Eckhard wrote:Perhaps it is something that I cannot grab or understand completely for the reason of not being Irish and not raised in that culture, but I really do not see the reason why Mr. Hill considers his playing a concertina "real Irish music" and the Pogues featuring the accordion play of Mr. Fearnley "an abortion of Irish music". Does he have certain academic degrees? Is it because he is a soloist, or what?
Listening to the interview I got the impression that I could actually feel the hostility towards you guys. And, since nowadays you are celebrated as Icons and for doing the greatest Christmas songs of all times it is pretty hard to understand both that attitude from the past and the change in the general opinion that has obviously taken place.
And, btw: What is "real Irish music"? And who defines it?
If the Pogues had not existed I would probably never had shown any interest in Irish musicians or Irish writers. The Pogues got me as a fan when I was a teenager back in the 1980s simply because I liked the sound and lyrics. I did not care wether they were Irish, Spanish or from the Congo.
This makes the "Yes, but it's not real Irish music" even more hillarious.
You're right to suggest it may be a cultural thing to an extent. The Irish long ago raised Begrudgery to an art form (sometimes literally). The easiest charge to make, and the one most often refuted, which does not make it any less potent, is that there is a native envy of other people's success. When you combine this with the ancient animosity towards the old colonial enemy, and the fact that at least half of the Pogues are not Irish at all, it's a recipe for a combustible exchange of views. I believe the recruitment of myself and, especially, Terry Woods, both of whom had accumulated strong reputations in Irish-made music over the years, was a genuine shock to the system of people who had previously felt quite comfortable dismissing The Pogues out of hand. It was this (and the fact that Elvis Costello took us seriously) that perked BP Fallon's cultural antlers.
But George Byrne's point about the preciousness of so many Irish trad musicians, feted since their teenage years not as team players but as highly gifted individuals, is entirely valid too. It is one of the great ironies of Irish music when you consider how much of it thrives in the context of ad hoc "sessions". These musicians carry few of the personal and musical anxieties upon which most great music is founded.
Some years ago, I approached Dolly MacMahon, a traditional singer, in a bar just to let her know that I was a fan and admired her work. Now Dolly was far from a household name - she made only a handful of records and if you knew her work, it almost certainly meant you had sought it out deliberately. But she was entirely incapable of accepting my compliment with even a smidgen of graciousness. "I can't say the same about
your music", she almost spat back at me. What was the point of this? My music was not under discussion and I could not have cared less if she had not known who I was or pretended not to know. This is the sort of behaviour you accept, perhaps even expect, from a young whippersnapper, but not a middle-aged woman.
It is certainly true that the
Fall From Grace album, and of course "Fairytale" in particular (not many people can find it in their hearts to "hate" or even dislike that song) did a great deal to change hearts and minds, even among the Irish trad hardcore, but I always felt that was a bit of a no-brainer. There were people who "got" what the Pogues were doing five years before that who had enough smarts not to need it spelled out to them. If you were won over by "Streams of Whiskey" or "Transmetropolitan" or "Kitty" or "Connemara, Let's Go", you already knew what The Pogues meant.
