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From Michael Coleman to Riverdance

Patrick Mangan

Patrick Mangan

For years to come, two words inevitably will precede Patrick Mangan’s name: “Riverdance fiddler.”

Which is OK by him.

Although he is well-grounded in traditional Irish music—and you’ll hear plenty of it Saturday night when he plays a concert at the Philadelphia Irish Center with friend and singer-guitarist Ryan McGiver—Riverdance is a major part of his life, and has been for a decade.

Mangan, born in Brooklyn and trained in the ways of New York Sligo-style fiddling by the great Brian Conway, first came to the attention of the show’s producers in 2000, when he was just 15, By that point in his life, he had already won the Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann (the world competition of Irish music, also known as the All-Irelands) twice, in 1994 and 1997. He was young, but he’d already had experience on the world stage.

Riverdance was quite another thing altogether.

He remembers when he first considered trying out for the show. “I saw something in one of the New York Irish papers. It was just a little listing saying Riverdance was looking for substitute fiddlers for the show on Broadway,” he says. “So I recorded a little four-track demo and sent it in. They invited me to audition, and I remember playing in front of the show’s composer Bill Whelan and the piper Declan Masterson. (After that) I didn’t hear anything for almost a year. Then they invited me to audition again.”

It turned out that one not-so-little factor gave the show’s producers pause. “They had never had a male fiddler before. It broke the mold. Eileen Ivers had made it an iconic role for a female fiddler, and they were a little on the fence about that, but they decided to give it a shot.”

That was in 2001. He was 16.

That shot turned into a fill-in gig that Mangan wound up squeezing into his high school and, later, college schedule.

The relationship with Riverdance evolved into something deeper and longer-lasting not long after his graduation from Tufts with a degree in English, with a minor in music. The degree seemed like the right thing to do, and it played to his strengths, but after graduation Mangan still hadn’t settled on a career path.

And then Riverdance came calling again. “I had maintained the connection with them throughout high school and college. Then, just after graduation, a full-time spot opened up with the American touring company. I’ve been touring with them full-time since college. I’ve been all over the world. It’s lucky Riverdance came along when it did.”

(His long relationship with Riverdance also changed his life in another significant way. It’s where he met his future wife, fellow cast member and Russian dancer Natia Rtveliashvili. They were married in June of this year. At last count, there have been over 30 marriages among Riverdance cast members.)

Mangan came to Riverdance already well-schooled in the traditional style of fiddle play. In fact, because he was taught by Brian Conway, and Conway was mentored in part by Andy McGann—and McGann himself was schooled by Coleman—Mangan has been described as a “direct artistic descendant of early 20th-century Irish-American fiddler Michael Coleman.” It’s worth noting that Mangan himself, when he was very young, also played with McGann, and McGann’s contemporary Paddy Reynolds.

“Just to have that influence and those older musicians being so gracious and generous when I was growing up, i was very lucky to be growing up at that time,” Mangan says.

And because his parents were devotees of traditional music, there was never a time in Mangan’s young life that he was not exposed to the old tunes of Ireland. He recalls listening to the music from his stroller at the Irish festival in Snug Harbor on Staten Island.

His love of that form of music has never gone away. As much as Riverdance has helped him gain in popularity and name recognition—and it has done that—he’s eager to play the old style with his partner McGiver.

Still, Mangan began his fiddle schooling with classical music taught in the Suzuki method, and he maintained his familiarity with the classical throughout his childhood and high school.

Between his deep familiarity with both styles—traditional Irish and classical—Mangan says he felt well qualified to play the Riverdance style of Irish music, which is nothing like the way Michael Coleman played it. In addition, Mangan himself relishes many styles and types of music.

“Riverdance at its core is based in Irish music,” he says, “but it’s good to have a grounding in classical music. You can play in different styles if you have the technique. And I always enjoyed improvising. I’ve never had too much of a problem with that. When I first learned the (Riverdance) music, it was a fun challenge. By now, I’ve played it so many times, I could do it in my sleep.”

For Mangan, playing in the blockbuster Irish show that laid the groundwork for all the Celtic women and Irish tenors who would follow still holds his deep interest. In fact, he’s soon going to go out on the road with Riverdance again.

And that’s just fine with him, too.

“As many times as I’ve heard that music,” he says, “certain musical moments in the show still get to me. There’s a reason why that show has gone on as long as it has. It’s just amazing how much my life has been touched by it, how one thing has led to another.”

Music

Susan McKeown: Singing in the Dark and Radiating Light

Irish singer-songwriter Susan McKeown

Irish singer-songwriter Susan McKeown

“Oh yes I am broken, But my limp is the best part of me.” ~ Welsh poet Gwyneth Lewis from “Angel of Depression”

Creativity and depression.  Two states of being that often are inextricably etched in our collective minds when we think of artists and writers; the term “Byronic hero” immediately conjures up an image of the late great poet, brooding and melancholic, as he pens his immortal verse.

