Law­son proves he’s ready for the big time


WED­NES­DAY: If your level of suc­cess cor­re­lates with the amount of pos­i­tive karma that you ex­ude, then Jamie Law­son can ex­pect a star-span­gled fu­ture. Tonight, he played the last show of his re­cent Ir­ish tour. To­wards the end of his hour-and-ahalf set he took a healthy gulp from his bot­tled wa­ter, thanked the crowd for pluck­ing him from the plethora of also-ran singer/song­writ­ers out there, and told them that he would like to go and get sloshed. But he couldn't. Dis­guised in the crowd were im­por­tant peo­ple that had just jet­ted in from the United States. For them, he needed to re­main at his sharpest, as these days man­ners ap­peal more to po­ten­tial em­ploy­ers than the Mick Jag­ger/Liam Gal­lagher ap­proach.

It has been a me­te­oric rise for the English­man, whose song was picked up from Youtube, and made fa­mous by the Ian Dempsey Break­fast Show in Jan­uary of this year. Hav­ing a freshly signed deal with Ir­ish Uni­ver­sal un­der his belt, he took a mo­ment to re­flect on two of the best weeks of his life. Tonight he has also eased any con­cerns that he can’t pen songs to equal the qual­ity of ‘Wasn't Ex­pect­ing That'; this guy has plenty in the locker to make his new al­bum a sure-fire hit.

What Law­son has re­alised, and hope­fully won't lose sight of due to the com­pla­cency that time can bring, is that the au­di­ence is the pri­mary rea­son he's grac­ing these stages. He in­ter­acts with them, he in­tro­duces his songs and he ex­plains the ori­gins of his work. That's what peo­ple pay money to hear - it cre­ates in­ti­macy. He also smiles a lot, which goes a long way.

One of the stand-out songs of the evening, apart from the ob­vi­ous, is Letter Not Sent while his sign­ing-off tune, Mov­ing In, is des­tined to be a crowd pleaser. Lucy Rocks also rocks.

The next year is go­ing to be an in­ter­est­ing one for Law­son. Those that paid a ten­ner to see him this time around should ap­pre­ci­ate out­stand­ing value for money. His al­bum, ‘Wasn't Ex­pect­ing That' is re­leased on April 1. A pur­chase highly rec­om­mended.

NEW WAVE OF IR­ISH TRAIN­ERS FRI­DAY: The cur­tain falls on an­other thump­ing Chel­tenham and our Ir­ish raiders have smashed their num­ber of wins record, with a mighty haul of 13.

From what I hear, plenty of pun­ters won big this time round but ul­ti­mately, what you win on horses is not go­ing to change your life­style; give or take the odd ex­cep­tion. It's the en­ter­tain­ment that re­ally counts - four days of the best jock­eys part­nered by the finest rac­ing crea­tures pro­duced on this planet.

What we can take from this year's Fes­ti­val is that the fu­ture of train­ing horses in this coun­try is in very safe hands. De Bromhead, El­liott, Mur­phy and Nolan are part of a new gen­er­a­tion of train­ers that can pin their English coun­ter­parts to the ropes for the next quar­ter, or even half-cen­tury.

The good news is that we still have Ain­tree and a po­ten­tially star-stud­ded Punchestown meet­ing to look for­ward to. You can raise a hoof to that.

UP TO HIS SUM­MER TRICKS SUN­DAY: It's with a sigh of re­lief that we wel­comed the week­end of sum­mer sun­shine. For what­ever rea­son, it has felt like a longer win­ter than usual this year, and even the young lad skipped forth into the day, grate­ful that his lag­ging jacket can be left hang­ing in­doors. It's amaz­ing how much these mites grow with­out you re­al­is­ing; when you are look­ing at some­thing ev­ery day, you can be slow to no­tice change. This year he's able to reach the out­side tap unas­sisted; flick up the lock on the front gate and with a step to boost him, can turn on and off light switches. I get the feel­ing these sum­mer months are go­ing to be busy.

FLY ON THE LABOUR ROOM WALL MON­DAY: The good woman has a new guilty plea­sure and it's called One Born Ev­ery Minute. For those of you not fa­mil­iar with the Chan­nel Four pro­duc­tion, it's a fly-on-the-wall doc­u­men­tary on what takes place in the labour ward. Women, they will never cease to amaze me.

Hav­ing stood there twice now and had my knuck­les crunched while a mem­ber of the fairer sex went through an ex­pe­ri­ence that in­duced in­com­pa­ra­ble pain, I thought the last thing any woman would want to do is be re­minded of the event. In­stead, she's hooked. And so are her friends; both moth­ers-to-be and moth­ers that have been. Her friends with­out plans for ba­bies, how­ever, are still con­tented with the less graphic med­i­cal dra­mas, and stick to the more ‘ where is the love'-themed se­ries such as Grey's Anatomy. The harsh re­al­ity of child­birth re­mains as dis­tant to them now, as when they were look­ing at the pic­tures dur­ing bi­ol­ogy class all those years ago.

The good woman tells me One Born Ev­ery Minute is to her what foot­ball is to me, only her choice of pro­gramme has a point. I nod in agree­ment and strug­gle to find a come­back to that. But that doesn't mean I ever have to watch it. She tells me she's glad about that.

Those that paid a ten­ner to see him this time around should ap­pre­ci­ate out­stand­ing value for money

The next year is go­ing to be an in­ter­est­ing one for Jamie Law­son.

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