- Brother Jimmy, said Joey the Lips. - I'm worried. - About Dean.
- Wha' abou' Dean?
- He told me he's been listening to jazz.
- What's wrong with tha'? Jimmy wanted to know.
- Everything, said Joey the Lips. - Jazz is the antithesis of soul.
- I beg your fuckin' pardon!
- I'll go along with Joey there, said Mickah.
- See, said Joey the Lips. - Soul is the people's music. Ordinary people making music for ordinary people. - Simple music. Any Brother can play it. The Motown sound, it's simple. Thump-thump-thump-thump. - That's straight time. Thump-thump-thump-thump. - See? Soul is democratic, Jimmy. Anyone with a bin lid can play it. - It's the people's music.
- Yeh don't need anny honours in your Inter to play soul, isn't tha' wha' you're gettin' at, Joey?
- That's right, brother Michael.
- Mickah.
- Brother Mickah. That's right. You don't need a doctorate to be a doctor of soul.
- Nice one.
- An' what's wrong with jazz? Jimmy asked.
- Intellectual music, said Joey the Lips. - It's anti-people music. It's abstract.
- It's cold an' emotionless, amn't I righ'? said Mickah.
- You are. - It's got no soul. It is sound for the sake of sound. It has no meaning. - It's musical wanking, Brother.
- Musical wankin', said Mickah. - That's good.
- Here, yeh could play tha' at the Christmas parties.
- Instead o' musical chairs.
--Roddy Doyle, The Commitments
Oh feck. Happy Lá Fhéile Pádraig, my lovely, oft-poor, oft-fun, oft-misguided people. (Hey, I can say that.)
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