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Irish Times
15 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Two fathers, two sons, two books and an album: the Begleys and the O'Connors collaborate
Dublin and Kerry's sporting ties are well documented, whether it's the rivalry of the counties on the pitch or the camaraderie that has bound their footballers together long after the final whistle at Croke Park. The musical ties that bind the two counties are less well known, but now their shared passion for music, song and dance is being highlighted with the launch of an album by two of the finest musicians in the tradition, Cormac Begley and Liam O'Connor , and with the publication of books by each of their fathers, Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich and Mick O'Connor . Cormac and Liam's album, Into the Loam , is a full-throated, visceral excavation of our tradition through the coalescence of concertina and fiddle. It's a collection that's intuitively familiar and gloriously groundbreaking, the musicians searching for new meaning in old forms. Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich, a box player and singer of renown, has written a rich personal account of his life in music, in culture and in the Irish language. Clann na Seanmhuintire , whose title he translates as Of My People (and which has editions in both Irish and English), is shot through with west Kerry wit, spit-polished and honed by Breanndán's richly textured bilingualism. READ MORE Mick O'Connor is a Dublin flute player and traditional-music historian whose life's work interviewing, recording, photographing and documenting the capital's vast musical tradition has culminated in the publication of In Safe Hands. The book reflects on the city's tapestry of influences and contributions to our musical tradition, beginning with the Gaelic Revival in 1893 and culminating in the formation of Na Píobairí Uilleann in 1968. Mick refers to it as his Satanic Verses, but it's in fact a lovingly nurtured portrait of the great, the good and the downright brilliant artists and characters who have shaped the tradition – and one that halts, perhaps wisely, at a juncture at enough of a remove from the present to allow for insightful appraisal. Mick O'Connor, whose life's work on Dublin's vast musical tradition has culminated in the publication of In Safe Hands Cormac Begley and Liam O'Connor borrowed the title Into the Loam from the late Tony MacMahon, who, upon hearing Cormac's playing some years ago, used the phrase to describe how he was delving deep beneath the surface of the music and making the tunes his own. 'We wanted to record tunes we both resonated with,' Liam says. 'We wanted to explore different combinations of instruments, and we were trying to push a little further than our natural boundaries, in terms of being a bit more organic or rougher around the edges. To leave the earth in there, so that it wouldn't be as clean or crisp – exploring a different spectrum, I suppose.' They recorded the album in the studios at the Irish Traditional Music Archive , on Merrion Square in Dublin – Liam's professional home, as he has been the organisation's director since 2019. [ 'A beast of a musician': Video showing concertina master Cormac Begley goes viral Opens in new window ] 'It's trying to explore what's in the collective subconscious of what we inherited from our families, everyone we played with or met,' he says. 'There are countless experiences from Scoil Samhraidh Willie Clancy where you have a cacophony of noise, and we wanted to explore some of those experiences on the album and be a little braver in our approach together.' Into the Loam is about creation, not just recreating the music the duo inherited. 'I think it's important to develop your own style,' Cormac says. 'It's something my father always encouraged me to do, and the same for Liam. The goal is to try to find your own voice, your own style of playing, and I think we've dug into that, in terms of exploring the meaning of tunes. 'Every tune has a different emotional world, a grittiness and a way of describing it. The more you open up to that, and listen, and see what the potentials are in your instrument, the better the shared sounds that we create are. 'That's our way of thinking about it. A lot of the people we've listened to over the years who inspired us have done it in their own ways, and that's informed our approach, to step into that for ourselves musically.' To what degree has geography played a part in their tune selections? 'Geography comes up a lot,' Cormac says, 'and for me there's a west Kerry side, but I'm very strongly influenced by Clare music as well. More broadly, geography for me is an emotional geography. Different tunes tap into different feelings and experiences, and it's about trying to be as honest as you can with that.' Breanndán's delight in hearing what Cormac and Liam have created is palpable. 