But for all that, there is still a stigma surrounding the topic of mental illness.  Susan McKeown’s new CD, “Singing in the Dark” is bringing the subject into the light in a brilliant and innovative way.

It’s a project that has been nearly 10 years in the making; the Dublin-born Grammy Award-winning singer and songwriter has the gift of being able to work on multiple projects simultaneously while never losing sight of her creative goals.

“Seven years ago, my marriage had just ended, my father passed away, and my musical partner [Johnny Cunningham] died.  What I do at times like those is to go to poetry, particularly early Irish poetry. I get so much solace from what the monks of that time wrote.  And from what women poets have written,” McKeown explained to me over lunch in New York a few weeks ago.

“I originally had an idea for an album of dark songs, because listening to dark songs has helped me go into my own world … you get something from music like that.”

“And then one day I was hanging out with Natalie Merchant, our daughters were having a playdate,” McKeown laughed. “And we were talking about my idea, and a light bulb went off. An album like this would be the perfect place to explore darkness in very human terms, and the link between creativity and that darkness.”

“Depression, and manic depression, these are not something that people talk about. People are afraid to associate themselves with it, or speak about it. When I recognized this, I realized it was time to start singing about it.”

It was Merchant who introduced McKeown to the writing of Kay Redfield Jamison, whose book “Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and The Artistic Temperament” became part of McKeown’s inspiration as she began work on her album.

Jamison herself became an important part of the project, and she writes in the introduction to “Singing in the Dark” of how McKeown “gives beautiful voice to those who have written of their suffering … has chosen the works of writers who describe their melancholy vividly, unforgettably.”

There are inclusions from the likes of Anne Sexton whose poem, “A Woman Like That” has been turned into a powerful anthem; Gwendolyn Brooks with the haunting lyrics “I shall not sing a May song, A May song should be gay, I’ll wait until November, And sing a song of gray” from “The Crazy Woman;” and Lord Byron himself appears with the melodic “So We’ll Go No More A-Roving.”
 
Because she’s never one to make things easy on herself, McKeown decided that her album would consist primarily, though not completely, of poems that had never been put to music before. And then she set about writing the music to five of those poems herself. I know because I counted them, and when I pointed this out to her, she seemed surprised and then laughed that she’d never consciously realized that.

“I’ve always written poetry, and music. When I was twelve, I entered a school contest and came in second with my song ’The Music Box;’ I was very influenced by Joni Mitchell.

“I think of music as poetry, so I start out writing them as poems. The challenge with writing the music for this CD was to find the music that each of the poems was looking for to make them singable. I just wrote as things would come; it’s completely subjective. What’s singable to me wouldn’t be for everyone … everyone has their own index.

“The music for James Clarence Mangan’s ‘The Nameless One,’ I woke up with the chorus in my head. When something comes like that, you feel like you’ve been given such a gift.”

The poems themselves were inspired from all sorts of different sources; researching the material was a huge part of the project. 

“I got the idea for the poems from all kinds of places…’Good Old World Blues,’ I was given that one from a man I was on a second date with. There wasn’t a third date, but I got a really great song from it!”

The poem, “Mad Sweeney,” which was found as a manuscript in the 1670s, is believed to date back to the 10th century if not earlier, and McKeown received permission from Seamus Heaney to include his line ‘I need woods for consolation’ in the lyrics. But other than that, “the words are translated as they were originally written. It’s just human. And timeless. It could have been written about a homeless person today…and that’s what I wanted to get across.”

“I spent the last two years recording, we began in 2008 with John Dowland’s ‘In Darkness Let Me Dwell;’ this was always my favorite Dowland song. That one was recorded on Achill Island in Mayo with Steve Cooney. He had actually played Dowland’s music 20 years prior.”

With so much great material, and so many years of blood and sweat, how did McKeown know when it was complete? “When it’s hanging together well, and the glue is sticking, and the taste is good, then it’s done,” she laughed.

McKeown launched her CD at the end of October at Symphony Space in New York with an eleven piece backing band, following a daylong symposium at NYU’s Glucksman Ireland House. McKeown partnered with them to present the event, titled “Singing in the Dark: Irishness, Creativity, Madness.“

“I went to Ireland House because I have a relationship with them. It’s like drinking from a well … I’ve performed there many times. And it was such a great place to explore the topic in a scholarly fashion. Everyone who spoke there was so enthusiastic. I hope it’s just the first year; I would love to sponsor an annual festival to acknowledge our dark moods and how to use creativity to move out of them.”

Because there is no getting away from the link between Ireland and depression. Among the speakers were Patrick Tracey, author of “Stalking Irish Madness: Searching for the Roots of My Family’s Schizophrenia,” and Angela Bourke, who wrote “Maeve Brennan: Homesick at The New Yorker.”

And McKeown admits that, “yes, there are elements of what’s been going on in my own family … I discovered that there are three generations of men who all carried strains of manic depression, and interestingly, all three men married musical women.”

“People who are given these extra challenges as well as gifts are just trying to balance them, and learning that takes a lifetime … it’s how it is, there are high rates of creativity going along with depression.  So I felt this is a wonderful way for me to speak out about it from the creative side.”

