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"a deeply expressive voice"
-Siobhán long The Irish Times

"a man of great imagination"
-Dai Jeffries Folking.com

"truly extraordinary”
- David Kidman The Living Tradition

" an astonishing new voice"
- Michael Quinn Songlines

"Spine-tingling" 
-FRoots (on Rógaire dubh)

"Here is an album that is as unexpected as it is delightful."
-
Vic Smith
The Folk Diary (on Rógaire dubh)

 

Album Reviews

 

 

Album Reviews

Dubh agus Geal - Darkness and Light

Dubh agus Geal

David Kidman – The Living tradition

Dubh Agus Geal – Darkness And Light
Private Label LMM011001

Lorcán MacMathúna, from Cork, is an excellent young sean-nós singer whose work I first encountered three years ago on his intense CD Rógaire Dubh. Here he unveils the first release of his ambitious ongoing Northern Lights project, which traces similarities in Irish and Scandinavian traditional music by means of what Lorcán terms “explorations of Gaelic-Norse folk roots”. That description might betoken a musical approach that’s vaguely trendy or else drily academic, but this intriguing disc is in fact neither, instead being a brilliantly listenable and stimulating musical experience.

In many ways it’s a natural continuation of what we encountered on Rógaire Dubh, where maximum impact is gained by the compelling and evocative vocalising of Lorcán himself and principal collaborator Raphael De Cock, cradled within opulent yet lucidly conceived textures that, while often sparsely-stranded, embody a bleakness that never lacks warmth, one which though invariably transparent remains highly telling.

Lorcán’s central thesis, expounded in the essay hectically crammed onto the inside first page of the admirably informative and voluminous accompanying booklet, is that folk music is part of the collective consciousness and experience rather than a single person’s story, and this is aptly demonstrated by his open-hearted sharing of modes and idioms familiar from traditional Irish and Scandinavian musics, which are performed in parallel and in empathic union on the same musical stage, as it were. The very sequencing of the dozen items on the disc accentuates this approach, and the listener remains riveted throughout, while it’s impossible to tire of the constantly changing soundscape where the panoply of accompanying instrumental colours (pipes, whistles, flutes, hardanger fiddle, bouzouki, guitar, jew’s harp, shruti box, bodhrán) is used ever-inventively (yet often quite unobtrusively) to enhance the texts and melodies. The sheer power of the words and music transcends any potentially disconcerting impact of the constant switching between sung languages (full texts and detailed synopses are all available in the booklet), and the overall effect is both timeless and gently epic.

Over The Waves (Craggie Hill) juxtaposes stories of departure and separation by sea from two perspectives, economically too (in under three minutes), whereas several other tracks stretch out the mood and experimental pairings in more extended fashion yet still don’t overstay their welcome. The Frozen North presents two interlocking narratives of loss, the Irish elegy Tuireamh Mhic Finín Dhuibh and the Norwegian ballad Dei Frealause Menn, given an eerie supernatural demeanour by the incorporation of overtone singing, while the dreamlike vision Aisling Gheal is characterised by a weird stringed accompaniment from a chatkhan (Siberian harp). The aching resignation of Ardaí Chuain is expressed in a vocal line of extremely poignant beauty, and further contrast is provided by The Chickens Lip, a glorious and vigorous melding of dance tunes, whereby a gangar (Norwegian walking dance) flows into a jig (the latter gleefully combining Irish lilting and Swedish lalling) before tripping off into a jubilant reel. Moments of repose are provided by the reflective “listening tune” Nordlys (played as a hardingfele solo) and the lovely lullaby that prefaces Bog Braon, to which a brief coda-cum-bonus track (a reprise of Nordlys) is appended, setting the seal on this enchanting, mesmerising disc.

read the review in The Living Tradition

Neil McFadyen - Folkradio.com
Northern Lights – Dubh agus Geal *****

“ I woke tonight from an ancient dream, a dream where tales of murder, exile and oppression flowed around my consciousness like the churning of the North Sea. A dream where voices, centuries old and worlds apart, enthralled me. A dream where Gaelic & Viking music, stories and song implored me to listen, to learn, to remember. And when I woke from the dream, all I longed for was to return to the green hillsides and the frozen seas, to immerse myself again in the timeless tales”.

Regular visitors may remember that back in July, Folk Radio UK reported on the completion of Lorcán Mac Mathúna‘s Northern Lights project, promising a ‘fascinating and beautiful’ album, Dubh agus Geal (Darkness And Light). Well, we’re delighted to confirm that was no understatement. In collaboration with Raphael De Cock (voice, pipes, Siberian harp, shrutti, hardanger fiddle, jews harp), and James Mahon (uillean pipes, whistle flutes), Lorcán Mac Mathúna has created an album that educates and fascinates.

Drawing on the historic affiliations of Gaeldom and Scandanavia, Dubh agus Geal celebrates the cultural traditions of folklore and music, unearthing both harmonious and contrasting associations. There are tales of exile and emigration, such as Over the Waves, where a young man looks forward to making his fortune on foreign shores, while his sweetheart dreads the inevitable separation; or Ardai Chuain, exploring the pain of unending exile.

Each song on the album comes from the musical and oral traditions of Ireland, Sweden, Denmark and Norway. Throughout, these traditions intertwine to produce songs that traverse the geographical boundaries. In, for instance the well known Irish celebration of a pastoral spring, Aililiu na Gamhna, The jews harp and bodhran instill a Nordic flavour. In Ceannabhan Bana / Paidin O’ Rafairte, pipes and jews harp combine in a lively session set.

Folklore the world over is full of dark tales and in The Frozen North, supernatural tales from Norway and Ireland combine in an eerie, lamenting epic, where throat singing adds a ghostly voice. In Sven In the Rosegarden medieval voices present a murder ballad that has parallels in many cultures, and is hauntingly reminiscent of ‘What Put The Blood?’ The song becomes more strident as the question and answer session continues, with soul stirring harmonies.

