S.Rhatigan/J.F Morrison © 2000

– I don’t mind being old it’s getting older I don’t like –
WP Rhatigan

What have I been up to since my last post?

STOP PRESS….

I have been invited to open for the legend Mary Coughlan as part of the Howth Roots and Blues Festival on Sunday August 11^th. Tickets available on tickets.ie

I am practicing my hole off and would love to do more shows before and after while I’m match fit so if you want me to play a set at your venue or event get in touch….

OLDER LYRICS

Since we last spoke  I’ve mostly been busy ageing.  Like you.  The realisation that  I’m getting older hits me in spasms. A jolt of pain, a pang of regret.  Suddenly I’m no longer cocooned in my reverie, a carefully crafted dream state I’ve so far managed to manoeuvre  through the years safely within. Now, I’m increasingly forced to look at mortality at close quarters and I feel terrified, until I remember how utterly futile worrying about it is. Dealing with getting older is really only something you can get to grips with by getting older.

When I was a child, I longed to be older.  I looked on at the older kids and wished they were my friends.  My peers held no mystery for me and I relied on my two years older sister and her friends for company. I thought I was one of them, but I was only tolerated under sufferance and was constantly on the back-foot begging to be included.

I was most often alone.  I didn’t always like it, however it meant I lived most of the time, in my imagination. I practised imagining.  One of my favourite childhood fantasies involved my family living a joyous millionaire lifestyle in a mansion by a river. We ferried ourselves about in our own speed boats, up and down to the shops and school and our best friends houses.

This dream was hampered only by my parents real life misery. Solving that problem was the best bit. I loved to play this scene over and over.  Mum and dad sit us down to tell us that they have been part of a government experiment in which they had to pretend to hate each other for a million pounds, but they just couldn’t do it anymore.  They loved each other so much.

As I got older into my teens I went on hanging around the periphery of older groups,fancying lads a few years older.  I was so desperate to physically mature that I carried tampons in my school bag for two years before Ihad my 1^st period in the hope it might encourage things along and I would at last be a woman.

I longed for an independent life. I imagined myself driving about the city in a sportscar, and home to my little garden flat for parties and late night sessions with my musician and actor pals all of us on a pathway to fame involving some random encounter with an industry mogul, leading to a Star is Born style breakthrough and then spectacular success.

I spent years in this alternate reality mostly in my front room singing along with Barbra and Aretha in Madison Sq Gardens or The Hollywood Bowl.  I  could feel the outpouring of love from the thousands of fans who accompanied me in my dreams.  God forbid anyone interrupted me, I would explode in fury at the shock of being forced back to earth unexpectedly.

Some of it actually did manifest, the flat and the little white MGB. I did cross paths with people who put me in situations where I had some breakthroughs in the music industry but really, quite suddenly, it became clear that I had crossed from being the young girl wishing I was older, to being one of the older ones being overlooked for possible opportunities because I was getting on a bit. I was maybe 25 or 26.

By the time I had picked myself up and started again after the Imago deal went, I was of course older and back to square one, a newcomer, sort of.
By now I saw no point lying about my age, I was after all presenting myself as a serious singer songwriter and life experience was woven into the fabric of my songs.  That cuts no ice in the entertainment world, in your 30’s you are just old, getting on for twice as old as the artists you have to compete with for advantageous support slots and airtime.

I adopted a fuck that approach happily broadcasting my advancing years as a great asset, worth every excruciating and painful minute of self-discovery resulting in far and away my best songs, I thought.  I wasn’t wrong, it was just that I was the only one who thought it, or thought about me at all.

Older was one such song, however by the time I hit 40 I couldn’t stomach playing or hearing it.  I had become the older I dreaded being and it didn’t feel either clever or funny singing about it.  It was just depressing, so I packed it away and forgot all about it.

Not unlike my mum and dad, I was an older 1^st time parent. Once the children came along I was completely immersed. I loved it.  All those years watching them get older while not ageing a day. And that is the weirdest thing.  Rearing children, time seems to stand still.  It all feels endless, much as childhood does, until it’s over. All the minding and worrying and the slowness and the frenzy and then 20 years have just gone. Whooosh!

