The great Irish composer Seán Ó Riada had achieved iconic status when he died, way back in 1971 at the age of just 40. With his compositions for the films Mise Éire (1960) and Saoirse (1961) he became a household name. He was also the prime mover with the trad band Ceoltóirí Chualann, with whom his legendary album O Riada Sa Gaeity was made.

He is still widely regarded as the single most influential figure in the revival of Irish traditional music during the 1960s. It is something of which his daughter, Sinn Féin MEP Liadh Ní Riada, is understandably proud.

“I don’t live in his shadow – I live in his light,” Liadh tells me, as she sits down at her home in Cork for this exclusive interview with Hot Press.

“It’s amazing,” she notes. “You still walk around the place and people hear that you’re Liadh Ní Riada and they say, ‘Oh, you’re Sean O’Riada’s daughter?’ And it’s wonderful. It’s a great validation of what he did. It’s fantastic to have that recognition for him.”

Before getting into politics, Liadh had over 20 years’ experience working as a producer and director with RTÉ and TG4. She was also a member of the board that set-up TG4. Fluent in Irish and French, Liadh is passionate about her Irish heritage.

She first joined Sinn Féin as their National Gaeilge Officer. But don’t call her a politician. “I like to be referred to as an activist,” she says. “A politician doesn’t sit very well with me.”

Jason O’Toole: I’ve always been struck by how much you look like your father.

Liadh Ní Riada: I see it myself in the photographs and I go, ‘Crikey! I do look like the old man somewhat!’ I find it extraordinary that my father looked so old at 40, that you’d take him for a man of 60! But look at the amount he achieved by the time he was 40. It’s quite incredible really.
You were only four-years-old when he died…

I wouldn’t have known him. I have childhood memories – very vague ones. But I was only a toddler really.

There’s an impression that your father died from alcoholism because he was suffering from cirrhosis of the liver…

Some people think he died from alcoholism – he didn’t. He had a weak liver. I’m sure the drinking didn’t help, but he wasn’t an alcoholic. He was not a falling around drunk. I‘ve heard it from friends of his. But there’s no question about it: he was an excessive drinker. He also had a bad car accident and he damaged his kidneys – and that exacerbated the whole thing. It was a massive heart attack that got him.

Does that misconception annoy you?

It would, because you think, ‘Does it really matter what a person dies of?’ What is the point of dissecting it? They’re dead. Why not evaluate the work that they did, or what they brought to Irish culture, rather than defining somebody by how they die?

Did it have a profound impact on you to grow up without a father?

Yes. And my mother died when I was 10. So, that probably had much more of an impact. But children are very resilient. You get on with it. You accept the hand you’re dealt with. I couldn’t rely on parents, because they simply weren’t there. It gave me a very independent spirit and made me much stronger. I’m not advocating that people shouldn’t have parents obviously (laughs). You’d swap it in a heartbeat if you could have your parents back. But you have to look at the positives and it shaped me into who I am today.

What did your mother pass away from?

Breast cancer. She was bedridden towards the end of her life. It was horrible because at the time – she died in 1977 – there was no sophistication in terms of medication or comfort or hospice treatment. There was no support as you would have now for children. We had to cope with it ourselves.

A terrible thing for a 10-year-old to go through…

Horrific. But, again, children are so resilient. It wasn’t that I was grieving for weeks and months afterwards. In fact, I bounced back into my own because even at 10 you’re still very self-orientated: you’re not so much consumed with other people around you. It was probably more difficult in my teens because I would’ve liked to have had her there for advice. And obviously going through puberty, not having a mother there was tricky to navigate. My sisters were good, but they were going through their own stuff.

Were you shielded from truth about your mother’s terminal illness?

I didn’t realise until 24 hours before she died. Our local priest came in and decided to tell me. He said she was on the road to heaven. And my first instinctive thing was wanting to give him a clatter for saying it! It was making this almost like a nice thing: ‘Sure, she was going to heaven’. I felt like saying, ‘It’s not nice! It’s horrible! Don’t be making it sound like going to heaven is a great thing. It’s not!’ It was tough. But, on another level, it was good that I didn’t know, because it would’ve been too heartbreaking to have had months of thinking she was going to die.