McKeown has begun touring for the CD, with dates scheduled in March 2011 for Germany, some in Ireland, and many more U.S. venues to be added in the next year. You can keep up with her plans on her Web site http://www.susanmckeown.com/live.html

Though she won’t be taking the 11-piece orchestra around the world with her, she has her trusted team traveling with her. “The two musicians that I’m taking on tour with me are Jason Sypher and Eamon O’Leary.  I met them when I started going to a session that Eamon runs at The Brass Monkey in The West Village. It’s on Sunday nights from 5-8, and it’s great because I can bring my daughter there.”

The whole process has been one she’s cherished.

“This became something I had to accomplish in this life. It has been so satisfying to research it, so rewarding and such a pleasurable experience to record, and to do the tour … I’m just on a high. Because it’s got such meaning, and meaning for me is everything.

“I love all my albums, but this was something a bit different because it was a stretch and required a little effort.

“I like to explore and to challenge myself. I’m starting to look forward to challenges … I want to do something where people will say ‘Oh, that’s different!’ But in a pleasant way. These are songs that won’t be on your local jukebox, but that’s what makes it interesting.”

Columns

Behind the Scenes for 25 Years, This Year She Leads the Parade

Sister James Anne and friends.

Sister James Anne and friends.

There was never any question that Sister James Anne Feerick would grow up with pride in her Irish heritage. The 2011 Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day Parade grand marshal recalls her childhood in Cobbs Creek:

“My father was from Ballinrobe, County Mayo, and my mother was born here, but her parents were from Foxford, in County Mayo. When we were kids (there were six), my father would tell us stories about Ireland, and on Sundays we would go over to my grandparents’ house, and they would tell us about Ireland. As kids, we were fascinated by the history that our parents had. We grew in love with the music and everything about Ireland.”

As if growing up in the household of James J. and Anna (Caulfield) Feerick were not enough in itself to inspire that love of Ireland, the broader Irish community also was a profound influence. Sister James Anne recalls house parties, sometimes at her own house and sometimes at a neighbor’s, in which Irish emigres would congregate. “They would get together and talk about their homeland. Musicians would come and bring their violins and accordions, and some would sing songs. Our parents would dance. It was just something we were accustomed to. We saw our parents having fun and enjoying each other, and it just grew on us.”

Born Anne Marie Feerick, this lifelong Catholic school educator and member of the Sisters, Servants of the Immaculate Heart of Mary (I.H.M.) recalls a childhood surrounded by the warmth of family and friends. Her family belonged to Transfiguration of Our Lord parish at 56th and Cedar in Cobbs Creek, and she attended the parish school. Transfiguration was a close-knit parish, mostly Irish and Italian. It was, she says, the center of community life in those days.

“I loved my schooling there,” she says. “I remember it being a happy time. I remember the sisters being very interested in what we were doing. We had the support of a lot of people, neighborhood people, your classmates and everything.

“After school, you’d go to your friends’ houses and ask if they wanted to play ball. There was no planning of activities. You just did it. That was our happiness—just being able to be with each other and share and learn. It was wonderful.”

That’s not to say there were no planned activities and, indeed, Sister James Anne had plenty to keep her occupied. Early on, she began to learn violin and later piano. Her parents loved all kinds of music, and this passion they successfully imparted to Sister James Anne.

Those who know Sister today can attest to her love of Irish dancing. That too is a passion acquired in childhood. She began taking Irish dance lessons when she was 7 at the nearby home of Sean Lavery, from Donegal. Every Friday night, she recalls, kids from throughout the city would converge upon his house to learn dance. Classes were from 5 to 9 p.m. Lessons were 50 cents. Those Friday nights at Sean Lavery’s house further reinforced her sense of Irishness.

“His home was packed on a Friday night,” she says. “For us, it was another connection. We would go to various competitions together and we would rent a bus. Our parents would go with us. And on the bus, you’d hear more stories of Ireland, and the music. It was just another way of keeping alive the Irish culture.”

As important as Irish cultural identity was, her parents also instilled in her the importance and significance of being an American. Immigrants to America don’t take citizenship for granted, and her father was no exception. Sister James Anne’s father studied for three years to become a citizenship, and it meant the world to him when he took the oath of allegiance. “He never wanted to forget where he came from, but he was proud to be an American.”

Catholic faith also mattered deeply. Like many of the Irish Catholic households in the neighborhood, hers proudly displayed pictures of the Holy Father and the Sacred Heart and a statue of the Blessed Mother. On Sundays, the Feericks attended Mass as a family. It was not simply an obligation to be fulfilled. In the Feerick family, faith was essential and deeply nourishing. Though they couldn’t have known it, they—together with the good example of her teachers at school—were laying the foundation for a life wholly devoted to God and service.

In her senior year in high school—she attended West Catholic Girls High School, class of ‘62—Anne Marie Feerick decided to enter religious life.