Life, however, isn’t all murder, mayhem and mystery – even in the frozen north. The Chicken’s Lip provides a set of dance tunes embracing the combined cultures, with hardanger and uillean pipes supporting mouth music traditions. To compliment the dancing, there’s music from the Nordic chill-out tradition of Lydarslått in Nordlys, and the beautiful and uplifting Bog Braon, a lullaby that gently skips toward a joyous conclusion.

This album defies reviewers, in the best possible way. It’s a challenge to do justice to the level of artistic and academic achievement presented. The best possible way to appreciate the wealth of creativity, imagination and study that’s gone into the creation of this masterpiece is to immerse yourself completely… lose yourself in the music, feed your mind with the extensive information provided in the sleeve notes. Anyone interested in the shared influences and traditions, musical, oral and political, of Northern Europe and Scandinavia will find Dubh agus Geal a treasure and a fascinating resource to return to time and again… I’ve only just started listening, and there’s still so much to learn.

read the review on Folkradio.com

SIOBHÁN LONG -The Irish Times

Dubh agus Geal – Darkness and Light Claddagh Records ****
It’s refreshing to hear musicians explore the crosscurrents that might have influenced (and clearly are now influencing) traditional music, particularly when those tidal patterns extend to Scandinavia. Sean-nós singer Lorcán MacMathúna has a deeply expressive voice that readily entwines itself in the syllables and rhythms of a song. His band mates (Belgian hardanger fiddle player, piper and jewsharpist Raphael de Cock, and piper, whistle and flute player James Mahon) feast on both shared and complementary repertoire here, which is at its most exotic on Sven in the Rosegarden , based on a Swedish murder ballad. The highly charged harmonies are at times monastic in their bare settings, while at others the stark contrast of pipes, fiddle and voice render the music deeply meditative. The Chicken’s Lip explores the lilting and lalling traditions of Ireland and Sweden to spectacular effect. A bold ride into uncharted terrain.

read the review in The Irish Times

Tom Keller - Folkworld.eu

The second ‘Celtic influenced’ album takes me by surprise. Singer Lorcan Mac Mathúna plays together with the Belgian top musician Raphael de Cock and uillean pipe and flute player James Mahon. This collaboration results in a marvelous album on which the trio re-arranged traditional Irish and Scandinavian tunes and songs. Top quality music in which the tradition of the music is kept really well, without sounding out of date. Wonderful (harmony) vocals, well arranged instrumental parts. It’s an album which brings the ancient atmospheres back to life in a wonderful way. Listen to Mac Mathúna’s great vocals, which fit perfectly with the voice of De Cock. Softly backed by the flutes, pipes, hardanger fele and other strings. Definitely one of the best Celtic influenced albums from 2011.

Bart Vanoutrive - Folkroddels.be

An ambitious, hypothetical reconstruction of musical cross-fertilization between the Celts and Vikings, offering timeless haunting musical adventures ...

....These ‘music anthropologists' brought this challenging project to a successful conclusion. They wonderfully managed to evoke the mystique of the dark ages, not least by the full use of drones and sympathetic qualities of their instrumentation in the supporting accompaniments. This provides a number of magic, hypnotising, and sometimes meditative experiences, while the music stays still very accessible. There is much to discover and enjoy. Although very archaic in design, this music has something timeless. It presents a soul for the listener to lose her- or himself into...."

A translated extract from the extensive Folkroddels.be CD review

Dai Jeffries - Folking.com


Lorcán Mac Mathúna is best known in Ireland as a Sean-Nós singer. He’s also a man of great imagination and Darkness And Light (Dubh Agus Geal to give it its Irish title) is the first result of his Northern Lights project, exploring the links between the music of Ireland and Scandinavia.

If you think that’s odd, Lorcán explains that a thousand years ago Dublin was a major Viking ship building port and the cultural cross-fertilization was evident as late as the 16thcentury. If you still doubt consider ‘Sven In The Rosegarden’ and ‘I’m Sick To My Heart’ which bear strong similarities to British ballads. All the songs on this album are traditional, sung in Irish, Swedish, Danish, Norwegian and English. Lorcán is joined by Raphael De Cock, James Mahon, Connor Lyons and Joey Doyle in a band heavy with drones, whistles and flutes. There are two sets of pipes, hardingfele and Jews Harp producing a haunting, almost mediaeval sound when coupled with the vocals of Lorcán and Raphael.

‘ Over The Waves’ mixes two songs, ‘Hermond Don Idde’ and ‘Craigie Hill’, with alternate verses in Danish and English leading into two rather jolly tunes. ‘The Frozen North’ again alternates verses, this time in Norwegian and Irish, telling a story which has parallels with ‘The Ship In Distress’ and is the most haunting performance on the album.

Although Dubh Agus Geal may appear at first to be a rather scholarly and esoteric work it is also extremely listenable. Not only do the players mix songs they also mix dance tunes with hardanger fiddle, pipes and lilting into something new. There is a great deal to discover in this record and much to enjoy.

read the review on Folking.com

FATEA Magazine

Album:Dubh Agus Gael - Darkness And Light Loric Colloquies
Label:Foras Na Gaeilge

" Dubh Gael - Darkness And Light loric Colloquies" is an album that celebrates the similarities between Celtic and Norse music streams, though unlike the other albums that I've heard exploring that area this year, this one is rooted in Ireland. That makes a lot of sense as Dublin was a major trading city during the dark ages bringing the two cultures together. Northern Lights are a trio of traditional musicians drawn from other bands and projects who have got together under the stewardship of Lorcan Mac Mathuna to deliver an exciting and interesting album.

