Latest news with #SeánÓRiada
Irish Examiner
17 hours ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
Culture That Made Me: Liam Ó Maonlaí on his Cork connections and touchstone influences
Liam Ó Maonlaí, 64, grew up in Clonskeagh, Dublin. In 1985, he co-founded Hothouse Flowers with Fiachna Ó Braonáin. In 1988, the band's record, People, became the most successful debut album in Irish chart history. He has acted, and performed in numerous projects with musicians, including the 2008 documentary, Dambé: The Mali Project about his musical adventure at the Festival au Désert. Hothouse Flowers will perform at Connolly's of Leap, Co Cork, August 16-17. See: Seán Ó Riada My dad went to the same school, Farranferris, in Cork as Seán Ó Riada, probably in the same class. The first record we devoured in our house, and I still listen to it, is Seán Ó Riada's live album, Ó Riada Sa Gaiety, recorded in 1970. He had Ceoltóirí Chualann with him, some of whom formed the Chieftains. He became interested in modern classical music. His vision was European, looking to Paris, Vienna and Berlin as cultural centres. However, he was also living in Ireland as it was re-dreaming itself. There were great musicians all over the country. He tapped into that. Mise Éire is one of his great orchestral works. He was the master. The Ó Riada Sa Gaiety album has that element of energy that happens between a group of people making the sound and a larger group of people experiencing the sound. What crosses over would be the occasional applause and the hoops and yelps that are a lovely part of our tradition. It's a global thing. Go to many places where music is played, and a hoop or a yelp will be expressed. It's like the duende in flamenco or the calls they have in Sub-Saharan Africa. It's a fantastic thing. Seán De Hora There's a famous summer holiday – Seán Ó Riada went to Corca Dhuibhne, West Kerry. He stayed in Seán De Hora's house with his family. Seán De Hora was a great singer at the time. The earth moved when he sang a song. It didn't matter what song he sang, you knew you were in the presence of a great singer, of a great phenomenon of humanity. Poc ar Buile Seán Ó Sé has a unique voice because he touches on the bel canto. He's a trained singer, which you don't get in Irish music. His voice has a pure tone. He didn't fall into the habit of using vibrato, which many singers like to do because it makes people think you're good. He has the Cork Gaeltacht spirit of fun in the way he sings a song. His voice is as pure and strong as it ever was. He himself is still in fine form. What a storyteller. Just an open, ageless individual. The third song I ever learned was An Poc ar Buile. I didn't know it came from Seán ó Sé because I learned it from my dad. As a kid, you're learning the world. I have memories of learning to speak and being taught words by my dad in Irish and in English through song. It was a clever thing my dad did in giving me Irish in song, as I was learning to speak, so that I could make my own formula. Bob Marley Bob Marley (Photo by Ebet Roberts/Redferns) There was one particularly hot summer in Jamaica. It could be an urban myth, but ska and other dancehall music forms were quite fast. They slowed them down and reggae was born. I heard word of Bob Marley and The Wailers. This guy was different, with the dreads. Once you got into Bob Marley: Live! there was no turning back – the musicality, the work that went into the arrangements, the formulaic aspects, the tribal aspect. The bass would always do one thing, the keyboard another. You had this machine, this system of polyrhythms going. When you fired it up, it was strong and on top of that style was place. Thomas McCarthy I got familiar with Thomas McCarthy in the last 15-20 years. He's a king. I saw him recently in Glastonbury. A night there can be magical. Glastonbury has a way of framing things. He was part of a magical night I spent there, sitting at the fire together. The most ancient form of performance is the storyteller. He embodies the storyteller. His presence is vital. He sits there. In a way it's not performance it's just being. John Lydon John Lydon. I grew up with punk. I'm drawn to authenticity and individuality. I love the way John Lydon has no time for anything. He had meningitis as a boy. He came out of a coma that lasted months. He had to learn to do everything again. The doctor told his mother: 'Try keeping him angry,' which is not what you'd be imagining. 