeah, most of them,’ says Tadhg.‘I don’t have an actual minidisc player, but I do have the discs.They were in my old wardrobe in my parents’ house – my mam found it when they were doing up my old room.’
‘You mean your parents haven’t preserved that room as a shrine to their only son?’I say.
‘They have not,’ says Tadhg.‘They’ve turned it into a spare-room-slash-office.Anyway, the box has been in my archive …’
‘You have anarchive?’I say.‘Did you bequeath your papers to the nation or something?’
‘No!’says Tadhg.‘It’s just a big filing cabinet in my office in town!’
‘Sorry,’ I say.‘I’ll shut up now.’
Tadhg gives me a mock stern look that makes me feel quite peculiar and says, ‘Anyway.Tara just texted me and said she’s found a place that can do it and she’s couriered the discs over there.So she’ll send you the files when they’re done.It should just take a day or two.’
‘Wow.’Our old practices.Our younger selves.Together.Am I actually ready, or able, to listen to that?To my stupid, hopeful younger self, especially my stupid, hopeful younger self interacting with Tadhg?I really don’t know.
But ready or not, I know that I’m going to listen to it anyway.
By the time I get home I feel a bit overwhelmed by, well, pretty much everything.I need to think about the whole playing-in-front-of-thousands-of-people thing.I need to think about what doing it could mean for the future.
It’s not just about the excuse it would give me to spend more time with Tadhg.It’s about whether this might actually be what I want to be doing – for myself.All the time.
For years now, I’ve never thought about playing music as anything other than something I did for a while in college.My career was –is– in advertising, and I’ve never questioned that it was the right fit.The sensible, grown-up fit.And – as a sensible grown-up – I’ve got that job lined up for when this fortnight with Tadhg is over, when I’ll put down my guitar and focus on rebuilding my life.
But what if I want that life to look a little different now?Or very different?I think of Katie urging me to keep playing music.I think of Sam’s suggestion that I could sell my songs to other people.What if it’s possible to make a life playing music and writing songs after all?With or without Tadhg?
Jeanne and Katie are out tonight, and I’m glad, because I need some quiet time to myself to do all this thinking.But as I’m sitting down to dinner, ready to ponder all these serious issues over a bubbling mac and cheese, my mobile rings.Maybe it’s Tadhg ringing to say Hugo has persuaded him to ditch me for that Swedish producer and he’s very sorry but my services are no longer required …
