If you remember the 1970s you will love this show. And if you don’t, you’ll probably love it anyway because it’s hilarious.
In a hugely entertaining 50 minutes, Dermot Petty takes us back to his teenage life in Lisdoonvarna, North Clare
‘a village cut off from the world’
where his one salvation is the Friday night youth club dance. Music: the Nolan Sisters and Bye Bye Baby. Aim
‘To shift a girl.’
Dermot’s hopeless at school, he’s not good at sport, he’s not even followed in the family tradition of ‘being good with your hands.’
And to make matters worse, Dermot’s got red hair.
But rebellion is in his soul. Unfortunately there’s limited scope for that in Lisdoonvarna. Dermot scans the pages of the New Musical Express (one of the many UK music papers of his, and my, youth). And there he discovers punk rock. In no time at all he’s ordering records. In his first parcel are a New Wave compilation and that one; The Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks.
‘Swear words were rare in Ireland in 1978.’
His Mum is not impressed, no more his Dad. No more the rest of the village.
To Dermot, punk is a revelation; pop music can be subversive. But who’s he going to share it with in Lisdoonvarna? The most rebellious scion in the village are the hippies who’ve rocked up a few years earlier (cue brilliant imitation of a flower child) and they’re still banging on about the trad music for which the area is famous. Meanwhile the Irish (and indeed the British) mainstream media is outraged; punk is
‘an attack on Western civilisation.’
Dermot doesn’t care. On the front of that New Wave album is a guy with a lip piercing. Dermot might not go that far, but he knows what he wants; an earring. And he wants if for more than one reason. What happens when he (sort of) gets one may be a bit of a disappointment to him, but it’s another priceless story for us.
And they keep on coming. Dermot decides he needs to learn to pogo. He’s seen it on the John Peel show. He shows us how he did it. He tries to pick up a girl; total fail but very funny. His parents decide to drive up to Newry to buy a new record player in the North (where it’s cheaper); their interaction with the border patrol is a perfect scene in itself.
And in between the stories, there’s the music. Anarchy in the UK; Sheena is a Punk Rocker; Teenage Kicks – they all blast out in the Triplex’s tiny Studio, and my goodness, they’re still fantastic. Dermot dances to every one. He closes his eyes, He’s in heaven and so am I.
Punk rock, says Dermot, was his education; it opened his eyes not only to new music but to new politics; resistance; rebellion. He was living in a world of low expectations until Johnny Rotten, Malcom McLaren and co showed him there was life beyond Lisdoonvarna and the School Leaving Certificate;
‘Because punk came to North Clare, I was able to create my own adventure.’
Punk set him free.
The Only Punk Rocker in the Village is a great little show, and it’s a rare representation of what the Fringe should be about. It’s fresh, slightly unpolished, personal, entertaining, and comes from the heart. Dermot (despite having ’two bad knees’ – how did that happen when the rest of us are obviously still only 25?) brings so much energy and fun to the room, it’s impossible not to enjoy yourself. The show is short, and I’d love it to be padded out with a bit more of the music, but it doesn’t need to be long to send you away singing (and maybe even pogoing) your way through the crowds.
The Only Punk Rocker in the Village is directed by Joan O’Hanrahan and is a Ballycartoon Players production. It is at theSpaceTriplex Studio, Hill Place, at 5.15pm every day, but only until Saturday 19 August.
