by philipchevron Fri Jan 09, 2009 2:49 pm
Clash Cadillac wrote:philipchevron wrote:
The piece is so titled in the tradition of the Irish harper and composer Turlough O'Carolan, who frequently wrote pieces (usually called a "Planxty", but not always) in praise of or in honour of a favoured patron, friend or lover. The tune itself is certainly inspired by O'Carolan's work, first heard to its astonishingly contemporary-sounding effect on Sean O'Riada's albums on Gael Linn from the late 50s through the mid-60s, before his orchestra, Ceoltóirí Cualainn (sp), mutated into The Chieftains.
Seán O'Riada's work was an enormous influence on Celtic-Rock band Horslips, in particular their keyboard player/flautist Jim Lockhart, and this was the route that took me back to both O'Carolan and O'Riada. Interestingly enough, bith O'Riada and Lockhart were essentially jazz musicians who addressed Irish music with that particular skill set. O'Riada was an extraordinary revelation to me - I had never heard Irish music played like that before or since. Just listen to "The Rights Of Man" and get transported. O'Riada also had one of Ireland's greatest ever singers, Sean O'Sé, in his line up, a man who is, fortunately, still with us.
I have found both O'Carolan and O'Riada in Doc Harry's "library". Harry filled in a little more history of these musicians for me and one of the legends has it that O'Carolan was so talented that he once listened to a complex instrumental performed by another musician (I forget which instrument) for the first time, then sat down and played it right back on the harp with modifications to enhance the complexity. I look forward to "investigating" further.
It is very possible O'Carolan did this and just as possible that Mozart, about whom a variation on this urban legend is also told, did the same. But my theory is the story has its origins in some ancient feud between Mozartologists and Carolanites and, indeed, there is some substance in the notion - they were, seemingly, near-contemporaries in every other respect - that had Carolan been born on Mainland Europe and not one of its satellite islands, his greatness may have been loudly proclaimed a long time ago. My opinion, for what its worth, is that though Carolan's late work, especially his heartbreaking "Farewell To Music", is certainly comparable to Mozart's late music, there is little evidence that O'Carolan, over the course of a whole career, was
quite in the same class, great though he was. What he
did have in common with Mozart, however, was that wonderful facility with his tune-writing that made the tunes appear to write themselves as they went along without ever sounding hackneyed or generic.
The third Horslips album,
Dancehall Sweethearts (RCA, 1974) was a partially successful attempt to see O'Carolan's life and work through direct contrast with his modern equivalent - a rock band touring the highways and byways of its native Ireland. Horslips played on the fact that they were literally the
only Irish rock band who could then play the Ballrooms of Romance circuit more associated with the Irish Showbands, to zone in on aspects of loneliness, solitude and going mad with the drink. In many ways one of Horslips strongest albums, it is compromised by an occasional lapse where the central concept is buried or just plain overlooked. But given the resonance the album and its concept has with the Miami Showband Massacre around that time, it can be a chilling and haunting piece even now. Horslips also played with Carolan's blindness (most of the itinerant or nomadic musical bards were blind, and music was a conventional escape route from the economic harshness of a world in which your disability could otherwise lead to starvation) to explore ideas about enhanced spiritual sight being given to those from whom physical sight has been robbed.
[quote="Clash Cadillac"][quote="philipchevron"]
The piece is so titled in the tradition of the Irish harper and composer Turlough O'Carolan, who frequently wrote pieces (usually called a "Planxty", but not always) in praise of or in honour of a favoured patron, friend or lover. The tune itself is certainly inspired by O'Carolan's work, first heard to its astonishingly contemporary-sounding effect on Sean O'Riada's albums on Gael Linn from the late 50s through the mid-60s, before his orchestra, Ceoltóirí Cualainn (sp), mutated into The Chieftains.
Seán O'Riada's work was an enormous influence on Celtic-Rock band Horslips, in particular their keyboard player/flautist Jim Lockhart, and this was the route that took me back to both O'Carolan and O'Riada. Interestingly enough, bith O'Riada and Lockhart were essentially jazz musicians who addressed Irish music with that particular skill set. O'Riada was an extraordinary revelation to me - I had never heard Irish music played like that before or since. Just listen to "The Rights Of Man" and get transported. O'Riada also had one of Ireland's greatest ever singers, Sean O'Sé, in his line up, a man who is, fortunately, still with us.
[/quote]
I have found both O'Carolan and O'Riada in Doc Harry's "library". Harry filled in a little more history of these musicians for me and one of the legends has it that O'Carolan was so talented that he once listened to a complex instrumental performed by another musician (I forget which instrument) for the first time, then sat down and played it right back on the harp with modifications to enhance the complexity. I look forward to "investigating" further.[/quote]
It is very possible O'Carolan did this and just as possible that Mozart, about whom a variation on this urban legend is also told, did the same. But my theory is the story has its origins in some ancient feud between Mozartologists and Carolanites and, indeed, there is some substance in the notion - they were, seemingly, near-contemporaries in every other respect - that had Carolan been born on Mainland Europe and not one of its satellite islands, his greatness may have been loudly proclaimed a long time ago. My opinion, for what its worth, is that though Carolan's late work, especially his heartbreaking "Farewell To Music", is certainly comparable to Mozart's late music, there is little evidence that O'Carolan, over the course of a whole career, was [i]quite[/i] in the same class, great though he was. What he [i]did[/i] have in common with Mozart, however, was that wonderful facility with his tune-writing that made the tunes appear to write themselves as they went along without ever sounding hackneyed or generic.
The third Horslips album, [i]Dancehall Sweethearts[/i] (RCA, 1974) was a partially successful attempt to see O'Carolan's life and work through direct contrast with his modern equivalent - a rock band touring the highways and byways of its native Ireland. Horslips played on the fact that they were literally the [i]only [/i] Irish rock band who could then play the Ballrooms of Romance circuit more associated with the Irish Showbands, to zone in on aspects of loneliness, solitude and going mad with the drink. In many ways one of Horslips strongest albums, it is compromised by an occasional lapse where the central concept is buried or just plain overlooked. But given the resonance the album and its concept has with the Miami Showband Massacre around that time, it can be a chilling and haunting piece even now. Horslips also played with Carolan's blindness (most of the itinerant or nomadic musical bards were blind, and music was a conventional escape route from the economic harshness of a world in which your disability could otherwise lead to starvation) to explore ideas about enhanced spiritual sight being given to those from whom physical sight has been robbed.
