You're sitting under the shady bower in an Irish garden - you're there with your girlfriend and who knows, soon she may very well be your wife?
She bites into an apple and rests between your legs, you dial up the volume on the CD Player - it was your dad's from when he was a young'n.
Your playing "Van Diemen's Land" by Captain O'Brien's Craic.
The wind lulls around the treetops and she whispers "could be the Pogues" - you nod.
You nod and you smile. She must surely sense it, as she turns to admire before it has a chance to flee from your face.
She leans in close.
Then closer still...
A shoe hits you.
You stand. Fists and voice are raised as commotion looms large.
But there is nothing.
But of course there is nothing?
There is nothing because that wasn't actually a shoe that hit you.
It was the rest of the EP. Whack! It hit you right in the head, jolting you upright and your heart rate cant help but follow! You realise now that you're not angry at all. You're... You're.... Dancing!?
The tempo is wild. The fiddler fires up, the banjo twangs into motion and the squeezebox breathes in and out like the lungs of the band. The guitarist nods to the drummer who in turn nods to the bassist, his young son - they all know what to do.
Okay so I lied. You were never in Ireland and there was no girlfriend. Instead you were actually just on the dancefloor of the Royal Oak, arm around your sweaty, tanked friend who thinks he could pull off an Irish jig - but neither of you mind, because this Dropkick Murphys/Flogging Molly Inspired music has you both in a frenzy!
This is a Sea faring, rebel raising, privateering, train robbing trip round Tipperary, then round the Cape and back home to the Southern shores we all know and love. International stories on a local stage, from a local bunch of boys.
Pushing local music really tickles our fancy, and this is about as good as it gets. Come in store and grab yourself this EP. Once this is done, go home and play it loudly on repeat. Next, keep an eye out for a live show around Launceston. Finally: Go to said gig and push your way through to the front of the dancefloor and look for me there, I'll be wearing suspenders with a beige coloured John B. Stetson hat. Yell into my ear: "Hey Sam!" You were right!
"WHAT!?" I'll yell back
"YOU WERE RIGHT! THESE GUYS ARE BLOODY FANTASTIC!!!"
And then if you want, you can go up to the bar and order me a pint of quality lager, for I encouraged you to get behind this fabulous, truly fabulous cause!
Cheers to you, Captain O'Brien's Craic.