Did that give you a strong opinion about euthanasia?

Look, if you had a dog or animal in absolute suffering and pain you’d put them down. Now, obviously a human being is very different to an animal: but if a person is dying and if they’re in absolute, horrible pain and request at the time, ‘Please help them along their way’, I think that should be considered. If it’s a case that if somebody is in a real bad state – terminally ill – I believe that the person should have a choice. It’s a discussion that we need to have in Ireland because we’re becoming more progressive as a society.

Did people look differently at you after losing both parents?

I hated the idea of anybody looking at me with pity. ‘Isn’t awful that you were orphaned?’ I would run a mile away from that pity. People would be looking at you. ‘Isn’t it terrible? How are you?’ As much as the intentions were really lovely, for a 10-year-old it was like, ‘Please don’t look at me. Please don’t give me that kind of attention’. The bus services back then weren’t what they are today – and you’d be hitching a lift and the minute you mentioned you were from Cúil Aodha somebody would say, ‘Sean O’Riada country’. I would never say who I was. They’d either go on talking about Sean O’Riada – 95% of the time it was positive – or sometimes they might refer to his alcoholism. It was pretty tough as a 13-year-old to be listening to that.

Were there other intrusions?

You’d have all kinds of crazies calling to the house thinking that it was a public tour! I remember one time we were having dinner and somebody was outside the window looking in, touring around. There was no sense of the private needs of us as a family. So, that was bizarre. But we would laugh about it.

It must have been financially tough for your sibling.

It was incredibly tough. People had a perception that we had money, but we didn’t. Even having food on the table and paying the bills: all of that was difficult. We had my father’s royalties to survive on but then some people were, I think, helping themselves to royalties that were coming in that were supposed to be for us. So, that made it very hard.

So your family were ripped off?

We were ripped off, in a nutshell. I would say Gael Linn, for instance, were fantastic. This would’ve been more down to the executors of the will who were supposed to be carrying out our parents’ wishes and looking after and protecting us – and that didn’t happen really as effectively as it should’ve. We were left very poorly: we didn’t have money.

Were you involved in music growing up?

I was. Music is a huge part of my life – not because of being Sean O’Riada’s daughter. I have a good ear and I love music. It was probably my saviour growing up that I was able to escape into the world of music. I played the piano and the tin whistle. I’d be quite good at picking up an instrument and knocking a tune out of it quickly. I’d be lost without music. I said to my team recently, ‘I think anybody should be exclusively hired on the basis of their musical taste (laughs)!’ I often give out to them about their – in my view – shoddy musical taste. And they think I’m a huge snob about it. But I have a laugh with them when I say, ‘I’m trying get you more into good music opposed to this crap that you’re listening to!’ It’s a bit of fun.

What do you define as terrible music?

Music is so subjective – and I wouldn’t want to lose votes over it (laughs)! I don’t like Rod Stewart and Neil Diamond! I’m saying them now because one of my PAs loves them. I’m going, ‘Oh my God! You’re never putting them on in the car!’ That type of music I wouldn’t be into at all.

What type of music do you like?

After my mother died, I became a huge fan of Joni Mitchell. Her voice was amazing and I remember her first album Song To A Seagull was something I really clicked with. I’m a huge fan of all kinds of music really. I love classical music. I love pop: I love the way it’s so structured and there’s a certain framework there. But I could equally be found listening to Seamus Begley or Laura Mvula, who I think is fantastic. I like Massive Attack and Portishead. I like such a wide range. I like the big brass bands of the ’50s. I love The Eels. I like The Stones Roses.

Would you have read Hot Press?

My two brothers would’ve bought it and been keen on Hot Press. I was glad that it was in the house – I suppose from the music reviews I always found it to be sophisticated. If you were reading Hot Press you had your finger on the pulse of what was happening musically.

