Inniu, le linn do Ghaeil na tíre bheith ag rómánsaíocht do lá na Féile Vailintín lena muirníní ionmhaine, beidh grúpa Gaeilgeoirí ó Ard Mhacha ag díriú a n-airde ar ar fhís eile thar a bheith rómánsúil.
Ar an 14ú Feabhra, tabharfaidh scór acu aghaidh ar gharráin ólóg Ghleann Jarama cóngarach do Madrid le ómós a thabhairt d’fhir agud do mhná na mBriogáid Idirnáisúnta a throid sa Spáinn le linn Chath Jarama i 1937.
Beidh an grúpa ag taisteal mar chuid de Chumann Cairde Charlie Donnelly/The Friends of Charlie Donnelly Society, cumann atá baiste as an fhile shóisialach (sa phictiúr) a tháinig ar an saol i nDún Geannainn agus a thit sa ghleo i mí Feabhra 1937 agus a bhfuil séadchomharthaí cuimhneacháin ina ónóir i gCoill a’ Brocaigh i gContae Thír Eoghain, i nDún Geannainn agus in Rivas-VaciaMadrid ar imeall phrímomhchathair na Spáinne.
Buailfidh toscaireacht Ard Mhcha le grúpaí eile ón chuid eile d’Éirinn agus ó gach cearn eile den domhan, grúpai a bhailíonn i Madrid gach bliain le ceiliúradh a dhéanamh ar íobairtí na mBriogáidí Idirnáisúnta.
75 bliain ó shin, bhí an Fronta Pobail tofa ar bhonn daonlathach mar rialtas ar Phoblacht na Spáinne agus dhá bhagairt rompu – éirí amach faisisteach faoi stiúir an Ghinearáil Franco agus an tacaíocht a fuair sí ó fhórsaí armtha na hIodáile Faisistí agus na Gearmáine Naitsí. Mar fhreagairt, chinn grúpaí frith-Fhaisisteach ar fud na cruinne dul i gcabhair ar Phoblach na Spáinne agus bunáiodh na Briogáidí Idirnáisúnta.
Le linn Chogadh Chathartha na Spáinne (1936-1939), throid níos mó ná 35,000 fear agus bean ó 53 thír éagsúil, nasctha le chéile sna Briogáidí Idirnáisúnta ar son dara Poblacht na Spáinne.
Níor tharla sé riamh roimhe gur tháinig an oiread sin daoine le chéile i ndlúthpháirtíocht idirnáisúnta. Bhain na hóglaigh óga an Spáinn amach agus iad sásta a mbeatha a thabhairt le cuidiú le muintir na Spáinne a raibh a gceart faoi bhagairt ag an Fhaisisteachas Spáinneach agus idirnáisúnta.
Cailleadh níos mó ná 9,000 acu, cuid mhór Éireannach agus Briotaineach ina measc, ar thalamh na Spáinne.
I mí Meán Fómhair 1936, bhain an chéad óglach Éireannach Madrid amach le páirt a ghlacadh sa troid chróga fhrith-Fhaisisteach an chathair a chosaint, gníomhaí i gCeardchumann na mBríceadóirí, Bill Scott.
D’eascair Bill as clann pholaitiúil Phrotastúnach d’aicme oibre Bhaile átha Cliath agus throid a athair in éirí Amach na Cásca 1916 in Arm Saoránach na hÉireann faoi stiúir James Connolly.
Lean suas le 200 Éireannach a shampla – fir ar maos i dtraidisiúin an aicme oibre, idir Chaitliceach, Phrotastúnach agus Iúdach, i gcathracha na tíre chomh maith le traidisiúin an phoblachtánachais agus Chumann na Talún sna bailte móra agus faoin tuath.
Se a bhí iontu ná, mar a cheol Christy Moore san amhrán, Viva La Quince Brigada: “a brotherhood against the fascist clan’. Ba é an leabhar Connolly Column le Micheál Ó Riordáin, fear a throid sa Chogadh Cathartha, a spreag an t-amhrán.
Ar rolla onóra na Rannóige Éireannaí de na Briogáidí Idirnáisúnta, tá Iúdach, ministir de chuid Eaglais na hÉireann Jew, iar- Bhráthair Críostaí, gníomhaithe cumannacha, iar-bhaill an IRA agus iar-bhall den Ord Oráisteach. D’fhíoraigh na daoine seo an fhís a bhi ag Wolfe Tone comhghuaillíocht idir Caitlicigh, Protastúnaigh, agus Dissenter faoin ainm Éireannaigh.
Tá grúpa Ard Mhacha ceangailte le La Asociación de Amigos de las Brigadas Internacionales atá lonnaithe i Madrid, eagraíocht a bhfuil sé mar aidhm aici na fir agus na mná sin a chuaigh chun na Spáinne leis an daonlathas a chosaint idir 1936 agus 1939, a chaomhnú.
Bunaíodh i 1995 é le omos náisúnta a eagru do na Briogáidí Idirnáisúnta sa Spáinn fein agus leisan ghealltanas a thug Don Juan Negrin i 1938, a chomhlíonadh i.e. go mbronnfaí saoránacht Spáinneach ar “Óglaigh an tSaoirse.”
Is é an phríomhaidhm atá ag Cumann Chairde na mBriogáidí Idirnáisúnta ná oidhreacht stairiúil, cuimhne agus luachanna na mBriogáidí a chaomhnú agus a chraobhscaoileadh.
The hugely popular Literary Lunchtimes at the Ulster Hall, with their readings and specially themed events showcasing works by popular writers, continue tomorrow when you can get the chance to explore the other side of Valentine’s Day with poems by Scott Jamison new theatre from Nicholas Boyle and live music from harpist and singer, Ursula Burns.
