CARA 1996
Cara,
I started this explanation of the tape the day before you left but between
ferrying the blokes all over the countyside and work, well it took some time to
finish. An unfortunate
aspect
of one's mechanics is that the fingers only type at snails pace, while jeez the
mind is zooming at the speed of light, as you’d of course know, so when the
fingers get around to typing it they've totally forgotten what I had in mind. It
gets one down at times but I've managed to cope by chewing gum slowly.
I'm
glad you gave me the incentive to delve into my Irish collection, one doesn't
listen often these days and I actually bought a new CD which stirred the
interest factor again. Not that I find the music uninteresting, au contraire mon
cher, but lately I've been delving into yer gutbucket blues and rhythm 'n blues
and also spiritually shuffling to a bit of Wolfgang on occasion.
Irish
folk is of course distinctive. At least, from r'n b it's without a doubt er
reasonably distinctive. There are common threads though, both have soul and both
as such are real, as opposed to manufactured pop.
My
introduction to Irish folk was through the Dubliners, a rough and ready pub
band, I guess they were, and using today's definition almost punk in that they
were a pub band which played songs in a fiery and gutsy working class way which
contrasted with the smooth professionalism of the Clancey Brothers, a major
Irish act on the US folk circuit. Don't laugh, the US folk scene had a huge boom
worldwide from the late fifties through to the mid sixties. It was not only a
sellable commodity, it was part of an historical EVENT; folk music was a major
communicator and focal point for US human rights movements during those years.
However,
the songs and tunes on this tape have no concern with any political angle. The
purity of expression and development of the folk music through integration with
other forms of music such as jazz and rock is evident and is my sole interest.
The
tape commences with a stirring tune by the Chieftains called "The Morning
Dew". The percussive interplay
between tenor and bass bodhran and bones is terrific, and I suppose is an aural
painting of the dawn pageant, the heartbeat of the Universe, the life force
which moves birds, animals, wind, rain, the earth and sun to one massive
rhythmic swirling cacophony. Just a guess of course, but it reads well.
The
bodhran, pronounced bow - run ( bow as in now), is the hand held drum, the skin
of which is from goat or pig, or as someone remarked about the dodgy Irish
instrument maker Alan Healy, an old Sydney acquaintance, "you wouldn't want
to be walking past his place at night and him without a skin for a bodhran,
bejasus...". Similarly with the bones no doubt.
The
following track is from an island of the New Hebrides group of islands and it's
sung acappella, which there is known as mouth music. The song in Scottish Gaelic
is called "Fionnghuala" and is performed live by one of the three
major Irish folk revival bands of the seventies, The Bothy Band. The other two
bands are the Chieftains and Planxty and all three are superb. The Bothy Band
were primarily instrumental, using rock and I've heard say jazz rhythms,
although to my ears the fast 6/8, 12/16 cross timing of their guitar stems from
an Irish beat. Anyway as this song shows, their vocal ability, although rarely
recorded, was excellent.
The
third track is an excerpt from "Tribute to Paedar O'Donnell" by Moving
Hearts. This band
which
initially had two ex members of Planxty, Christy Moore and Donal Lunny, was
eclectic in it's approach, using rock, jazz and even reggae. While Christy Moore
was the singer it was also reactionary in it's subject matter for songs - the
destruction of the world ecology and population through mismanagement, greed and
war etc - rock protest. Instrumentally they were interesting and by the time of
this track (1985) were a totally instrumental unit.
Sinaed
O'Connor is backed by the Chieftains for this 1994 version of the poem "She
Moved Through The Fair" on which you espoused for an English project. Quite
an atmospheric reading.
Paul
Brady is also an ex Planxty member, although to my knowledge there is no
available recording of him with the group. I suspect that there may be something
in the BBC archives. If you happen to find anything over there...... "Don't
Come Again" is from his first solo album which was Melody Maker's best folk
LP of 1978. Paul is currently making his first tour of OZ supporting Paul Kelly
and as I write this is singing at Tilleys - I couldn't get a ticket. He's also
there tomorrow night, I will be there with my nose pressed against the window.
