Superstars.

My very first job was with a painter in Roscommon called Tommy Fallon. He drove an old Ford Cortina in Mission Brown and he was one of the happiest people I've ever met. He worked hard all year except for every summer when he would take off to the Fleadh Ceol (trad Irish music festival) and spend the week enjoying the music. He did not drink and he reminded me of my great hero Jacque Tati, the French film maker.  He had a quality of character to him and he loved a steady pace. His only advice to me was one line, "Go like hell at anything you want except driving".

He knew who he was, why he was, and he knew what made him happy. ‘Settle pettle’ was the mantra. Which reminds me of that funny saying, "Remember that every corpse on Mt Everest was once a highly motivated person. Stay lazy my friends". He wasn't lazy but you get my point.

Is life just a relentless race to the perceived top of the nearest heap? How do you define success?  Or more importantly, because I'm writing this blog, how do I define success? The first money I made as a muso came from a Thursday night Residency at The Royal Hotel, Roscommon. Larry O'Gara gave me a shot as a young lad and I was off. Thanks Larry. But from almost day one there was always the person who told me "You're too good for this place". People wishing I'd go far!Hit the big time!

At what point do you say a musician is successful?

What do Prince, Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Janis Joplin, Michael Jackson and Jimi Hendrix have in common? They all achieved perceived success on one level. All of them took donkey loads of drugs to drive themselves and they drove themselves hard to be perceived as successful. They all had dads who gave them hell. Take a look at many top earning musicians over the years and you will find torturous pain medicated by drugs. We don't present as a happy bunch.

But all over the world in major towns and cities are musicians playing residencies. In San Francisco Bay, Buenos Aires, Dublin, Moscow, you name it, folks who pump beautiful music into those cities quietly and that go unnoticed to a large part.

Little dous with names like 'We Two' or soloists called 'The Great Barry O'Reef'. Those are my people. There won't be a court case after we die to convict a dodgy doctor of injecting us with to much horse tranquilliser. We just turn up, do the gig, make you smile, get paid, go home. Repeat. No dramas. Settle pettle.

I have a very clear definition of what success is in the music business. When I’m playing music to people and a mother brings a child over and they both gaze up at me because they know there’s a magic happening here. Mum wants the child to know there’s joy, colour, harmony, fun and happiness in music and in life. The other adults sometimes get it too. That is my job. I remind you that magic is real and that, to me, is success.

And finally if you're also a middle aged muso that didn't make it ‘BIG’ yet, I want you to count your lucky stars. Take a breath and look in the mirror. You can still bring joy to people. Yes, you. We all need you. Pack the Cortina baby! We've got a gig!