 

An Táin

An Táin

THE IRISH TIMES

The tale of the Táin Bó Cuailgne, memorialised in the 12th-century Book of Leinster is invigorated by Cork singer Lorcan MacMathúna. Commissioned by the William Kennedy Piping Festival, this suite of 10 movements sounds primeval and its tone is haunting. MacMathúna’s never been afraid to venture into the unknown, as his last project, Northern Lights, a melding of Irish and Norse sagas attested. The primal impulse firing Flaithrí Neff’s pipes on the eighth movement, Caoineadh Fherdia, is the ideal foil for Lorcán’s belly-deep vocal patterns. But make no mistake: this is not music for the casual listener. It demands repeated exposure to reach beneath its surface, such are the demands of its patterns. Skipping directly to Scread Ceann Sualtaim, with fiddle and bass clarinet propelling the story, offers a relatively accessible entry to another world: alien but intriguing. lorcanmacmathuna.com/antain

 

 

 

Rógaire Dubh

Rogaire Dubh

The Folk Diary 1.2010

Here is an album that is as unexpected as it is delightful. Sean-nós singing in the Irish language is probably the oldest and certainly the most complex and difficult of all the singing traditions in these islands and enthusiasts will be used to hearing the recordings that were released in the early days of the revival of the few surviving veterans from the various Gaeltacht areas of the west of Ireland.

This means that this album comes as a surprise in a number of ways. Firstly, we are hearing a younger man at the height of his powers showing all the required skills in handling all the difficult cadences, decorations, twists and turns of this repertoire and then we are hearing much of the singing accompanied after what was always a solo unaccompanied tradition.

The accompanists come from both traditional and classical disciplines but they are innovating successfully in finding a way to augment the singer in a way that is compatible with this type of singing.

Not an easy album to listen to, it will reward the careful listener. VIC SMITH, The Folk Diary


"This is a beautifully packaged showcase for an astonishing new voice."
SONGLINES 169
10th Anniversary issue.

Lorcan Mac Mathuna
Rogaire Dubh
Copperplate COPP007

****
Deep, dark and beautiful
Lorcan
Mac Mathuna's father Seamus, himself a revered exponent of sean nos ('old style') singing, has described the form as 'the least understood, most complex part of Irish traditional music. It takes a keen ear and a sharply honed sensibility to appreciate where style and substance meet in a repertoire that is raw, astringent, technically complex and regionally diverse.

Purists may well insist that only two of the ten tracks on Rogaire Dubh are strictly sean nos style, the others being variously accompanied by Hardanger fiddle, whistle, bodhrán, harp, cello and pipes. But strict adherence to an a capella delivery aside, Lorcan Mac Mathuna's self-produced debut is a compelling collection of lowering laments that positions him in the vanguard of a new generation of sean nos singers.

The rough-hewn fissures and cross-cut grain of Mac Mathuna's peat-dark voice are employed with admirably understated intelligence in performances, steeped in the Munster idiom. Brooding beauty is the order of the day, although album opener 'Na Tailliuri" delights with its comic playfulness, and the robust title-track is borne along with a strikingly fast-paced energy by fiddler Caoimhin O’ Raghallaigh and Mick O'Brien on uilleann pipes. Standout tracks include the savagely sardonic, drone-accompanied Irish Famine song 'Johnny Seoighe' and a wistfully truncated 'Bean Dubh an Ghleanna' (featuring Helen Lyons' light-as-morning-dew harp).

The two a capella songs are also striking: 'An Buachaillin Ban' is a bleak, dangerously sensuous tirade against John Bull; while the 18th century elegy 'Tuireamh Mhic Finin Dhuibh' sees Mac Mathiina illuminatingly mining some dislocating, bass-heavy depths.

This is a beautifully packaged showcase for an astonishing new voice. MICHAEL QUINN, Songlines



"This is one of the most beautiful albums I have ever heard. I replayed it over and over. It's on the radio station and it will stay on there for some time." ALEX GALLACHER, folkradio.uk


"Speaking of getting right to the heart of the matter, for those of you interested in great singing, we can thoroughly recommend Lorcan MacMathuna’s ‘Rogaire Dubh’. Lorcan sings in Irish Gaelic, but the feel of this CD transcends language barriers." NICK O'SULLIVAN, Dulcimer.org


Cork-born Lorcán is a passionate young sean-nós singer with a confident and commanding, though sensible, measured style which emphasises the musical quality of the song in an often innovative way while demonstrating both a respect for and understanding of the texts. Sean-nós singing can be a bit of an acquired taste, I’ll admit, but Lorcán’s strongly individual presentation is both intense and involving without being austere or intimidating: deliberate: yes but involved rather than soporific. There’s both intimacy and an understated sensuousness in his response (a combination which I’ve noted in the singing of Dónal Maguire), and on some of the songs there’s also an approach to decoration that rather resembled that of Robin Williamson.

Unusually for a singer perhaps, Lorcán admits that he has often fallen for the music of a song and the sound of its phrases before he understood anything else about it. The drone of a hardangeror fiddle( Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh), cello (Jane Hughes), or pipes (Mick O’Brien), at once pictorial and timeless, gives a pictorial aspect to the musical expression almost before the meaning of the words at times. Other musicians play harp, whistle and bodhrán but each individual song is sparse in texture and two of the key songs are performed “undressed with accompaniment” as Lorcán aptly describes it. There’s a weird sensation caused by Lorcán’s double-tracking some passages from the text of the eerie 18th century elegy Tuireamh Mhic Finín Dhuibh, only accentuatin the sheer other-worldly nature of its melody line, which is at once epic and highly disorientating. A bit like the parallel-chanting of Tibetan monks, perhaps, but it sounds truly extraordinary.

Finally, the whole CD ends most delightfully when the subtly mellow song Bean Dubh an Ghleanna glides almost effortlessly into an uplifting and gently sparkling Merry-Band-Like plathrough of the reel Kiss The Maid Behind The Barrel. Sure enough, there’s sometimes stridency in Lorcán’s delivery, and it probably won’t help that a significant majority of the disc’s tracks are performed at a similar (slowish) pace, but personally I’ve found this one of the most captivating discs of sean-nós singing I’ve encountered in recent years. DAVID KIDMAN, The Living Tradition



SINGER Lorcan Mac Mathúna takes the style of Irish sean nós with all the reverence it deserves, presenting it in a form that opens doors to an ancient and rich tradition. One key is provided by an accompanying booklet of detailed and often passionate notes about the style and content of the songs.