While the gig might be intended as an anecdote to cards and chocolates and things that pass for romance nowadays, but surely there must have been some romantic notion that took Ursula off to perform with a dorse-drawn theatre company when she was still very young.
“Well, I suppose it was dark times here and I never really enjoyed my experience of living in Belfast,” she recalls.
“It was a very intense time and I have always been a restless spirit so when I discovered Belfast Community Circus, I latched onto them and they took me under their wing and I really enjoyed travelling and performing.
“So from that age, I just wanted to leave any kind of normal home life and go on the road,” she laughs.
However, at just 14, Ursula had to finish her schooling, but with an innate sense of adventure, she leapt at any chance she got to explore or get away or travel. From that age, she was heading over to London and getting involved in arts projects.
One of these was Horse and Bamboo, one of the last horse-drawn travelling theatre companies.
In the public mind, this is the thing romance is made off, but was it in real life? Did she enjoy working with horses and eating by campfire light? Did she eat a lot of beans, I ask.
“No, no, we never ate beans,” she insists. “In fact, I turned vegetarian at 14 but it was only when
I joined the horse-drawn theatre company that I really learnt about food and about vegetarian food and we used to make quite elaborate meals. We even built our own oven once and we did a lot of things from scratch which was incredible considering there was just 14 people and a campfire.
“It was a beautiful life experience. It didn’t feel like anything from the modern world, It was really like living like the troubadours of centuries ago .
“We were the last folk theatre company. Doing horse-drawn touring had died out years before. To be walking at the pace of life was incredibly physically demanding. We’d walk between 5-20 mils a day, then we’d build the sets, do two shows, in between cooking on the campfire and then next day, we’d take the sets down and set off again.
“We got really strong, and really fit and I loved that lifestyle, living outdoors, There were ups and downs of course, sometimes I would rain a lot , I can remember some unhappy times in the rain.”
At night, the troupe would play music and that really reawakened the spirt of music in Ursula. Up until then, although she’d been writing songs all my life, she’d never taken it seriously until that point. With the company, she’d been acting, doing puppetry and mask-work and didn’t see herself as a musician.
So she came back home, making two highly acclaimed records, VVVVV and VVVVVV.
We know her as a harpist but where do the lyrics of her songs come from?
“Well, some of my lyrics are quite poetic, others quite harsh, others realistic some funny, some straight. Like all human beings have the capacity to be happy, sad, spiritual, mystic, rough and as a human being I can sing in all those flavours.
“Other songs reflect where I am at certain stages of my life. If I’ve moved to Donegal to live on my own for eight months to make a particular album, then that will be reflected in the mood of the album
However, there is a distinct humorous side to Ursula’s songs with her winning an Irish Musical Comedy Award.
“The humour of the songs seem to be directly linked to the Paraguayan harp, she says, unexpectedly. Who knew?
“When I started writing songs that were funny, I did it on the Paraguayan harp but I didn’t really realise until lately that I was doing comedy because all I was doing was writing songs. It was other people who actually aid to me, “no, Ursula, you actually are doing comedy.”
“I had done funny songs before on the Paraguayan harp as just one aspect of what I was doing and then I sold it and stopped writing funny songs – but 12 years later when a new one came through the door, I instantly started writing funny songs again! There’s something about it that brings out a different side of me.”
Some early versions of Ursula’s new songs are up on youtube and some are side-splittingly funny but with a little darkness to them.
Being born is about a baby who wants to go back to the womb when he/she finds out they are being born on the Falls Road in the 1970s.
“There killing each other out there. I was meant to go to honolulu and have parents who practice yoga ,” gasps the baby.
“Comedy is just telling the truth in a funny accent,” says Ursula.
http://youtu.be/2i9pCrTt_7s&w=420h=210
You can catch Ursula Burns in all here glory at the Ulster Hall tomorrow (13 Feb) at 1pm. Tickets are £4.00
Belfast city of music sound like a NITB soundbite but there is a lot of truth in it.
Moving on Music has been breaking musical glass ceilings for ages now with bands that might not be on everyone’s lips but with amongst people with a sense of adventure and wonderfully eclectic tastes in music, they are a one-step shop for the exciting, the cool, the funny and the frankly bizarre.
Last night saw Petnunia and the Vipers hit the stage of the MAC to a packed cabaret style seating arrangement – Belfast is full of cool dudes, who knew? Pet and the band are a Canadan quintet who play all kinds of Americana superbly well, with a charismatic frontman born just on the right side of Deliverance.
I find all Americana sad and beautiful and hypnotic all at the same time and that was what we got from Petunia and the guys as well as some great bluegrass and rockabilly to get you on your feet.
Petunia also yodelled his way into my heart with the standout song of the evening (for me) Cricket Song.
As well as the hypnotic effect of the songs, there was some glorious playing from guitarist Stephen Nickleva and lap steel guitarist Jimmy Roy ably assisted by Marc L’Esperance on drums and percussion and James Lillico on bass.
Petunia himself also played guitar and yazoo – let’s hope the last mentioned doesn’t become the new ukelele! From the MAC, I travelled a short third of a mile to Saint Kevin’s Hall home to Belfast’s newest trad venue.
It doesn’t have a name yet but my choice is An Parlús@Halla Naomh Caoimhín (or just An Parlús) because Ray Giffen and Eamonn Murray (the Laurence Llewellyn-Bowens of traditional music) have been scouring Belfast for lampshades, sofas and soft furnishings and turned the venue into one of the most homely going.
