Kept Catholics - 50 Years of the Chieftains

[hazal]

It was the slow burn that came as a complete surprise. At first it seemed the venue might be wrong but by the end of the evening Boubacar held the ‘congregation’ spellbound in suspended animation. Whether it was the steady beat, the simple pulse of blood to the heart; or the low vocals in his African tongue that rippled gentle as a stream, or the guitar tempo as changeable as a breeze through grass… the mood was somewhere far far away and I was overwhelmed.

[Kev Bar]

It was the slow burn that came as a complete surprise. At first it seemed the venue might be wrong but by the end of the evening Boubacar held the ‘congregation’ spellbound in suspended animation. Whether it was the steady beat, the simple pulse of blood to the heart; or the low vocals in his African tongue that rippled gentle as a stream, or the guitar tempo as changeable as a breeze through grass… the mood was somewhere far far away and I was overwhelmed.

Welcome to Chez Cactus Hazal.
You'd want to be careful though when the belle dame herself is not around, there's a stern Lord by the name of Sam on patrol.

And I fear there is a possibility he might send you off to join me in Pseuds' Corner.

But it was a great gig.

Whatever the frown it elicits from The Man.

[Sam Lord]

The sort of event that cleanses the soul of all the despair inflicted by this ill-choreographed Riverdance country of ours.

They are well choreographed in Mali allright. The country is doing great compared to Ireland.

Bty, it's a bit odd to read a concert review of several hundred words in which there is no actual description of the music and the reader has no sense of what the musicians actually did. All the "reverence" and "hushed" and "spiritual" is grand but someone with an interest in music as opposed to churchgoing would expect a bit more.

[Sam Lord]

And I fear there is a possibility he might send you off to join me in Pseuds' Corner.

I have a feeling you were never apart.

[Kev Bar]

I have a feeling you were never apart.

I have a feeling you might not be able to tell male from female. Or more pertinently, the enthusiast from the stamp collector

You're becoming Penny Black Sam

And when it comes to your expectations...well I fear they will remain unfulfilled.

[hazal]

I have a feeling you were never apart.

It was only recently that we met. The corner was tight. But I made it out.:

[Kev Bar]

Here's a link to a stunning photo essay on the Master Musician of Joujouka festival.

http://issuu.com/lifenotes/docs/lifenotes_joujouka_one

World class photography by Herman Vanaerschot.

[Kev Bar]

Since we are dancing from dumbed down Irish brilliance to wild Moroccan Sufi trance to soulful Malian desert blues, this festival sounds like it could provide a soundtrack to the whole thread.

A curious coincidence: Lunny, Bedouins and Bongos...The Big Bang Festival here at the end of the month.

http://bigbangfestival.com/HOME.html

[Kev Bar]

Ah yes

See => http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bSn07vfWwKM"

I have no need of nor interest in the Chieftains world of encompassing diddly eye .. parochially it's to be had here in Corcaigh and essentially satisfying

O'Riada's Son Peadar and the folk of Cuil Aodha are going ever stronger still

As is Cuil Aodha local aka Afro Celts Member Iarla O Lionaird

I Am Asleep - iarla O Lionaird - YouTube

Regretfully I missed the night/dawn of Feile na Laoch in 2011 as Moore describes well here .. such are opportunities

http://feilenalaoch.com/2011/08/chri...eile-na-laoch/

Off to see Iarla supporting Scullion.

Might even bore you with some impressions later on.

[Kev Bar]

Iarla - he does a pretty good job at justifying why the odd Catholic deserves to be kept.

Scullion - the soundtrack to what used to be Catholicism's foe, the epicentre of what was in its day Irish Positivism, Dun Laoghaire.

Nice to see them joined together.

Not that they were ever that far apart - bar the odd tonal/tiunal disparity.

[Kev Bar]

Antoni O Breskey
A biizarre and curious event went down.

Basically I got re-invited to The Chieftains.

Except it wasn't The Chieftains.

But it was like the exact same event - unsullied by enormous wealth.

Devoid of all the awkwardness, the clumsiness, the chunky intrusion of the elephant of fame.

Or perhaps it was a case of similar legendary musical skill but being wielded in the hands of a true artist.