'I've never heard playing like it. It's completely individual,' he says. 'Two individuals coming together as one – and, by the same token, being individual in their playing as well. It's almost ón saol eile' – otherworldly – 'but still very true and very traditional. 'If tradition is alive it has to move – and it has moved to a place that's completely new and yet an-traidisiúnta ar fad', or very traditional altogether. 'It's of itself. It's going deeper into the world that they've come from.' Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich's memoir is Clann na Seanmhuintire Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich's musicianship has been a magnet for musicians and visitors to west Kerry for decades. His autobiography will be the first book to be published under his son's Airt imprint. Writing it played a central role in his recovery from the untimely death of his friend Danny Sheehy, the poet, when the boat they were in capsized off the Iberian coast in 2017. 'I found writing the book therapeutic,' Breanndán says. 'I got great encouragement from [the poet and academic] Tadhg Ó Dubhsláine and from [the book's editor] Tracey Ní Mhaonaigh. There were some – very few – bad memories, and I wanted to settle my score with them, but I found it very healing. 'I keep a diary every day, whether it's a bad or a good day. The road can be very lonely if you're travelling on your own, but if there's something bothering you, and you go to the trouble of writing it down, you've shared it with somebody and it's not stuck within you any more.' Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich might be regarded as someone with the most mellifluous Irish. Perhaps surprisingly, he says of writing the book, 'my fluency in both languages improved, because you have to work to find the right words. I've always loved Hiberno-English. I would hate to see us lose that or to lose all the canúintí ceoil [musical dialects] and canúintí cainte [spoken accent or turns of phrase].' Breanndán's memoir was launched at Listowel Writers Week . Mick O'Connor's book will be launched at the Teachers' Club in Dublin on June 27th. Both men will be at Vicar Street in Dublin for their sons' album launch on Friday, June 6th. It seems that the histories and tunes of both counties are destined for reinvigoration for generations to come. 'It's essentially about my community,' Mick O'Connor says. 'I remember showing visiting pipers from America around Dublin, seeing where all the different musical families lived but don't any more: the Rowsomes, the Potts and the Recks. 'Then we went on to Kerry – and the music was flying. There were no buildings, but they had passed the music on intact. It's great to think that the music has survived. 'Some things are lost, but I think it's in a much better place. Recently I was playing with my family and grandkids, and there were 13 of us up on stage, and all their friends are friends with the Mulligans and the Kellys and so on. 'That's a magnificent place to be: they'll be connected and friends for life now. You couldn't ask for better than that.'
Times
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Times
Three great Belfast city tours to book now
Belfast: city of storytellers, protests, seven types of rain (Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday . . . they say), plus 1,000 tours, covering music, art, politics, troubled bloodshed, wonder — and a hell of a lot of butter. No nationality talks as continuously and as comedically as the Irish, so it's unsurprising that this new course of tourism is thriving. Even the locals are in on them, saying the walkabouts have made them see modern Belfast in 'colour' after the 'black and white' of their childhoods. Here are three of the best. Ireland is home to some of the world's finest seafood — and people reluctant to put it in their mouths. So says Rae Carnegie, a guide on one of Belfast's most colourful food tours. St George's Market is the centrepiece of Carnegie's four-hour whistle-stop tour. Trading since 1890, largely in butter, it now sells everything from shark meat (sold out) and oysters to antique hairbrushes and Irish macaroons (aka fifteens), as well as 'No Topless Bathing, Ulster Has Suffered Enough' art. 'You're going to be punched in the face by your senses,' Carnegie says. She isn't wrong. 'Our eels get sent to Japan,' Carnegie laments, before clapping her hands. 'I've got sweets for indigestion, pills if you're hungover, plasters if your feet hurt,' she shouts, marching off through the market for 'tea, not chai, not matcha, not whatever the hell the kids are drinking now, just normal Irish tea'. Did you know 'bap' stands for 'bread against poverty'? It's just one of many historical titbits on the seven-stop tour, whose standouts are Mike's Fancy Cheese, and Daisies, run by the chocolatier Martin Giles, who attends boxing matches with pockets full of liqueur bonbons so he doesn't have to queue at the bar. Word to the wise: buy his hot-chocolate powder. 