'Anger is an energy' – that was the force of punk music. It gave a voice to the anger boiling under the surface of a generation. It had to explode. It had to shock. Shock was vital. If anyone generated that anger, it was Johnny Lydon. His dad was a Galway man. My mother is Lydon also. She always said we were related. Michael Keegan-Dolan Michael Keegan-Dolan's adaptation of Swan Lake (Loch na hEala). I saw Teac Damsa perform Loch na hEala (Swan Lake) in Irish, with Slow Moving Clouds providing a musical backdrop. It was a combination of dance and satire, pointing at a dark time in midlands Ireland. Michael Keegan-Dolan used people, costumes and props to huge effect. Very subtle but effective. He's a master theatre-maker. The Bone People A novel I return to is The Bone People by Keri Hulme, a part-Māori New Zealand writer. Māori sensibility, Māori power, Māori artistry, Māori culture, Māori language is a big part of that book. It's so vivid. The places she takes you in the story are harrowing, inspiring, redemptive, hopeless, and redemptive again. It got the Booker prize in 1985. It's her only full-length novel. An incredible book. Breandán Ó hEithir Breandán Ó hEithir was a warrior of '60s and '70s Irish culture, a West of Ireland, Galway man. He was an intellect, a regular on television shows like Féach, the Irish political magazine programme. The old Gaelic way was that you built a house, wrote a book, fished, played music, you did everything. Breandán Ó hEithir was one of those people. He built a boat. He wrote a book, Lig Sinn i gCathú, which means 'lead us into temptation'. It's a window into college life. It's based in Galway. It's got mad twists and turns in it, and great character detail. One of the great novels of the Irish language. Baraka There are no words in the film Baraka. It's a portrait of peoples' relationship with the Earth from the most profound, spiritual and cultural to the most debauched. You get pictures of people in their highest spiritual state to the lowest spiritual state. It's a beautiful document of the Earth, the land, the people, all the different colours, from strip mining to a Japanese monk sitting looking at his garden. It uses effects like time lapses. You get a real sense of the Earth moving around the sun and stars. It's very elemental. It says so much without saying a word. It's extraordinary.
Irish Examiner
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Examiner
'Bodhrán playing was seasonal': The incredible history of the traditional Irish drum
There's an old joke that goes, 'What's the best way to play a bodhrán? With a penknife.' The slag is reputed to have come from the piper Séamus Ennis – infuriated by beginners buying a bodhrán at a fleadh cheoil stall and having the neck to muscle in on a trad session shortly afterwards – but is more likely to have originated from orchestral violinists' jokes about drums and timpani. It has, however, stuck in the consciousness around Ireland. 'The bodhrán wasn't part of Irish music history at all, apart from the Wren, until 1960 – when Seán Ó Riada popularised it on his weekly radio show Fleadh Cheoil an Radió. After that, we all heard it. It probably appealed to certain people,' says Fintan Vallely, author of Beating Time, a book on the bodhrán's history. 'Certain melody musicians then felt a bit threatened by it. We weren't used to percussion instruments. When we learnt music, we learnt how to play the melody. It's very difficult learning to play melodies – there are hundreds of different tunes to learn. 'There was a certain suspicion that all bodhrán players had to do was to tap their foot in time. They didn't have to learn tunes. But people wouldn't do it unless they had the urge to play percussion. The urge to do percussion is a very strong thing in all human society because most countries have some kind of drum," says the Armagh-born author and musician. 'Now modern bodhrán players – people like Colm Murphy from Cork – are very sophisticated. They follow the melodic contour of a tune. Musicians were suspicious, I suppose, of something they weren't used to, and maybe something they're competitive with. Generally, there's a bodhrán in most sessions now, but not always.' It may come as a surprise that the bodhrán was relatively invisible – except for pockets around Ireland, especially in Connacht and Munster – until the 1960s. It lacked the harp's prestige – the oldest Irish-identified instrument, which has been with us for a thousand years – or the fiddle, which dates to the 1600s; or the uilleann pipes, or classic 19th century instruments like the flute, accordion and concertina. Within a decade, however, it went from obscurity to widespread fame across the country, largely due to two factors – Ó Riada's championing of it; and the electrifying impact the bodhrán sections from John B Keane's play Sive had when it premiered in 1959, initially in Listowel, Co Kerry and in regional drama festivals, before concluding with a triumphant run at Dublin's Abbey Theatre. Charlie Byrne, bodhran maker, Co Tipperary, 1982. Picture: James Fraher Sive's characters, the Travellers, Pats Bocock and his bodhrán-wielding son Carthalawn, left audiences breathless with their 'cursing-songs' and bodhrán playing. It was the first time many people had seen or heard a bodhrán. They were infected by the beat of it. It made them want to dance. As Keane noted himself: "Everybody looks forward to the first mad belt of the bodhrán … suddenly you want to go wild. The pagan stuff breaks out in you.' 