“I just think my parents were an inspiration to me,” Sister James Anne says. “Through good times and bad, they held on to their faith. And through some of the sisters that taught me, I just saw something special in them that hit me. I was already accepted to college but it was just something I wanted. There was just something special about what the sisters showed me—their kindness, their caring, their patience and their wanting to make us the best we could be. But still, I would say that the first example was my parents.”

As a member of the I.H.M. order, Sister James Anne became a teacher, serving in many capacities, including principal. With her own teachers as an example, she says, there really wasn’t any question that education was her calling.

“I liked teaching,” she says. “When I was in high school, I helped the dance teacher teach the younger kids. I also taught C.C.D. as a junior and senior in high school. I just always enjoyed the idea of being able to teach someone. It’s just the grace of God that speaks to you when you least expect it. I knew that if it didn’t work out, I would be able to pursue something else, but I really had to see if it was for me. And here I am 50 years later.”

Teaching has never been easy, and as a field it undergoes constant change. Teachers need to be up to the challenge; Sister James Anne was.

“When I first started teaching, I had 105 first graders. I remember teaching back then was very simple. Every school was doing the same thing; you did a lot of phonics and reading. Each grade covered a certain area, and you never skipped ahead. And then, later on, as they came in with the new math and the new reading I kind of got into it. It’s always good to learn something new. It was a big change, and it’s been changing ever since.”

Sister James Anne is still solidly involved in education, as director and teacher at the I.H.M. Educational Center in Bryn Mawr.

Of course, total immersion in he world of the I.H.M.s did not mean she left her heritage behind. For one thing, Sister has often taught Irish dance to students. It’s a way of developing coordination—and the kids like it. And she has continued to dance. At the recent Mayo Association Ball, were she was honored with the President’s Award, she was on her feet all night. (She is also chaplain of the Mayo Association.)

Also near and dear to her heart is the Philly St. Patrick’s Day parade, where she has been judge for 25 years.

According to parade director Michael Bradley, Sister James Anne has always been one of the parade’s unsung heroes.

“In my mind, she always does something to the best of her ability and she never looks for any credit,” Bradley says. There are a lot of people who want to stand in front and get recognition. But Sister’s been behind the scene for all these years and no one knows it. Well, I know it.”

Bradley also notes that Sister was the unanimous choice for 2011 grand marshal—the first unanimous choice in years.

Kathy McGee Burns, president of the St. Patrick’s Day Observance Association, echoes Bradley’s sentiments: “In my first year of presidency of this great parade, having Sister James Anne as grand marshal is like icing on the cake. Spiritually, she has been the chaplain of the Mayo Association for many years and as an Immaculate Heart of Mary nun, has been a positive influence on many a student. Emotionally she is a sincere, loving being who is kind and unselfish to all. Her Irishness she wears proudly on her beautiful face and in her involvement with dance, family and organizations. I am thrilled to count her as my friend.”

For Sister’s part, being named as grand marshal was a bolt out of the blue, and an honor for which she is very grateful. “I never considered myself as being a grand marshal of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade at all,” she says. “My cousins and family, they’re all excited. And I know my mother and father will be very happy up in heaven.”

Music

Five Questions for Dana Lyn

When Mick Moloney and friends take the stage (or altar) at the annual benefit concert for St. Malachy’s School, Dana Lyn usually is one of the guests. There’s no one sitting up there who isn’t gifted, but Lyn’s gifts are pretty interesting.

She’s classically trained, with a degree in violin performance from Oberlin. At some point, one of her numerous online bios says, she “took a left turn” and was drawn to Irish music. The reality, though, is that her career has taken, and continues to take, many turns.

Her own MySpace bio is mind-blowing: She’s played Carnegie Hall. She was cast as an onstage musician in the Public theatre’s production of “Hamlet.” She focuses on string arranging and composition. Her musical associations include The Green Fields of America, Dionne Werewolf, Bach Reformed and the Yeti String Quartet. And I could go on and on, but I invite you to read the whole thing for yourself: http://www.myspace.com/danalynfiddle

Another one of those bios notes that “Dana was born in Los Angeles in 1974 to Taiwanese parents.” Lyn is one more of those non-Irish who has fallen head over heels for Irish music, enriching the tradition in ways that the old guys back in Clare and Sligo never could have predicted. (Pretty sure they’d like it, though.)

Dana Lyn is one very busy musician, but we managed to snag her for a quick five questions. Here’s what she had to say.

Q. How did you come to be in a Pogues cover band, and how did that influence your interest in Irish music?

A. I was in a Pogues cover band in college. We played once a year, at St. Patrick’s Day. We thought it was a good idea to put a few instrumentals in the set, so we learned a few sets off an Altan record and that got me started. More importantly, Miles Krassen was the Judaic Studies professor at my college; he edited a version of O’Neills and is a fiddle player. He introduced me to recordings of Michael Coleman.

Q. You’re certainly not the only non-Irish musician to play Irish music. What is there about Irish music, do you think, that speaks to people from a non-Irish background?

