Paddy Gibney Music | Media - The Wilmington Morning Star

Wilmington Ale House set to start pouring

By: Amy Hotz, June 9, 2005

.......patrons may notice that Hell's Kitchen, 118 Princess St., has new owners. Local restaurateur Ash Aziz (who owns Divano, among other places) sold the bar/restaurant/former Dawson's Creek movie set to Vincent Arcieri and Jackie Young in May.

They bought the bar as sort of a family project, with four relatives acting as managers, two as serving staff and one in the kitchen.

In addition, Stephen Young, Mrs. Young's son who graduated in culinary arts from Johnson and Wales University in Charleston, S.C., and who is currently a chef in Washington, D.C., will act as a consultant in the kitchen.

Of course, there were many things the new owners liked about the bar or they wouldn't have bought it.

"We like the diverse clientele," Mr. Arcieri said. "You can come in here and guys in white shirts and ties and guys in T-shirts will be in here at the same time."

Mr. Arcieri also decided to take some slow sellers off the menu and add a few new items. He's keeping the "exotic" salad bar, which he said was very popular. Hell's Kitchen will also partner with a new bakery opening across the street to bring its patrons custom-baked bread.

Nightlife, he said, will stay mostly the same. "We'll continue with the same bands that were popular before," he said, such as Paddy Gibney and L Shape Lot. Bands will perform mostly on Thursdays, DJs will play on Saturdays. Karaoke will be added on Sunday evenings.

As Mr. Arcieri sat at one of Hell's Kitchen's graffiti-ed tables and chatted about the changes, he waved his hand to the street outside to point out that most of the businesses on his Princess Street block are pretty new.

A martini bar, Trio's, opened next door. A hot dog shop called Dick's Dogs is opening beside that. Tango du Chat, across the street, hasn't been open long. And Dominic's restaurant, as well as Stone Ground Baking Company, will hold their grand openings soon.

"We're really excited about the growth here," he said.

©: WMS

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The Anatomy of an Irish Drinking Song

THE DOCTOR TAKES A LOOK diagnosis educational but contagious psychology of a set
By: Amy Hotz, March 17, 2004

I admit it publicly now. While sitting down to write columns on local bars and nightclubs, I often break out into song. Specifically, Irish drinking songs. And, as my co-workers will tell you, I do this out loud.

I just can't help it.

One minute, I'm typing in the word "drink," and then next thing I know, I'm singing the verse in Big Strong Man that goes, "He's got a drink for you and me. He's got an arm like a leg and punch that would sink a battleship. Big ship!"

Heaven help us if I have to write anything about beer (which is almost every week) – "It's all for me grog. Me jolly, jolly grog. It's all for me beer and tobacco."

While I might be the only reporter here who does something so annoying, you have to remember I'm also the only bar reporter here. I think they should cut me some slack. Nobody knows how hard it is to control yourself with this stuff.

But I do know I'm not the only person who loves those old songs. Just check out Water Street Restaurant when they host any group with an Irish name. People who have never been there before come out of the woodwork for some witty lyrics and pints o' Guinness.

Or go to any Paddy Gibney gig. Everyone knows the choruses to the songs by the end of the night. Some are regulars and know all the words. You'll even see small groups of Marines singing along in solidarity. Makes me all teary-eyed.

Some of these tunes are really old, going all the way back to the 18th century or before.

Recently, I had to ask myself, What makes them so special? How, in an era when songs are old in just a few weeks, do Irish drinking songs stay alive? Why do they keep bringing smiles to people's faces?

I asked Mr. Gibney to think about that for a little while and then get back to me so we could discuss the anatomy of an Irish drinking song.

He's not only a guitarist and singer, he's also a Dublin native. His friend, Bill Ayerbe, is a classically trained violinist from New York who plays a mean Irish fiddle. Together, this duo has made a career out of playing several times a week in North and South Carolina.