'Before 1959, when Keane introduced the bodhrán to the stage in Sive, it was only played on the Wren,' says Vallely. 'Anyone will tell you, even Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin writing about how old lads he talked to around the 1970s told him, 'You take out the bodhrán any day of the year other than the 26th of December and you're mad. It's like wearing shamrock on your lapel during the summer.' It was a total oddity. Bodhrán playing was seasonal, but obviously some people did stick with playing it.' Once the craze began to take hold in the 1960s, people turned to different methods to fashion home-made bodhráns. Vallely made his first one in 1966 – on the advice of his mother – from an old sand riddle lying around the house. In the countryside, old sieves used for cleaning soil off potatoes were repurposed; in Dublin, the folk singer Mary Jordan recalled using a page from old house deeds that were written on vellum. Pioneering Tipperary bodhrán maker Charlie Byrne (left) with player Donnchadh Gough of the band Danú in the early 2000s. Picture: Nutan In Vallely's book, he cites several regional court cases that involved rogues stealing and killing goats so their skin could be used for making bodhráns around the time of the Wren, the St Stephen's Day ritual. Especially popular in west Limerick and north Kerry, it involves bands of Wren Boys in costume going door to door, singing, dancing and playing music, requesting money 'to bury the wren' who, according to legend, betrayed St Stephen to Roman soldiers in early Christianity. 'It's surprising the bodhrán has become so popular about the country,' says Vallely. 'There's a tremendous reverence for it. If you look at your Irish passport, there's a pile of instruments towards the back of it – there's a harp, a fiddle, an accordion. There are dancing shoes, and there's a bodhrán. There are no uilleann pipes, which is astonishing. Every Irish president over the last 20-30 years has been photographed holding a bodhrán. Even dignitaries visiting Ireland are handed a bodhrán for a photo shoot. 'Half a dozen postage stamps have a bodhrán on them. The Europa stamp from 2014 – celebrating Europe – has just a bodhrán; another one has a harp. The bodhrán now competes with the harp as our national symbol, which is odd because in Irish music the harp symbolises melody. The bodhrán symbolises percussion and by far the most dominant element in Irish music is melody, not percussion. There you are – the bodhrán is fighting a corner, and obviously it's liked.' Fintan Vallely's Beating Time: The Story of the Irish Bodhrán is published by Cork University Press. See: Seán Ó Riada on the bodhrán Beating Time : The Story of the Irish Bodhran by Fintan Vallely The bodhrán is a drum measuring from 15 inches in diameter up to, say, two and a half feet in diameter. The drum head is generally of cured goat-skin, or dog skin, although sheepskin has been occasionally used. It probably goes back at least to the Bronze Age, and possibly earlier. Until fairly recently it was used in some of the more primitive parts of the country for its primary purpose, which was separating wheat from chaff. Because of this it became associated with the old pagan harvest festivals. It's also associated with that other pre-Christian festival of the winter equinox, which is now made to coincide with St Stephen's Day, when the Wren-boys, wearing straw costumes, parade playing flutes and bodhráns. The instrument is particularly suited to accompanying Irish music. The random frequencies of the skin are richer than those of even the orchestral bass drum, and thus tend to fill out and even provide the illusion of a harmonic bass for a band. It is sometimes beaten by the hand alone, but more usually a stick is used, and this is also used to beat the rim of the drum producing still another kind of sound. ll in all, the versatility of this instrument, the variety in timbre produced by playing on the rim or on the skin, by playing with a stick or with the hand, and the variety of pitch available, make it challengeable, particularly in a band, and particularly when it is supplemented by the bones. This piece reproduced in the Beating Time book was extracted from Seán Ó Riada's Our Musical Heritage radio essay series broadcast on Radio Éireann, July 7 – October 13, 1962.