'Make sure you mix it with milk, not water, though,' Carnegie warns, 'otherwise Martin turns into Liam Neeson from Taken. He will find you.' Details £70, • How to spend a weekend in Belfast and the Antrim Coast Dolores Vischer is a punk, 'not a posh punk' — and while she once played the drums with the Stranglers, that was only because Jet Black needed a pee. 'New York had the haircuts, London had the trousers and Belfast had the reason for punk,' she says, leading us around the city's iconic musical landmarks, playing music through a speaker dangling from her lanyard. Not for nothing is Belfast a Unesco City of Music (Liverpool and Glasgow are the UK's only other two). The city spawned Van Morrison, Stiff Little Fingers and, most recently and notoriously, the headline-grabbing hip-hoppers Kneecap. Kicking off at the Ulster Hall, where Led Zeppelin first performed Stairway to Heaven, the two-hour tour visits the city's oldest pub, oldest church, trad music pubs, record shops and a Victorian music hall, as well some of the city's best street From £22, Who knows a city better than a taxi driver? Plus, this tour with yer man Billy Scott — boy about town, biker, comedian, historian, sponge of local gossip, with many a contact up his sleeve — comes with a proper black cab. We whizz like slebs down bus lanes, stopping where we like because, after all, this is a loiter-legal taxi. Genius. We tour the student areas, central Belfast, the Cathedral Quarter with its soon-to-be-married stags, and many a backstreet shooting spot as Scott rattles through IRA history and the Troubles, trailing facts in his wake: 'Queen's University, Tudor-style, opened 1857; women were allowed to attend in hats and gloves and CS Lewis's mother was one of the first female graduates.' We pull over so I can sign the Peace Wall, and pull up one backstreet, not far from Sinn Fein HQ, where a mural of Kneecap looms huge and alive. A moment in history indeed. 'Nice spot you're staying in,' Billy says of the Harrison Chambers of Distinction, in south Belfast (B&B doubles from £130, whose owner, Melanie Harrison, designed the fabulously bohemian suites herself and has enough stories to run her own tour. 'It reminds me of a 19th-century Parisian gentlemen's club,' Scott says. 'Not that I've ever been in one.'Details £80 for two, £35 a head for three or more, Lucy Holden was a guest of Fly to Belfast from Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen or Inverness from £30 return with easyJet, Aer Lingus or Loganair
Irish Times
23-05-2025
- General
- Irish Times
Moving to Ireland helped me understand my mother, her peculiarities and weird secrecy
A printed out, yellowing piece of paper sits on our fridge. Occasionally, an over-enthusiastic yank of the door will send its curled-up edges flying to the ground. The dried-out blob holding it to the door is now doing only a bad impression of a piece of Blu Tack. On it is an Anne Enright quote: 'I am sorry. I cannot invite you home for Christmas because I am Irish and my family is mad.' Other Irish immigrant households across the globe might choose more sentimental nods to the old country. A tasteful Celtic cross here. A 'Céad Míle Fáilte' plaque there. Maybe a cushion embroidered with that blessing about roads rising up and the winds being at your back. But we have the Anne Enright quote, which I've yet to see on a fridge magnet being sold at Carrolls Irish Gifts. When not quoting the Booker prizewinner and former Irish Laureate, my mother likes to cite one of the other great minds of our times, Ozzy Osbourne . Particularly that one scene from his noughties reality TV show when, on the matter of his family, the Prince of Darkness says 'I've said it before and I'll say it again. I love 'em all, but they're all f***ing mad!' Family life was never meant to be smooth. Growing up, there was acceptance of cousins and uncles and nieces breezing in and out of the doors, helping themselves to the contents of cupboards while telling you that you need to get the walls repainted. READ MORE Acceptance of family gatherings so big, one person ends up with a lattice-crossed behind from sitting on the only seat left - a stolen milkcrate. Of this person not talking to this one due to a dispute over a box trailer. Of trying to keep a mental track of what you can and can't bring up in front of who. Talks of people doing well, and people doing it hard. The ask of a lend. The offer of help. The begrudging assistance that comes after rolled eyes. The years' worth of petty disagreements and submerged jealousy ending in an instant when a crisis happens. There are Australian families like this too, but it seems to be more of a common Irish experience, like bouncy-castle Holy Communions – this messy comfort of a shared life. I had assumed all families were the same. Then I started dating other people, which gave me a thrilling but shocking peephole into how others managed their relatives. 