If anyone would know how an Irish drinking song ticks, it'd be Mr. Gibney.

Of course, I had a few ideas of my own. Jokingly, I suggested the tune has to incorporate the words, "beer," "Guinness," "porter" or "whisky." It has to tell a story, particularly about a drunken brawl, war or some beautiful colleen named Mary, Kate or Kathleen. It has to have a refrain catchy enough to remember whilst toasted (sometimes involving a few well-timed claps). And, for goodness sake, if a drunk guy goes up a ladder, he has to fall off by the last verse.

It's all about the stories, you see.

Mr. Gibney laughed at those assumptions, but then he got a little serious.

"You've got to have a catchy chorus, something that engages or energizes the audience," he said, as if coming up with a psychological formula for having a good time.

With his lineup, this usually involves changing the words around to the point that they're "so nasty you don't forget it," like his take on Barnacle Bill The Sailor, he said. Or, like the Unicorn Song, based on the Shel Silverstein poem, it's something so innocent and simple it brings out the kid in you. You just plain enjoy singing it.

Then you have the tunes that hang on in popularity solely for their first class literary value. And I'm not joking.

It's called storytelling and the Irish, inherently, do it very well. Their words are chosen carefully for impact and ability to carry the story along.

"There's an enchantment about the language," Mr. Gibney said. "We look back for our substance, not forward."

Because these are old tunes, sometimes they include words people today don't know the meaning of, but it sounds cool. He gave the example of the word "beguiled" in The Parting Glass:

Oh, if I had money enough to spend and leisure time to sit awhile
There is a fair maid in this town that sorely has my heart beguiled
Her rosy cheeks and ruby lips, she alone has my heart in thrall.
So fill me to the parting glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.

While people today may have an idea of what it means, how often do you hear that word in modern songs? And how often does anyone feel "beguiled" with another person any more? I mean, we don't even "court" each other any more.

All this work just to make people forget what they're ticked off about.

The reasoning goes back to the deep, dark days in history when the Irish people had nothing – no food, no land, no freedom. They were depressed and mad. But they didn't really let it get them down, for the most part. Instead, they expressed their feelings of love, despair and revolt in an art form.

"The Irish, we're a weird bunch. We could turn Amazing Grace into a pub song," Mr. Gibney said. "If you take songs that are Irish drinking songs and you dissect them, a lot of times they're sad. There were no people more miserable in the world than the Irish. And they sang. I don't know if any other cultures have the music so ingrained in their culture and society."

Mr. Gibney said he and Mr. Ayerbe sing a lot of these old Irish drinking songs in more X-rated versions, but their essence would still appeal to anyone. It seems there's something for everyone in each tune whether it submits to the "raunchy" theory, the "kid" theory or the "literary" theory.

Of course, some of the responsibility to make these songs work lies with the audience. You're not supposed to take them too seriously, Mr. Gibney said. Pubs are fun places. He reiterated that you're supposed to forget your worries in a pub, not smolder in them.

Come out you Black and Tans, is a favorite with military crowds in Wilmington and Fayetteville. In it, the songwriter, Dominic Behan, is telling the story of a time when his father taunted British loyalist neighbors after a night of drinking during the Irish war of independence.

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us,
And each and every night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
'Oh, come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man.'

For patriotic folks it's easy to let words like that rile you up, perhaps even generate a political discussion of modern events at the wrong time. Don't do it. You're in a pub, have fun.

Then you have the crying-in-your-beer songs that can bring people down if they're not careful, depressing them with thoughts of loves lost. That would negate the pub atmosphere. Watch out for these, too.

"Even the rough and tumble characters could be brought to their knees at the sight of a pretty young maid," Mr. Gibney said of the characters in Irish drinking songs. "And invariably, her name was Kathleen."