BreakingNews.ie
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- BreakingNews.ie
George Morrison, documentary maker known for Mise Éire, dies aged 102
George Morrison, a documentary maker best known for his film Mise Éire, has died aged 102. Morrison's 1959 documentary Mise Éire was produced by Gael Linn and featured a celebrated score by composer Seán Ó Riada. He later followed it with the production Saoirse. Advertisement Born in Tramore, Co Waterford, Morrison leaves behind a lasting legacy in Irish cinema and was the oldest person ever to receive a civic honour from Waterford City and County Council. Sinn Féin TD Conor McGuinness described Morrison as a 'giant of Irish cultural life. A visionary filmmaker and a proud son of Tramore'. 'Through Mise Éire, Saoirse and many other works, he gave voice to the story of Ireland in a new and powerful way. His commitment to truth, his artistic courage, and his pioneering use of film have left an indelible mark on our cultural memory'. Statement by President Michael D. Higgins on the death of George Morrison — President of Ireland (@PresidentIRL) August 5, 2025 President Michael D Higgins also paid tribute to Morrison, describing him as a 'great innovator'. Advertisement '[Morrison] will remain an iconic and foundational figure in Irish filmography. A filmmaker of immense craft and skill, he will rightly be remembered in particular as a great innovator in the techniques of film, using new and pioneering camera work while realising how film and music could be brought together in a way that is distinctive,' the President said. 'His seminal works, including Mise Éire and Saoirse as well as his many other films including his early partnership with the Gate Theatre, comprise an outstanding body of work that has made a deep and lasting impact on Irish culture and Irish cultural memory.' Mise Éire was created following a painstaking process through which Morrison tracked down long lost or forgotten newsreels from the independence period in archives across Europe. This work led to the preservation of 300,000 feet of early 20th century newsreel footage which may have been lost forever without his work. President Higgins bestowed the honour of Saoi of Aosdána on Morrison in 2017.
Irish Times
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Pioneering filmmaker George Morrison dies aged 102
Pioneering film-maker George Morrison has died aged 102. He is best known for Mise Éire, a documentary produced by Gael Linn and whose celebrated score was written by composer Seán Ó Riada , and its follow-up, Saoirse. Morrison was born in Tramore, Co Waterford on November 3rd 1922. His mother was an actress at the Gate Theatre in Dublin, while his father worked as a neurological anaesthetist. READ MORE Having developed an early fascination with motion pictures, Morrison dropped out of his medicine studies at Trinity College to pursue a career in the arts. He first became interested in photography in 1934, creating throughout his lifetime a large body of still photographs in both black and white and colour relating to antiquities, food, industry, architecture and landscape. In 1942 he directed and photographed his first film – Dracula – with Aidan Grennell and Eileen Cullen. The film could not be completed due to wartime stock shortage. He served on the Council of Designers of Ireland and in 1957 became the Founder Member and vice-president of the Inaugural Congress of the Bureau International de Recerche Historique Cinématographique, Paris. Soldiers attend Mise Eire. George Morrison's film showed over twenty years of Irish history, from the 1890s to 1918, through existing archive material. Its soundtrack, an orchestral score by Sean O'Riada, became hugely popular In 1959, the documentary Mise Éire was released. Considered to be Morrison's seminal work, the documentary was the first full-length feature film produced in the Irish language. It pays homage to Patrick Pearse 's poem of the same name, using newsreels and newspapers from the period between the late 19th century and 1918. In 2009 he received the Industry Lifetime Contribution Award at the Irish Film and Television