You know, Nietzsche said, “Without music, life would be a mistake.” Mind you, he said a lot of things and that quote is actual preceded by his praise for “The sound of a bagpipe.” No wonder it all got away from poor Friedrich in the end. The irony of taking a quote from a book called Twilight Of The Idols is not lost on me when I reflect, for a nominal fee, on the music I enjoyed in 2023.

Let’s talk about our own first of all. Joseph Chester gifted us his beautiful classical guitar and string suite Lucia, inspired by Joyce’s dancer daughter done wrong. At the other sonic extreme was the continuing rockin’ pop adventures of The Academic. If you don’t think they’re ‘cool’ then A – you’re an idiot, and B – they don’t give a fuck, as they told Hot Press for a cover feature when asked.

The stars of the county Down Ash kicked a Yoko Ono movie worth of arse with Race The Night, Soda Blonde showed Lana Del Ray how it should be done with Dream Big, and the key change in David Holmes’ ‘It’s Over, If We Run Out Of Love’, along with its parent album Blind On A Galloping Horse, is as good as everyone told me it was. Like every other sane person, I too greatly admire the cut of CMAT’s jib. And Thomas Walsh’s The Rest Is History reminded anyone listening that he’s a melodic genius.

There’s all that, and then there’s Martin Hayes and The Common Ground Ensemble’s Peggy’s Dream. The master’s fiddle dances across ‘The Boyne Water’ – and everything else – with such purity it could reduce master distillers to tears.

Easy Star All-Stars, whose reggae reading of OK Computer will always be the best record with the word ‘Radiohead’ on it by a (Jamaican) country mile, gleefully transported Bowie from Mars to Kingston with the very groovy Ziggy Stardub. Chris Stapleton, whose voice could make God weep, justified his king of country crown with Higher. Lucinda Williams showed that nothing is going to slow her down with Stories From A Rock N’ Roll Heart. I’m in awe of this woman and interviewing her was a ‘career’ highlight for me. And talking of my glorious vocation, putting together the sleeve notes/booklet for the 20th anniversary boxset of Permission To Land by The Darkness involved an awful lot of actual work - something I usually strenuously avoid - but it was very rewarding (spiritually if not financially). 25,000 words! Never mind the quality, feel the width! I am available for commission.

Carty relaxes in his penthouse, yesterday. (Shoes and specs model's own).

The soul honours went to Black Pumas whose Chronicles of A Diamond opened with the single of the year, ‘More Than A Love Song’. The blues badge goes to Robert Finley’s Black Bayou and he also featured on the righteous compilation album Tell Everybody: 21st Century Juke Joint Blues From Easy Eye Sound. Tinariwen proved again that they’re one of the best bands in the world, not to mind Africa, by unexpectedly adding a country influence to their desert blues on Amatssou.

That’s the genre hoping taken care of. How about some ‘old’? Joni Mitchell’s Asylum Years box underlined what a goddess she is. I wasn’t crazy about the too-many-cooks live album but it’s great to see her still leaving the house. The Replacements’ Tim was restored from its original totally shite mix to the thing of rockin’ glory we always knew was buried in there. Bob Dylan’s Bootleg Series Vol. 17: Fragments offered a remix of his mortality-moaning masterpiece Time Out Of Mind, although I still prefer Daniel Lanois’ original job, and Lanois produced that Tinariwen album too so double points to him.

The glorious clang und boom Tom Waits albums that began with 1983’s Swordfishtrombones – you know, the ones where he went from a soused piano balladeer to the shifty-eyed outsider who uses the black market-bought vertebra of John Merrick as a marimba – and continued with Rain Dogs, Frank’s Wild Years, The Black Rider and Bone Machine were finally made available on vinyl again. The beauty of Richard Hawley’s Now Then best of justifies the evolving of ears in the first place and you should also seek out the 28 Little Bangers compilation he put together for the always-reliable Ace Records label.

There were several gigs of the year – Kraftwerk as the sun set over St. John’s Castle in Limerick, singing along with Blur in Malahide (good record too), Elvis Costello and Steve Nieve in The NCH, and multimedia mind melt of Peter Gabriel’s 3Arena stop. Wet Leg made me eat my previously disparaging words at The Picnic, and Johnny Marr almost made me cry at the same knees-up, although sitting on stage in the Hot Press Chat Room with Liam and Peter of Hothouse Flowers as they took us through Songs From The Rain beat them both.

A clearly sceptical Carty doubts the veracity of the company man's claims over the 'genius' of Lankum.

I went to see Bruce Springsteen five times in 2023 because I’m a hopeless case and I’ve already stumped up for 2024 tickets too. He really did make me cry in Munich ("I'm thinking of you, and all the miles in between...") because I actually do believe in all this rock n’ roll stuff.

I’m contractually obligated to talk about The ‘2. If their Songs Of Surrender acoustic rejig faded quickly from memory, the trip I took to Vegas to see the Sphere show is something I couldn’t forget under hypnosis. That cascading wall of Elvis, the psychic battering ram of flashing aphorisms behind ‘The Fly’, and the magic trick of making the building disappear all showed what technology can really do when artists take control but how they also turned it all into an intimate show that felt like you were witnessing them in a club was akin to sorcery. Still though, stop talking about that big, loud guitar album and just put the fucking thing out.

“Jaysus Carty,” a bored editor interjects. “Don’t you listen to any ‘young people’ music? Hot Press is all about being hip and cool!”

Frankly, Ed, at my age I’m more worried about breaking a hip. Did I mention Ron Sexsmith’s The Vivian Line which would make a ‘Christian’ ‘Brother’ smile? What about Queens Of The Stone Age? Teenage Fanclub? How about The Pretenders picking up Glastonbury and walking away with it? My daughter dragged me along to Arctic Monkeys in 3Arena and I was so impressed I bought a vinyl copy of The Car with my own money.

Carty rocks out at Arctic Monkeys' 3Arena gig.

“Alex Turner is 37.”

Is he? Jaysus.

‘Now And Then’ by The Beatles is hardly the greatest record ever made but it was a very cold heart indeed that didn’t swell at least a bit upon hearing it. As for The Rolling Stones, I can admit now that I possibly got a bit carried away reviewing Hackney Diamonds but at least half of it is still pretty great. Would I have preferred Jagger to take a leaf out of Dylan’s Time Out Of Mind book and sing about what his life is really like rather than versifying about his vampiric thirst for the leg over? Perhaps but ‘Sweet Sounds Of Heaven’ is fucking fantastic.

And don’t get me started on Willie Nelson.

The year ended like they all do, with darkness making the fading light more precious. Put on Hell’s Ditch again and raise a glass to all dearly departed rock n’ rollers – Shane, Sinéad, Christy, Noel Carty (“Did I ever tell you about the time I met Bob Marley?”), Johnny Fean, Tom Verlaine, Tina Turner, Robbie Robertson, Burt Bacharach, Barrett Strong, and everyone else whose work makes our lives better. “…The moon is full of rainbows.”