The songs can bring you to your knees in a different way as well – because of some colleen who did them wrong, like in Black Velvet Band:

So come all you jolly young fellows take heed what I'm telling to ye
Whenever you're out on the town me lads, beware of them pretty colleens.
For they'll fill you with whisky and porter, 'til you are not able to stand
And the very next thing that you know, me lads, you've landed in Van Diemen's Land.

Herein lies a flaw I've found in Irish drinking songs. Why is it always the woman who breaks some guy's poor heart? Boys can be evil, too.

Also in this song you probably notice an unfamiliar term. Not many people around here know what Van Diemen's Land is, but almost everyone who hears the song, loves it. (It's an archaic name for Tasmania, where Britain used to send convicts.)

"It's enchanting as well as retaining historical accuracy," Mr. Gibney said of the song. "A great song never gets old. Like Drunken Sailor."

What would you do with a drunken sailor? Well, each generation has its own ideas, but when the Exxon Valdez sank in Prince William Sound in 1989, spilling about 11 million gallons of oil in a pristine natural environment, that generation suggested you "Tie him to the hull of an Exxon tanker, early in the morning."

Not only is there an art in writing and performing Irish drinking songs, there is a definite art in deciding which ones to sing at which times of the night. There's actually a science to it. Pub psychology, if you will.

Green Fields, Waltzing Matilda and Danny Boy, Mr. Gibney reserves for later in the night when he wants that "hushed barroom, calm moment." If you do it too early, people get bored. But after everyone gets sauced, they're happy to get a little sad. That roller coaster of emotions makes the night memorable.

"The worst thing is when somebody asks for a song that it's just not the right time to sing," he said.

As fun as pub singing is, at the end of the night you might find the performers need a psychologist.

These songs are old and Mr. Gibney and Mr. Ayerbe sing the same ones almost every time they perform, with a few newer tunes thrown in just to keep their sanity. But, Mr. Gibney said, when the whole crowd gets into it and starts singing along, clapping in all the right places, shouting out the choruses, "It's new again."

"We're extremely blessed to have an audience at all," he laughed.

My audience, unfortunately, was not so blessed while I wrote this piece.

©: WMS

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AMY HOTZ | THE HOTZ TICKET

September 16, 2004

Half-way to St. Paddy's Day is good enough for the Irish

Irish pubs are shaking their shamrocks this week with big parties, little changes and surprising finds.

First, if your favorite holiday is St. Patrick's Day, you're one lucky bar-goer. Because, unlike people whose favorite holiday is, say, Valentine's Day or Columbus Day, you can celebrate twice a year.

Fibber McGee's is hosting its second annual Half Way to St. Paddy's Day party beginning at 4 p.m. Friday. They'll have drink specials, a limited Irish menu (including Irish stew, Paddy o' melts and shepherd's pie), a bag piper and, from 7-10 p.m., the band Big Bertha will perform.

General Manager Christie Brogan said the half-way mark is only slightly smaller than the full-fledged St. Paddy's party, which means you'll experience lots of shenanigans. (I can't believe I'm writing like this and it's not even March).

"One of our boys, quite the thespian, likes to dress up like Fibber," she said.

Last year the leprechaun was perched atop the bar taunting customers as they walked in the door. It was pure luck o' the Irish he didn't fall and break his shillelagh.

"Last year was quite the blow-out," Ms. Brogan said.

I didn't attend last year's half-way party, but I was there on St. Patrick's Day and the bar was so crowded, days later I talked to friends who were there and we never even saw each other. That's been helped a little by the deft touch of a sledge hammer. The wall that created a small room in the back of the bar area has been removed, making way for more chairs and tables.

And if you think you can pick up the Irish theme again on Monday at Hell's Kitchen, think again. Management has changed the theme night to make way for good ol' American football.

Irish night at the Kitchen is now on Thursdays. Patrons can belly up to a $2.75 pint of Guinness, Bass Ale or Black and Tan. My goodness! My Guinness! IRA car bombs are $5, whiskey is $2.75 and Reuben sandwiches are $5 on Irish night.

