Boston-born folk-punk singer Bryan McPherson sings dusty, dirty and downtrodden songs about the people living in between the cracks and crevices.
Bryan arrives in these shores in the next few days and don’t miss this opportunity to see one of our favourite artists live. Here we present a retrospect of his career to date with selected songs and albums.
Bryan McPherson has never let go of his desire to be vulnerable with his listeners. Wedgewood (released in 2015) is an angry record, a searing criticism of the American government fueled by the Occupy movement and filled with a passionate impulse to burn the whole damn thing to the ground. Yet the album opens with “Born on a Highway,” a plaintive heart-on-your-sleeve ballad where Bryan acknowledges the transience of life and affirms to be “a willing participant of an incredible dream.” Even amid incredible disillusionment, he seems to be saying there is hope for tomorrow.
Bryan grew up in Dorchester, a working-class neighbourhood in Boston, where crime was high and music venues were nonexistent. Armed with a guitar and an opinionated mind, he began writing songs as adversarial as they were melodic. With nowhere to perform, Bryan headed to upper-class Cambridge, where his edgy, plain-spokenness contrasted wildly from the more flowery, contemplative singer-songwriters. He stuck out like a sore thumb and audiences didn’t know how to feel about him. But one thing was clear. Bryan fell in love with the directness of folk music.
In 2006, the anti-folk scene was bubbling up in New York. Bryan admired the lively experimentation and how musicians were challenging the norms of conventional songwriting. But their overall sarcastic presentation didn’t jive with his intense sincerity. He wanted more than to get a rise out of people; he wanted to be heard. A year later, back in Boston, he found a music scene that appreciated his aggressively tender style of folk music: the punk scene.
(Kelly Thomas was a mentally ill, homeless man beaten to death by the police in Fullerton, California. The police were found “Not Guilty”, despite having the obvious crime on video and audio. Kelly can be heard pleading for his last breaths and screaming out that he was sorry.)
“I came across the shocking audio and video of one of the most obvious cases of police brutality and murder I have ever seen. I wrote this song. I worked on it the following day and recorded it in the hut this morning and afternoon. It’s the least I can do in telling this story. You can listen below. Rest in peace Kelly Thomas.”
In Boston, it was just Bryan, his guitar, and whatever happened to be on his mind at the time. He was known to jump on dive bar tabletops and rouse the patrons from their drunken half-slumber with a deafening tenor and some seriously pissed-off political lyrics. The punks were starting to notice. Locally revered street punks The Ducky Boys and Celtic Punks The Dropkick Murphys became fans. Local producer Hendrik Gideonse wanted to produce him. The resulting album, Bryan’s raw debut Fourteen Stories, was released in 2007. Suddenly people were showing up at the dive bars to see him play.
Rather than bask in his growing local popularity, Bryan moved west, landing in Berkeley, California. It had been a few years since Fourteen Stories, and he was sitting on a batch of powerful new songs that resembled a manifesto for a better country. The world was currently experiencing festering unrest that would soon coalesce into the Occupy movement. Bryan began recording during this climate. On the opening track he sang, “if there’s one thing I know, the god that I know, knows no creed, no class, no nation.” While recording American Boy, American Girl (released 2012), the Occupy movement exploded. Fed-up Americans were echoing much of what he sang about on the album.
Equipped with some solid songs and running on a season of protesting, Bryan hit the road, ready to confront the public with meaningful performance. One night in Pasadena, the audience walked out just a few minutes into his set. The bartender turned up the house music while he was still playing. No one was interested in his meaningful performance. Undeterred, he joined the crowd outside and sang in their faces while they smoked cigarettes and chatted about their dead-end jobs. No matter where they looked, he was there, singing his punk-gospel melodies, winning them over with vulnerability and persistent, patient confrontation. From then on, Bryan would often get up and sing at people to shake them out of their ruts. Audiences frequently thanked him after shows for forcing them to be present. When it came time to work on Wedgewood, he thought back to his many hours with Occupy Oakland and the anger he was witnessing across the country. Fury mixed with a deep longing to fix systemic problems inspired his songwriting. Wedgewood was the result, capturing the moment’s rage and foretelling the coming polarising times that would soon overtake US politics.