Did you ever try marijuana?

Yeah, I would’ve tried it, like all other teenagers being curious. Not that I can remember exactly the effect on me at the time – but obviously it didn’t do a huge amount because I didn’t become a full-time toker or smoker.

Growing up, how important was sex and chasing the opposite sex for you?

(Laughs) Yes, I would’ve been a flirt in school! And some would say that I’m probably still flirtatious today, but I wouldn’t call it flirting – it’s just being nice and having a bit of fun. Yes, I would’ve been flirtatious and had a string of various boyfriends along the way.

How old were you when you lost your virginity?

Not yet (laughs)! I was about 18-and-a-bit.

And was it everything you’d hoped it’d be?

No! It was a massive disappointment! Thankfully that changed. But it was over-rated. You felt that something extraordinary was going to happen – but inexperience from both sides proved to be a disaster. But thankfully that was rectified after a while!

How old were you when had you first serious relationship and got married?

I met Fiachra when he was 22 and I was 24 – he was my toy boy! He was 24 and I was 27 when we got married. But look it, I married another toy boy after it! Fiachra was an incredible human being. He was a really gentle soul, very kind and funny and really a lovely guy. We got married: we both knew at the time that he had cancer – he had melanoma. But we went on alternative routes and, again, never realising or thinking that he was going to die. We were very naïve and had a love conquers all type of attitude, which was wonderful because it meant we had a very blessed few years together.

How long was it before he sadly died?

He died just two months before our first wedding anniversary. It was dreadful when he died. He got a massive brain haemorrhage and died later in the Mater Hospital. But we packed so much into those few years. It was a blessing to have him for that length of time because – you know what? – Fiachra was somebody who stood up for the underdog, very socially conscious, even though he was struggling with a huge illness. He was so gentle with people and so socially aware of inadequacies and injustices. That had a huge influence on me.

It must have been tough after his death...

It was horrific. I went through a disastrous year. It was the worst thing that ever happened in my life – including losing my parents: that happened as a child, which is different to someone you love on that other level.

Did you hit the bottle?

Initially, yeah, I would have. Not a huge amount because I found that that didn’t numb it. Nothing could numb it. I started walking a lot, listening to music, cleaning the house constantly. And then very luckily, I felt very blessed that I met my current – and final – husband Nicholas Forde, Nicky. He’s been terrific.

Did meeting a new love help put the black dog to rest?

He brought me out of that depression. Because there’s no question that I became terribly depressed and disillusioned. You can’t conquer death – and that’s the hard lesson I learnt from being with Fiachra. It took a long time to recover from that. But Nicky brought me around. He taught me – without being too clichéd about it – how to love life and how to be in love again with somebody. I wouldn’t change that for the world. We have three gorgeous daughters now.

It’s 18 years since your first husband passed away. Would you still visit his grave?

I would’ve gone initially very often. And then I knew it was very stupid to be going – not disrespecting anybody who goes to people’s graves, but they’re not there! It’s just earth – it’s just symbolic. And if you want a conversation with somebody that’s died, you can have that anywhere in the world. So, I don’t go to the grave.

What’s the age gap between you and Nicky?

Nicky’s my toy boy as well! Nicky’s 45. I’m 50. I think age is just a number – it doesn’t matter.

Can you remember how Nicky proposed to you?

He worked up so much courage to propose with the flowers and the ring and everything – and I ran out of the house! It was the shock. I wasn’t expecting it. It was an automatic knee-jerk thing. I obviously came back again – I didn’t leave him waiting too long. I was overwhelmed that he asked me to marry. It was wonderful. He’s my diamond.

Do you think there’s pressure on women in politics to look their best all the time?

I was talking about this to Carál Ní Chuilín yesterday in Belfast. I was saying to her, ‘I envy men who can put on a shirt and a jacket and look respectable’. They have the same uniform really: whereas a woman has to consider the shoes, you have to consider the comfort factor – on average I walk about four miles a day in the parliament. The other thing that bugs me is if you see a group of female politicians or women on panels and if you’re talking to somebody about it afterwards they say, ‘Did you see what she was wearing?’ As opposed to, ‘Did you hear what she was saying?’