When I got there, Mórga were in full flow. Comprising David Munnelly on accordion, Domnic Keogh on bodhrán, Danny Diamond on fiddle, and Jonas Fromseier on banjo and bouzouki the boys play at a speed that could get them featured on Police, Camera, Action!
Many of the tunes came from the new album, imaginatively called Mórga, but live, the band play an explosive blend of tunes old and new. Well worth keeping an eye out for.
The next gig in St Kevin’s will be the wonderful Lumiere on April 13. That’s one not to miss.
Petunia and the Vipers play in the Seamus Ennis Cultural Centre in Naul, Co Dublin tonight and in the Grand Social in the capital on Sunday night.
Mórga on the bill tonight at Cultúrlann Uí Chanáin in Derry tonight with Donal Murphy, Steve Cooney, Gino Lupari. This has “not to be missed” written all over it.
Orangeman John Rainey sees his world turn against him in St John Ervine’s play Mixed Marriage
The Lyric Theatre has unearthed a forgotten gem to begin its Tales of the City series.
The St John Ervine play Mixed Marriage, running at the Lyric Theatre until 23 February, deals with Belfast’s sectarian history (and therefore, sadly, its present) and is set at the time of the 1907 Dock Strike but the play itself merited a footnote in history too.
Most interestingly, Lloyd George referred to Mixed Marriage during the Treaty negotiations in 1921.
Thomas Jones, who taught Economics in Queen’s University for a year in 1909, was the British government’s Cabinet Secretary during the Conference on Ireland as it was called, and recorded this:
“At the conference on Ireland in 10 Downing St on 14 October 1921 the Sinn Fein delegates objected to partition as ‘unnatural”
‘Mr [Arthur] Griffith: ‘All the rioting is worked up, organised, paid for political reasons. 100 years ago the Protestants in the North of Ireland were the revolutionaries. There are a number of men in the North of Ireland who think that by keeping up the bogey of the Pope and the Boyne they can keep the industrial population quiet.’
The Prime Minister [Lloyd George]: ‘The play Mixed Marriage expressed that very well.’
Mr Griffith: ‘Catholics and Protestants would live harmoniously if this jockeying stopped.’
The Sinn Fein delegates, led by Griffith and Collins went on to press for a plebiscite which would give Nationalist Ireland Tyrone, Fermanagh, Derry and other border areas.’
So the play must have had some traction at that time.
The playwright himself. St John Ervine (sometimes St John Greer Ervine) was a man who had mocked Carson and Craig
William Conor’s painting of St John Ervine
in 1914/15 when he was briefly manager of the Abbey Theatre in Dublin but after partition he went in the complete other directions and metamorphosed into a rabid unionist.
Ervine was the biographer of Edward Carson and he also wrote a hagiography of Craigavon in such a racist and sectarian tone, that it worried Craigavon’s wife who warned him that he was stirring up “ancient and ancestral bitterness.”
Another fascinating fact about Mixed Marriage was that the play was written in 1907, the year before the Ne Temere decree took effect on 19 April 1908..
Ne Temere stated that any Catholic could only be married by a parish priest if the marriage was to be valid. In other words, Protestants (or those of any other religion) would have to be married in a Catholic ceremony if the marriage was to be valid for the Catholic partner.
Obviously the knotty problem of marriage between catholics and Protestants was a major talking point when Ervine was working on the play although Ne Temere as such isn’t implicitly mentioned in the play.
Neither is the 1907 Dock Strike mentioned by name although that is the background to Mixed Marriage.
The play is set in a Unionist household in East Belfast, where the pater familias. John Rainey is dedicated to his religion and to the Orange Order and although he hates Catholics, he is happy to work with them as long as they know their place.
John is also loyal to his own working class and when the strike is ongoing, he is happy to speak out against a character called Harte, whom we never see but who is believed to be based on Sir Edward Carson.
Harte is trying to split Catholic workers from Protestant workers on behalf of “the masters” Ireland’s ruling industrial elite, but John Rainey is happy to take him on on behalf of the working class.
But when he hears that his own son, Hugh, wants to marry his Catholic girlfriend, Nor Murray, John changes his tune.
Now he sees the strike as a Popish Plot, hatched by Catholics and socialists and the personal aspect of the play melds with the political and, as you can imagine, it can only end in tears – or blood.
Though written in 1911, there is of course, a lot in Mixed Marriage which chimes with 2013. Sectarianism is alive and kicking, Catholics and Protestants are fighting each other over symbols rather than for a better future.
In one scene, Michael O’Hara, a Catholic workmate of John Rainey is telling a crowd of people “singin’ a party tune and cursing the Pope” that they should stop when he is hit over the head by a drunk man.
“There’s many does worse nor him whin they’re not drunk, an’ they’re put in Parliament,” says the Juno-esque Mrs Rainey.
One particular woman kept applauding this line long after the other members of the audience had stopped!
Jimmy Fay’s production is spot on and there is an excellent dream sequence where John Rainey sees the Papish threat of Home Rule come through his door.
The cast of Marty Maguire (John Rainey), Katie Tumelty (Mrs Rainey) Darren Franklin (Tom Rainey). Brian Markey (Hugh Rainey), former Hollyoaks star Karen Hassan (Nora Murray) and Gerard Jordan (Michael O’Hara) were excellent throughout in a play that shows us that the stench of sectarianism hasn’t gone away, ye know.
Mixed Marriage, is running at the Lyric Theatre in Belfast until 23 February, Tuesday to Saturday 7.45pm; Saturday & Sunday 2.30pm; 21 February 1.30pm. You can book tickets Online; by telephone on 028 9038 1081 or by calling in person to the Lyric Theatre Box Office, 55 Ridgeway Street, Belfast, BT9 5FB.
