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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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