Corn Flakes for Dinner by Aidan Comerford

Author:Aidan Comerford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gill Books

August 2009

There were many momentous world events in 2009: Barack Obama was inaugurated. Michael Jackson died. Chelsea ‘Sully’ Sullenberger landed a stricken passenger plane on the Hudson river, using his gigantic pilot’s balls as flotation devices. And with almost equal courage and skill, after a three-year hiatus, I started doing gigs again.

I hadn’t intended to start again. That summer, since my little mental break in Galway, I had been steadily writing silly songs. There was a lot of chaff in those, but the wheatier songs I recorded in my bedroom. I put them up on Myspace, under the name ‘The Guilty Folk’. I thought ‘Aidan Comerford’ sounded less like someone who would regale you with witty songs, and more like someone from Kilkenny who would ‘hurl the head off ya’. This was to be a one-man band, like The Divine Comedy, or Simply Red, or Badly Drawn Boy, or, more accurately, considering the sort of songs I was putting up, one of those blokes with cymbals attached to his knees.

As with most recorded-in-the-bedroom-and-immediately-uploaded songs, mine languished in internet obscurity. A ‘viral’ day for me was when my listens went into double figures. Then I got my first message from a fan.

It said, ‘I love your songs … ’ Excellent, I wonder if they are a record producer or a music video maker? I thought as I read on ‘ … I have a fantastic opportunity for you … ’ Brilliant! Go on ‘ … you could make thousands of dollars a week if you act immediately … ’ Shit! Spam!

For months, that’s the only sort of response I got.

That was until July, when I got a message that started, ‘I love your songs … ’ I was about to delete it, like I had with all the rest, when the next line caught my eye. ‘There’s a gig I think you’d be perfect for.’ The message turned out to be from a lovely artist called Dorothy, who was also a one-woman band, writing and performing quirky, witty songs under the name Eleventyfour. She told me about a new cabaret night called ‘The Brown Bread Mixtape’. Dorothy said that she could get in touch with the guys who ran it. A gig? My bowels flipped over.

‘Martha, someone’s offered me a gig, will I do it?’ Martha had been listening to me writing and rewriting songs since March.

‘Yes, I think it would do you good to get out of the house for a night,’ she concurred, a little too enthusiastically.

So, a couple of weeks later, I was hanging out in a hot, sweaty basement, nervously waiting to go on. The other acts were brilliant, as were the presenters, who interspersed this wonderful variety show with very well-written, acerbic comedy sketches. It was a small crowd of about fifteen people, but they were loving it! I was sure that I would come on and be a downer.

When the lads introduced me as The Guilty Folk, I suddenly wanted to run away, but instead my legs carried me to the stage.

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