These are changed times indeed. When I first began suggesting summer diversions, the annual Drumcree shindig was still in full swing – and the prospect of a month indoors with some records and books didn’t strike one as a seasonal oddity, but rather a sane, self-preserving necessity.

This year, in Belfast City Centre, shops are opening on the 12th itself. The air feels lighter. The mood brighter. So why don’t we gather our things and march bravely outside?
Unless, of course, it’s pissing.
So, find below a suggestion or two which may provide good company in the coming months.
First off. I’m sure you’ll remember Pixie Saytar. We met up with the native New Yorker a year or so ago – and were immediately impressed by the gritty, can-do attitude, the emotional carpet-bomb of a voice, the florid tattoos. At the time she spoke about the work she was putting into her debut album, promising that it would be a florid summation of her (highly eventful) life so far.
Well, it’s now landed – is called The White Book – and it’s a piece of work that won’t be content occupying itself in the background while you get busy doing something else. No, this little dark jewel demands your full attention. And it’s prepared to stomp its feet until it gets it. Full disclosure time: The White Book is far from the finished article, but the sincerity is unmistakable, and Saytar’s voice could well mature into a thing of wonder. It screams with potential.
The Beat Poets are about to embark on an Island-wide tour. However, given that John, their lead singer, has the luck of a recidivist mirror-smasher, we’ll believe it when he’s up there in front of us. But let’s say he doesn’t fall down a man-hole, or manages to avoid a falling piano – anybody who takes their rock with a dash of swagger should make sure they get ready to roll with it down at the front. They’re mean customers, this lot.
Unlike Cat Malojian, who strike me as pretty laid back characters. Stevie and Jonathan are old school songwriters in the best possible way: thoughtful, warm, unfailingly tuneful. And they should be treasured and cherished by anyone who breaks into a grin at the merest whiff of a banjo on the breeze. Their last EP Life Rolls On has developed an energetic after-life chez Carberry. And their new material (including a wonderful song about Carrots and Parsnips) is clearly a step up in class.
I’d also suggest you grab copies of the recent releases from Foamboy, The Fools, Alloy Mental and Catoan.
There’s nothing like a long-haul plane journey to force you into the guts and entrails of a new novel. When the only other alternatives are a screening of Wild Hogs, or a panicked mental re-run of the opening scenes from Lost, a decent read can be just the thing to ward off the usual concerns – you know: doom, disaster, mid-air collision. A bit behind the times as ever (it was published two years ago) I spent my last flight prising my fingers from the arm-rest, while getting to know the many inhabitants of the unnamed Northern Irish town in Ian Sansom’s excellent Ring Road. By the time I’d landed, I’d felt like I’d moved into a mid-terrace in the place and joined a local quiz team. It’s a wonderful book. If you haven’t made Sansom’s acquaintance, allow me to point you in the direction of his periodical magazine, The Enthusiast (www.theenthusiast.co.uk) – which operates under the mission statement “Plain living and high thinking.”
How can you possibly resist?
And we’d like to finish up by telling you about the return of another long-term pal of this column, the poet Alan Gillis. His new collection Hawks and Doves has just been published by Gallery Press, and it’s a fine and boisterous book.
On top of everything, he may just have come up with the most succinct and honest response to the old boy glad-handing and back-slapping that now constitutes our brave new political world.
“The part of Bollock and the Party of Balls/Are locked in a battle for the City Hall.”
Well, some change, it seems.