Celtic Ray

Happening Irish band around which a small TAZ revolved (oddly, in fact, because none of the members were the least bit subversive or outlaw). When I first met them at my friend Michaela's birthday party, I thought they were just getting together to jam for fun. I was surprised to find that they were a talented and relatively polished group of musicians.

The original Celtic Ray I met consisted of:

Noel:

The only Irishman in the lot, a Bahai teetotaler in his late thirties, a writer/photographer with little discernable source of income. Noel had been working for years on a book of Czech history, for which he had managed to interview just about every living Czech figure of any historical, political, literary, or artistic importance. The book was generally assumed to be "vaporware," a project that would never move out of the planning stages, but Noel knew everyone and everyone knew him. A fixture at the Globe, and seemingly, everywhere else.

Noel loved to talk. And talk. About politics, mainly (the IRA was his favorite subject). A simple man but an exceedingly gentle one. A very good Baoron (Irish drum) player, he carried Celtic Ray through some difficult times.

Scott:

Burly bearded fiddler from Arizona. Seriously talented, and I was shocked to learn soon after I met him that he was only nineteen. Played a mean fiddle and, with Noel, gave Celtic Ray its backbone and spirit until he left with another Irish fiddler named Paul to play street music in Berlin and parts West.

Rob:

Tall, slim, English Irish-whistler. A tremendous drinker and equally tremendous womanizer. Inconsistent whistle-player, but good enough to hold up his end and impress the young expat women in his audience. Rob was in his early twenties, and he had an on-again off-again relationship with the roughly forty-year-old British party-girl Bernie.

Mira:

Czech mandolin player in his mid-forties. A kind soul, also heavily involved in local theater. Died of cancer in 1996.

Celtic Ray played an important role in my Prague story. They were friends with Ivana before I ever met her. In fact, it was Noel who first introduced us (to his eternal regret, I'm sure) at the Irish Rover, a short-lived Irish pub owned by a Yugoslavian.

For several months, Celtic Ray were at the center of a tight little scene. When they played Joe's Bar on Sunday afternoons, our whole gang would take over the back room and turn it into an all-evening party. We were their biggest fans, because we knew that whenever they played a charming time would be had by all. Alas, after Scott left they were never really the same.

Before we left Prague, they had changed their name to "Celtic Rey," and soon after they became "Puka Ru," which is a Gaelic term whose meaning escapes me at the moment.