Brady is a distinctive singer and an accomplished instrumentalist, double
tracking the backing here. He later turned to rock music and has had a number of
his songs covered by rock "artists". Even His Royal Bobness, Bob Dylan
admires his work. Two of his late 80s songs are on side "B".
And
here we have Planxty with "The Well Below The Valley". This is a
strange dark mystical song, hundreds
of years old. The liner notes state that many older singers refuse to sing it
because of it's sinister incestuous and murderous overtones. "The gentleman
who was passing by" in the first verse seems to be Jesus and the lyrics
have similarities to the story of the woman at the well.
The metaphoric "lily" is perhaps the hope of human redemption.
In the final verse she hopes that "the Lord above will save me soul from
porting in hell". The "lily" could also be symbolic of the human
condition, human frailty ie. we can only be what we are, aspiring to angels, but
made from clay, only our aspirations can fly. Merely supposition of course, but
there you go, we wallow in the bullshit and mud of our lot in life, I know where
I belong sport.
At
times, when the deeper currents of spirit, eddie and shirl, about
us...............
I
don't know the title of this one but it's an instrumental by the Chieftains with
the ever eclectic Ry Cooder on slide guitar, which gives it a middle Eastern
gypsy feel, and Matt Molloy, ex Bothy Band, on flute. It's attractive, I like
it, don't think it works all the way but eh? Still one man's egg is another
bloke's chook.
Dirty
Old Town is a song from The Dubliners. The singer is the late great Luke Kelly
with a ragged torn vocal. Written by Ewan McColl, father of Kirsty McColl, it
has been covered by The Pogues and many others. A terrific song, but I love this
version, perfect in it's simplicity.
An
Feochan (gentle breeze) is an almost spiritual air performed by the true
successors to the Bothy Band, Altan, whose album "Island Angel" was
listed by the pop mag "Q" as one of the best CDs of the 80s. The
flautist here is Frankie Kennedy who died fairly recently.
Next
Market Day by Oisin is a pretty song about a young girl who sets off for the
markets to
"win
for her mammy three hands of fine yarn" and make some dosh for the family.
On the way however she meets a young man who, for the offer of three guineas,
causes her to "tarry and stray". It appears that her benefactor, as is
often the case, flies the coup and she, the poor guinea fowl (ho ho) decides to
search for him "by land or by sea 'til he learns me the tune of his next
market day". A parable Cara. The instrumental break is quite attractive
with the twin whistles, and the mandolin and bazouki backing not lacking in yer
backingability. Subconsciously or even consciously you may remember this song as
our old band used to do it in the early 80s.
Send
you a tape if you like.....
Fairy
Tale of New York by the Pogues with Kirsty McColl helping out on vocals is a
damn good song, taken on it's own. Shane MacGowan's lyrics have worn a bit thin
over a few CDs though. The Pogues musically are a good outfit, mixing Irish
folk, rock, middle Eastern, far Eastern, any bloody thing into their musical
gumbo (a sort of exotic Irish stew). I saw them at the ANU about four years ago.
MacGowan lasted about 3 numbers before he launched himself into the audience,
invincible in his inebriation. The band continued without him, very pissed off.
A
Fairy Tale Of New York is also the title of a book by the Irish American writer
J.P. Donleavy who showed great promise initially with his novel The Ginger Man.
A bawdy book but his writing was skilled and poetic in parts, very Irish in it's
mix of pathos and humour with a superb ear for comic dialogue. A couple of
novels after that were also very good, The Beastly Beatitudes of Balthasar B and
The Destinies of Darcy Dancer, but
then he dipped to the common denominator, a waste of talent, although lately
he's been getting some good reviews with his memoirs. MacGowan started as a punk
and the punk common denominator isn't pretty so you can't expect too much
lyrically but he can write well; unfortunately he continues to write in
gutterspeak, and of course or coarse, there's always an audience.