A. That is a difficult question to answer if you’re speaking about the music itself, as an abstract, or a group of notes played in a certain way. Generally, I am attracted to music that either challenges or comforts. I know that I was attracted to Irish music largely because the context in which it is played was so different from the musical context I had grown up with; it was informal, community-based, and relaxed. Also I was intrigued by listening to music played on my instrument in such a different way than I was used to.

Q. Once you discovered this interest, how hard was it to get into the scene?

A. I never really thought about getting into a “scene.” All I wanted to do was listen to the music and learn tunes. So I went wherever there was a session, and lurked about, really; listening most of the time, especially in the first few years.

Q. Who did you study with, and did you spend a lot of time honing your skill in sessions?

A. I didn’t study with anyone. I listened to a lot of records—everything I could get my hands on, and a lot of field recordings and tapes of sessions. I spent a lot of time at home practicing and analyzing the recordings I liked the most. I spent a lot of time at sessions, of course, but in terms of ‘honing skills’ and learning—it was more about practicing at home in a quiet space, and playing with a few people whose music I loved.

Q. You have a degree in violin performance, you have a classical background … and you play Irish music. How unusual is that kind of musical cross-pollination, really?

A. I suppose people find it unusual—or perhaps impractical—that I decided to delve so deeply into Irish music after having spent so many years playing classical music. I like playing ‘art’ music and I also like to play ‘folk’ music, both for different reasons. I don’t think I would be musically fulfilled if I did just one or the other. It makes a lot of sense to me, and life is too short to just limit yourself to one way of doing things.

Q. You’ve been involved in other projects outside of the classical. I’ve known classical musicians who have always and only played classical. How do you explain your diverse musical interests?

A. My childhood hero was Ludwig van Beethoven, because he played the piano, the violin, and the viola, and was a conductor, an improviser, and of course a composer. It makes sense to me that to experience music fully, and to be a musician (which is all I have ever wanted to be), one would have to know it from all angles. So…. I play the piano, the violin, the viola; I play classical music, I play traditional Irish music, I back singer-songwriters, I work as a string arranger, I can improvise, and I spend a lot of time writing (and erasing) music. Maybe I have ADD or something. Probably.

Music

Five Questions for Breanndán Begley

Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Breanndán Begley

Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Breanndán Begley

There is a ruggedness and a wildness to the West of Ireland. To Breanndán Begley, one of he most accomplished two-row button accordion artists in the world, it’s only natural that the music of the region should match its terrain.

West Kerry, where Begley makes his home, is also part of Ireland’s Gaeltacht—an Irish-speaking region. So if West Kerry music seems to have a slightly different flavor from, say, the music of the heartland, that ancient language wields its own influence, too, says Begley.

Begley appears with his playing partner Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh (kwee-veen o-Rye-a-lah) in two Philly-area concerts this weekend, the first, at the Coatesville Traditional Irish Music Series Saturday night at 8, and the second Sunday night at 8 at the Philadelphia Irish Center. (Details on our calendar.) To Begley, his Gaeltacht roots are a point of pride, and he clearly exults in the sound of the popular West Kerry dance music.

We tracked him down last week as he and Ó Raghallaigh made their way along the tour route that would bring them to our front door.

Q. To a lot of people, Irish music is Irish music. For the uninitiated, what is Kerry music and how is it different?

A. First of all, musically Ireland is a very big place and Kerry just has a dialect of its own. Even within the dialects, there are variations as well. In Kerry (for example), there would be the West Kerry style, which would have its own little differences. (West Kerry music) is more for dancing, first and foremost—slides, polkas and reels, for example. The dancing would be a very important
thing. You (also) have a lot of variety in Kerry music. Airs are valued in a session.

West Kerry is a rugged place, and the music reflects that. The music in the middle of the country is very different. The ruggedness in the music is (expressed) in the ornamentation. It’s something you wouldn’t shy away from. It’s a part of the sound within the sound. It’s rugged and lively—it’s everything.

Q. Your family background is musical, as it so often is when we interview Irish traditional artists. Have you ever stopped to ponder the old “nature/nurture” argument, and which is it?

A. It’s a mixture of all those things. I feel very lucky to be able to play like I do. It’s what I do best. It’s good that the background is there but it’s not necessary to be a great player. Breeding is better than feeding, they say, but I think it’s pure luck, really.

Q. Who taught you, and how did it influence your style of play?

A. I learned Irish music the same way I learned the language. My father played and sang. it was all around the place. Kids today have the computer; we had the accordion.

I never had any formal training. I don’t read music. It’s all by ear. It’s an oral tradition; it comes from the people. You didn’t even know you were playing music. All the musicians I knew in Kerry, none of them read music.

Q. You sing as well as play. Did one evolve later than the other, or did they come about more or less concurrently?

A. We did it (sang) all the time, more or less. I find the bridge between a Gaelic speaker and a musician is bridged by the singing. When you sing you’re doing both. In my youth there was hardly any radio. The only music you heard was live. The singing was live.