The addition of accompaniment makes the singing more accessible, with the meanings being enhanced by sensitive interpretations on fiddle, cello, harp, pipes and whistle. The single cello line underpinning the voice throughout An Clar Bog Deil adds to its beauty and poignancy.

In the tradition of sean nós, there are two unaccompanied songs. In one of them, Mac Mathuna's double tracking of his voice creates an eerie and atmospheric other-worldliness. Amhrán na Leabhar struck me, with its desolate story of a school teacher losing all his books in a boat that sunk.

Although not easy going, this album rewards concentrated listening. - Delyth Jenkins, Taplas, (Welsh folk magazine)


LACKING EVEN a basic working knowledge of Irish, it was with some trepidation that this reviewer approached Lorcán Mac Mathúna's collection of sean-nós songs.

As it turns out, I needn't have worried as one of the main objectives of the Rógaire Dubh project has been to make traditional Irish-language songs more accessible to those without a good knowledge of Irish.

MacMathúna has gone about this in a number of ways.

On all but two songs in this collection from Connemara and the three Gaeltachts of Munster he has deliberately eschewed the traditional approach of unaccompanied singing.

Opting instead to work with a mixture of traditional and classical musicians - Mick O'Brien (pipes and whistle), Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh (fiddle, hardanger and whistle), Helen Lyons (harp), Jane Hughes (cello) and Conor Lyons (bodhrán), MacMathúna has succeeded in delivering a contemporary twist to the haunting melodies of his traditional sean-nós repertoire.

An accompanying booklet includes translations and notes on the social, cultural or historical context of the songs. It also features a collection of images, reflecting the decay and regeneration of modern urban life and the artist's own city-dwelling background.

Mac Mathúna intention has not been to ignore or subvert 'tradition'. Rather it is an attempt to create musical interpretations which reflect his own influences while pointing to the undeniable fact that the very conditions that were responsible for forming that tradition no longer prevail.

Rooted in the traditions of the past, these songs undeniably breath with the life of the present. As Mac Mathúna explains: "The thing about tradition... is that it is a living thing. It must have renewed relevance to each generation that partakes in it..."

No matter what language you speak, the result is both engaging and beautiful. DAVID GRANVILLE, The Irish Democratic


Spectacular sleeve notes herald the arrival of a young sean nós singer with attitude and a sense of time and place in equal measure. Lorcán MacMathúna may not possess the most exceptional voice, and at times he maintains a tenuous connection with conventional notions of tunefulness, but this is a singer with his ear on the prize. He delves so deeply beneath Saileog Rua that he scarcely remembers to come up for air, his voice creaking and groaning with the weight of one long-immersed in the spirit of the song. Gorgeous cello and fiddle (from Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Jane Hughes) lend depth and breadth to a vista still in the making. An early snapshot of a vocalist in pursuit of songs that "sing the singer". SIOBHÁN LONG, Irish Times


A jolly opener. Sounds like a wee 'fun song' but as it's in Irish Gaelic it could be about a hanging for all we know! But we think the voice gives it away and it is a 'fun song'. This is another album that challenges the traditional norm in that the sean-nos style is 'accompanied' but even you diehards should be a touch tolerant 'cause the voice is excellent and the accompaniment is well used and to good effect. Have a listen to a master at work. Allcelticmusic.com


A Japanese review (I think) English translation preprinted below

."..album seems to me one of the most interesting albums released in 2007."

This album, as I hear it, is clearly based on the sean-nós singing tradition of Munster, but with a very tasteful and innovative accompaniment with most unusual arrangements that no one has ever tried with this type of singing.

When your ears are caught by the musical virtuosity of Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, playing the hardanger fiddle (hardingfele), Mick O'Brien, playing the pipes, or Jane Hughes, playing the cello, you are prone to get lost in the flow of the music itself, wondering whether what you are hearing right now is Nordic music or classical music; however, the singing is without a doubt sean-nós.

It seems I have encountered for the first time an album with a feel of sean-nós that is so full of love of songs and that is at the same time so originally and deftly arranged. At any rate, there are a good many of songs that will keep you fascinated so that you might find yourself listening to them over and over again.

I happened to get hold of this album at a record store called Custy's in Ennis, Co. Clare, by a suggestion of a shop clerk there. After I explained to him that I was looking for a good sean-nós record, he encouraged me to have a listen to it, which turned out to be an unforgettable experience. (Before this experience I seem to recall listening to it on a Clare FM program, though.)" MÍCHEÁL, Tigh Mhichil

Cé nár labhair mé leat go fóil, go raibh míle a Mhíchíl.


In the short time I have had Lorcán Mac Mathúna’s CD in my possession, my feelings towards it have already gone through a number of phases. As they may shift again. What follows may be more an update on a process than a summing-up. The jam is still bubbling in the pot and is not yet ready to set.

Two things leapt out at me on first hearing –that the emphasis is on the songs themselves and that the singer is taken with some of the big songs, of Munster and Connemara. That those songs included some of my personal favourites – ‘An Clár Bog Déil’, ‘Cath Chéim an Fhia’, ‘Amhrán na Leabhar’ and the ever-strange ‘Tuireamh Mhic Finín Duibh’ – was an added attraction. That the first song was a catchily rhythmic one, ‘Na Táilliúirí’, showed that Mac Mathúna was not confined to the tragic note, which can become monotonous in even the best singer.

Following this ‘Johhny Seoighe’ creats a startling contrast. This song of the Famine period is addressed in bitter supplication to a Mister Joyce, reputedly a Relieving Officer. The language of vision and enchantment –‘Más tú an réalt eolais…’ (‘If you are the guiding star…’) – that might ordinarily be addressed to a beloved or a spear-bhean is drenched in acid and applied to an authority figure from whome nothing can be expected. Mac Mathúna rises fully to the challenge, delivering a gripping, full-voiced rendition. I am not sure that any other song quite reaches the same height and this may account for the mixed feelings with which I have found myself greeting some of the other songs on the CD.