While you're watching football on Monday, though, you can get deals such as $2 domestics and $1 Pabst Blue Ribbon. Buffalo shrimp are on special and, during half-time, a big load of free snacks is brought out for everyone to enjoy. Hell's Kitchen also has a Mexican night every Tuesday.

I can recommend any of these, but if you really want to have fun with an Irishman, keep your eyes open for Paddy Gibney's advertisements.

He and fiddler Bill Ayerbe have made a couple of appearances at Hell's Kitchen, which is a perfect venue for their brand of brash Irish drinking songs and the like. Some may even say hell is where those songs belong any way.

©: WMS

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AMY HOTZ | THE HOTZ TICKET

February 19, 2004

Cultural History 101, one night at Shanakee

When I get really into something, I do what my buddy Pete and I call, "blending." The term actually refers to running around Spain for weeks with your clean laundry balled up with your dirty laundry. But here in the States, we also use it to mean becoming a chameleon.

I was in one of those rare moods one night while Paddy Gibney played traditional Irish tunes at the now defunct Shanakee Restaurant & Pub. During a brief intermission, I walked up to Mr. Gibney and said, 'Hey Paddy, why don't you play Whiskey in the Jar for my friend over there. He's never been to the Shanakee and I want to give him a good show."

"Sure." He looked at me with one eyebrow cocked, then smiled real big and said, "Hey, where are you from?"

"Wilmington."

"No," he said, a little perplexed. "I mean originally. Are you Irish? You sound like you have an Irish accent."

"Irish? Nah. I'm American," I told him, straightening up just a little and catching myself speaking with the accent I hadn't noticed minutes before. "One of my ancestors came over from Ireland, I believe, but I've never been there. I've lived in Wilmington my whole life."

He laughed so hard I thought he was going to drop his Guinness. I didn't know what I'd said that was so hilarious, so I started to get a little insulted, and told him so.

"It's just every time I ask someone if they're Irish, they say 'yes.' You're the first American I've ever met who actually admitted to it."

This intrigued me, so we sat down and had a short conversation. Mr. Gibney was born and raised in Ireland. He has the accent, the quirky sayings and the good humor you'd expect in a stereotypical Irishman.

That's why folks who meet him here in the States, and who have any bit of Irish blood in their veins, always tell him how much they love the stories, the music and the drink of the motherland – even though they've never stepped foot in the place.

I asked him why he thought people did that. He told me Americans are fortunate to have so much diversity in their country. It's a grand melting pot of people and their cultures. But the flip side to that is we don't really have a strong national identity. Sometimes we find ourselves cuddling up to the notions of countries we believe our ancestors once lived, just so we feel a part of a definitive culture. Mr. Gibney gave me a great complement that night and something I've thought about quite a bit since then.

Who would've thought you could get an education like that in a bar? But there's an ironic twist here.

Shanakee closed in November. Now, the building is getting a facelift and a new life. One of the new owners, Brett Clark, is opening an "American-style" bar in its place, hopefully before St. Patrick's Day, but the way bars open around here, don't hold your breath. They'll probably name it the Copper Penny.

My first question to him was, "What exactly is an American-style pub?"

There was only a short pause, and he started rattling off a list of decorations he might put up in the bar. "Just different stuff that pertains to our country," he said. "Not many of us are Irish and English. We're American."

As we spoke on the phone, I could picture him uttering those words, standing not far from the same spot I stood that night I told an Irishman that no matter how much I love the Irish culture I was, in fact, American.

Mr. Clark had no pretensions. He sounds like he's shooting for just a straight-up fun bar. I think it's a great idea and can't wait for it to open.

And check out another new bar in town, Rum Runners Dueling Piano Bar & Grill, 21 N. Front St. It's entertainment unlike anything else downtown. The Web site is www.rumrunnersusa.com or call the local bar at 815-3846.