It’s not often a snow blizzard plays havoc with an interview but that’s just what happened a firtnight ago.
We’re not talking about the skiff of snow we had last week, but a full-blown, once-a-decade force of nature.
I was waiting in vain to skype Andrew Dale of The Once, the excellent Canadian band from Newfoundland, who are playing in the Black Box on Saturday at 2pm. To give you a flavour of what conditions were like, this is what Andrew wrote when we finally made contact.
“Hi Robert. Unfortunately, there’s a massive blizzard pounding down on us here in Newfoundland right now (particularly St. John’s) and we’ve lost power. Which means I’m unable to Skype. I’m currently using my cell phone to connect with the outside world…although I have no way to charge it so I’m keeping my usage at a minimum.”
Ah, the glamour of the showbiz life!
Finally, I got hold of Andrew after he and the band had crossed the Atlantic and were in Birmingham in the English midlands.How bad was that blizzard I asked.
“This was one of the worst ones in quite some time,” he said. “People were referencing the horrible blizzard we had back in 1993 as the last time it got this bad.”
But at least, when it gets very cold we always have music to keep us warm. What’s the music scene like in Newfoundland?
Is it all Celine Dion and Shania Twain and is traditional music way out on the periphery or is it the other way round.
“Well, that’s how we started out, we were a Celine Dion cover band,” he laughs. “No, seriously, there’s a very diverse scene in Newfoundland, particularly in St John’s which is the central hub.
“People in Canada tend to associate Newfoundland more with folk and traditional music and that scene is quite vibrant and strong but there are also a number of amazing rock bands as well. “There is some really good country music, some old-fashioned singer-songwriters, great jazz players, there’s sort of something for everyone to be honest,” he says.
Growing up, Andrew’s parents would have listened to a local station called VOCM which had mainly old country music but they’d also play some of the local traditional singers as well so that was his early soundtrack growing up. But they young lad also took a lot of music lessons which led him into the Newfoundland Youth Symphony Orchestra at one point, where he was playing double bass in the orchestra on Sundays but at the same time, on Saturdays, he’d get together with a few buddies and we’d play heavy rock and metal in the basement of the drummer’s house! From Mozart to Metallica over a weekend!
Andrew’s interest in folk music started when he was in high school but only came to fruition when he was at university.
“At that time, I go into the old faithfuls – the Bothy Band, Planxty, Dé Danann and Dervish, those kind of groups, and thereafter more contemporary groups such as Danú and, basically, I fell in love with the Irish bouzouki so I listened to Dónal Lunny and Andy Irvine and others and that led me to go on a quest for an Irish bouzouki,” he laughs.
The quest led him not very far, to O’Brien’s Music Store, “the oldest shop in the oldest street in the oldest city in North America,” it is claimed.
Off Andrew went to buy a bouzouki and fell in love at first sight with one hanging on the wall and the musical journey continued.
At university, he met Phil Churchill and Geraldine Hollett and the trio got together first of all at a summer theatre festival(all three are actors as well).
One morning, the artistic director “volunteered” the three of them to sing together as part of a show that evening and it worked out really well. They went on to do a few local gigs around St John’s and people kept asking them to do more, and encouraged the band to record some of their songs.
“All this led to our first big festival outside of the Province, the Folk Harbour Festival in Lunenberg, Novia Scotia,” recalls Andrew.
“We’d never done anything like that before together and all we had was a little demo of two or three songs which got us invited into the festival. But we had the most amazing time. Up to then, we had thought it was just friends and family being polite to us, so this was the first time we had a totally unbiased audience.
“We were very warmly received, let’s put it that way, and at the end of the weekend, we were thanking everyone and their dog for showing us a really great time. We told them that hopefully we’d have an album next time and jokingly said “if anyone would like to help fund it, come and see us afterwards.”
Later, the artistic director came up to us and said, “okay, don’t freak out, there’s a gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous but who wishes to give you a cheque for $5000 to get you started on making that record’
They then freaked out!
But it also told them that music was something they had to pursue, when a complete stranger has enough faith in them after just a weekend to write out a check and say ‘just go for it.’ well, that was encouragement enough.
After getting the money, it was then up to The Once to make the album which wasn’t all that difficult because, as Andrew explains, they only really knew very well a very few songs, old ones, a couple of Leonard Cohen songs and songs they’d written themselves.
The “difficult” second album. Row and Row of the People You Know, is now out and galvanising the reputation Andrew, Phil and Gerry have been garnering.
For the most part, Row Upon Row is an original album, with a few tracks based on poems set to the Once’s music, there are others written by the band themselves and, bizarrely, a Queen cover, You’re My Best Friend, which equally bizarrely doesn’t feel at all out of place.
The harmonies are to-die-for and there is a great mix of up-tempo numbers and others of great emotional power.
Standout tracks for me include My Husband’s Got no Courage (the Once can do gritty too), Valley of Kilbride, By the Glow of the Kerosene Light and Song for Memory.
All in all, Row After Row of the People You Know o a great mixture of music, song, poetry and storytelling all in one spellbinding mix.
The Once Play in the Black Box, Belfast on Saturday, 26 January at 2pm.
Sunday 27th January Colfers Bar Festival Weekend Carrick-on Bannow County Wexford
Tuesday 29th January, The Bronte Music Club Rathfriland County Down Northern Ireland.
Wednesday 30th January, The Mermaid Theatre Bray County Wicklow
Thursday 31st of January, The Strule Arts Centre Omagh
Friday 1st February, the Squarebox Ranfurley House Arts & Visitors Centre Dungannon
Saturday 2nd February, Tobar Mhuire Monastery Crossgar County Down
The unionist hissy fit over Alex Maskey saying he would protect his home by throwing stones at attackers and their response to the flag protests speak volumes about the hypocrisy at the core of their world view.