Help Bryan out on tour by buying a new ‘2 Birds’ t-shirt. All sizes from Small to XXLarge available. Will be posted out asap. https://bryanmcpherson1.bandcamp.com/merch/bryan-mcpherson-2-birds-t-shirt
After the ferocity of Wedgewood, Bryan felt like he needed to take a step back. Anger was negatively impacting his relationships and sense of well-being. He started conceiving his next album, How To Draw Everything, using songs he’d put on the back burner because they were too sensitive and didn’t fit tonally on previous albums. But that project was sidetracked when Bryan decided to take a look back at his life. He re-recorded a batch of old songs from 2001 off of an old demo—the first he’d ever written. These personal portraits revealed an image of a frustrated young man struggling with drug and alcohol addiction, trying to find his identity in a world that didn’t understand him. Now almost two decades sober, Bryan wanted to share the beautiful struggle found in these songs. He titled the album Kings Corner (2019), which was named after the street corner he and his friends hung out on, growing up.
Afterward, he returned to How To Draw Everything, but with a plan to make it sound brilliant. He enlisted notable producer Ted Hutt, who has worked with Flogging Molly, Gaslight Anthem, The Violent Femmes, and won a Grammy in 2015 for his work on Old Crow Medicine Show’s Remedy. However, at this point tensions in the country had worsened. Everyone hated each other. Bryan felt more determined than ever not to contribute to the “Us vs. Them” attitude that overtook the nation. In 2020 he wrote the 15-minute-long song “American Dream,” which chronicles his years on the road, visiting every corner of the country and meeting good people wherever he went. It’s an optimistic song, much like 2012’s “No creed, No class, No nation,” which insists that good outweighs the bad no matter how imperfect the country is, and there is power in recognising our similarities.
In the Spring of 2021, after a long, grueling year of ironing out arrangements during lockdown, Bryan hit the studio with Ted and an all-star cast of top-notch musicians, including ex-Dropkick Murphys’ Marc Orrell, Dustbowl Revival’s drummer Josh Heffernan, remarkable violinist Chris Murphy, who has worked with everyone from the Waterboys to Mike Watt. In addition to the powerful “American Dream,” he recorded several emotive tracks. “Lightning Lullaby” is a unifying anthem that speaks to the power of music in connecting people during times of struggle. “Sweet Kari” is a gentle folk song about finding peace after moving on from lost love. “Alameda Street” captures the excitement and confusion of running around LA, trying to figure out what to do with your life, and what lies deep in your heart.
How To Draw Everything isn’t just Bryan’s latest record; it’s a whole new beginning for him as an artist. On the meditative “2 Birds,” he muses, “There’s something about the sky that makes me grateful to be alive.” From the perspective of age comes a spiritual death of what was, and in its place, a re-discovering of peace, country, and self are found. Hope finally outweighs despair and can be reclaimed, like a child wondering at the seeds of a dandelion. Bryan defies us to admit hope was there all along.
BRYAN McPHERSON / ANTO MORRA PLAYING LIVE IN LONDON!