Not having being present at the recording, I can only speculate as to the reason. It must be said that this is not one of those recordings in which all character is removed from the song by a production (or commercial imperative) that values only sweetnes or that reduces the elasticity of sean-nós to a bland regularity that suits the accompanying band

Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh’s fiddle of Jane Hughes’ cello do not impose themselves on the songs, instead, they pick up on the feeling of the song and work – often with sensitivity and imagination, sometimes eerily, occasionally with a little too much artiness – around the singing. Studio recordings of sean-nós sometimes lack the dimension of connectedness to an understanding audience that powers the singer in a more domestic setting. (And some singers manage better than others to convey the large-scale concert setting.) I can’t help feeling that, though the whole experience of making this CD was a happy and creative one, at some level Mac Mathúna was singing slightly below room temperature, as it were, or else adjusting a little too much – perhaps not even consciously – to his accompanists. There is fine singing throughout, but, somehow, ‘Amhrán na Leabhar’ deosn’t quite hit the pitch of anguish required, or some of the energy seems to leak from the song in the lower, quieter notes at the end of the verse.

I will be listening to this CD again, and perhaps changing my mind about this song or that, and I am certainly looking forward to hearing Lorcán Mac Mathúna again, singing with all the unwavering commitment of his best work. BARRA Ó SÉAGHDHA, The JMI



Iarla O’Lionaird fans will enjoy these soulful, emotional, intense, Irish ballads, sensitively accompanied by cello, harp, fiddle, hardanger, pipes and whistle. The combination of the low bass melodies of sean-nós songs with the rich resonance of the cello is spine-tingling.
FROM 3Roots magazines album review roundup who gave the album their thumbs up vote.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live Reviews

 

AN PÍOBAIRE December 2010

An Táin, world Premier St Patrick's COI Cathedral Armagh

St Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral provided the spectacular background to the afternoon concert appropriately called ‘Pipes in the Cathedral.’

The highlight of this concert was the World Premier of a commissioned piece from the Cork singer Lorcan MacMathuna entitled ‘Tain Bo Cuailgne’, the ‘Cattle Raid of Cooley’ one of the great epic stories from the Ulster Cycle of heroic tales. Armagh was a most appropriate setting for the inaugural performance of this piece commissioned by Armagh Pipers Club and supported by a traditional Arts Award from An Chomhairle Ealaion/Irish Arts Council.

The words come directly from the Book of Leinster and the piece follows the action of the Tain through eight descriptive pieces sung by Lorcan MacMathuna. The story is one of the great epics of the Scottish and Irish Gaelic Oral tradition handed down through the centuries and finally written down by scribes in the first millennium. The story also survived orally throughout Ireland and Scotland right to the present day. This was a truly magical performance rising to the occasion and captivating the audience. The entire piece is controlled by MacMathuna’s spell binding singing which ranged from low chanting to full throated and powerful vocals that echoed through the Cathedral. The musical accompaniment of uilleann pipes, fiddle, saxophone and piano accordion also included pre-recorded electronic music. This was one of the never to be forgotten moments of the entire festival.

PIPING TODAY December10/January11

An Táin, world Premier St Patrick's COI Cathedral Armagh

After lunch it was up to St. patrick’s cathedral for the world premiere of Lorcán Mac Mathúna’s An Táin. This was a musical interpretation of the Ulster epic tale of An Táin from the book of Leinster, which tells of the Connacht king and queen’s war against Ulster and the young Cú-Chulainn’s attempt to defeat them. Lorcán put this to music and presented it in the spectacular surroundings of the cathedral.

Lorcán is one of the younger generation of Sean Nós singers and he sang the eight-parted story, the supporting musicians – Seán Óg Mac Fhirléinn on bass clarinet, Flaithrí Neff on Uilleann pipes/whistle, Martin Tourish on accordion, and Owen Neff on fiddle – echoed the story with atmospheric sounds that emphasised the moodiness and foreboding or energy and rage as needed. Once the initial sound balance issues were sorted, this settled into a compelling piece that engaged and enthralled with each twist and turn in the story. The supporting slide show of beautifully crafted illustrations gave visual clues for the non-Gaelic speakers, and there was some very clever use of loops recorded live and played back immediately to add depth and complexity to the music. At just shy of an hour this was a substantial piece that deserves to be heard more.

JMI July 2006

CAOIMHÍN Ó RAGHALLAIGH, WITH JANE HUGHES AND LORCÁN MAC MATHÚNA
St. Brendan's Church, Bantry, 17 March 2006.

Outside the confines of the church of St Brendan the Navigator in Bantry, the populace clelbrated the National Feast with the customary mix of ballads and booze. Inside, Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh (Hardanger fiddle, whistles), Jane Hughes (cello) and Lorcán Mac Mathúna (voice) produced a fascinating alternative – distinctively Irish but without an atom of the paddywhackery that has come to infect the St Patricks Day celebrations.

In front of the altar of St Brendan’s stood a raised platform with three chairs, three music stands and a standard lamp. The ecclesiastical surroundings – complete with memorials to various Earls of Bantry and an unusual square organ – heightened the sense of anticipation. Lorcán Mac Mathúna was first on stage, still wearing his outdoor jacket. It was cold, very cold for the time of year, and, while the audience had the benefit of underseat heating which struggled to raise the ambient temperature, the performers had no such luxury. But the cold vanished instantly with the opening song, Tuirimh Mhic Fhinín Dhubh. Mac Mathúna’s performance of this unusual eighteenth-century song was commanding. A young man with a Dublin accent and a musical heart based deep in Múscraí, Mac Mathúna has, on this evidence, both the voice and the attitude to place him in the first rank of the new wave of traditional singers.

Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Jane Hughes joined him on stage for Caoineadh na dTrí Mhuire, unaccompanied at first, then supported by flute and, later, cello. The effecet was beautiful and spare, the scene was fully set for the rest of the evening. Hardanger fiddle made its first appearance for ‘Na Táilliúirí’ providing a suitably playful backing even if the over-enthusiastic interplay of cello and fiddle threatened to drown the voice on occasion.

A native of Norway, the Hardanger fiddle has, in addition to the four ‘playing’ strings, a course of five sympathetic strings that run underneath the finger board, adding overtones and resonances to the original sound. Ó Raghallaigh described the plight of the hardanger fiddle player: “You spend half your time tuning it and the other half playing out of tune!” the Hardanger stepped to the fore on the reels ‘The Mother & Child’ The delight of the player communicating itself to the audience. After the first couple of rounds, the melody shifted out of focus but continued in the mind of the listener, while Ó Raghallaigh carried the rhythm and harmony duties, hinting at the mainline, and gliding towards a clever landing. Later, his performance of ‘The Foxchase’ – the full monty of march, reel, and slow air and hop jig – proved the remarkable capabilities of both player and instrument.

The second half opened with Callanish IV, a piece for solo cello composed by John Scott Maxwell Geddes in the 1970’s. The Celtic mist curled ominously around the description. Geddes wrote the piece after a night spent sleeping next to prehistoric megaliths on the isle of Lewis. The reality was, fortunately different. The atmosphere was augmented by the dimming of the church lights and the fact that Hughes had positioned herself at the rear of the church, behind the audience, but the piece created a proud ambience of its own. Hughes made something remarkeable of Geddes’ piece, delivering a well-judged mix of technique and epression.

And so it continued – ‘An Rógaire Dubh’, with voice and interwoven fiddle, ‘Aisling Gheal’, with an inventive cello line, ‘Ag Casadh an tSúgán’, where the cello strayed delightfully into cheap terrain, and ‘Cath Chéim an Fhia’, surely the finest commemoration of an insignificant skirmish in the history of music.

The template created by Ó Raghallaigh, Hughes and Mac Mathúna is sound but hardly complete. The lack of adequate introduction to the songs, particularly in the opening half, detracted from the enjoyment of the audience, few of whome at an educated guess, understood the language of the songs. Some of the accompaniement was based too obviously on standard music theory, more imagination, more subtlety – and, perhaps, more rehearsal time – would have enhanced the experience. And, despite the patent beauty and character of the Hardanger fiddle, some of us longed for a few tunes on a “real” fiddle. But this was a first outing, after all, and the ideas presented here will develop with time.

A performance such as this requires a responsive audience and a sympathetic venue. In St Brendan’s it had both. But there are audiences and venues such as these throughout the country. All it takes is a little imagination such as that shown by Francis Humphrys and his team at west Cork Music. - PAT AHERN, - The Journal of Music in Ireland.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blogs (in the order of my own preference)


The castle and smelly brain
Tuesday March 12 2008

I was down in Birr for the first time in ten years last weekend doing a show with Joey, Barry, and Matieu. Matieu is a handy young piper from my old school, Coláiste Eoin, and it was the first time he played with us. He knew loads of the tunes already though and he played some smashing stuff so it was a good idea all round methinks.

I wasn’t sure of the way to Birr so I planned on asking directions around Tullamore but with Barry in the front seat asking we didn’t get much cooperation from the locals. “We’d pull up and ask do you know the way…” and he couldn’t resist saying “to the coldest town in Ireland.” We got a fair few wry answers to that one. One girl looked like she wanted to help until she heard the punchline. She then told us to take the next left and go right at the singing bush, turn around, stand on our heads and come back again past the red cow. Barry was actually right by the way. Birr, although a pretty town, is freezing, and when you spend the night in the back of a car because the hotel rooms cost an unbelievable €140 you appreciate how cold that is.

There is this lullaby we finish off on called “bog braon don seanduinne.” It’s a catchy tune that goes on and on with a nice rhythm that Barry calls a sling jig or something like that, and the lads and the girls -who came down after a spur of the moment decision at about four the morning before, that a session in Birr would be great craic- couldn’t decide what bog braon (pronounced bug brain) meant.
Apparently it is a very infectious condition known as smelly brain which inevitably grows to be a huge embarrassment for the unfortunate souls infected.
Barry informed me that Smelly Brain can only be treated with daily injections into the brain.
Róisín said they are self administered and cost €200 a shot
Ciara, who claimed to have the condition, said you needed three shots a day.
Barry said that it was actually four and that that explained Ciara’s obvious smelly brain.
Róisín said that it costs €52,000 a year to treat smelly brain.
Joey said the injections were painful.
I said it was all very sad.
They said I had smelly brain.

During my penultimate visit to Birr I fell off the castle, something the crowd at the show found fascinating and kept asking me about when I met them around the town later that night. So I explained.

I was down in Birr, which is in the centre of the country (which coincidently makes it a very cold place in the winter) with a pile of me mates, for New Year ’s Day in 1998. There was about 20 of us and we stayed in a self catering hostel which was right next to the walls surrounding the castle grounds.

Now Birr castle is famous for having this massive telescope in the grounds which was actually the biggest telescope in the world for 70 years after it was constructed in 1820 and I wanted to get in there at some stage and have a look at it. Well besides the hostel there was this tree growing besides the castle wall and it was just a model for climbing. It was like a ladder for all the world and it just called to me in some way. During the night I got separated from everyone and after a fair few pints and a stint wandering through the kitchen of the town’s only nightclub I made my way back to the wall. On the way I found a friend and convinced her to come with me to climb the wall.

Well the ladder-tree was a little bit short and this convinced my friend that climbing the wall was not a great idea. But I was not to be deterred, I had a mission and the top of that wall had something to do with it. So I managed to spring from the top of the tree to the wall and after a bit of scrambling. hauled myself up on it. It was about 30 foot in height –perhaps I shouldn’t have been attempting acrobatic at that height but as I think I mentioned I was on a mission- and there was no way down.

