2007: how was it for you?

Irish musicians and filmmakers discuss their highlights and lowlights

My band and I went from obscurity to the brink of stardom: May Kay

May Kay is the lead singer with Fight Like Apes. Few had heard of FLA 12 months ago, but in the meantime, the band have released two EPs, toured Ireland, the UK and the US, and earned Meteor Award nominations for best Irish band and best Irish live performance

Reality-checks come in different forms. They can occur while you're belting your lungs out in small, shiny black shorts to an audience that turns out to be four stoned, neckerchiefed, arm-folders. Or when you finally cop on that there really is "that one drink" that tips you over from super-cool to plain messy. Or as you're sitting there, baffled at how you managed to part company with your second manager in four months (who may also have been your boyfriend). Or when your bed for the night is the back of an icy van at a north-of-England truck stop.

A reality check can also be slightly more obvious, like when you get a head-butt from your overly enthusiastic and very charming keyboardist during a highly demanding song.

But sometime in the future I'll be grateful for all these moments, because those are how you pay your dues. You don't get to play to a sold-out Whelan's, to a crowd roaring your songs back to you, until you've paid your dues.

Paying your dues means getting up at 4.30am to make the earliest Ryanair flight (the cheapest) and sleeping on the ground outside Liverpool Street station waiting for a bus, all for a half-hour session in London that same day. It means resigning yourself to a pathetically modest existence for a few years. It means sleeping in a van while someone else gets the one hotel bed allowed for in the budget.

We did play a sold-out Whelan's. Five weeks ago. One hundred people got turned away, and a girl got kicked out for writing "I love FLA" on the wall. Savage.

Mind-blowing as that gig was for us, we all need those reality-checks to remind us how much work is left to do to get that reaction wherever we go.

I still can't articulate that hair-raising feeling of having a crowd screaming at you just to let you know they're there. Let's call it "motivational" for now and say it warms the bones on those freezing truck-stop nights.

The photo shoots were another challenge of the past year. How do you turn up and take "art" directions such as "pose" and - another original - "I need more ape! Gimme more ape!"?

When I saw the photos and realised that I didn't look remotely like I thought I did, I kicked myself for having followed the arty directions rather than sticking to what made me comfortable. Suddenly, pictures were being published of a me that I didn't know existed, with angles that I didn't know existed.

Ultimately I was too logical or too stubborn to blame bad photos on that "bloody photographer" getting me at "a bad angle". The angles were part of me, part of someone that I had to get used to if I was going to make a go of this.

Another challenge was locating that fine balance between cynicism and trust in people. We've encountered quite a selection of dodgy music industry types, and nearly every time, I have been left wondering whether they're complete sharks or just stupid. Either way, they do serve a vital purpose for newcomers to the scene; they sharpen your instincts and send you racing for a good lawyer.

But the hardest thing was to recognise when to let our guard down. At what point do you trust your gut and decide that this person is acting in your interests? It's very hard to take the benign view - especially while being called "babes" by some lizard (babe singular being so last century, babes).

And after all that effort to "get somewhere", what does it mean anymore to "get somewhere" in music? Most people will say it's to get the golden ticket: the record deal. But what's a record deal nowadays? It can be anything from a six-figure advance with a 10-album deal, to an offer from some lad three doors down who has convinced himself that a good set of ears and a mad-quick internet connection totally justify his decision to call himself a record label. True story.

Either way, the value of tour support and advances has gone down so much in recent years that being "signed" really isn't the big cheese anymore. It may be possible to make more money off T-shirts or karate costumes and fake beards at this stage. We hope.

Unless of course you're willing and able to wait for the right deal, which is a different story. The temptation is there to chase a deal; we've managed not to get too caught up in all that.

Nothing makes me cringe more than a band banging on about which labels have contacted them and turned up at their shows. That's why you won't be hearing anything like that from us until we've signed on the dotted line.

At which point, I can guarantee, the subtlety and secrecy will meet an abrupt end and it'll be McDonalds from here on in. Take THAT Wimpy Burger!

I wrote a TV series for RTE, took my film to Cannes and mourned by friend Tom Murphy: Mark O'Halloran

Actor and writer Mark O'Halloran, from Ennis, Co Clare, wrote and starred in the award-winning film Adam and Paul in 2004. Since appearing in The Ticket's names to watch List 12 months ago, Mark has seen his TV series Prosperity gain huge rating on RTÉ, and has won plaudits and awards for his second feature Garage. Mark also lost his friend and Adam and Paul co-star Tom Murphy, who died from cancer in October

The past year has been a rollercoaster. There have been strange, exhilarating highs and then lows that I never want to experience again. It was a year that I have certainly learned a lot from, but not one that I'd willingly take on again. It began in a frenzy of writing. My television series Prosperity had been green-lit and I settled down on January 1st to write the bulk of it. Four hours of television is a pretty big piece of work to take on and seeing as we were planning to shoot in early May, I had room for very little else in my life for the whole of spring.

There were other events of course. My second feature film, Garage, was reaching the final stages of its completion, and in mid-February, we discovered that it had been accepted into the Directors' Fortnight in Cannes. All dream-come-true stuff. Great. Strange. Unimagined.