Words can’t describe how happy we are to be able to put on BRYAN McPHERSON. Eight years on from his first and only visit to these shores it’s been a long time coming. Born and raised on the mean streets of Dorchester, a blue collar working-class Irish-American Catholic neighbourhood in Boston, that was also home to half the members of the original Dropkick Murphys. He was inspired at a young age by the raw energy and angst of Punk Rock, as well as the lyrically driven American folk songs of the early 1960’s. His first performances were street corners, house parties, and subway stations in Boston’s inner city. In 2001 he burst onto the acoustic music scene, he has played the length and breadth of North America and was recently spotted opening up for the Dropkick Murphys’ at their famed St. Patrick’s shows in Boston. This is passionate, acoustic-punk from the heart. Street life, politics, addiction and moments of beauty, anguish, clarity and dissent litter the alleys of McPherson’s songs. Recently he was awarded the #1 Folk/ Roots Album Of 2022 on the London Celtic Punks web-zine. The words are as honest as they are urgent…every second counts!http://bryanmcpherson.com/
https://www.antomorra.com/
http://www.thebirdsnestpub.co.uk/
https://www.lambsurbiton.co.uk
He immediately disagreed and said to them they had just taken apart what the Dubliners and reassembled it just a little differently. He continued that he thought a lot of punk was like that. Taking things apart and putting them back together, just differently. He cited the Dropkick Murphys as very Punk, with the truly loud roaring guitars that sound, especially on their early records, in my opinion sounding like a mashup of the Buzzcocks melody and Washington hardcore intensity.
Our enormous thanks to Ray Ball. He has already featured on these pages as the driving force behind The Fighting 69th and his new band Ravenswalk from Buffalo. One of the most prolific and diverse artists in the Celtic-Punk scene we are proud to have Raymond on board our team. Writer, artist, musician he is a credit to the American-Irish community and you can find a wealth of his material available at his 
After excelling at playing the whistle he would start to accompany his fathers band to play at the renaissance fairs playing traditional Irish music at a young age. At the age of 23 he would officially join the band Ramfoozle playing guitar and tin whistle. In 2014 Patrick taught himself accordion and joined the band Cockswain , a Celtic-Punk band, for a couple years. He then moved on to a band called Swarthy Pirates with his good friend Lars. They would have a lot of fun playing songs highlighting Patrick’s amazing Celtic instrument abilities. Come 2017 he started the band Villains in Heat, a garage rock band. They became a regular name in the local scene quickly. While the band did not focus on his Celtic roots his keyboard, guitar and vocal skills were highlighted.
Christmas was not officially recognized in Scotland for nearly four centuries. The Puritan English Parliament banned Christmas in 1647 and it did not become a recognized public holiday in Scotland until 1958. However, according to Andrew Halliday, in his 1833 piece Christmas in Scotland, Scots were not discouraged from celebrating Christmas. Halliday wrote
An Autumn clean up was a common practice in Irish homes to prepare for Christmas. Women looked after cleaning the interior, while men took care of the outdoors, including whitewashing all exterior surfaces. Then holly, grown wild in Ireland, was spread throughout the house with cheer. Contemporary Ireland also highlights this clean-up ritual; once complete, fresh Christmas linens are taken out of storage.
Music was and still is a major part of Welsh holidays. Plygain is a Christmas day church service, traditionally held between three and six in the morning featuring males singing acapella in three or four-part harmonies. While today this may be mainly practised in rural areas, Eisteddfodde (caroling) is abundantly popular in homes, door-to-door and as part of annual song-writing competitions.
Carolling also holds a special place in Manx Christmas celebrations, but traditionally an unconventional twist characterized it. On Christmas Eve, large numbers attended church for Carval. While the congregation sang, all of a sudden women would begin the traditional food fight, having peas on hand to throw at their male counterparts! Accounts from the 1700s and 1800s describe 12 days of non-stop Christmas celebrations where every barn was filled with dancers accompanied by fiddlers the local parish hired. The Reverend John Entick recorded in 1774
As a result of Oliver Cromwell banning Christmas, authentic holiday carols began to fade through much of Britain. However, throughout the 1800’s, Cornish composers and collectors sparked a revival of local Christmas song.Certain carols well-known around the world, such as Hark the Herald Angels and While Shepherds, are credited to Cornish origins.