I did what every good detective film tells us to do and started to climb down the ivy. –never trust these country detective stories for a true reflection on the enduring strengths of ivy. In fact don’t ever trust ivy to do you any favours because just when you need it to rally around and do what it does best i.e. stick to the wall, it lets you down.- I swung my legs over the wall and gripped two hands full of the sturdiest ivy I could locate and the last thing I remember was the whoosh of gravity doing what it is best known for and the vision of about six ivy leaves in my hand.

The next thing I remember I could hear somebody calling my name as I walked on this wood-lined road. My foot felt quite awkward and I hadn’t a clue where I was so I decided to stick to the road. There was a big mound running along the roadside to my right which I had managed to climb over in my concussed state after I had landed and I didn’t fancy trying to negotiate it to get to that voice.

The fall was a strange sensation which I remember quite vividly, until I banged my head on the way down and concussion took ove,r that is. I had landed on my right leg and tore two lateral ligaments in my ankle, one of which tore a chip from the bone as it came away from it. The leg was absolutely wrecked and numb at this stage so I hobbled as best as I could until I beheld a castle before me. There was an arch which led to a small courtyard which had a rope descending from the darkness above. I presumed this was a bell so I tugged on it for a good five minutes.

In the middle (well actually at the end, but it’s a figurative phrase) of this yanking a nice chap, who seemed to be a gatekeeper came up behind me and told me my friend was waiting for me outside so I followed him. After he got me outside the walls it all came back to me. You know: the name, the place, what happened and all that.

When I came back to the hostel I caused some stir. I was covered in blood from head to toe and when I washed it off I left a bath full of deep red water. The cuts in my head were gushing blood and my ankle started hurting after a couple of hours. I had also hurt my back and severed two ligaments in my right ankle. A couple of years later I had an operation which involved splicing a tendon and lacing it through a hole drilled in the end of my fibula and attaching it to wherever the anterior lateral ligament is usually attached to.

I think that night’s madness was my only brush with the confusing condition known as smelly brain.


Car boots and harmoniums
Tuesday April 22 2008

We just finished the concert series in Cork the other week in the Sirius arts centre in Cobh. This is some sort of civic or customs building onnected with the adjacent docks from the 19th century and it is still in the same state as it must have been when it was first built. Its commercial function no longer exists as, since the decline of passenger liner as a means of long distance passenger transport, Cobh is no longer the major port it once was. These Victorians built their fiscal and legal buildings with a symbolic grandeur and this magnificent and solid building is no exception. It was built to last and impose on the commercial activity of the port. It serves a more cultured purpose now and those hard floors, walls, and vaulted ceilings make for a terrific acoustics.

The room we played in was a spacious size with hard wooden floors a large window facing on to the docks behind us and spectacular mouldings on the ceiling. The overall effect of the cornice mouldings was to give it a vault ceiling which did some really magnificent things with the sound. It was a gorgeous venue and the sound was magnificent, we took some recordings on a zen mp3 voice recorder. The mike on these things are pretty crap but the sound in the room was so good that it came out pretty well –there are two on the playlist here, an buachaillín bán / rógaire dubh, and aisling geall.

The programme of our concerts changed a bit over the series. One of the reasons was the addition of Matieu O' Shaughnesy A young Uillean piper who seemed to know most of the airs already he also played some deadly solos and sets with Joey and Barry giving a better mix of rhythmic and lively music to compliment the songs. He added a great element to the overall sound which worked really well -watch out for him in future because I'd say he will make a big name for himself.

To create a bit of interest in this concert I contacted four local papers and asked would they like a free article from me loosely connected with the concert but with a local interest. They all said grand so I sent around an article on The Conneries which they all gave a full page to (see below). It worked alright and there was a grand crowd at the concert where I started with the story of the Conneries and explained how my interpretation reflected their life and the admiration the people of East and North Cork and Waterford had for them. With a song like this you don't need instrumental work, in fact I think it would be impossible to add to it with an instrumental arrangement so I sang it solo and then asked the lads on stage.

I'm glad to say we have worked out a good direction for future projects including a number of catchy songs with great pulse and beats and we have a lot of material for an album in the coming year (2009 that is).

So we stayed in Baile Caisleán an Róistigh that night (it was a long night by the way) and woke the next day to the bustle of a car boot sale in the next field. It was a glorious day and everyone was keen on the idea of a root around in the brick a brack. So that was it and off we went.

The CBS was massive! Absolutely huge! It goes on every fortnight and it brings in sellers and customers from all over Munster. I spotted a smashing basin and cast my eye over it. It was arklow pottery and about a foot and a half in diameter and about 7 or 8 inches high. I really liked it but I didn't know where I'd use it so I declined the seller's offer of €20. He was determined though, bless him, and he came after me twice with a €18 and then a €15 offer. I couldn't refuse this and Emma was dying to get it for the house for when we get married (did I mention Emma before?). Get it she said and store it in a box in the attic. It made sense to me and with this newfound mission I picked up three gorgeous wedgewood cups with saucers for only a euro each. They were wafer thin china, almost translucent, to delicate o handle nearly. I got a couple of other things which I was really pleased with and all for a single euro a pop so I was dead pleased.

I was coming out of the main marquee where many of the stalls were and met the boys outside who were also extremely happy with a number of mad looking yokes in trail. Barry got an old wreck of a clock and a child's play mat with a village road plan design for the floor of the camper van. Matieu got a portable television and an antique set of Golf clubs and Joey, beaming from ear to ear, had the pick of the lot, an electric harmonium he picked up for €85. This thing looked the goods but we didn't know if it would work so we were keen to get it back to the house to try it out.

We arrived back at the house long before Liam who had the keys and started on the Harmonium. It was old school stuff, an electromechanical thing with no electronic parts. I remember there was an old wheelie bites wrapper lodged in behind the foot pedal; which should tell you how long since it was used. The electric part was just a fan which pumped the bellows. Apart from that it was the same as a manual mini organ only it had reeds instead of pipes.