Then, in the summer, I was free. I took to travelling a little. Albania for a month (wild and funny). And then, in August, I felt I needed to get healthy. I decided to walk the Camino Frances across northern Spain to Santiago de Compostella and then further, to the sea at Finnesterre.

The walk had first been mentioned to me by my friend Tom Murphy some time in the early 1990s, and it had occupied my imagination ever since. And so, on August 18th, I headed off for four-and-a-half weeks and nearly 1,000km of blister-filled, life-enhancing agony. Little did I know then that within a week of my return, my beloved friend Tom would be dead.

And so to the most important event of the year. An event that makes all the others, all the film festivals and premieres and career stuff seem so trivial. The passing of that great man. No one really saw it coming.

He had been sick for so short a time and it simply made no sense. It felt like he couldn't die. It wasn't right. He had too much to give and was too good a person to just leave us. But it did happen, and it is a very different world I live in now, knowing that Tom is no longer here.

And though the pain of his loss has felt, at times, almost unbearable, there was something positive I learned from it. That Tom had great friends and that I have great friends. Strong, caring, lovely people, and together we share our loss and pain and grief and we help one another through. That gives me great courage for the future and it is something I am going to carry into the New Year with me, fighting.

My movie made it in America: John Carney

John Carney is director of the Irish movie Once, starring Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova as street musicians. It won the prestigious audience award at America's Sundance Film Festival in January. On release, it had modest success in Ireland but then stormed the US box office, where it has taken more than $9 million to date. It is now being mentioned as an Oscar contender

I never intended to make a film that more than a few people would see.Glen and I expected Once to do okay, to go down well among Frames fans, among music people, maybe to make an impression on the internet and to build up a word-of-mouth following over four or five years.

I reckoned we would go over to Sundance, meet a few independent film-makers, hang out and have a laugh. Maybe ski a bit.

But after a few days, things began to happen. We'd get into the back of a taxi and ask the driver what the word on the street was about films in the festival. When they started mentioning Once, we knew it was significant. Getting the audience award was a great feeling.

Before going to the US, we had done a deal with Buena Vista to release the film in Ireland and we honoured that when we returned home. Commercially, we probably shouldn't have. Films are usually released in the States first, and that would have been the smart thing to do. But then it was never intended to be a commercial film.

In the end, I think everyone who really wanted to see this film in the cinema in Ireland saw it there. It's a shame that more people didn't, but it's just hard to get Irish people to go out to see Irish films.Most people will now see it on DVD and that's fine.

As it turned out, though, the award at Sundance had a great effect on the film's performance in the US. Also, Steven Spielberg spoke publicly and very positively about our film.

Career-wise this was very significant, but I was more tickled by it than anything else. I'm not a massive fan of Spielberg's films - they're too sentimental for my liking - but I do know he's very nerdy and technical about film-making, so it was nice to get a compliment from him.

Even funnier was when John Travolta left a message on my phone, saying he had seen Once and loved it. I saved the message and played it back to my mother. She and I were both big Travolta fans. Oh, and Glen texted me today to say he was having breakfast with Britney Spears.

I was in Glen's band years ago so I knew him very well already, but travelling around the US together, we developed our friendship significantly. I hope to work with him again, and in fact we are working on a project together - a kind of Irish Spinal Tap. He has great comic timing, and it's nice to work with someone who's not an actor. Actors are often vulnerable and careerist and difficult to work with. Glen's much easier because he's not into "being an actor".

There are other projects too. Zonad is a film that my brother Kieran, Tom Hall and I piloted about six years ago and put on the shelf to make Bachelors Walk. Kieran and I finally completed that this year. It's a comedy about the alien invasion of a fictional Irish village. Think The Quiet Man in the style of Mel Brooks. Myself and Ed Guiney have a psychological thriller in development, set in London. And I've been contracted to direct a film for Hollywood, called Town House.

I've travelled more than I ever wanted to in one year - mainly around the US but also to the Czech Republic and to London. It's nice going to new places, but I'm not a great flier. I've stopped checking box-office figures. I did it in the US because they were being e-mailed to me, but as time went on I found that slightly corrupting. As a film-maker you have to take that with a pinch of salt.

When you get what you wish for, there are complications. To go, within four or five days, from being a minor Irish film-maker to being courted by these full-on Hollywood players does have its drawbacks. But all in all, 2007 has been pretty good for me. Great actually.

In conversation with Conor Goodman

BellX1 left our label, then helped create a successful charity album: Brian Crosby

Brian Crosby is the guitarist with Bell X1, whose contract with Universal Music ended at the beginning of 2007. Crosby is also the instigator of The Cake Sale, a fundraising album for Oxfam featuring Snow Patrol, Lisa Hannigan, Damien Rice, Bell X1, Josh Ritter, Glen Hansard, Neil Hannon and others. The album has sold more than 35,000 copies to date

It was a year of change and exploration. Looking back, it seems like we had a bit of a loose start, but we have ended up in a very solid place.