Brittany boasts a wealth of folklore and supernatural beliefs around Christmas time. Christmas Eve was known as a night of miraculous apparitions from fairies to Korrigans, and at midnight, for just a brief moment, waters in the wells would turn into the most sweet-tasting wine. It was also at midnight, when families were either at mass or in bed, that ghosts would surface; traditionally food was left out for deceased loved ones just in case they visited.
Galicia has its own unique Christmas gift-bearer that pre-dates Christianity. He is called Apalpador, a giant who lives in the mountains. For Christmas, he descends into the villages below to make sure each child has a full belly. He brings treats, such as chestnuts, and well wishes for a year full of delicious sustenance. While Apalpador may not be widely observed in Galicia, his legend is seeing a revival.
Our thanks go out to Kevin Rooney for this fascinating article. You can hear more from Kevin over at the 
Kilgallon is also remembered for a humorous event that occurred during the week. E Company members crossed Henry Street into Henry Place and Moore Lane and battered an evacuation and escape route through the houses, so that they could access all the houses while remaining sheltered indoors. Bulfin said:
On his return, Kilgallon joined the US Navy and served as a machinist during World War I; though he doesn’t appear to have served overseas. He lived a quiet, apparently uneventful life afterwards managing the family business on Beach 19th Street. He died on 30 January, 1972, coincidentally an important date in Irish history known as ‘Bloody Sunday’ in Derry. The Rockaway peninsula, with its long strip of beaches on the Atlantic Ocean has often been called ‘The Irish Riviera’ and maintains a strong Irish presence to this day.
M
Patrick also fasted for the 40 days of Lent atop the mountain in Co. Mayo known ever since as Croagh Patrick (Patrick’s stack). At the end of his fast, an angel appeared to tell him all his petitions for the Irish people would be granted; that they would retain their Christian faith until Judgement Day. On the last Sunday in July, called “Reek Sunday”; pilgrims climb Croagh Patrick (sometimes barefoot) and attend a church at the summit. Also in Co. Mayo is Downpatrick Head, which means “Patrick’s Fortress” where he built a church.
Sometime after 2.30am they were stopped in the townland of Buskill outside Newry by what they thought was a routine military checkpoint. The Ulster Defence Regiment (a local part time regiment of the British Army) regularly patrolled the border and random stop and searches and harassment of nationalists was common. They were directed into a lay-by and ordered to exit the van while their van was searched. They were questioned at gunpoint and told to give their names and other details. While the search continued, another member of the gang appeared on the scene and according to Stephen Travers and Des McAlea began barking orders at the others in what was described as a “crisp English accent”. Naturally concerned that the UDR men who were searching the van would damage their instruments Stephen Travers attempted to go towards the van to ask them to be careful but was pushed back into line and it was at that moment an massive explosion ripped through the van throwing band and gang members in all directions.
None of the band members were killed in the bomb blast. Des McAlea was thrown over a ditch by the force of the explosion, suffering minor injuries and managing to make good his escape across fields. Fellow band members Fran O’Toole, Tony Geraghty and Brian McCoy were not so lucky. They survived the blast but the gang were intent on killing and 
(left: the Batallón de San Patricio Memorial plaque placed at the San Jacinto Plaza in the district of San Ángel, Mexico City in 1959: “In memory of the Irish soldiers of the heroic St. Patrick’s Battalion, martyrs who gave their lives to the Mexican cause in the United States’ unjust invasion of 1847”)
As we said at the beginning Celtic-Punk is no longer just confined to the Irish and Celtic diaspora it has become truly international with bands represented on every continent of the globe. In the next few days though we will be reviewing our very first band from Mexico, Batallón de San Patricio. Their debut album takes influences from both Ireland and their home country to make something truly wonderful as well as unique. I hope you revisit these pages to check them and their album out. You can subscribe to the London Celtic Punks Blog by filling in the ‘Follow Blog’ box that will be either on the left or below depending on how you are viewing us. Cheers!