©: WMS

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Here's to ye old Shanakee, best of friends we'll ever be

By Amy Hotz
November 13, 2003

The Shanakee Restaurant & Pub is no more. I found one of the owners, Warren Breniman, unscrewing metal Guinness signs from the wall last week. When I walked in, he looked a little upset. And as we started talking, he nearly broke into tears several times.

"This bar has been home for a lot of people," he said. "It's like losing a kid."

Shanakee opened about eight years ago, and Mr. Breniman has co-owned it for the past three.

We sat for a couple of minutes and reminisced about our favorite Shanakee experiences.

Mine was listening to Paddy Gibney and Bill Ayerbe perform every Saturday night back when I was in college. His was betting some guy he couldn't drink a whole bottle of malt vinegar.

It's strange how people get attached to a pub. Shanakee was the first pub I ever felt any sort of emotion for. In college I loved going there with friends to sing along with some traditional Irish drinking songs, some bawdy originals and a few U2 covers. All the regulars knew every word and before long, the new people were singing along, too.

I went there after graduation, but things started to change. Soon, Paddy and Bill quit playing there. It really wasn't the same after that.

Still, I felt at home at Shanakee, and I tried to listen to the other musicians play. It's not that they weren't any good. Most of them were pretty fun. But it just wasn't like yelling, "Whack fol di da di oh, there's whiskey in the jar" at the top of your lungs to one of Paddy's tunes.

I decided to compromise.

I started going during lunch to enjoy what was the town's best Shepherd's pie at the time. One of my friends, a very Italian guy, even got hooked on it.

Then, management changed the menu to more Mexican fare -- tacos and nachos alongside Harp and Guinness. That was the last straw for me. It had changed so much since college, it hurt my nostalgic little heart to go back. So, for a year or two I didn't step foot in the place.

Then, about two weeks into October, a couple of friends asked me to have a pint with them at Shanakee. I'd heard the tacos were gone, but had no proof. I wanted to go back. I thought maybe it could be like the good old days.

So, I took a deep breath and walked into the bar. We sat at a back table close to the kitchen, and I started telling them about some crazy experiences I'd had there – the music, the dancing, the perfect pints and, of course, the people. My friends had Shanakee stories, too. And before I knew it, that one night was like the old days.

Looking back, I realize it was the last breath of life for me and the pub. I'm glad I got to reacquaint myself with a place that had so much character and attracted so many interesting people. But now that it's gone for good, all we'll ever have are the memories – and the stories.

Shanakee is the Anglicized version of an Irish word for storyteller. Mr. Breniman told me that his bar is a lot like a story. "A good story never dies. It comes back around."

Although he doesn't know where or when he may open another pub, and he can't use the name because of legal reasons, he said he's sure it'll pop back up some time, just like a good yarn.

"I want to thank Wilmington," he said. "Everybody who's ever stepped foot in the establishment, had a beer and smiled."

©: WMS

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Paddy to play at St. Patrick party

By Amy Hotz
September 11, 2003

Want to go?
What: Half Way to Saint Patrick's Day Get Lucky Bash.
Where: Fibber McGee's, 1610 Pavilion Place, near Wrightsville Beach.
When: 4 p.m.-2 a.m. Wednesday.
What to drink: Specials include $2.25 pints o' green beer and $4 car bombs. Because it's a school night, I'd recommend a simple pint o' Guinness. Don't forget to check out the Irish dinner menu.
Who you'll meet: You'll meet the beach crowd, but because it's not actually over the bridge, it'll feel a lot closer to the downtown crowd.
Details: 509-1551.

SCHEDULE

4-6 p.m.
Great Highland Bagpipers

7-9 p.m.
Chris & Josh

10 p.m. until
Paddy Gibney & Bill Ayerbe

Why didn't someone think of this before? St. Patrick's Day is one of the best nights to party. Everybody wears green, drinks Irish brews and sings little ditties.