A
tune by Michael O' Sullivan is the first item on the second side. He's a
talented pianist who mixes it all in, jigs and reels and jazz and classics,
successfully, and it's just a wonderful example of the way Irish music is
blending and enriching itself with other forms while the essence, it's
liveliness, spontaneous sound and melodic beauty, remains pure. Fortunately
we've come a long way from those narrow minded folk purists who so desperately
wanted the music to stay unblemished, as they saw it. The musicians, almost all,
heard new sounds; art, living art cannot be petrified, an historian can be.
Monto
by the Dubliners was recorded live at The Gate Theatre in Dublin in 1966. It's
from the LP called "Finnegan Wakes" which I bought for one dollar
together with four other Dubliners' albums in Ashwoods one Saturday morning; I
remember it well Cara, it set my weekend off to a brilliant start, what a
find!!! You could imagine how ecstatic I was. You may remember that I used to
take you down to Ashwoods in your little green stroller sometimes, well you
probably don't consciously remember which is just as well. A little seedy was
Ashwoods, a lot of fringe characters used to emerge from under rocks and
congregate there on a Saturday morning. One had to be careful about positioning
oneself, and in particular to stick to the top row. Oh you were no trouble at
all. At all. A bag of chips or lollies and you’d sit there for hours. And with
another bag, for a little longer. Jeez we used to have a rare old time, me
looking, you eating and talking to yourself. It was the making of you love and I
know you'll thank me one day. As me Mum used to say to me in her lovely quiet
and quaint Yorkshire speaking voice "You 'av to learn t' amuse yourself
Barry". I often wondered why she came to that conclusion, but she were a
wise woman me mother, and still is. She's underrated for her wisdom is Mum. She
also told me once, and I kid you not, "Lets have a look at you then. Turn
sideways. Your profile's good, Barry." She must have decided that my ego
needed a boost. After that, one was very mindful of positioning one's features,
for maximum impact as it were. Sideways in fact. For years I never looked a
person in the eye.
"Well
if you've got a wing-o, take her up to ring-o,
Where
the waxes sing-o, all the day.
If
you've had your fill of porter, and you can't go any further
Just
give yer man the order - back to the quay"
Is
that brilliant or wha? Buggered if I know. The Irish Gaelic used in the last
verse "pogue ma hone" means "kiss my arse" and the Pogues
took their name from the phrase and although I'm unsure which is the noun or the
verb I think I could make a shrewd guess. The Dubliners performed a few humorous
songs such as this but this one in particular is so chock full of Dublinisms of
the fifties such as references to "Skin The Goat" ( a political
figure, I think) and the "big Barloo - en" that it's almost impossible
for the foreigner to make sense of it all. Since the song was written Irish has
become a compulsory subject at schools in Eire which as they say, is
grand....... they were on top of the English language I guess.....
Star
of the County Down by Van Morrison and The Chieftains was from their LP of the
late eighties and was Van's formal recognition of the spiritual Celtic culture
of his art. This, married with the soul and r'nb culture of his other side
surprised many of his listeners, me included.
Two
jigs/The Kid On The Mountain by the Bothy Band, recorded live by the BBC in
1976. you may remember The Kid On The Mountain Cara....of course our band used
to do it; this tune really soars.
The
Island and Donegal are two tracks from Paul Brady, about 1985 I think they were
recorded.
He
is a musician I've admired for some time, being one of those underrated talents
who are musician's musos. People like Richard Thompson, Leonard Cohen, Randy
Newman, Tom Waits who consistently write good material but seem to, fortunately
perhaps for us, elude mainstream success. The reason of course is that the
common hordes prefer bland MacDonalds muzack, hits and memories, rather than
gourmet music which may involve a little thought or emotion from the listener.
Anyway, I actually met Paul, my mate Paul, in person the other night at Tilleys.
Wow, she says. Yup, it made my year.
Let
me tell ya my story. I'd had a very taxing day at work, having managed to write
my way out of a potentially embarrassing situation whereby I'd implied to an
overseas officer that the cost of return
to Oz would be picked up by the department, due to his situation. Well the
delegate for this particular piece of legislation told me afterwards that there
was no way it would be approved. Holy Coramba, what a bucket of merde had
dropped on me. To cut a long story short I managed at the end of the day to
convince the delegate through my written submission to approve the return.
So.