The first episode aired on June 7, 1969 taped at the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, TN, the home to country music institution the Grand Ole Opry. It had been Johnny’s ambition to play there as a child and he had achieved that dream thirteen years earlier after his chart topping #1 ‘I Walk The Line’. That first episode featured performances by singer-songwriter Joni Mitchell, Cajun fiddler Dough Kershaw and to the shock of many, Bob Dylan. The Johnny Cash Show saw many memorable performances, from the likes of Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Louis Armstrong, Ray Charl
Christmas was not officially recognized in Scotland for nearly four centuries. The Puritan English Parliament banned Christmas in 1647 and it did not become a recognized public holiday in Scotland until 1958. However, according to Andrew Halliday, in his 1833 piece Christmas in Scotland, Scots were not discouraged from celebrating Christmas. Halliday wrote
An Autumn clean up was a common practice in Irish homes to prepare for Christmas. Women looked after cleaning the interior, while men took care of the outdoors, including whitewashing all exterior surfaces. Then holly, grown wild in Ireland, was spread throughout the house with cheer. Contemporary Ireland also highlights this clean-up ritual; once complete, fresh Christmas linens are taken out of storage.
Music was and still is a major part of Welsh holidays. Plygain is a Christmas day church service, traditionally held between three and six in the morning featuring males singing acapella in three or four-part harmonies. While today this may be mainly practised in rural areas, Eisteddfodde (caroling) is abundantly popular in homes, door-to-door and as part of annual song-writing competitions.
Carolling also holds a special place in Manx Christmas celebrations, but traditionally an unconventional twist characterized it. On Christmas Eve, large numbers attended church for Carval. While the congregation sang, all of a sudden women would begin the traditional food fight, having peas on hand to throw at their male counterparts! Accounts from the 1700s and 1800s describe 12 days of non-stop Christmas celebrations where every barn was filled with dancers accompanied by fiddlers the local parish hired. The Reverend John Entick recorded in 1774
As a result of Oliver Cromwell banning Christmas, authentic holiday carols began to fade through much of Britain. However, throughout the 1800’s, Cornish composers and collectors sparked a revival of local Christmas song.Certain carols well-known around the world, such as Hark the Herald Angels and While Shepherds, are credited to Cornish origins.
Brittany boasts a wealth of folklore and supernatural beliefs around Christmas time. Christmas Eve was known as a night of miraculous apparitions from fairies to Korrigans, and at midnight, for just a brief moment, waters in the wells would turn into the most sweet-tasting wine. It was also at midnight, when families were either at mass or in bed, that ghosts would surface; traditionally food was left out for deceased loved ones just in case they visited.
Galicia has its own unique Christmas gift-bearer that pre-dates Christianity. He is called Apalpador, a giant who lives in the mountains. For Christmas, he descends into the villages below to make sure each child has a full belly. He brings treats, such as chestnuts, and well wishes for a year full of delicious sustenance. While Apalpador may not be widely observed in Galicia, his legend is seeing a revival.
Back then, the general line on The Pogues was that they played punked-up, sped-up versions of Irish traditional music. Actually, on their first album (Red Roses For Me), I suppose that’s not too inaccurate. I never got especially hot and bothered about Red Roses, which was hard to find and I never heard until its 1988 re-release. Despite their boundless energy and good humor (especially Down In The Ground Where The Dead Men Go, which worked excellently for clearing out parties), it now sounds like demos for what would come later. By Rum, Sodomy And The Lash and the Poguetry In Motion EP, they’d found their true voice. The band had gelled into an endlessly inventive ensemble that could find each songs unique qualities and then make the most of them. MacGowan had turned into a brilliant, plainspoken songwriter and possibly even more brilliant singer, using his ragged voice and slurred phrasing as an instrument to express himself, much as any great blues or, yes, soul singer would. By If I Should Fall From Grace With God, they were even better; MacGowan’s writing became almost mythic, the band’s delivery almost cinematic in its sweep, building each number into a work of great drama and power; the sort of rare album without a single forgettable track.