I have a group of friends that gets together only during St. Patrick's Day. I don't see some of them all year, but we know to call each other a few days before the big party and decide on a rendezvous.

If this is such a great day for fun, why does it come only once a year? That's what the folks at Fibber McGee's thought. And they decided to do something about it.

The bar/restaurant is holding its first Half Way to Saint Patrick's Day Get Lucky Bash from 4 p.m. to 2 a.m. Wednesday. They'll have bagpipers, green beer, an Irish dinner menu and my personal favorite, Paddy Gibney.

In the late '90s, he and fiddle player Bill Ayerbe used to play every Saturday at Shanakee. The duo performs traditional Irish sing-along tunes (with a couple of twists), original music and a few covers from groups such as U2 and Jim Morrison.

If you've never been to an Irish pub where everyone knows the refrains to the songs and shouts them out right on cue, then you've got to go to this show.

So you don't feel left out, here's how one song goes (you'll be able to figure out the rest as the verses continue):

Mr. Gibney: As I went home one Monday night, as drunk as drunk could be, I saw a horse outside the door where my ol' horse should be. I called to me wife and says to her, would you kindly tell to me, who owns that horse outside the door, where my ol' horse should be?

The bar: Ah, you're drunk, you're drunk you silly old fool and still you cannot see. That's a lovely milking cow me mother gave to me.

Mr. Gibney: It's many a day I've traveled, a hundred miles or more, but a saddle on a milking cow sure I've never seen before.

One caution here. Even before the pints start flowing, the songs can get very off-color.

"We're hoping to make that big ol' bar a living room. That's where we're strongest," Mr. Gibney said.

In addition to great tunes, Fibber's will offer prizes and a special Irish dinner menu.

WSFM radio (Surf 107.5) will be broadcasting live and giving away prizes such as greens fees at local golf courses and Green Day paraphernalia.

Check out Fibber's new patio area and outside bar while you're there.

Remember to wear green, or suffer the consequences.

©: WMS

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IN ROTATION / Paddy’s Irish eyes smile on new release

Richard D’Anjolell
November 2, 2001

Live-Love-Now

Patrick Gibney, better known as Paddy, shares more than just an Irish heritage with The Edge, Bono and the rest of the U2 gang. Mr. Gibney writes straightforward, radio-friendly pop songs that have a positive, uplifting message that is steeped in deep emotion.

His sincere delivery seems just and honest, especially on songs such as The Blind Man, Every Man’s Death and Make Love In Love. Accompanied by Bill Ayerbe, a classically trained violinist, Mr. Gibney has developed a strong regional following in the Carolinas. The duo has an engaging sound, and with the addition of a backing band, the 13-song disc takes on elements of Bruce Springsteen, Jackson Browne and Billy Bragg.

There are some strong songs on the album, including the ’50s be-bop ballad Diana, an ode to Princes Di; the mid-tempo anthem A New Day; and the rattle and hum sound of She Is Love. Mr. Gibney has the skill and tenacity to become a powerful presence on the new music scene. His patriotic style and sense of pride has a resonance people are looking for these days.

©: WMS

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Music Proved More Appealing Than Law Or Medicine for Irish Duo

By Amy Korney, Staff Writer
November 24, 2000

In 1998 Bill Ayerbe finished a symphony rehearsal, threw his violin in the trunk of his car and drove to a Fayetteville bar. His wife and friends met him there to raise a pint in the Great Guinness Toast.

One of Mr. Ayerbe's friends talked him into playing fiddle along with Irish guitarist and singer, Paddy Gibney. Mr. Gibney pulled up a seat for the bar patron and they started a set with Hotel California. "That was all it took," Mr. Ayerbe said.

The friendship and music that developed from that night has created an energy in bars around North Carolina. It causes Marines from Camp Lejune to get up, do a little dance and sing about frolicking unicorns. It has college students studying ancient Irish folk songs like Finnegan's Wake and Whiskey In The Jar.