'I'm just saying I would be a poorer person with less entertaining dinner-party stories if I didn't have slightly mad uncles with alarming and impressive access to fireworks' I didn't know that you could just never see your cousins. Not because of any great falling out, but rather that it's just not something you do any more. Like the forgotten Peloton in the attic. 'We don't have that much in common,' they explained with a shrug. As if that was a reasonable explanation. As if I hadn't spent several enjoyable Christmases chatting to a relative who believes the pyramids were built by aliens while wearing paper hats from the crackers. Families are not about having things in common (besides DNA and marriage). They're the random assemblage of kooks that fate and nature has given to you to enjoy and abide. I'm not talking about cases of abuse or serious harm. Then people need to do what they have to in order to heal, including cutting off family. I'm just saying I would be a poorer person with fewer entertaining dinner-party stories if I didn't have slightly mad uncles with alarming and impressive access to fireworks. Moving to Ireland helped me understand my mum. I thought her peculiarities were personal, not cultural. Being interested in the neighbours, being weirdly secretive about things no one cares about and having a hard time dealing with feelings. We were recently watching Marian Keyes in Sydney explain the nuanced difference between an amadán and eejit. 'My mother called us both,' she said. Which made me nudge my own, sitting next to me, who giggled. [ Brianna Parkins: I fantasise about moving back in with my parents Opens in new window ] Mum had used both words so interchangeably to describe us growing up that the neighbours thought they were our names in Irish. As her parents had done to her. 'It's not as harsh as an idiot, it's a nicer way of calling out the foolishness,' she said in defence. That was after the lady across the road asked if 'gobshite' would be a lovely name for a baby girl. Love in Irish families is more of a doing word than a saying one. I could win a Pulitzer Prize and be met with 'and is that the dress you're wearing?' by mam. But she'd get up at 4am to pick me up from the airport and have a cake baked on the table for me when I got back from the ceremony. Then she'd have all the relatives over to tell them how proud she is – as we all fought to sit on the good chairs.
BreakingNews.ie
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- BreakingNews.ie
Singer CMAT says ‘fake version' of Irish culture is being ‘built up' by English
Country singer CMAT has said a 'fake version' of Irish culture is being 'being built up by Americans and English people and claimed for themselves'. The 29-year-old, whose real name is Ciara Mary-Alice Thompson, is part of a number of Irish acts to rise to popularity in recent years alongside the likes of indie rockers Fontaines DC and rap trio Kneecap, which has prompted a surge in interest in Irish culture in the UK and US. Advertisement Speaking to Glamour UK, the Crazymad For Me singer said of the situation: 'I didn't relate to any of it, like, why am I seeing Claddagh rings everywhere? The GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) jerseys? Why is everyone pretending we had this exact same childhood? CMAT on the cover of Glamour UK. Photo: Ruth Ginika Ossai/Glamour UK/PA. 'There's this very romantic vision of Ireland, but I grew up in a place where it's not very fun to grow up. This fake version of our identity was being built up by Americans and English people and claimed for themselves.' The singer is due to release her third album Euro-Country later this year, and says the record features a song about a performance at Radio 1's Big Weekend – when the BBC had to switch the comments off due to people body-shaming her – called Take A Sexy Picture Of Me. She told Glamour UK: 'That song is about getting fat-shamed on the internet all the time. I wanted to really dig into commercial attractiveness and how women are pruned into this marketable product until they turn about 27. Advertisement 'I genuinely didn't care that people got so angry that I thought I was sexy, but it forced a lot of 15-year-old girls who love CMAT, who might even be bigger than me, to witness a level of vitriol against a woman's body against her will.' The full interview with CMAT can be read in the May digital issue of Glamour UK which is online now.
