A Saw Doctors' gig is a real celebration of life

If I started this article by saying that before we get into it, we’ll take it handy for the first few sets, any reader from the west of Ireland will instantly recognise the reference to one of our greatest institutions, The Saw Doctors.

The very mention of the name magics up so much. Every person at once has a particular track playing in their head, and they can hear the line that connects to a particular moment in their life. That is what you call singing a powerful song.

If it is pure whimsy on your mind, you will be thinking Joyce Country and that line could be 'meats and salads, buns and cakes', or you could be recalling 'Thomas and Mary out on the floor, who never lost it, that’s for sure'. If you are feeling mischievous and up for craic, you’ll be singing away about who you used to see up the chapel when you went to Sunday mass. You certainly had to be around in the 1980s to get that reference.

If you are remembering your 1980s' youth, you might be singing – and at times roaring – ruefully about a road we all know, or singing in a different tone – perhaps wistfully – about a Red Cortina, and who used to get out of it on those winter’s mornings.

The salad days of our youth captured in those songs were not all full of youthful energy and promise, alas. If you are remembering the loneliness and isolation of many west of Ireland towns in those times, you might well be recalling this insight into how it would have felt to be one of those on the margins: ‘And I go out for a walk, To see if there's news, The rain on the path, Leaking into me shoes, And I do talk to myself, ‘Cause I'm my only best friend, It's Sunday night, Nearly Monday morning again.’ 

Anybody brought up in the west of Ireland knows someone who had those experiences, whether at home or in Camden Town or the Bronx. It is hard to listen without tears.

Of course, if you are thinking about Mayo, in any time or era you will start shouting about the Green and Red of that county, and how you can see it still. How clever those Tuam lads were to recognise that ‘The boys of the County Mayo’, with all its qualities, was not going to cut it as an inclusive anthem for our county for the 21st century, and to recognise that feeling we all have, the longing to stay forever more.

The Saw Doctors are currently rocking up and rocking out all those hits in the United States, playing in Chicago last week and in Los Angeles, Boston and New York this week. Lucky for you if you can make one of those gigs. The venues will be packed with bodies whose hearts are west of the Shannon. The tour will continue throughout the summer, with the band then back in Ireland for gigs in Limerick and Letterkenny on August 15th and 16th. They regularly play all over the world, and reliable informants tell me that a concert of theirs among the exiles – whether in Glasgow or further afield – has a special quality to it. They cannot go on playing forever, so if you can get a ticket make sure you use it.

I went to see them in Fairview Park a few weeks back and can confirm that if you are going to one of those upcoming gigs, you are in for a treat. The show was fantastic. It was full of joy. The venue is superb, with a big tent amplifying the noise and atmosphere of the gig but the park just outside it provides all the benefits and feel of a summer festival.

They played brilliantly and with great energy. They knocked out their classics with charm and great grace, and everyone left in mighty form. They are very clever in knowing their audience – and knowing what it wants. The encore is anticipated and delighted in in equal measure. There is never a hint of anything that would divide people, even though the GAA temper can be – and is – hot at this time of year.

Davy’s voice remains a remarkable instrument, and the playing and performance is of a really high standard in every way. Everyone on the stage looks like they are having a great time, and it is clear that their focus is making sure that you enjoy yourself too. You do, in the simplest and most profound ways.

Going to a Saw Doctors' gig is a celebration of being alive. It keeps old friends together by being a place where we can all come together – especially when we are away from home, which is why there is such a GAA feel to it. It stands in the tradition of music in the west for evermore: raucous, affirming, uplifting.

But it is more than just localism or parochialism. Their songs are full of stories with universal insights about real people in life and in love, making their way through success and setbacks. The insights they reveal are true in all time and in all places, but they are set within west of Ireland contexts which are immediately recognisable to anyone brought up there, and especially to those who were kicking around those same oul towns in the 1980s and 1990s.

The band revel in their west of Irelandness, and have playful fun with it. One of the reasons that exiles from home love them so much is that they have helped us to glory in the distinctiveness of being from the west. They make it a proud and exuberant affirmation, and if some of the snooty types don’t get it, that only adds to the allure. That is why people go absolutely wild when they finish their sets with Hay Wrap, which makes it feel we could bate anyone. There is never a time when the west is more awake.