When it comes to this time of year I become scared of turning on the radio in case I hear one of those horrific Christmas records by Slade or Wizzard or John Lennon fantasising about war being over.

But when I call upon Miriam Ingram in her apartment in Bracken Hill in Sandyford, Co. Dublin, she’s wrestling with ‘Silent Night’ and some other yuletide tunes. I thought maybe she’d put her clock back too far, but she had a perfectly acceptable explanation.
“We’re doing a gig in The Boom Boom Room on December 16 and I thought it would be nice to do a Christmas carol just for that night,” she tells me in her defence.
Given that it’ll be performed with a 10-piece band it’s unlikely to sound like any carol I’ve ever heard, so I’ll forgive her.
Ingram’s apartment has two bedrooms, a sitting room and all the usual spaces, and is set in a three-storey block with panoramic views over Dublin Bay, from Howth round to Bray, and she has the protection of the Three Rock Mountain behind her, but isn’t it a bit remote from the throbbing metropolis?
“No, it’s actually very easy to get into town from here. I can link up with the Luas in Sandyford or get a bus down to the DART in Blackrock.” That’s makes it convenient for her to pop into her favourite pub The Long Hall on Georges Street or enjoy a bite in the nearby Italian quarter.
Miriam grew up not too far away from here and attended Colaiste Iosagain where her classmates included members of Kila and David Odlum of The Frames, co-producer of her debut Trampoline. But apart from the scenery Ingram finds little in the area to attract her socially, especially since the legendary Lamb Doyle's pub, haunt of Brendan Behan et al, is about to be levelled.
She keeps her pad relatively tidy, although you will spot the odd book or CD left about. Her current reading is Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, but she’s also a fan of Charles Dickens and is particularly fond of Perfume by Patrick Suskind.
Her record collection contains a wide variety of genres, from a vinyl version of the first record she ever bought – Tchaikovsky’s Greatest Hits, to Blue by Joni Mitchell and the more contemporary CD album by the Ruby Tailights with whom she’s been known to share a stage.
“Sometimes I take out a record like Blue just to enjoy it, because I find it so inspirational, but I can find myself analysing a recording in the context of my own work too. Once you start writing and recording your own songs I don’t think you can avoid that,” she admits.
If you get the smell of cooking it’s more likely to be Ingrams’s favourite dish, a home-made tomato-based pasta containing her own special blend of feta cheese, pine nuts, salami and chilis. But you won’t find any pets around, not because Ingram harbours any antagonism towards the animal kingdom but for practical reasons. Nor is she big into the visual arts.
“I would probably buy some paintings if I could afford them, but until then...” she lets her wistfulness hang in the air.
The apartment is where Ingram did most of the writing of the songs for Trampoline, although she recorded it in several studios, including Ventry in Kerry and in France using a recording desk once owned by Ike and Tina Turner.
“I can write here in the house with my guitar and computer and a basic sequencer. I was never keen to write music just on an acoustic guitar as I heard all sorts of other sounds on in my head. So the new technology has been great for me as it allows me to turn those inner sounds into music. I went to Trinity College to study Music Media Technology and some of the tracks on the album actually began life as college assignments. I write lyrics here all the time too, but I tend to have to spend a lot of time working on the structure of a song. But to make the record I felt I needed a place with no distractions.”
And she goes on to explain further how the kitchen played its part in the songs on the album. “I had a 4-track tape machine and the sequencer, which I struggled to learn how to work. After my son had gone to bed I’d work in the kitchen with my headphones on, writing and recording drum-tracks and melody lines on the sequencer, singing along in my head.”
Despite the album title, there’s no sign of an actual trampoline in the place. “No, I don’t actually own a trampoline, but it’s a lovely word. When you’re younger, I think you can bounce back from anything. It might get harder as you get older, but it’s not impossible at any age. The title came from the chorus of the song ‘Elastic’ on my album,” she explains.
Her favourite possession is a recently-acquired pale blue glockenspiel. “I was in Cork during the summer and I came across it in a market and I just had to buy it. I play it when I do gigs with Patrick Freyne and His Bad Intentions. I love the look of it and the sound of it,” she says.
Other sounds you might her are more likely to come from the radio rather than from the TV.
“If I listen to radio it’ll probably be Radio 1, but I probably only use the telly to watch DVDs,” she tells me, explaining that her DVD fare is usually chosen from a DVD collection that centres around the Coen Brothers, David Lynch and Dylan Moran’s Black Books series.
But as I leave, Ingram’s still working on that Christmas carol, trying out a few others. It doesn’t look like 'Silent Night' will make the final cut.

Photos by Cathal Dawson.