Things went from bad to worse, as MacGowan simply went AWOL from the band’s US tour with Bob Dylan that fall. A Rolling Stone piece described MacGowan as a down-and-out drunk whose legendary habits had caught up with him. The Pogues seemed to fade from the scene.
Finally, 1995 brought The Snake, MacGowan’s first solo album with his new band, the vengefully named Popes. While there was much to like about The Snake, it lacked the greatness of his old band. The Popes could imitate The Pogues, but not duplicate them. Great bands depend on gestalt. The Popes simply lacked the kind of imagination and ambition to turn simple songs into full-blown epics (and The Pogues needed MacGowan’s inspiration to produce great work). Also the switching from straight rock rocked-up Pogues imitations was jarring and gave the album an inconsistent feel. Still, MacGowan remained a popular figure in the UK. As the Pogues quietly folded, he released Crock Of Gold in 1998.
No time to waste so put the kettle on, crack open some biscuits and save the next couple of hours…
When I was asked to name ten indispensable albums on Facebook some time ago, I decided to work from the late sixties to the millennium, and pick out those most influential on my development as a musician and songwriter, and end where I began, as it were. The first album I chose was this one. It’s a classic of its kind, melding yet never losing the distinctive characters of two of the most innovative and enduring musicians working in the Irish traditional idiom. There’s not a song on it I can’t still recall to memory, give or take a verse here or there, and the quality and range of the musicianship and arrangement, while capturing the essence of Planxty, somehow has an irresistible intimacy the full band doesn’t quite match, though they were perhaps the best of their kind.
This box set was, unexpectedly perhaps, essential listening for the punk-folk band I was in, when we lived in the red light district of Mainz one summer in the mid-seventies. We sang a few Copper songs a capella in our set – the Germans loved them. I spent fifteen years growing up in Rottingdean, Sussex, and I guess that’s as authentic a connection as you can get to this unique family who’ve kept alive a whole tradition on their own initiative, and are rightly recognised for it across the world. Their singing is rough, genuine, heartwarming, and eccentrically tuneful. I’m proud we introduced our audiences to their material, among chaotic jigs and reels and rebel songs. Once again, while I often forget what I’m meant to be doing these days, I can still remember almost every line, such was their influence on me.
There are so many unforgettable albums by Irish traditional bands who pushed the form in all directions in the 70s, and influenced countless more to follow suit. I guess The Bothy Band stand in the vanguard, and this album with its driving sets of tunes, and exquisitely sung ballads, live yet virtually faultless, is indispensable to anyone trying to understand just why this music is so effortlessly infectious, exhibiting a musical intensity few others come close to, always ready and able to form the soundtrack to a particular phase in someone’s life. It did mine. It has long been an immeasurable influence.
Dick Gaughan made Handful of Earth on the way back from a major nervous breakdown. And there is something not working within ordinary tramlines here. His errant but extraordinary guitar accompaniments weave their way under an utterly compelling voice, as if to make a world turned upside down both inimitable and unforgettable. The choice of songs is faultless. Gaughan, whatever his fate, will always remain a mighty force. Those who do try to imitate him simply don’t have whatever it is that comes from wherever it does…
By the mid-80s folk and punk had well and truly fused. Much as I think ‘Iron Masters’ by The Men They Couldn’t Hang May may well be my favourite track from the era, I don’t think any such album surpassed this one. Too much academic writing has attached itself to the formidable Shane MacGowan opus, and The Pogues’ irregular but compulsive sense of Irish identity. All I want to say is that I hope their influence on my work hasn’t been too obvious – I’ve tried to pay them the greatest compliment by sowing their seeds as deep as I could in wherever my songs take root, in the hope that what hybrid growth occurred would be as substantial and organic as possible, and not some hasty GM copy of their timeless and outstanding work.
