BAYLOR: A belt of the Celts
My cousin, Don Barry, a university professor who taught me the European travel ropes, surfaced in Southern Indiana one typically balmy summer in 1988 bearing a box filled with vinyl. The albums were original pressings of the Dubliners, Wolfe Tones, Tommy Makem, Clancy Brothers and other Irish folk bands.
I’d toured Ireland twice at this point, but the trips were short, and although sufficient to drain numerous pints of the national black elixir and deplete adjacent seas of fish to accompany chips, there wasn’t time for a proper cultural education.
New Albany is a state of mind … but whose? Since 2004, we’ve been observing the contemporary scene in this slowly awakening old river town. If it’s true that a pre-digital stopped clock is right twice a day, when will New Albany learn to tell time?
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