Bell X1's relationship with Universal was coming to its natural conclusion for some time before we parted company. There were some mixed reactions from friends and fans, but we were relieved that the end had come, and saw this as our chance to regain control of the situation.

I suppose we had felt stymied over the past few years. We wanted to tour and release our records outside of Ireland and UK. We saw the parting of the ways as a breath of fresh air, a time to find another label, and to release our records internationally.

The first half of the year was spent working out the fine print of our contract with Universal, while also finding and negotiating new deals with other labels. It was a frustrating start to the year as we were waiting for the international stuff to get sorted out, but also quite rewarding, as we released a live DVD in Ireland on our own label.

It was great to do the big home shows over the summer in Malahide Castle and the Marquee in Cork. We were reminded in a very positive way just why we all are doing this. Just around the same time, we signed licensing deals with American and European labels. We were back on track.

At the moment, we're writing new material and getting ready to release Flock in the United States and Europe in February.

Getting The Cake Sale album released abroad was exactly the same as putting any record out internationally. We started off by seeking friends in other territories, like labels and radio pluggers and press people. Getting people to listen to the album and be interested in it was made easier by virtue of the idea behind it, and the artists involved. We were lucky because we found a great label, Yep Roc, in the United States.

I had no expectations about how it would do internationally. It started out as an Irish-only project with Oxfam Ireland, and it was only after it had been so well-received at home that we thought about releasing it abroad and getting Oxfam International involved.

Getting Some Surprise onto Grey's Anatomy is just great exposure for The Cake Sale. The music supervisor for the show is a fan of Bell X1 and I gave her The Cake Sale CD earlier this year. I don't have any figures yet, but I would hope that this would result in some significant single track downloads.

In conversation with Jim Carroll

I made my first short film: Conor Ferguson

Ad copywriter Conor Ferguson shot his first short movie, The Wednesdays, in January and spent the year hawking it to festivals

In 2007, I made my first short film, The Wednesdays, about a pensioner couple who find themselves taking ecstasy every Wednesday. The project began in 2002 as a conversation with co-writer Luke Clancy, and became a short story, then a first draft, and finally - after many more drafts, and funding rejections - was ready to become a short film.

The shoot was postponed from May 2006 to June and then September that year. Then until January 2007.

Our cast was Doreen Keogh from The Royle Family, stage actor Des Keogh and the slightly notorious Alan Devlin. He and Doreen had worked together 30 years previously and all had not been entirely rosy. But the shoot went mercifully well in the end.

The resulting movie was well received at the Galway, Cork, Dingle and Boston Irish film festivals, as well as the Electric Picnic. The festival process takes time and money, often for little return. You're paying $30-$40 per application and you don't get that back if the film is rejected. Festivals are important, though, partly just to get the film seen but also because the Film Board will fund a print only if you have been accepted by one of a select number of festivals. There were times when I gave up hope.

Happily, though, at the time of writing The Wednesdays has just been named among the Irish shorts going to the Clermont-Ferrand Short Film Festival (out of over 4,500 entries, which is bonkers!). It's the only Irish short selected for competition in the festival. It may not win any awards, but it will hopefully be seen by more people in 2008, as we have now been promised a cinema release.

My father died suddenly just a couple of weeks after the film was completed and I felt sad I hadn't shown it to him when I had had the chance, instead of waiting for the finished version.

But it turned out that my sister - who had an early version on DVD - had shown it to him, and he had really enjoyed it, twice. At his month's mind, someone (not me) put it on, and it was very nice to hear relatives and elderly well-wishers chuckling on such a morbid day. He'd have liked that.

I was nominated for the Mercury Music Prize, but didn't win: Fionn Regan

Fionn Regan is a singer- songwriter from Bray, Co Wicklow. In the past year, he has played around the world, from Stradbally to San Francisco. His 2006 album The End of History was shortlisted for the Mercury Music Prize. Here's his take on the year. It explains everything. Well, sort of

Highlight/headlight: Within a year, we saw the chapters we dreamed of in the ditch assembled in the open.

Lowlight/dynamo light: As Charles Bukowski said: "There may not be a lot of light but it sure beats the darkness", which mirrors a saying I heard at home recently: "You can curse the dark or strike a match." If you are up a staircase and the staircase subsides, stay there. A glowing platform will present itself.

Mercury Prize: I found out the news of nomination by carrier pigeon. I felt like a lighthouse keeper at a wedding; the image-capturing devices, jumping through flashbulb hoops. The Mercury Prize is like a drawbridge across a moat. It gives you a stage, points a flashlight at you, and when it hits you, you have to be prepared to waltz. On the night, I arrived by rope ladder and left through a trapdoor.

Touring: The sails take a glorious hammering, but to stay in the harbour is to sleep with the looming threat of rust.

We have travelled the world almost non-stop this year, sometimes digging tunnels with a teaspoon, navigating corners in a wheelbarrow, balanced on a shoestring, then finally we moved from blankets on floorboards to eiderdown on mattress springs and were met by open-armed rooms singing word for word. We gave it gale force, full cylinder, raised the roof beams, they came into the storm with us.