This would probably appear on the all time list of anyone involved in folk-rock music. They call some albums seminal – Fishermen’s Blues epitomises what it means. Like Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks it simply has an originality, authority and impact reserved for those who find themselves, by design or accident, at the cutting edge, and who have the courage to take the task on without flinching. From the monumental to the simply made, tracks etch themselves into the memory. I keep them there, and bring them out from time to time. I always will.
I was travelling to play at Reading Festival when someone put this album on in the van and immediately I realised this band were truly fellow-travellers – and there was much to learn from their blending of traditional music with good original songwriting, where sensitive guitar playing had a central part. They weren’t The Waterboys, but they had the same sense of attack, and an obvious love of what they were doing. Perhaps the least known of the albums chosen, this should need no introduction – it is, in its own way, a classic.
The band didn’t tell me they were putting my song ‘Dirty Davey’ on this album – but they were well aware of my attitude to ‘folk’ music: it’s common property, as far as I’m concerned, whatever the source. And that isn’t why I chose this record over, say, Levelling The Land. It seems to me a broader, more ambitious production, without losing its roots. It was released about the time my young son made a short film for a BBC Children’s television programme, about how much the band meant to him, and had seen him through some rough years. They were, you might say, at their height. Their legendary Glastonbury headline spot was soon to come. They had successfully entered the mainstream without squandering their gifts. And those gifts are abundant here. I should say I’ve always felt privileged that they cite me as a main initial influence. The fact that they’re still working now says it all.
While she was in the midst of putting down vocals for this album Eithne killed herself. Working with what they had, and eventually fighting through their grief and misgivings, the musicians in her family and others released it fifteen years after her death. It’s an irresistible recording, centred round the most evocative female Irish traditional singer I have ever heard. Whether tackling old Gaelic pieces or fronting tales of her own battles with darkness and her sharp visions of light, it’s impossible to listen to her without being deeply moved – especially if much of her inner torment feels as deeply shared. We should all be indebted to those who loved her at first hand, who have kept her memory alive. It’s not discourteous to say that, through her music, I have found my own love for her. It will not die.
If I’m sometimes cited as an influence on certain others, forced to pick one album that influenced me most, it’s this one. It marks the beginning of a fifty year long journey so far, and whenever I listen to it, even now, I find it impossible to skip through. It represents everything good about Irish music. The instrumental playing is (apart from one or two odd passages) fearless and full of guile; the singing has both a tender and a punkish edge; the arrangements are often ornate and yet always seem gritty and spontaneous; and of course Ted Furey’s sons were born into an authentic travelling family, and it’s immediately audible. I was glad to cross paths with the duo once upon a time in Germany, when side-stage at Ingelheim festival Finbar (rightly, I’m sure) called the band I was in ‘a pile o’ shite’…I took it as a compliment he’d bothered to listen… That a wider family group went on to make a big name covering more commercial, and sometimes questionable material is neither here nor there, in my opinion. Good luck to them. I’ve been fortunate enough to be recognised as a poet, and where songs are concerned, use the idiom of my grandfathers to carry as complex and penetrating a vision as I’ve been able to pursue. But, in contrast to what often seems to masquerade as what it’s not, this is the real thing. The 1968 recording also forms the first half of The Spanish Cloak: The Best of the Fureys (1998) – available on all the usual selling and streaming platforms. On we go…
Set in the west of Ireland in 1847 at the very height of An Gorta Mór, the story begins with 
The film begins as a history lesson about the relationship between Ireland and the British Empire. A history lesson sorely needed in these times about the horrors of the ‘famine’. Those of with the inclination will take a certain amusement from watching Feeney taking his revenge against members of the British authorities after all he kills with a style only found in feature films. One curious aspect to the film is that the Gaelic subtitles appear in the centre of the screen instead of along the bottom and their is a lot of our native language in the film. It is shot in the same style as films based in the Arctic with a sort of white glow that gives it a sense of bleak apprehension. One aspect that should ruffle feathers among the Irish establishment is the portrayal of those who ‘took the King’s shilling’ to save their skins. The ‘sleeveen’ mentality of the Royal Irish Rangers who assisted the British Army to help murder their countrymen. The sleeveens are still around. Look no further than the Dáil and the Gards facilitating the evictions of families from their homes if you wish to find them.