I was drained but quite pleased with myself and when Fiona suggested a beer
after work I thought well jeez I deserve it. And another. Sooo, we ended up at
the Phoenix chatting away to a couple of likely laddies who were shaved almost
bald and had a junkyard of facial ornaments, nostrils, lips and even tongue.
They proved to be top chappies though, Eric and Leslie. Eric????? Who ever heard
of a young punk poof called Eric, poor bugger. His best chum Les works as a
pastrychef at the Hyatt, just slips his brass and bronze into his pocket and
jingles from dough to pastry. Anyway there we were into the third Guinness and
along came Ian. Ian. Ian's mood was on the upswing when he came over to our
table to ask if we could lend him a coupla cents to buy a beer, which we did,
and so he decided to present us with his latest poem. To say the most Ian was
almost a rhymer. Come to think of it he was almost a person, but he had grave
doubts about himself. "Ian", he kept repeating after introducing
himself. "Ian, what a name, whose parents would call their kid EEEan?
EEEEan, what sort of a bloody name is that?"
He
was mesmerised by his moniker. He's probably still repeating it as I write.
Anyway Ian asked us to add to his poem and we did for an hour or so. Amazing
what tangents the mind can find with Ian's poem and a Guinness or three. We all
had a great laugh and Ian departed in a huff when his paranoia got the better of
him. After that I remembered that Paul Brady was playing at Tilleys and I HAD to
be there. So we said cheers to our new found chums and flew over by cab.
Couldn't get in, sold out weeks ago, I think most were there to see Paul Kelly.
We'd just missed Paul Brady's set and I asked the doorman how was the set. He
was obviously impressed, so I thought "got to get in here";
checked out the back entrance and there was a bit of a sturdy impasse of
the female variety sat out the back like a stone Buddha and I thought in my
Guinness wisdom that this could be dangerous son, picked it, judgement fine,
legs steady, walk slowly back round the front, sit at table dignity intact. The
doorman and I getting along just fine, with him allowing me in to buy a drink
from the bar, and me hanging round inside just that little bit longer. And it's
sounding great. Paul Kelly on top form playing acoustically with a backup muso
playing keyboards and accordion. The crowd is really appreciative too. You get
that at Tilleys. There's not many places like it, so small a venue. To see
artists perform at such close quarters, a rare treat these days. Where's that
doorman? Just sneak in front of this overgrown specimen momentarily. Jeez and
Kelly's asked Paul Brady back on for a number. Bloody hell it's Arthur MacBride
one of me favourite Brady songs, the two of them singing a verse apiece, wow I'm
singing, me mate the doorman wouldn't grab a bright eyed singer by the scruff
And
the little wee drummer
We
flattened his pow
And
made a football of his rowdy dow dow
And
into the ocean to rock and to row
And
bade it a tedious returning
No
one else singing. Make myself inconspicuous. Holy moly they're doing another.
From Little Things big Things Grow, the
Aboriginal song. Me favourite Paul Kelly. What a night. Everyones singing it,
raise the voice. Raise the beer. Good health to the doorman, a champion among
doormen, one of the world's best. From little things big things grow.
I
thanked the doorman after that and we were allowed in. Just off to the gents and
who should be sitting near the bar chatting girls but the two Pauls so over I
go. "Paul Brady. Fantastic. You're terrific. I love your stuff. Sorry to
intrude but I just had to say hello". He says don't be sorry at all.
Smiling. Obviously loves the adoration. Give him more. Let him know this is no
mere Irish folksinger's groupie here boy, this is one muso to another. "My
daughter's going to England in a few days and she asked me to put together a
selection of Irish music and I've put three of your songs on it "Don't come
Again" off the first album..." He
nods smiling. "And Donegal, that's great, and the track before it....can't
remember the title..." He frowns. "er the one with piano backing"
The Island he suggests. ",yeah, that's it, fantastic song".
He's back smiling again. "Yeah I've got three or four of your albums,
you're great....haven’t heard much of the recent stuff though..." He
frowns and suggests that maybe I should listen to some. He seems a little
inebriated. Only a short bugger. Flat flushed face behind his gold rim glasses.