Awards. Morrison later received the highest honour in the Irish arts world in 2017 when elected as Saoi of Aosdána . President Michael D Higgins bestowed the title, presenting him with the symbol of the office of Saoi, a gold torc. Mr Higgins described Morrison as 'a film-maker of superb craft and skill, an archivist, a writer, a photographer and, above all, a great pioneer and innovator' whose contribution to Irish art and cinema were 'immeasurable'. George Morrison with artist Imogen Stuart (left) photographed at the Arts Council of Ireland where he was bestowed the honour of Saoi in Aosdána by President Michael Photograph: Brenda Fitzsimons / The Irish Times No more than seven members of Aosdána may hold this honour, which is held for life, at any one time. Paul Muldoon is the most recently elected Saoi, joining the company of Morrison, Roger Doyle, and Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin earlier this year. The filmmaker is predeceased by his wife, Theodora Fitzgibbon. Sinn Féin TD Conor D McGuinness paid tribute to Morrison in a post on social media on Tuesday, describing him as 'a visionary filmmaker and proud Tramore man'. 'Honoured to have nominated him for a civic award last year.'
RTÉ News
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- RTÉ News
Pioneering documentary-maker George Morrison dies aged 102
The pioneering documentary-maker George Morrison has died, aged 102. He is best remembered for Mise Éire, a documentary produced by Gael LInn and whose celebrated score was written by composer Seán Ó Riada, and its follow-up, Saoirse. George Morrison was born in Tramore, Co Waterford in 1922. His mother was an actress at the Gate Theatre in Dublin and his father was an anaesthetist. Taking his cues from both sides of the family, he initially enrolled in Trinity College to study medicine. He soon left his studies behind, however, to pursue a career in the creative arts. His initial foray into film-making was an ultimately uncompleted production of Dracula. George Morrison was to cross paths with Micheál Mac Liammóir and Hilton Edwards, two of the major Arts figures in Dublin during the first half of the 20th century and the founders of the Gate Theatre. Mr Morrison began working on documentaries in conjunction with the Gate Theatre film ventures as an assistant director and editor. In 1959, the documentary Mise Éire was released. It is considered to be George Morrison's seminal work, with a celebrated score by the composer Seán Ó Riada. The documentary was produced by Gael Linn, pioneering film-makers at the time. Its release coincided with a renewal of interest in Irish culture and identity and its first showing was at the Cork Film Festival. Using actual newsreels and newspapers from the period between the late 19th century and 1918, George Morrison presents a history of one of Ireland's most turbulent periods, culminating in the 1916 Rising and Sinn Féin's electoral victory in 1918. It is openly nationalistic in tone and pays homage to Patrick Pearse's poem of the same name which was written in 1912. It was the first full length feature film ever produced in the Irish language. Mise Éire's follow-up was Saoirse, which looks at the divisive Civil War period. A third historic documentary called Rebellion followed in 1963, and his later works included a maritime film Two Thousand Miles of Peril (1972) and a documentary on James Joyce's Ulysses, Dublin Day (2007). He is a member of Aosdána and in 2009 received the Industry Lifetime Contribution Award at the Irish Film and Television Awards. He is predeceased by his wife, Theodora Fitzgibbon. Last year, the Sinn Féin TD in Waterford, Conor D McGuinness, organised an event to honour George Morrison at the Altadore Nursing Home in Dublin. On learning of his death today, Deputy McGuinness said: "George Morrision was a celebrated, groundbreaking figure. He was a proud Waterford man, who was born and raised in Tramore. "It's for Mise Éire and Saoirse he will mostly be remembered, but he produced many great works during his lifetime. "I was happy to nominate him last year for a civil honour from Waterford County and City Council.