In 1987 Patrick Gibney, known as "Paddy" to his friends, left Ireland on a soccer scholarship. Instead of immediately going to college, the program required a year of cultural adjustment at Fayetteville Academy, a private high school. Mr. Gibney graduated from Fayetteville's Methodist College and headed to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill to study medicine. Here, his life took a turn.

Dr. Mann, head of admissions there, really convinced me that my heart was in music," Mr. Gibney said. He was either going to become a doctor or a musician - and he couldn't imagine not becoming a musician.

By 1995 Mr. Gibney was infiltrating Southeastern North Carolina bars with traditional Irish folk songs, popular music hits and even a few originals. His fan base had spread from Fayetteville to Wilmington and Durham by the time he met Mr. Ayerbe. "He fit both musically and personality-wise, like a glove fits a hand," Mr. Gibney said.

Mr. Ayerbe's interest in music began at age 3 when his father gave him a small violin. At age 6 Mr. Ayerbe enrolled in a 10-year program at Ukranian Music Insitute of America. he gave his first juried recital at age 17 and traveled to Europe with his first symphony.

After years of training, Mr. Ayerbe decided he wanted to get away from music and study political science. He was accepted to The Juilliard School, but he chose to enroll at Creighton University in Omaha, Neb., instead. Agreeing to attend Juilliard would have meant increasing his daily practice from three hours per day to eight or ten hours. "I knew I was ultimately a musician, but I didn't know how serious I was," he said.

Mr. Ayerbe's interest in law led him to persue a career with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. At the time he graduated from college, the FBI required applicants to obtain either a master's degree or higher, or three years of law enforcement or military service. Mr. Ayerbe enlisted in the army and narrowly missed combat in Desert Storm. By the time his enlistment was up, the FBI had changed its requirements. "They were looking for accountants after I got out," he said.

The army helped him meet his wife and establish a home in Fayetteville - and Fayetteville needed music teachers. "My first music job after the army was with the public schools," Mr. Ayerbe said. After one year, McFayden Music approached him with an offer to work as their regional strings specialist.

Today, Mr. Ayerbe juggles his time among working with McFayden Music, teaching private violin lessons and performing across easter North Carolina with Mr. Gibney.

One of those venues, The Shanakee Restaurant and Pub, 109 Chestnut Street, became the place where Mr. Gibney and Mr. Ayerbe developed their first Wilmington following. Regulars showed up every Saturday night to sing along. Crowds learned the words to Irish folk songs like Wild Rover, The Black Velvet Band and Seven Drunken Nights. The musicians diversified the repertoire with popular hits such as American Pie and Sunday, Bloody Sunday.

Earlier this year, the two musicians moved their Wilmington performances to The Bull McCabes Irish Pub and Restaurant, 131 N. Front Street. They perform there at 10.30pm about every other Saturday.

Mr. Ayerbe and Mr. Gibney sell three recordings at their performances and have another big production in the works. They recorded a CD single, Diana, in August of 1998. All of the money from that CD goes to Princess Diana's favorite charity, the British Deaf Association.

In November of 1998 they recorded a live session at The Shanakee. Another traditional Irish CD, Shamrock-N-Roll, was recorded at The Radisson Hotel in Fayetteville.

The musicians are now in the middle of a big transition with their newest recording, due to come out by St. Patrick's Day. It gets away from traditional bar songs and cover songs. "This is to show people we don't just do a bunch of dirty songs, we also do real songs. We're hoping to be able to drag people into our other world," Mr. Gibney said.

To develop their fan base and to support the new CD, the duo closely watch the people who go to the pubs, sing along and buy the recordings. "The internet has been an incredible tool, I always make sure we keep in contact. Most of these people I really like and are really great people," Mr. Gibney said. That doesn't make a musical career any less difficult than a career in law or medicine.

"There's a difference between being talented and getting people to listen to you. You're not going to build anything special if you don't work your arse off for it," Mr. Gibney said.