I didn’t really start singing on stage until the band Beginish (one of the notable ensembles to which he has belonged; another is Boys of the Lough) was formed. We didn’t have a singer so I started singing. I really love it. I love the songs.

The older I get, the more important I think the language is. The Irish language goes back farther than anything we have. It’s a living art form. It predates any of our poetry, and I’m sure a form of Gaelic was spoken by the Newgrange people. (In singing) I’m speaking my first language. In West Kerry youre never asked to “sing” a sing. You’re asked to “say” a song.

Q. How does collaborating with other musicians, which you’ve certainly done a lot, influence your play? How does playing with Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh influence you?

A. In Boys of the Lough, I didn’t try to put my own stamp on it., (although) when it came to a solo, I’d do it exactly the way I wanted to do it myself. With Beginish, in one way it was easier because it was all Irish musicans. It was a kind of a melting pot playing with them.

I can safely sayer that I find so much freedom playing with Caoimhín. Music with him is definitely music of the moment. There’s a plan, but rarely do we ever do exactly like the plan. If you do anything else, you’re going by memory, or you’re doing an imitation of what sounded good last night. No two nights are the same, with Caoimhín and me together. It’s a great feeling playing with Caoimhín. Do I get bored? Never! Tired? Maybe.

Music, People

Luka Bloom Debuts His Latest CD in the US Next Week

Irish folk-rocker Luka Bloom will appear at the Sellersville Theatre.

Irish folk-rocker Luka Bloom will appear at the Sellersville Theatre.

Luka Bloom has a pretty good plan for his current east coast tour of the U.S. He’s timed it to coincide with the turning of the leaves from summer’s green to their full burst of autumnal glory. The Irish singer-songwriter, who spent a good number of years living in New York, knows his fall foliage.

The man who was born Kevin Barry Moore, and re-purposed himself as Luka Bloom when he launched his career in the States in 1987, was en route from Maine to Vermont when we talked on the phone about his tour (it’s a brief two and a half weeks), his latest CD (“Dreams in America”)and his nephew Donnacha Rynne’s recently published book (it was his idea).

Although a short one, his tour includes a stop at The Sellersville Theatre on October 7. “I’ve always had great shows in the Philadelphia area,” he said. “I’ve played at The World Café, The Tin Angel, The Chestnut Cabaret. I’m really looking forward to this one.”

He’s bringing with him some old songs that have been reinvented for his latest CD, “Dreams in America.”

“It’s really a celebration of twenty years of writing songs and recording them. I’m not a huge fan of nostalgia,” Bloom acknowledged. “I think it’s highly overrated. But it’s okay to take a look back and reflect. It’s like hitting the pause button.”

The songs on the album, eleven of them including the new incarnations of “The Acoustic Motorbike,” “Bridge of Sorrow” and “Don’t Be So Hard On Yourself,” represent Bloom’s determination to “live in the nowness of life,” a thought borrowed from his wheelchair-bound nephew.

“This gave me the chance to go back and revisit where I was when I originally wrote the songs. I didn’t necessarily want to re-record the ones that became popular. In some cases, I loved the song but not the original recording. They’re more stripped down, raw versions on this album. I recorded it in my living room in Ireland last December.”

And Bloom felt it was time to include a song new for him as well: the traditional “Lord Franklin.” A very beautiful, simple interpretation, he sings it as a tribute to a late friend of his, Micheal O’Domhnaill, whose rendition he considers “the definitive one.”

Two live tracks, “I Hear Her, Like Lorelei” and “Love is a Monsoon,” recorded in the National Concert Hall in Dublin in August 2009, round out the CD that Bloom ultimately wants to be a thank you to “the places and people who opened their hearts and minds to the songs of a Kildareman…The period of 1987 to 1991 was an unbelievably exciting one. Things took off for me in America, particularly in New York. It’s a very nice exercise to reflect back on that time and be grateful.”

There’s another current project that is close to Bloom’s heart: the publication of his nephew’s book “Being Donnacha” (read the story in this week’s irishphiladelphia). Donnacha, born with cerebral palsy, and later diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, is a source of inspiration to Bloom. In fact, he wrote a song, “Doing the Best I Can” for him (the lyrics are included in the book).

“It’s a very important book, there are so many levels to it. It will be beneficial to so many people to hear his voice; he gives a voice to people who haven’t been heard. People who are themselves disabled, their families and their carers will all find it meaningful.”

“Donnacha lives constantly in the nowness of life. He gives a voice to living with a disability that needs to be heard. He has tough days but his strengths have always been very apparent. And something about writing this book has given him fresh strength to go on.”

“There’s something very poignant in seeing the first American article about Donnacha’s book published in Philadelphia. A very dear friend of the family, Lester Conner, lived most of his life in Philadelphia. He died about five years ago. He was a professor at Chestnut Hill College for a number of years, a great literary giant and highly academic man who was an expert on W.B. Yeats. He published “A Yeats Dictionary.” My sister Anne met him back in 1967 when he lectured at Trinity College, and he became godfather to her oldest son. He would visit every year, and Donnacha was very important to him. He would have loved to have seen Donnacha’s book.”