We were on the path outside the house and dying to get the thing in operation so we plugged it into an extension lead that was lying around. It worked like a charm –it had a couple of worn pads which meant that at least one of the reeds leaked a little but it was fully operational.

We had a little session on the doorstep where I sang an Buachail Caol Dubh and Johnny Seoighe while Joey played. It was deadly. And just the sound I was thinking of for An Buachail Caol Dubh. –If you don't know the story behind that song you should ask because it is brilliantly devised and fascinating psychological portrait of an addict.

I had to stay another night to appear as the guest in the cork singers circle -which I really enjoyed by the way- but the lads collected my sister and cousin in Cork city and drove up to Dublin that day. They had session around the Harmonium in the back of the camper van all the way to Dublin. Good craic heh!


The controversy in Cobh

Just before the Famine an incident culminated in the town of Cobh which captured the attention of the population of the surrounding area. In the previous decade the Connery brothers, living the lives of highway men became a local legend as they harassed the local landlords and constabulary of West Waterford and the surrounding counties, and they were finally being sent from Cobh to the penal colony of Botany Bay in New South Wales.

The Connerys had a farm in the foothills of the Comeragh mountains and two of the brothers, Séamus and Seán, earned a supplementary income as foresters on the estates of Holmes, the local landlord. However the two lads were accused of stealing firewood from the estates and were replaced in their post by their accuser, Maurice Hacket. Shortly afterwards they were charged with the attempted murder of Hacket and brought before the district court where they were completely stitched up. Although the witness for the prosecution was jailed for perjury, the eldest Connery, Séamus, was transported to Botany Bay in 1831.

The remaining Connerys began to get increasingly spiteful attention the from the local law officer and by 1835 they were involved in an eviction row. They were sentenced to seven years in Botany Bay, but as they were being transported to Cobh they escaped from custody and took to the hills where they lived a Dick Turpin style existence for nine months. They were caught again in Waterford while looking for passage to America and escaped once again from the towns goal. This time they made good their chances and from their base in the Comeragh mountains trormented the authorities for two years. They were caught again at this stage and sent from Cobh to New South Wales in March 1838.

The song "Na Connerys" contains all the admiration the people had for the Connerys. It doesn't have the defeated air you get in many post-famine songs but is strong and proud. The songs opening line, "Malicious Cummeen [the false witness] I pray you hardship and the curse of Christ" says it all. It has a defiant and hopeful air which shows the admiration the people had for the Connerys and their reluctance to accept their lot. But it is turned inside out in the last line with the stark realisation that the Connerys fate –transportation to the far side of the globe- is final and tragically irreversible.


Inspirations of impressionist jazz
Monday, June 15, 2009


It was whilst I was in Belgium recently that I began talking to a young Jazz percussionist named Cederic Didier. I had just heard him playing with a friend of mine who was experimenting with some sort of eclectic sound. Ced. was placing the occasional rat tail on cymbals and thonking bells and bead strings with a wooden milk skimmers whilst he scratched the skin of a snare drum with a chicken claw.

Not as weird as it sounds by the way and it complimented the thesis of this condensed eclecticism with due sympathy. The delicate hand you might say is the one that gives most; when it falls with a guided understanding.

I figured he must have an interesting understanding –or comprehension if that suits you better- of music as he was obviously picking his way through uncharted territory, but he had the mental approach to approach this terrain and make his way in empathy with his surrounds, so I decided to have a conversation.

It turned into a waxing about jazz, jazz fads, modern impressionist jazz, and finding a space to glitter within a mosaic of grooves and rhythms.

To be brief: impressionist jazz is a collective improvisation where every component is conscious of how their part affects the texture of the collective sound; but still does not play by the rules of a unified sound purpose. The music is allowed to develop more freely, and textures within a given piece may vary from minute to minute. The Improvisation element takes place "in the moment", in response to the needs of the situation.

The most significant characteristic –and to me the most theoretically fascinating- is that everyone seems to play on their own. There are no rules regarding tempo and signature, every man to himself is the rule. Also there is no leader at any one moment –a classical characteristic of jazz where you have someone taking a solo stretch whilst everyone else retires to the background of the consonance and just provides a continuation of the tempo- but, as a listener, you let your focus wander from player to player and pick out individual grooves within the overall mosaic.

Well I liked the idea of what was being described especially the idea of two differing tempos or signatures being complimentary to each other. I mean it seems to break the rules of music that you can have a confusion of developments blending into complimentary progression. Needless to say I liked the idea - theory anyway.

More recently I asked Maitiú Ó Casaide to help me try out recording on my computer. I got a cheepo LIDL mixer and I borrowed a few mikes, so with free audacity software I had a studio set up for less than 70 snots. We started doing a few songs that we did together at a wedding last year and everything was motoring well. The last one we did was Rí an Domhnaigh, a song which I hadn’t sang with Maitiú’s accompaniment before but I had a couple of ideas inspired by my impressionist Jazz conversation.

I sang and after Maitiú heard it a few times he started top play a sort of broken wandering cord. We were looking for something with a completely different timing but which could support the vocal melodically.

The result was just beautiful in my opinion. The vocal keeps to a constant timing signature and pretty much to a constant tempo. The fiddle (Maitiú is better known for his piping which is very good but his fiddling is fairly ok as well) starts as a background counterpoint which barely alters the focus of your ear, but as the piece goes along you can switch focus between the two different melodic lines.

You would be focussed on one instrument exclusively and then the two beats, which are moving at different pace, allign again temporarily and you get this lovely accord which shifts out of phase again. And your mind wanders with either part only to be shifted into the path of the other at times to dwell in its musical streams.

If you’d like to have a listen go to my myspace and listen to the track called Rí an Domhnaigh. I’d like to hear what you think – opinions have differed, ranging from: confusing to obsorbing.

 

 

 

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