Back off, blew it. "I must do that, anyway sorry again to
intrude" Now don't be sorry about intruding at all he says, smiling again.
At all at all drop me the blarney from the great height I think and into the
ocean to rock and to row and bade me a tedious returning. "Wow did you see
me talking to him, that's Paul Bloody Brady, holy shit I don't believe it what a
night"!!! A little while later
I collared him again. Intruding on his soft glow of a walk out of the john where
I'd spotted him ducking into a cubicle and decided to wait while washing the
hands thoroughly. "Ah jeez there you are again Paul I got hold of this
marvellous CD the other day to put a few tracks on the tape I'm doing for my
daughter - Bothy Band live at the BBC and I thought that perhaps the beeb has
some of yourself with Planxty". He agrees that they probably have. Seems to
be losing his glow though, just a little, as he explains that the Bothy Band
were much more together, organisationally and as a group than Planxty ever were,
anyway he adds that he must be returning now to his table. But of course,
apologies for the intrusion to his ablutions. I noticed that he didn't give his
"now don't be intruding at all at all" reply. And I must admit that I
have stretched your man's bon homie somewhat. But as Little Richard said
"Don't wear the tiara if you..." - no that wasn't Richard - that was
Vern.
Pretty
Peg/New Ships A Sailing/The Birds Nest/ The Man From Bundoran are four fiery
swinging tunes from Altan's CD Harvest Storm". Like the Bothy Band their
accent on rhythm is really impressive. Of course our own band Blackthorn was a
trailblazer with the rhythms and my own guitar was blazing and innovative with
all manner of yer rhythmic gymnastics in the early 80s....ah, time will tell yer
honour.....you may want a tape of course....
Your
Own Ones
- Van Morrison and the Chieftains. This
song is the song that, if you never knew nostalgia will open a well of lost
space of feeling; if you know nostalgia this is a balm, the frankincense and
myrrh to sooth your raw and open emotions. This song Cara is like, er, a musical
Savlon.......it may hurt, and make you cry,
but after awhile you'll feel pure, saved and whole.....
John
O'Dreams - Christy Moore - to
extend the metaphor, John O'Dreams is the comforter, the
father
who understands our reason for being, the saviour in our quiet moments, the
understanding pulse of our humanity, the believer in our best aspirations, the
boatman of our quiet soft lost hopefilled sleep....
Newgrange
- Clanaad. I put on another Clanaad song for you from the one LP which I
have. This group has become quite popular since it's inception. Strange. And I
can't quite understand the direction. It started as a strictly Irish group,
which sang it's songs in Irish, but, but, developed it's sound by using modern
technology to the nth degree, which, to the passive observer comme moi seemed a
contradiction.... what to make of it??? Buggered if I know. Anyway now we have
Enya, Son of Enya and the Enyaites, and the sound is thicker, mysterious and
mystic MISTER, with lots of mist rising from the water, a disembodied chocolate
heart of a voice rising from the depths of the electronic gadgetry.....
Before
The Deluge - Moving Hearts. This is a song by Jackson Brown, a North American
folk rock singer/ songwriter who became mega popular in the late seventies/early
eighties. The lyrics echo folk protest movement values ie. Armageddon, the
biblical deluge - the downfall of those who deserve their fate, who didn't
listen to the few who conducted their lives in a "righteous" way. It
reeks of self righteousness, but is suffused with anger and bitterness.
Musically however it flies in the face of folk piousness, using saxophone and
drums, mixed with Irish pipes,.my God!!!! It
is a great song, sung by Christy Moore, and it ends on a high note: let the
music keep your spirits high.
Now
Cara, the music which I've put on tape for you is quite varied and quite
marvellous, but in the end it's only music, but as Bill Shakespeare said
"If music be the food of life, then play on". Bill, of fortunately,
had never tasted Maccas.