That annoys you?

It gets up my goat. There’s a uniform you have to wear to be respected or listened to, which is completely bonkers. I’d rather turn up in jeans and runners – I’d be in a far better position to run from meeting to meeting. But if you came dressed like that you’re perceived by other MEPs as if you’re some kind of tree-hugging hippy dude!

What did you make of Arlene Foster describing Michelle O’Neill as a blonde?

It wouldn’t be accepted for a man to say it because you’d say it’s utter sexism. The same should be applied to Arlene Foster. She’s doing a disservice to women. It showed her insensitive and stupid approach by categorising Michelle O’Neill as a blonde. How ridiculous was that?

Do you find much sexism in politics?

I do. Not overtly, but if I go into a meeting with my PA, who’s a man, they’ll direct the conversation to him! I’m looking at them going, ‘I am the MEP!’ Now, after five or ten minutes, they realise and direct the conversation to me because the PA is often there to take notes.

Isn’t it true that historically, compared to women, men have been very badly treated, by the legal system – especially in relation to family law cases?

I do. I think that’s a very fair point. Men and women should have equal rights – and gender shouldn’t come into that. I would hope we move into a more progressive society where’s that going to be recognised. Men should have equal access to their children – that goes without saying.

It often seems that women are prepared to paint the man who is father of their child in a horribly negative light, to try to deny access, as a form of punishment or revenge…

It is the children who miss out, but also the father. It’s very damaging to the kids for that attitude to be instilled in them, if the mother is painting the father in a bad light so she can have full custody of the kids.

What needs to be done?

There should be an independent assessment done of how that relationship is working in terms of the effects on the children. Children will often have their own viewpoints. It’s quite nuanced and difficult to ascertain what the true story is: but I certainly don’t think that men should be punished by taking access to their children away from them. It’s about being humane.

Are women forgiven – in modern culture – for things that men would never be forgiven for? For example, a man who is caught smuggling cocaine is a loathsome criminal – but Michaela McCollum is given a big glossy feature on RTÉ…

Yeah, I’d have to agree with you on that. I’m sure there are lots of women out there that would probably jump up and now and say, ‘That’s not true!’ But when you cite cases like that, you would question if it was the male equivalent of Michaela would he have gotten the same type of sympathy?

What’s your view on the Eighth Amendment?

We’re calling for a repeal of the Eighth. We have to have that discussion about what comes in after the Eighth. I think that has to be informed by the public debate. But definitely in the case of fatal foetal abnormalities, and incest and rape, I think, we have to be realistic about this and be able to make provisions for that.

But would you be against so called ‘abortion on demand’?

No woman goes out there thinking, ‘I’ll have an abortion!’ It’s a very traumatic experience for anybody. It’s an intensely private affair. Women shouldn’t be judged by people if that’s what they need to do. It’s a woman’s body, it’s a woman’s choice to do what she needs to do. The only part I would have a problem possibly with is a certain length of time: if somebody has an abortion after when a foetus is very viable I would have an issue with that. It’s a question of responsibility.

There’s the argument that prostitution is the oldest profession in the world and it should be legalised, regulated, and unionised.

Number one, my worry is always about the women – or men, as there’s male prostitutes as well – and that their health is looked after; number two, that they’re not controlled by pimps. I presume a lot of them are. You would want to remove that underworld, criminal trafficking element – and if that means you have to legalise it to clean up the act, that’s something we should seriously consider. If you can get rid of trafficking – or at least minimise it – and look after the health of the (sex) workers and that they have rights as such, it definitely has to be looked at.

There is currently a move to brush it under the carpet...