“It’s an important bit of serendipity.”

Visit Luka’s website for more information on his CD and his upcoming concerts: http://www.lukabloom.com/

Music, People

Kevin Crawford’s Summer Song

Kevin Crawford, visiting sunny Sea Isle.

Kevin Crawford, visiting sunny Sea Isle.

Add another tune to the “Jersey Shore Sound” songbook—and no, Bruce Springsteen didn’t write it.

It’s called the “Shore House Reel,” and it comes from a surprising source: virtuoso flutist Kevin Crawford of Lúnasa. You can hear it on the band’s most recent recording, “Lá Nua.” It’s the peppy little number at the very end, and it is an homage to none other than Sea Isle City.

Crawford came to know one of our favorite shore towns courtesy of Bob McLaughlin (brother of Jim McLaughin, board member of the Irish American Business Chamber & Network), who lives outside Chicago. McLaughlin owns a shore house about a block from the beach. Crawford started staying there as a guest a few years ago.

“”I got to know Bob first and foremost because he’s an up-and-coming flute player. He came to flute camp at the Swannanoa Gathering in North Carolina about five years ago,” recalls Crawford. “He was in my class and we hung out together for about a week. we just got to be good friends.”

A couple of years into the relationship, McLaughlin mentioned that he had a beach house and wondered if Crawford might want to use it from time to time when he was touring in the States. Crawford jumped at the chance for a place to charge his creative batteries.

“It’s been very good, actually,” he says. “I come in periodically. I’ve been fortunate to have the odd four- or five-day stint down there. A few years ago, myself and Cillian (Vallely, Lúnasa’s uilleann piper) recorded our (2009) duet album “On Common Ground” at Maja Studios in Philadelphia. We just commuted in and out of sea Isle. We’d get up in the morning and go for a run along the boardwalk, go for a swim, and then head into Philadelphia. And then back to Sea Isle again. It was good to get out of the city.”

Crawford lives in County Clare—which boasts a few stunning shore towns of its own—but he says he doesn’t think of Clare in the same way. Touring and living out of a suitcase can be exhausting. For Crawford, Sea Isle offers a respite. For a few days at least, he can settle in and blend into a community and make it his own. “I go on lots of trips abroad with the band, but you never really feel like you’ve seen the place or been part of things for any period of time. It all worked out perfectly for this trip. We had a few days in New York City, and it was fairly mental. We were staying downtown amid all the hustle and bustle. Then we went down to the shore. It was chalk and cheese. After a few days there, I felt fully fit and ready to go.”

Jim McLaughlin understands why the shore—and the house—are so appealing. “I think he likes the feeling that this is Bob’s plce. Bob and he have become like brothers. If Kevin ever needed bail money theres no doubt who the call would go to. He feels like it’s an extension of home.”

Just like Philadelphians who annually migrate to a particular shore town, Crawford has come to know Sea Isle pretty well. He says he’s become a big fan of local eateries, including Braca’s, Mike’s Seafood Market and O’Donnell’s Pour House. “I usually kind of steer clear of Irish pubs,” he confesses, “but I’ve been there a couple of times, and it was brilliant.”

(Jim McLaughlin notes that Kevin has also become a major fan of Wawa.)

It was during one of those recent “chill out” visits to Sea Isle that the idea came to him for a tune in honor of his adopted South Jersey resort town. He had been thinking of naming a tune for Sea Isle for some time, but had no firm plans. It wasn’t as if, he says, “I went up to my music room and say, ‘I’m gonna write a tune for Bob.'” It came to him one night out when he and Cillian were out on the deck.

“You could hear the waves crashing one block over from us. It was a really serene vibe when we were there. I said to Cillian that it would be nice if we had a track (on the upcoming CD) that was a little more laid back. So we started rearranging things for different instruments. We wound up recording the tunes (there are two other reels in the set, “Inverness County Reel” and “The Beauty Spot”) on lower pitched pipes. It just made it sound not as mad and as upbeat. It just reminded us of the calmness of Sea Isle.”

Some writers going for “calm” might have opted for a slow air. Crawford penned a reel because, he says, Bob McLaughlin loves reels. “I know from teaching Bob at workshops that there are certain tunes he likes, that he’s attracted to. I wanted a tune that Bob would like. It’s made for him.”

Crawford hints that this won’t be the last composition in honor of his gracious hosts. “The McLaughlins have just been so good to us, they’re a great family, really love their Irish heritage,” says Crawford. “I’m sure there will be more tunes.”

Lúnasa appears in concert this week—Wednesday, October 6, 2010 at 7:30 p.m.—at Calvary United Methodist Church, 801 South 48th Street (at Baltimore Avenue), in West Philadelphia.

Music

The Songs She Loves So Well

Singer Fil Campbell

Singer Fil Campbell

Music is everywhere in Ireland, including the North, but because of the region’s turbulent past, many visitors never make the trip to counties and towns where the musical heritage remains rich. Singer-songwriter Fil Campbell wants everyone to know: Not only is it okay to head north, it’s desirable.