Let’s take Nigel Dodds firstly, speaking on BBC’s The View.
After saying that the Union was safe, the North Belfast MLA went on to claim: “It’s clear that Sinn Fein, through some of some of its tactics, has decided to wage some kind of cultural war, it seems to be, in terms of some of the symbolism and some of the issues that are dear to unionists hearts and in that way have stirred up some sort of hornet’s nest.”
Nigel is obviously unaware that the cultural war in Ireland began with the Normans and continued by various kings (and Elizabeth I) for centuries in England’s political and cultural conquest and colonisation of Ireland. But I digress.)
A hornet’s nest, according to the first internet definition I looked up is “a violent situation or one with a lot of dispute,” so what Nigel appears to be saying is that if nationalists press for equal expression of their Irishness, it will be met with violence.
Hornets are only doing what their nature dictates while those throwing petrol bombs. blocking roads, threatening people – even serving British soldiers – are just following the call of their political DNA faced with change they don’t like. Yesterday’s News Letter told us that: “Since the first Home Rule Bill of 1886, unionism has been drilling and arming itself” for the purpose of, as it states in the Ulster Covenant, “using all means which may be found necessary to defeat the present conspiracy to set up a Home Rule Parliament in Ireland.”
The author, Quincey Dougan, says of the UVF, “the people’s militia” that it “provided unity in purpose and approach, leadership and an outlet for frustration and anger.” Ring any bells?
Last year saw the centenary of the Covenant and the most respectable Unionist breast puff out with pride at their defiance if their own British government.
At least Quincey, unlike most other unionists, mentions the violent intent behind the anti-Home Rule movement should they not get their way.
24,600 rifles and 5 million rounds of ammunition were brought into Larne by Fred Crawford and Wilfrid Spender to further their treachery and to defy one of the most important symbols of Britishness, its Parliament. Unionists can attack the symbols of Britishness, but nationalists can’t, it seems.
Sammy Wilson in typically finger-pointing mode in Belfast City Council. One wonders what David Ervine in the background would be thinking of recent events.
Now let’s listen to Sammy Wilson speaking in Stormont.
Sammy blamed Sinn Féin and the Alliance Party for the violence that has been plaguing the north since before Christmas. What he said was illuminating.
Pointing the finger at those on the other side of the House, he asked: “Did they not know what the reaction was likely to be across the community?”
“There has been a grave responsibility on those who provoked this situation,” he went on.
Perhaps Sammy didn’t notice, but by and large, people “across the community” have got along with their business wherever possible.
Given that what Wilson possibly meant by “across the community” was “amongst loyalist paramilitaries” this can only be seen as a threat.
I’m not suggesting for a moment that Sammy or Doddsy are advocating violence, they are just saying if you do anything we unionists don’t like, the bogey men will come and get ye.
If you take a decision that some hardline unionists disagree with, there will be violence and it won’t be the fault of the petrol bombers or the rioters or anyone else, it will be on “those who provoked this situation,” so the DUP is speaking out of both sides of its mouth, feebly condemning the rioters but saying it’s not really their fault. It’s the fault of those who “provoked the situation.”
Again, there is the threat inherent in this that if you do anything to displease unionists, there will be trouble.
In blaming Sinn Féin, the SDLP and Alliance for the sickening and continuing violence because, Unionists opposing what they see as a diminution of their Britishness in the only way they know. On this occasion, however, Pavlov’s dog is barking up the wrong tree.
Karine Polwart is one of those people who, it seems, is an infinite seeker after the truth and who has the God-given talent to wrap that truth up in a package of words and music.
That’s why I enjoyed our Sunday morning chat – via Skype – about what made her a singer and about Traces, her wonderful new album of songs about people and places.
Like many other singers, Karine’s urge to sing goes back to family gatherings and the dying-out cultural practice of the sing-song, although she takes a moment or two to respond to the question about why she became a professional singer.
“I just love to sing songs,” she says. “It’s something I’ve done since I was wee, singing along to songs. Just this morning actually, I was remembering about visiting my grandparents and singing along to their record collection and that’s a big part of what I remember about my childhood,” she says.
But it’s also about communication. If Karine lost her singing voice, she’d still be talking to people in some way, listening to their stories.
She studied philosophy and worked as a philosophy teacher for a while and for Scottish Women’s Aid she’s always worked with people in their diverse situations. If she didn’t do that through singing, she’d do it through writing or through some other means.
“I love singing but it’s also a medium,” she says.
Some of the songs on Traces are described as “protest songs” so is Karine a 9-5 songwriter or does she wait for the Muse or wait for the news?
“Well, I’ve tried to be more of a 9-5 person in the past few years because I have a young family and all kinds of (nice) distractions get in the way,” she explains.
“Writing is a hard job to justify because a lot of what you do seems like nothing, just sitting and thinking. It’s like nothing but if you don’t give yourself of enough time to sit and think and literally just write, even if it’s not that great, then I don’t know if you can become a writer. So I’m less inclined to think of myself as being caught by the Muse. I need to work at it and the Muse will come along, but it’s not without graft and craft and the rest of it.”
And what about the real world. Is Karine a news junkie?
“I like to keep in touch with what’s happening in the world, but the news – there’s so much of it, it can be overwhelming at times,” she laughs.
“I’m all for the slow news, I’m interested in how things are unfolding, but I don’t feel compelled to know what’s going on every day. I’m interested in how things are panning out over time and the big issues of the day,” she says.