RTÉ News
19-05-2025
- Entertainment
- RTÉ News
Here's why Irish history is having a moment on TikTok
It's fair to say that Ireland is having "a moment", and in my opinion, it's easy to see why curiosity about our small but mighty island has peaked. Lately, celebrities like Kneecap have brought their grá for the Irish language to the world stage; an ever-extending crew of internationally acclaimed Irish film stars are now familiar faces across the globe; countless Irish creatives have taken senior roles in legacy fashion houses; and industry-leading Irish business owners are showing the rest how it's done. I would want to know what made us who we are, too. Now it seems that TikTok, a social media platform with approximately 1.6 billion monthly active users worldwide, has taken note. In Ireland alone, 2.2 million people turn to TikTok for entertainment, discovery and learning on a monthly basis. Over the last twelve months, content surrounding #Irishlanguage has grown 116%, #IrishLiterature has grown 126%, #IrishTikTok has grown 150%, and #IrishCulture has grown a staggering 200%. In response to this unprecedented increase in demand for Irish cultural and historical content, TikTok is officially launching the #IrishHistory Hub - a dedicated and curated space where users can go to learn more about the stories, people, places and legends that have shaped Ireland throughout history. We spoke to some Irish creators to find out more. Storyteller Mark O'Géaráin @beardedbadger What does Irish history mean to you? Our history is our identity, it informs us on who we are and what our place is in the wider world. As an Irish person, I believe I am a product of all those Irish people who have come before me. It's a huge honour, but one that also comes with great responsibility. How do you feel about social media being an educational platform? I think it needs to be accepted that its social media shapes opinions. It's also why media literally should be seen as one of the core pillars of education. I think having an Irish History Hub is a great step. It allows us to share our experience, or history, it's the world. Many people have a very shallow understanding of Ireland and the people in terms of how we've been represented in the media. How do you feel about social media being an educational platform? I think it's more important now than ever before. It is for some (rather disconcertingly) their only source of information. A few of my fellow content creators left various platforms, but I chose to stay. I want to be a voice to break down myths, reiterate parts of history and, even more importantly, show how understanding our past can help us make sense of our present, especially now. What are your thoughts on having an Irish history hub? It's a wonderful idea, as long as the information is correct and told in a way that benefits the viewer. I think it could be a great opportunity to collaborate with other creators (like in fashion and sport, for example), and to create a community of not just historians, but archaeologists, folklorists, artists, designers, craftspeople, and writers. There is a difference, though, between getting your information from the internet and getting information from people on the internet. By creating a community of experts, not only can the quality of information but so too can the space for discussion - the core of history and its study. It's hard to find space for that on social media, so my hope is such a hub will foster a demand for more in-person talks, lectures and events to do so. Journalist Édaein O Connell @edaeinoc What does Irish history mean to you? Irish history to me is such an important vessel because it holds the stories not only of our nation but of our ancestors and our families. To me, history is such an important subject to not only learn about, but to keep returning to – we learn our lessons from history; by looking back we move forward. For example, a few years ago, when it was proposed to remove history from the junior certificate curriculum, I was firmly against it. National and international history should be mandatory for students in Ireland and around the world. It's the only way we can grow, create better societies and learn from our mistakes. Why do you think this area is booming now? I think there's been an increase in those interests because as the world becomes a lot more unsteady and volatile, we're looking more inward. We're realising we must have solid foundations in our own country, and the way that we can achieve that is by studying our history and becoming more in tune with our culture and the places we have been and the hurt we've experienced. I think more people are becoming prouder to be Irish, because I know in the past it was something to be ashamed of – "no blacks, no Irish, no dogs". For such a small country, we have done so much for the world in terms of art and literature – look at all the Irish actors right now doing amazing things. We're great businesspeople, and we have an incredible economy. I think the prouder we become, the more we want to learn about our ancestry. I think as well when you see things happening, like what is occurring right now in Gaza, where people are being oppressed – we know what that looks like. We're being called on to preserve our music, our stories and our language now more than ever because we are reminded how easily it can be taken away, and we know what it's like to have it taken away from us. We want to hold onto it really tightly. Local historians, educators and everyday storytellers have found their voice on TikTok, collectively generating a vast digital archive of Ireland's past. Through their content, creators are preserving forgotten folklore and showcasing hidden gems across the country. Their bite-sized, locally rooted storytelling invites users to explore Ireland's heritage in fresh and engaging ways, appealing to both dedicated history buffs and casual scrollers alike. Katie Charlwood, host of the history podcast, Who Did What Now? @whodidwhatnowpod What does being Irish mean to you? As someone who is a dual citizen of Ireland and the UK, having a greater understanding of Irish history is incredibly important to my identity. We have such a deep and fascinating history, not just within Ireland but with the diaspora – we've spread all over the world and we are connected by our history. There's been an unprecedented increase in searches for Irish history and culture. Why do you think that is? The Irish diaspora spread across continents and nations – many of whom are looking for connections, roots. We are also constantly bombarded with international news and information, so there is some solace in looking internally at our own history and culture.