Now two decades later singing Older feels different.  I am way beyond that ‘older’ and at a new level of old which is actually ok.
Getting older is really the only option in life, right?

Older was a big favourite live, way back when and we did include it on an EP in 2000 called DIY which we sold at gigs and mail order.  The other songs on the EP, That Song and DIY were also really class songs and although they were recorded on 8track in my little garden flat in London, they hold up pretty well.  I finally found a man here in Dublin to fix my Fostex R8, (thanks Doug) and was able to import the parts into my computer and remix them.

It gave me the opportunity to  use some pretty great digital EQs and compressors that John shared with me when we were working together recently.  Did I tell you that?  My old mucker John Morrison and I have been collaborating on new material which I am loving and really hope will be out in the world soon.

Meanwhile..

The DIY ep is available for download at suzannerhatigan.bandcamp.com/album/diy-ep

PS: Antony Harding ‘Ant’ was, I’ve no doubt still is, a wonderful illustrator and artist and he generously provided the artwork comic strip for the DIY EP which I love. Ant was among our favourite songwriters to join us on our Cushy nights at the 12 bar Club. That’s the thing about the internet, its a giant archive, check out what we were up to back then www.cushyproductions.com

Epilogue

Needless to say my parents remained in the government experiment, sad and angry, for many more years. A year or two before my dad died, after more than 15 years separated, he and my mother divorced.  Dad was elderly and very frail he relied on my help to handle things. I was his executor and so we also discussed his wishes, around end of life care and subsequent arrangements. I was dreading the conversation but one evening while we were chatting, I decided to broach the subject head on.  I asked him how he was feeling about being the age he was hoping he would allow me the notion that somehow it was all grand and as you get older sure you just accept the situation and get along with it and I needn’t worry.  That was when he explained how he felt.  – I don’t mind being old, it’s getting older I don’t like-

I probed a bit further and asked if he had any specific requests for arrangements when the time came. – How do you mean – he asked, –  well you know, funeral stuff, like, now the divorce is through, would you rather the former Mrs Rhatigan, doesn’t show up? –  He smiled, –  I won’t care either way – I’ll be dead -.

Tuesday June 4^th 2024.

Mrs Rhatigan is living her best life, she is happy in her dreams and memories, much as I was/am.  She chatted happily today about her forthcoming nuptials.  – Oh, that’s big news mum, when is the wedding?  – Tomorrow – she said.  – And will the bride be wearing white? – I asked-.  She gave me a good stare and laughed, – don’t be ridiculous -.

Suzanne Rhatigan    Vocals and guitar

John F Morrison        Bass and guitar

Paul Murphy             Drums

Older

Lyrics Suzanne Rhatigan

CHORUS SING ALONG

I don’t want to get older
Be left out in the cold in unfashionable clothes
With no hope just a joke among kids in the know
I don’t want to get old
I don’t want to get older
Make a mess of what’s left and have only regret
Short of breath short of sense short of luck and good sex
I don’t want to get old

As the years go by
Policemen look younger
Clothes sizes smaller
Gin tastes better and better
Problems get bigger
Friendships grow deeper
Lovers drift further and further apart

I don’t want to get older
Be left out in the cold in unfashionable clothes
With no hope just a joke among kids in the know
I don’t want to get old

As the years go by
Families grow larger
Waistlines even further
Actions made safer and safer
Till nothing and no chance is left
And you’re deeper and deeper in debt

I don’t want to get older
Make a mess of what’s left and have only regret
Short of breath short of sense short of luck and good sex
I don’t want to get old

When once we would fight to the death
Now principles fall by the way
We fear failure and change
And there’s no escape
Getting older

I don’t want to get older
Be left out in the cold in unfashionable clothes
With no hope just a joke among kids in the know
I don’t want to get old
I don’t want to get older
Make a mess of what’s left and have only regret
Short of breath short of sense short of luck and good sex
I don’t want to get old