As
I tap this out it's raining a soft rain in Holder. Holder, what a name, it's
like Ian. At the moment it's 10.15pm Friday 12/12/96 and I've returned from my
work Christmas party. Quite sober I might add. Well reasonably so, certainly not
Schindlers. We went to the Park Royal for smorgasbord lunch and then to the
casino. I played blackjack for an hour Cara and pulled out after I'd lost five
bucks. Last of the big gamblers. Last weekend was a beaut. Rent A disc closed
down. End of an era, as my mate Des from the counter put it. Devastated I was,
Cara. Well, they sold off their stock on Sunday and needless to say I bagged
some bargains. But I'll start on Saturday morning when we went to see the little
bloke play cricket. Now the previous week Denise had taken him down and she had
been roped into being the Umpire!!!! Can you imagine it? Signals? - Windmills
confuse da missus. Anyway, she came home and told me that it was a man's job.
Equal opportunity went out of the window like a no ball. So I looked at Bren.
Well we roped in Brendan to coach,
which he did the following week with his usual optimism. They lost, but
Brendan's got plans of course.
Saturday
afternoon, I picked up Brendan and the Kenney boys from baseball. Just as we
were pulling into the driveway I was listening to some jazz on CSPR and the
announcer offered a cd to anyone who would ring. I sauntered into the house
thinking that someone would have rang by now but decided to give it a try and
bingo!! I won it. These little things Cara....I'm probably the sole audience!!
The CD is called "Musicale" by a modern jazz pianist with a great
band, a guy called Eric Reed, good stuff, must put some on tape for you, but you
may find that it's an acquired taste.
Sunday
I drove in to Rent A Disc which was to have opened at ten. Three minutes past
ten and it was absolutely chockers, ocker, couldn't believe it. Anyway I managed
to squeeze through to grab a few bargains, which I'll put on tape for you, and
it took an hour to get out of the place. I then drove straight to the basketball
stadium at Woden where Brendan's team was in the grand final - which they won!
Kenneys were scheduled for duty with scoring the following game but as
big Ted wanted to coach his team for their grand final I offered to sit in with
Carol and Bren. Scorers extraordinaire, no worries at all. Then Ted's team won.
This was cause for a celebration you might think and you’d be perfectly
correct. I think big Ted had started celebrating the night previous, judging by
the celebratory aroma, so off to the Irish Club we went with Ted, Carol,
Alistair (Ted's mate) and Alistair’s missus, Denise and Jamie and I. Well we
had a good ole celebration there with a good yarn and a couple of lemon
squashes. Anyway after a couple of squashes the missus wasn't in the mood for
ironing so I helpfully suggested that all could repair to our place for a quiet
barbie and a couple of extra squashes. This was thankfully seized upon by
Alistair’s missus and Ted who also weren’t in the mood for ironing either.
It was a good night with my superb bar b que and Ted enjoying his victory more
by the minute and Denise having a relaxed time.
Tomorrow
night we're off to St Jude's to watch the little fella be a King in the
Christmas play. "What do you say Jamie?"
"Nothing.
I carry the frankenstein......."
Well
you could imagine Brendan's reaction to that one. Jamie told us a couple of days
later that
Jeffrey
had been playing up at school and so he (Jamie) had been promoted to gold, and
Jeffrey was frankenstein now......
Saw
the Christmas production in the hall at St Judes the other night; sort of like a
serial this letter. Jamie made his solemn entrance with the other kings in tow,
he must have been the gov'nor, the king with clout. Anyway, there appeared to be
a little consternation with the constellations, some confusion as to which star
they were following. Jamie was pointing to a different star to the second king,
then the second king went to move behind the cows and sheep and Jamie grabbed
him and steered him toward the manger proper. It was entertainment. Some of the
other acts were good - they had a rapping Christmas story with three rappers in
dark glasses and Yo!! my man doing their funky thing. The nuns would have been
chilling out, had they been there.
Anyway
Cara I'd better get this away. Mum has no doubt given you all the news, so
there's probably not much point in my relating any, besides I don't know what
she's written so you could end up with the same old news from both of us.
Dear Cara,
wey did you goto Londen
becouse I mise you.I wish you coude
play for the brisbane bears, but you are to crapy and dopey.next week i am going to a play and i am a king and in a song.Next satuday i am going to play criciet.
I am one of best players in the term.and in one of the games, i go five out.