In terms of protest songs, Karine admits to being a big fan of the classic protest songwriters but that’s not the way she approaches her songs.
“I have a philosopher’s eye on things,” she says, “a little more slow, a little bit more questioning. I’m not very good at immediate responses to things. I have two have a wee ponder about how things are so I don’t write too many protest songs but I am trying to think about the way things are and question the way things are.”
So there are no shrieking voices, jangly guitars or Valkyrian orchestral flourishes on Traces.
“No, I love some of that stuff but at the minute, it’s not my life, it’s not where my heart’s at. It’s not that I don’t get angry about things, but that’s not the chief thing I want to give out in my music ,” she explains.
That is especially true about the first song on the album, Cover Your Eyes, which tells the tale of Donald Trump’s golf course built in one of Scotland’s most environmentally vulnerable areas at Balmedie, home of a unique stretch of sand dunes.
Poster for Anthony Baxter’s film, You’ve Been Trumped
This natural habitat is in danger due to the golf courses being built by American billionaire Trump. Karine wrote the song after seeing Anthony Baxter’s seething documentary, You’ve Been Trumped which tells how the Trump Organisation scandalously ran slipshod over the local inhabitants with the support of a weasly Alex Salmond.
Polwart’s song however, is a model of restraint but with the effect of a paper cut.
“I was thoroughly embarrassed by our government, the way they just folded over,” says an incredulous Polwart.
“I saw the film almost a year and a half ago and I just couldn’t believe it. I felt I know quite a lot about the story – it was massive here in Scotland – and I felt I was well informed about the environmental impact which is something I am interested in but to see the film was to be genuinely shocked by the political machinations and the sheer gall of Trump himself. The manner of his person I found symbolic of a certain way of life, and a set of principles and values about how you go about living your life. He is such a brilliant bad guy, so easy to vilify.
“I knew I wanted to write a song about the film and there are a 100 songs you could write about it, very deeply angry vitriolic songs but what got to me was the dignity of the local people and I waned to write something that befitted them so the song was quieter because they were quiet people living in a quiet place and so I wanted to write a quiet song about the place and how the people lived their lives.”
And that is what Karine has done.
Another character who makes an appearance on Traces is Charles Darwin, Eh?
Well, Karine was asked to take part in the Darwin Song Project to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the scientist’s birth.
The Shrewsbury Folk Festival got eight songwriters together to come up with songs about the man who gave us our understanding of evolution.
What surprised Polwart about Darwin after she has read the biographies was his unorthodox relationship with his family.
“Darwin I found was a very humane man,” she explains. “I thought he would be very steely, austere and distant but I was
Charles Darwin, a “new man” in the Victorian age
struck by how unorthodox his family life was and don’t forget these were Victorian times and given his status and his workload, you;d think he wouldn’t have nay time for his children but they were a huge part of his life.
“He seemed like a fun kind of a Dad. For instance, he wrote a diary for the first year of every one of his childrens’ lives, every movement, every flicker. You could say he was only looking through a scientist’s eye, but this to me was an amazing act of love, to sit with your child and to think they were relevant to our work. To me, that speaks volumes about him as a person and about the ideas he conjured up.”
Another song on Traces, Strange News, is about a tragic death of a young man, Karine’s cousin, Ewan Polwart who died four year ago of Streptococcal Septicemia, aged just 34.
Surely it must have been difficult to write about so deep a tragedy from within her own family, I asked Karine but she says the lyrics were written just after she heard of Ewan’s death.
“He died on Christmas Day four years ago and we didn’t find out until two days later and I remember when it happened getting the call when all the family were here over Christmas and all of us being gobsmacked because it had come completely out of the blue, ” she recalls.
“I wrote the lyric immediately so it wasn’t hard to write in that sense and I didn’t do anything with it, it was just a trying-to-make-sense-of-it thing, and I stashed it away until two and half years later, my brother Steven came up with some ideas for tunes and when I heard one riff, I said ‘I think that’s Ewan’s song’.
“So it wasn’t difficult to write but it was had to know if it was okay to sing it so that was the difficult bit, hoping it would be okay with his wife and his family.
We recorded the song and sent it to his wife and my aunt and uncle and they said they were glad that Ewan is remembered every time it is sung. So that was good enough for me.”
Now that the album is finished, Karine Polwart’s enquiring mind is moving on to other things.
She has two projects on the go, a commission for Alzheimers Scotland doing some performances and specially tailored stuff for groups of Alzheimers patients in Glasgow – which brought her back to her granny and grandad record collection – and her other project is to do with bird migration.
“I’m working with the Isle of May National Nature Reserve in the Firth of Forth so I have lots of songs about birds now,” she laughs.
“I’m concerned with environmental stuff but his is more of a song and storytelling project looking at the impact of our lives on the lives of birds.”
Looks like the philosophy teacher has discovered that variety is the spice of life.
While the blades of a police helicopter whirled noisily in the grey skies above the Black Box, inside was a thing of beauty and light.
Belfast has long been a bipolar city and Saturday showed both sides of its character. Outside, loyalist rioters were throwing petrol bombs, stones and fireworks at police with reports too of gunfire.
But that was only one aspect of the city. Another was the Out to Lunch festival which had fiddler Zoe Conway and husband.guitarist John McIntyre playing to a packed venue.
Simply put, the music was sublime, kicking off with the old favourite Music for a Found Harmonium before the couple got into some of the tunes from Zoe and John’s new album, Go Mairir i bhFad (May you live long).
Thanks to an Arts Council grant, the pair were able to commission twelve composers of traditional tunes for fiddle and guitar and the result shows the stunning creativity of the guardians of our national music but also what can be done with that music in the hands of talents such as Zoe and John.
