Sainted in bold along the side of Sinn Fein’s Falls Road office runs a quotation from Bobby Sands, promising that: “Our Revenge Will Be The Laughter Of Our Children.”

Instances of unrestrained mirth amongst the young people of working class Belfast, though, have been difficult to find of late. In fact a quick trawl through the minor stories in our local and community papers – the continued instances of ‘punishment’ beatings, the weekly fatal car crashes, the rise in racial and sexual assaults – would suggest that at this moment in time da kids have heavier concerns than trying to stifle a fit of the giggles.
It’s not difficult to see why there’s such a fatalistic atmosphere at the moment. This is a puritanical and brutal place at times and – judging by last year’s Assembly elections – one that can only get its rocks off by indulging in a particularly heavy-duty form of political masochism. Light at the end of the tunnel? Well, even if Stormont does somehow rise Lazarus-like again, there’s a certain toxic 70-year-old waiting to be crowned First Minister. Yeats liked the look of Byzantium because it was a country for old men. Nowadays he could have hopped on The Enterprise and saved himself a boat-fare.
It’s in such a context of pessimism that a partial (but only partial) explanation may be found in regard to the horrific suicide statistics that have emerged from North Belfast this year.
Barry Peake is the lead singer of Torgas Valley Reds. He also teaches at a school in the area that has been indirectly affected by some of the deaths. And a cursory listen to his band’s debut double A-side single ‘Torgas Valley Blue/Me And My Buddies Would Vote For You’ – two songs that plead defiantly for courage in the face of difficult odds – would suggest that he’s been doing some listening of late.
“I’ve had a pretty comfortable upbringing, so I can’t really identify with some of the kids I teach, other than through their own experiences,” he says, fresh from a Parent-Teacher meeting. “But it’s very, very clear that something is badly wrong. I guess I’m guilty of sloganeering sometimes but it comes from a genuine concern. It can seem really bleak at times but you can’t allow yourself to get dragged under, you just can’t.
“You’ve to try not to let yourself get crushed by social norms,” he adds. “Define what success for you is, and go out and grab it. It isn’t so bad, here’s a book you can read, here’s the phone number of someone you can talk to. There’s always an alternative.”
It’s an optimistically pro-active attitude that Barry has extended into his band’s approach to music. As Backwater, the trio experienced an uncomfortable time under the wings of a major label in the mid-’90s. This single, though, released through the shiny new label recently founded by the crew behind the successful Howl club (“They’re just a really cool, motivated, group of people. You only have to go to their club or see their fanzine to known that they’re good human beings.”) seems like a much more happily empowered beast.
“Definitely,” Barry agrees. “We feel more proud of this than of anything we’ve ever done before. We recorded it with our friends, designed the artwork with our friends, spent hardly any money on it – and they are easily the two best songs we’ve ever written. When you work with a major, ultimately you know that the rug can get pulled and that you’ll end up doing what they tell you. This is more like how we always dreamed we’d make records.
“And it’s great to have something out. Even just a single. There was a year when I wasn’t in a band and I just became really detached – didn’t go to any gigs, didn’t meet many new people – just drifted really. I really regret that and don’t intend to let it happen again.”
And what will the pupils make of it?
“Oh, I have no credibility whatso-ever,” he smirks. “A few of them have come down to the shows. I think most of them would be more impressed if I knew Pete Tong.”
Now-now, stop that laughing at the back.

Torgan Valley Red’s double A-side single is out soon on Howl!