Bohane. The Vice City of a future Ireland whose invented patois and richly drawn characters won author Kevin Barry this year’s IMPAC award for his debut novel that tells its tale.
No Vice City is complete without its own soundtrack and we here at rabble asked Kevin to offer up some of his suggestions, what he called “Six Songs for Bohane.”
A bass-monstrous Trojan Records arse-walloper from, like, 1977 or something. There’s a heavy vicious skank to it and it’d make ribbons out of your spine and as such it is most suitable for Bohane city in 2053, maybe as theme song for the killer-gal Jenni Ching, a homicidal 19-year-old hottie in a spray-on catsuit and a top hat, and you know what, she can sit a fucken horse, too, like.
A righteous plea for natural justice in the yards of a troubled city at a time of Heavy Occult Weather – which you’d get plenty of outside in Bohane an’ all, let-me-tell-ya.
From his secret laboratory, the master of all the ceremonies, the one and only Sir LSP goes deep into the pits of his scorched and tormented soul (i.e. he’s probably out of weed) and he’s come back up again with a demented wee lullaby. They’d be turnin’ the 7-inch of this wan late in the evenings in the Back Trace on the olde wind-up record player.
Okay, so the Feudin’ is done for the day and a Bohane Fiend and a Bohane Aul’ Doll (or ‘Tushie’, to use the correct nomenclature) are back in the shack, and things are gettin’ a bit slow-n-saucy on this other gem from the sacred Trojan stable; love is in the air.
A jaunty little step-kicker which they’d be blastin’ out on a regular basis down in the Ancient & Historical Bohane Film Society, in between takin’ blasts off the dream-pipe and drifting again to the Lost-Time.
‘Coz it’s all a Big Sloppy Love Story at the end of the day, like, and they’ve all got oirishy accents, too, don’t they? And they’d definitely get a buzz in Bohane of the whiskified-poeticals of the Blessed Mr McGowan. Jah Rastafari
Illustration by Thomas McCarty