Some of the composers sent the tunes electronically to Zoe and John, others called to the house but the pair really get into the skin of the music. They must have been mad asking Andy Irvine to compose a tune as they must have known Andy would come up with a complicated Balkan-inspired melody with a weird time signature and so it came to pass with the brilliant Lago Puelo/Twenty-Two. However, after many hours of practice, the duo made light and sense of it all with a beautiful rendition.
My other favourite tune was the Steve Cooney-composed pizzicato-inflected dreamscape Capaillín Dubh ina Thaibhreamh, its sound lifting us out of ourselves and into somewhere beautiful and peaceful as did the two songs (there might have been more but I had to leave the gig early), Zoe’s solo Táimse mo Chodladh and John’s Bríd Óg Ní Mháille with stunning harmonies from the missus.
So, a day of contrasts in Belfast and a wonderful affirmation of the power of music to keep us all sane.
“I burned all along the Lough, (Neagh) within four miles of Dungannon and killed one hundred people, sparing none of what quality, age or sex soever, besides many burned to death; we kill man, woman and child; horse, beast and whatsoever we find.”
These are the words of one Arthur Chichester, 1st Baron of Chichester who enjoyed a spot of ethnic cleansing when he first came to Ireland at the end of the 16th century, “first to plough and break up those barbarous people (the native Irish) and then to sow them with the seeds of civility,” all in line with Queen Elizabeth 1’s policy of subjugating the Irish.
Nowadays, Chichester would be deemed a war criminal or a terrorist. Cathal O’Byrne called him “a monster” in his book, As I Roved Out.
Later Chichesters would bear the title Earl of Donegal or Marquess of Donegall hence the numerous street names bearing their names.
I thought of Chichester when I heard the raic about the naming of a playpark in Newry after the Hunger Striker, Raymond McCreesh.
Now, I am against any kind of militarism being connected to a children’s playpark but Unionists are beside themselves with anger and the SDLP is embarrassed by the fact that some of their councillors to have been part – although they are distancing themselves from the decision.
You can understand unionists to a certain degree. In a Historical Enquiries team report, Raymond McCreesh was found in possession of a gun used in the killing of 10 Protestants at Kingsmills in 1976, the murders of RUC Constable David McNeice and rifleman Michael Gibson (Royal Jackets) at an ambush at Meigh in 1974 and the attempted murder of Protestant farmer Samuel Rodgers at Camlough in 1975.
But Unionist political parties are using the naming of the playpark in a bout of “whataboutery” in the wake of, not the removal of the Union Flag over City Hall, but on its being flown on designated days in line with common practice in Britain.
They say the step is an intolerable diminution of their British identity and have been brought out onto the streets to vent their interminable anger but, as Danny Morrison has pointed out, Belfast city is overflowing with British identity. He’s even invented a new board game to reflect it.
“A new board game, folks. Tiddlywinks, played on a map of Belfast. Four can play. North, South, East and West.
Royal Avenue in the 1890s
Each of you have to get your four tiddlies into Royal Avenue without being brainwashed.
“You can’t use the Queen Elizabeth Bridge, the Queen’s Bridge, the Albert Bridge, the King’s Bridge, Victoria Street, Prince’s Street, Queen Street, King Street, Albert Street, the grounds of the Royal Victoria Hospital, a helicopter from the Kings Hall, Lower Windsor Avenue, the fields behind the Royal Academy.
“Nor can you be disguised as a prostitute from the Albert Clock, a student from Queen’s, a worker with Royal Mail, a violinist with the Royal School of Music, a Queen’s Counsel, a member of the Royal Ulster Constabulary, a screw of Her Majesty’s Prison Service, a soldier with Her Majesty’s armed forces, a Crown Court judge.
“Nor by boat up Victoria Channel to Albert Quay, Victoria Wharf or Alexandra Jetty. You must use the Queen’s English on the Queen’s Highway or else you’ll be in breach of the Queen’s Peace.”
At a recent lecture by historian Jimmy McDermott, he pointed out the number of streets named after various British military campaigns, in the heart of the Falls Road – Balaclava, Inkerman, Servia, Sevastopol, etc and the area where I grew up in Clonard had streets named after Kashmir, Benares, Lucknow and Cawnpore (all in India). There was nothing better to ingratiate yourself with the British Army in the hope of getting some building contracts than to name a street after one of their victories or after a city of the British Raj.
India has taken to returning some of its towns and cities to their former pre-British names – Cawnpore is now Kanpur and Benares is now Varanasi – and in 1996 the good people of the New Lodge did something similar to the names of blocks of flats named after British military men, re-Christening them with names from Irish mythology, so Alamein became Eithne, Alanbrooke became Finn, Alexander became Oisín, Artillery became Gráinne, Churchill became Cúchulainn, Dill became Fianna and Templar became Maeve.
That was 16 years ago and Peter Robinson’s attitude to the democratic wishes of the people of the New Lodge back then was predictable.
“This is part of the government’s process of removing the British identity from Northern Ireland and forcing an Irish ethos on the British people of Ulster,” he said.
At the weekend, former UUP leader Tom Elliott said he would try to introduce a leagal ban on “naming publicly funded property after convicted terrorists.”
Methinks we will hear more about names in the future.
TÁ siad ann a deir leat nár chóir baint na páirt bheith ag duine le facebook mar níl ann ach daoine ag cur síos ar an bhéile dheireanach a bhí acu.
Tuigeann siad go bhfuil tábhacht éigin le twitter mar tá sé chomh coitianta sin agus tugann eagraíochtaí agus daoine mór le ráitis fríd twitter a léitear ar chláracha teilifíse agus raidió.
