Given that those arch piss-takers The Undertones looked forward to its onset with such dubious glee, and that Ash have built a career fetishising it out of all realistic proportions, you must – by now – have realised that something suspect goes on during the Ulster summer.

You don’t need any records, though, to alert you to the fact that Northern Ireland has traditionally (cough) never handled the middle months of the year too well – a simple July-evening stroll along one of our deserted city centre thoroughfares should alert you to that painful, dysfunctional fact.
However, in the midst of this bleak, joy-tundra, life does go on – clubs still run, gigs still happen, and brave souls still put out records. In greater numbers, encouragingly, as the years go by. So, my fellow Eskimos, find below a brief, wholly inadequate, pointer to some of the things that might well tempt you to the surface again.
First up, a question: should we now prefix mentions of The Vichy Government with the term “Mixmag faves”? Well, odd as this may seem, a smart mix of upcoming debut single ‘Rubbish’ has seen The UK’s premier dance mag take something of a shine to the lisping insurgents. It will all end in tears of course – one wonders what effect newies ‘Oliver Cromwell in Weimar Berlin’ and ‘The Loneliest Man In Ancient Rome’ would have on the dance-floors in Manumission – but comfort should be drawn from the fact that the introduction of young Manners to public life (an introduction whose effect will be not dissimilar to the one that occurs between gastric wind and a spacesuit) has finally begun.
They play The Limelight on June 30th as co-headliners with former Feline Dream member Nick Carlisle and Gregory ‘Jupiter Ace’ Ferguson’s glammed-up new outfit, The Uterus Women. Should be fun.
It’s about time that Peter Wilson stepped up to the mat. This year he has watched most of the names in his phonebook up their game considerably. From the well received debut album of long-term mucker Iain Archer, to the stealthy advances made by both The Amazing Pilots and The Debonaires, 2004 has been a fertile time for quite a few of Peter’s one-time creative compadres. Thankfully, rather than proving inhibitive, recent appearances would suggest that the dread-locked balladeer has drawn nothing but encouragement from the success of his various pals. Duke Special – for that is how the Bangor boy is known while conducting business – has a rare old time conjuring up a strange, sepia-tinged, brew of old music hall and spooky contemporary atmospherics. Hopefully, new release ‘My Villain Heart’ should convert some new fans to the cause, but if you really want to see the bloke at his best, try to catch him on one of the live dates he has booked for over the summer.
What’s the greatest concert you’ve ever missed? This mug would like to nominate last year’s triumphant comeback of Dexy’s Midnight Runners at the Waterfront Hall and the candle-lit and incendiary performance by Patti Smith at 2003’s Cathedral Quarter Arts Festival. In the first instance (Dylan in Dublin) I had an excuse. In the second (inveterate laziness), I didn’t. And boy, as attendees have spent the last two years reminding me, was it my loss. Luckily, partial penance can take be paid at the Elmwood Hall on July 30th, when Smith makes a hastily unexpected (but most welcome) return. Poetry, song, defiant incantation and full-blooded villain-baiting – what more could you ask for at this juncture in time? New album Trampin is a contrary and intermittently brilliant work, engaged with the world in a way that should shame much younger, noisier and, more cowardly musicians. Not even a doctor’s note would excuse absence from this show.
And isn’t it good to know that we finally have a headliner worthy of Botanic Gardens? Jack and Meg are coming along on August 25th with The New York Dolls also tagging along as support. The old lawn has been despoiled by some chancers over the years – yes Finlay, I’m looking at you – but hopefully The White Stripes will grant the occasion with the grandeur it deserves.
Slim pickings, maybe, but rich ones. Now, please don’t you lot all go leaving me here on my own.