Walking in, the audience was immediately curious.
It hinted that one was on to something.
Cos the audience defied any attempt at easy categorisation.
You couldn't even run with the old reliables like gender and grey hair.
You couldn't do 'easy smart arse' on this crew.
No 'communists bad, orthodontists good' type quips here.
No thoughts of militarism or that which it thrives on: deviant sentimentality and singalong injustice.

Vitality, not nostalgia, was what was being peddled here.

And like most vitality, this felt like the real deal.

Phelim Drew was up onstage delivering a curious form of jaunty ballad, tackling twee by the horns and winning.

Phelim it seemed was continuing on a musical friendship forged by his Da and tonight's dramatic dynamo, the musical multinational Antoni O Breskey.

Never heard of him before.

A joy to hear him now.

And the scores of talented people who came to join Antoni O on stage were like the sonic equivalent of an old General's array of medals.

But these were not for tales of imperial propaganda.

But shiny symbols of the dissemination of joy.

All the makings of a legendary party: pipers and singers, tango and lute, percussion and choir, cellists and tap-dancers.

Dozens of people.
All really good at what they do.
And all making a party of a gig in the otherwise august concert hall.
There was very civilised hue to this crew.


OK.
If you were hopelessly addicted to critique, you might say the whole gig was a bit Richard Clayderman for the hip.

You might be right.

But you would also be revealing the decay of addiction.

Anger, as they say, is an energy.

But it's not the only one.

And not alone did we dispense with anger.

We even invited on Irish dancers.

Yep.

What were shrieking, leaping Peig Astaires for Paddy Maloney, now were young blushing cailins.


And they were great. And they were embarrassing.
Lost in some teen hued zone between trauma and ecstasy, they were Xfactor and they were 'scarlet.'

Then a flamenco dancer.
Moans of Maghreb. Bull-fighting. And sex.
It worked on me.

No surprise then that those with such proud, defiant art came to blows with such pretenses at authority like Franco.

Or got up the nose of his soul mates.

Benito Mussolini.

Did someone say "Dev?"

Archbishop McQuald.

But back to the music.

Now we're home.
The best of mad as march hare, heather leaping reels of young optimism romping into groovy uptempo blues.

This was a night of things in common.

Powerful voice, song and the pageantry of people.

Yeah.

That word, that word,

Fusion

But tonight they forgot to forget the spice.

And this was fusion gone smorgasbord.

(But we'll drop the f-word now)

Breskey is one of the pioneers of what has become the soundtrack to our globalised world - and, curiously, a rallying point for globalisation's discontents - World Music.

He's an Italian Paddy gentleman who genuinely seems to snatch the very essence of the best of the world's best music.

Then he takes a handful of those essences and makes them dance.

And there isn't a jot of corn in the mish mash.

He creates joyous cohesion out of such varied complexity.

There's a touch of honest poetic genius to the whole affair.

And if that isn't enough to pique a stubborn interest, then there's his daughter Consuelo.
It seems the Gods decided to lace musical genius with a little epic beauty.

A very, very fine move on their behalf.

[Sam Lord]

and then I looked into my navel ....

[Kev Bar]

and then I looked into my navel ....

Sam, you do such loyal fan.

[eamo]

Woman in my taxi today was telling me about her wild younger days, she self-described as "a rebel without a clue"..... that I told her was a terrific description of (maybe?) the best spent youth, or the only way to live youth. Gaining the clue tempers the rebel. We had a laugh.
Said I would remember and share that phrase.
And now comes this:
"The best of mad as march hare, heather leaping reels of young optimism romping into groovy uptempo blues."

In some ways Its been a good day.

[Kev Bar]

Woman in my taxi today was telling me about her wild younger days, she self-described as "a rebel without a clue"..... that I told her was a terrific description of (maybe?) the best spent youth, or the only way to live youth. Gaining the clue tempers the rebel. We had a laugh.
Said I would remember and share that phrase.
And now comes this:
"The best of mad as march hare, heather leaping reels of young optimism romping into groovy uptempo blues."

In some ways Its been a good day.

delighted to have played any minor role in you having a good day.