Níl ar youtube ach puisíní ag seinm ar an phianó agus daoine ag titim ar an oighear i mBaile Átha Cliath.
Bhuel, is fíor go bhfuil cuid den fhírinne sna barúlacha thuas ach mothaím go bhfuil an-tairbhe le baint as na meáin shóisialta.
Mar shampla, bhí mé i bhFoirceal i ndeisceart Ard Mhacha Dé Sathairn le cuairt a thabhairt ar uaigh Pheadair Uí Dhoirnín, file mór Gaelach a bhí beo idir 1700-1769 cionn is go bhfaca mé an tOllamh Breandan Ó Buachalla, nach maireann, ar youtube agus é ag caint ar fhilíocht na hAislinge le Antaine Ó Donnghaile de chuid an BBC.
B’as Corcaigh ar ndóigh do Bhreandán ach tháinig sé aneas sna 1950í ach dúirt sé gur mhothaigh sé ar a sháimhín an fad sin óna áit dhúchais.
Bhí an dís ag caint i Reilig Urnaí, suite ar an teorainn idir Co Ard Mhacha agus Contae Lú, idir Cúige Uladh agus Cúige Laighean, ceantar ar a tugtar Oirghiall ina raibh an léann agus an cultur go láidir.
“Seachas aon áit eile in Éirinn, is dócha, nuair a bhím san áit seo, tuigim go bhfuilim ag baint le traidisiún beo, traidisiún a chuaigh i bhfad i bhfad siar, mar ní amháin gur seo ceantar Uí Dhoirnín, seo é ceantar Táin Bó Cuailgne agus is féidir an traidisiún sin a rianú anuas,” arsa an tOllamh Ó Buachalla.
Chuir sé in iúl go raibh cainteoirí dúchais Gaeilge anseo i gceantar Shliabh gCuillinn sna 1930í nuair a tháinig sé féin ar an saol agus seo anois é, Gael Mumhan in Oirghialla ag caint ar Ó Doirnín agus na haislingí agus an nasc beo leanúnach idir é féin agus an cultúr Gaelach agus na daoine a chleacht agus a shaibhrigh é 250 éigin bliain ó shin.
Mar sin, ó tharla mé bheith i gContae Ard Mhacha d’Fhéile Phíobaireachta William Kennedy ag baint an-suilt as ceol traidisiúnta na hÉireann agus na hAlban, idir ársa agus nuachumtha, an lá dar gcionn chinn mé ar an turas a dhéanamh go reilig Urnaí, taobh amuigh d’Foirceal, leis an chaidreamh sin idir Gaeil na haimsire caite agus mé féin a athnuachan ionam féin.
Ag tiomáint ó dheas ó Ard Mhacha, ba léir go raibh mé i gceann de na ceantracha is aille sa tír, Fáinne Shliabh gCuillinn mar a thugtar inniu air.
Sráidbhaile beag álainn atá i bhFoirceal na Cléire lena ainm ceart a thabhairt air, é baiste as Mainistir Proinsiasach a bhíodh i baile fearainn darb ainm An Sián.
Taobh le siopa DayToday, tá cosán ar a thugtar Cosán an Tórraimh, The Funeral Path a shíneann a fhad leis an reilig.
Seo an turas deireanach a thug Ó Doirnín agus é ar a bhealach chun na huaighe i 1769.
Bhí a fhios agam – cé aige nach bhfuil a fhios – gur scríobh Ó Doirnín an t-amhrán Úr Chnoc Chéin Mhic Cainte ach scríobh sé M’Uilleagán Dubh Ó agus Mná na hÉireann ach is beag eolas atá againn ar a shaol duine de na filí is mó clú i gCúige Uladh agus ar fud na hÉireann.
Ní fios go cinnte cá dtáinig sé ar an tsaol nó cén bhliain féin.
Mar a scríobh Ó Buachalla ina leabhar Peadar Ó Doirnín: Amhráin, níl de chinnteacht againn ach gur éag sé ar an 5u Aibreáin 1769 agus go bhfuil sé curtha i reilig Urnaí.
“Níl sna tuairiscí eile agus san heachtraí eile ar fad a gceanglaítear a ainm leo ach béaloideas agus cumadóireacht, scéil scéal, agus finscéil filíochta”
Ar ndóigh, tá an fhilíocht againn agus is inti a chuireann muid aithne ar an fhile. Fear neamhspleách a theagasc ag scoil scairte a bhí in Ó Doirnín ach fear a raibh an-dúil san ól agus sna maighdeain aige, mar is léir óna chuid véarsaí
Ach domsa, agus mé ag machnamh i Reilig Urnaí ar Pheadar agus a chomhghleacaithe – Art Mac Cumhaigh, Séamas Dall Mac Cuarta agus Cathal Buí Mac Giolla Ghunna – rith sé liom gur fhág siad oidhreacht againn nár cheart dearmad a dhéanamh air agus go bhfuil ceangal ag Gaeil an lae inniu leo, bíodh siad i gcathracha ollmhóra nach dtiocfadh le filí na 18u haoise a shamhail nó amuigh faoin tuath nach n-aithneodh siad ach ar éigin.
Caithfidh mé a rá gur mhothaigh mé, dalta Bhreandáin Uí Bhuachalla, glórtha na nglúnta a chuaigh romham ag caint i dteanga a thuig mé agus mhothaigh mé sásamh éigin ag meabhrú go mbeadh na filí móra Ultacha iontach sásta a chluinstin go raibh daoine toilteanach an Ghaeilge a labhairt agus a chaomhnú agus a chur chun cinn, ainneoin an drochbhail ina bhfuil sí.