Born in the border town of Belleek (home of Belleek Pottery) in County Fermanagh, Campbell grew up just yards inside Northern Ireland. Though her friends across the way may have gone to different schools, they all sang the same songs—songs she is now reviving through her concerts, as well as her CD and DVD, “Songbirds: The First Ladies of Irish Song.”

“These are songs I learned as a child. People will remember their mothers and grandmothers singing them, there’s a great familiarity to them,” Campbell explained. “

“Songbirds” features the stories and music of five women who played an instrumental part in the 20th century lexicon of Irish music: Delia Murphy, Margaret Barry, Bridie Gallagher, Mary O’Hara and Ruby Murray. These were the women, all from greatly different backgrounds, who paved the way for today’s female singers.

Originally aired as a critically and popularly acclaimed series for RTE television, the DVD was Campbell’s brainchild. She conceived, wrote and produced the program after she started getting requests from audiences abroad who wanted her to sing “traditional” Irish songs.

“It was a complete accident,” Campbell laughed. “I knew nothing about television, or making a TV program. But we did it, and by some miracle, we actually got it onto prime-time television.”

There is nothing accidental about Campbell’s love for those tunes. In fact, they couldn’t have been more familiar. “It was interesting, coming back to these songs I’d sung as a child. I’ve always loved them, loved Irish music, but I had sort of run away from it for awhile.  Around the age of 13 or 14, I wanted to sing pop and the blues. I started playing guitar at 14 and, like all teenagers, I was influenced by the popular artists at the time, like Joan Baez, Linda Ronstadt, Sandy Denny and Elton John.”

Music, though, had always been a part of Campbell’s life. “I was always singing as a child, and I just always assumed I’d be a singer. I never thought anything else. We got a TV when I was about 6, and I was fascinated by Judy Garland. In my mind, I was going to be Judy Garland when I grew up?not like her, but her,” Campbell laughed. “It came as a bit of a shock when I wasn’t.”

At the age of 10, she began attending a boarding school in Enniskillen. “I was very fortunate because right after I arrived, the nuns put together a show. They brought out a harp, and I started learning how to play it.”

Around the age of 16, Campbell began writing her own songs. “Misty Morning,” a song she co-wrote with a girl from school, won a competition. The first band that Campbell formed was called Misty Morning. It was the first of many.

“I always sang in bands. I never consciously thought about how to go about having a career as a singer, I just did it. In college, at Queens University in Belfast, I got involved in promoting bands. As long as I was involved in music somehow, I was happy. I started out on the entertainment committee, organizing annual balls and dances. My senior year, I became the director of The Belfast Fringe Festival at Queens.” (A festival that ran for 21 days.)

“I loved that side of it, I was good at organizing. After I left college I worked for the Belfast City Council for awhile. One of the first things I did was to direct a Christmas show?it was a dolphin show,” Campbell laughed. “We drained the pool and filled it with salt water. It was just great fun.”

Through all this, Campbell never stopped singing.  She released three CDs that include many of her own songs: “The Light Beyond the Woods,” “Dreaming,” and “Beneath the Calm.” She’s toured constantly, mostly with her husband and musical partner, Tom McFarland, and with Brendan Emmet, the third member of their current band.

A new Songbirds CD will be released in a few months, filled with more of the traditional songs popularized by the first ladies of Irish song.  “There were just too many to fit on the first CD,” she explained. “This new one will include ‘Johnny the Daisy-O,’ ‘Let Him Go, Let Him Tarry’ and ‘Lowlands of Holland.’ They’re all songs that I’m singing on this tour.  I’m really having great fun running around America.”

Fun, yes, but Campbell knows she has a great place to return home to. “I live now in a small cottage on the shores of Carlingford Lough, in County Down. Still right over the border,” she laughed. “I’m at the foot of the Mourne Mountains, and I can look across the Lough and see Finn MacCool in the mountains on the other side.  We have a small recording studio in our house, and it’s just a beautiful place to wake up every morning.”

“We’re only an hour’s drive from Dublin. And there’s a huge community of artists and musicians there. We’ve got great music, music that’s full of Irish tradition. And we’ve got great shopping, too,” Campbell added. “So the next time your over, come see the North of Ireland. It’s not to be missed.”

Fil Campbell will be performing at The Irish Center, 6815 Emlen Street, in Mt. Airy, this Sunday, September 26, at 7:30 p.m. Tickets are $15. For further information, go to Fil’s Web site:  http://www.filcampbell.com/index.htm

Also, check out Fil’s myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/filcampbell

Links to Fil performing some of her songs:

“Good-bye Mick, Good-bye Pat” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJD4UX5_avk

“Seoladh na nGamhna”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3mKvseQuxo&feature=related

“The Homes of Donegal”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z3xp_DgHLgQ

“Farewell My Own Dear Native Land” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z1puRgf_FJ0

“The Bonny Boy” http://www.youtube.com/user/irishphiladelphia#p/u/3/27gSkn7TLOo