Relatively unheard of over this side of the pond I thought it only fair to share my good fortune with you. They have released five albums, the links to hear each one are included as well as one of their amazing videos from each album. You can buy all together from the Bandcamp site for a reduced rate just check there and the link is at the bottom. This is surefire music to go to hell for.
Ghosts
Born To Gun
Enemy!
Moonshine Bright
Scalped
Next they slow it down a bit for ‘It’s Gonna Be Alright’ and Finny is joined by one of his heroes Johnny Fay of the legendary indie band Tragically Hip. The lyrics of the song are maybe directed by Finny to himself but what do I know I’m just a Catholic Irish boy. It’s a restrained folksy tune and you either get and love his style of vocals or don’t and I have always loved it. Perhaps more on record than live even. The album is beginning to sound like a who’s-who of alternative Canadian music and on ‘Never Let You Down’ the band are joined by singer-songwriter Sarah Harmer and her stunning voice is the perfect counterpoint to Finnys. A slow burner of a song that slowly builds and builds and with the aid of Michael O’Grady’s tin-whistle and Ryan Chopik’s mandolin it’s the most Celtic sounding song on Love + Death + Redemption. Back in October, 2016 Finny’s mother Anne McConnell-Strong passed away in a tragic accident and her loss has been felt heavily by Finny himself obviously but also the wider Irish community in Vancouver and Canada where Anne was much treasured. This explains in full the nature of the album and on ‘Mother, My Angel’ The Mahones pay tribute to this wonderful woman and all she did for others with a dazzling swirling almost psychedelic Celtic number.
It’s not often that we mere mortals find out what the personalities of our heroes are but in this interview we can almost see them lapping it up in the lounge bar down the Montague. Nick Cave keeps his cool and his answers short and sweet, maybe down to him being the only sober one there perhaps (he had just spent seven weeks in rehab), while Shane (“… done some Ecstasy and had drunk a bottle of whisky on the way down”) is the amiable drinking companion we would always assume he would be dipping in and out and taking the piss in between bouts of seriousness. Finally Mark, at times abusive and hostile and others friendly and warm. His views were certainly militant but maybe not in the way many would like them to be but no denying the influence he had inspiring a generation of musicians from Sonic Youth to The Pixies and beyond. I had the pleasure of meeting him once in a pub in Sheffield around 1988 and he was as sound as you could expect a music hero to be when you’re a awed teenager. With more than thirty album’s and more band members than you could ever possibly keep up with The Fall didn’t make it easy to follow them but there were always Mark E.Smith steering them and always around but no more now. He will be missed.
So it can be clear and without doubt that the famine was no famine at all. An island famous for farming could easily have fed itself but an attempt was made to wipe the Irish Catholic from existence. The authorities claim the population of Ireland at the time was 8 million in an attempt to lessen what was done. It is widely acknowledged as an underestimate with some scholars imagining it was more like 11 million meaning over 5 million people starved to death, cutting the population almost in half. With very few exceptions, the response of English society was one of denial. The government and capitalist class in England viewed it as a superb opportunity to cleanse Ireland of their poor, ignorant tenant farmers. Absentee landlords stepped forward with offers to pay passage to any starving Irish willing to emigrate. The conditions aboard the ships that carried them to the United States were horrendous and when they arrived, the exploitation continued as soon as these poor souls stepped off the ships and their oppression continued but the Irish survived and now almost 170 years from the peak of Án Gorta Mór the Irish community continues to prosper in the USA.
Chronicles of the Great Irish Famine is the new album from Irish singer-songwriter Declan O’Rourke and tells the story of the ‘famine’ in a