We should again be adult enough to discuss this. We all know it happens. There’s no point in pretending, ‘This is something that happens in other countries.’ It’s rampant in Ireland. Why not be realistic about it and look at what we can do to safeguard these women and reduce risks? And if that means that we have draw up a legal framework, then we should do that. But my initial reaction, as you’ve given me that question, I think, there’s something wrong with a man who has to go out and buy for the services of a prostitute…

There was a documentary about a guy with a disability who was forced to go to sex worker because he couldn’t have a so-called normal sex life. He talked about the enjoyment and the fulfillment he got from the experience. Shouldn’t he be entitled to pay for sex?

I would agree with you on that. I think if you have somebody in that position they shouldn’t have to lose out because of the law in that sense. It’s a very unique niche you’re talking about, somebody who’s disabled paying for a prostitute.

What’s your views on legalising marijuana for medicinal purposes?

We have to look at legalising it for medicinal purposes. I’ve talked to Vera Twomey and you’ll see the evidence that it has alleviated hugely the pressures that her daughter was under in terms of epileptic fits – it controls that. AIt should be made legal for those people.

But what about decriminalising or even legalising marijuana for recreational purposes?

We should definitely be open to a debate. If you’re going to keep something underground and don’t have regulation, are you feeding into the people who are supplying, rather than the end user? If somebody is having the odd joint – should they be thrown in jail? Not at all. Somebody who is supplying kids with drugs – should they be thrown in jail? Lock them up and throw away the key. So, there’s varying degrees and that’s what the debate needs to be about.

So there should be a debate about marijuana, with the possibility of legalising it for recreational purposes? You don’t see too much harm in it.

No, I don’t see too much harm in it. And evidence shows it’s probably less harmful than alcohol. You don’t see people on marijuana out of their minds, kicking the crap out of somebody else, whereas you see that on alcohol. We need to evaluate what are the impacts, what are the effects and make an informed, adult decision about it.

You were behind the EU inserting a new Bill to protect the Northern Peace Process in the aftermath of Brexit…

The Peace Process is safeguarded within the European institution. They hold it as something that they have to absolutely keep at all costs. So, it’s great when you can create something like that, which has such a knock-on effect.

Should Northern Ireland be awarded a designated status within the EU?

Whatever way you look at it, it’s going to be the EU frontier and the other member states are not going to be happy. They will say, ‘This is not a decision for Irish and the English government to decide on a border: this is a decision that is going to be made at Council level’. We have to get the rest of Europe to agree that we have to have a special designated status for the North. It’s going to be difficult. We do have a lot of support from MEPs and committees and commissioners. But you would be afraid that the North is just going to be collateral damage.

What do you think about Sinn Féin’s policy that members should only accept the average industrial wage?

I think it’s a good idea. I’ll tell you why: on huge wages you’re really removed from reality, you’re really removed from the struggle it is for people to educate their kids, to pay their mortgage, and all of that. In order to be in touch with the reality of what it’s like to be an ordinary working class person in Ireland, you need to be living in the same circumstances. That means having an average industrial wage and trying to make it stretch.

You’re taking the average industrial wage?

I am indeed.

Ex-Sinn Féin member Matt Treacy recently published a memoir. In it, he claims that some party members are getting so-called top-ups, with mortgages being paid. Have you heard about anything like that going on?

No, I haven’t. If I thought they were going to pay my mortgage now, I might be saying, ‘Listen, that would be great’. Certainly, in my case that hasn’t happened.

Is it possible that in Brussels you could have staff under you on much bigger wages than you?

Yes, that’s true. They’re on a parliamentary wage.

How did you feel every time Martin McGuinness was forced to deny membership of the IRA?

I don’t think I ever heard him deny it.

I think it was ridiculous. I think he shouldn’t have been put into that position to deny. I think that’s a bit silly really not to have been able to come out and say that, given that he did so much. It’s because of his insights into how the IRA operated that he brought us to where we are today: where we no longer have an IRA, where we have a Good Friday Agreement. I mean what Martin McGuinness did for us and for the country is incredible.

Would you like to see a truth and reconciliation forum, which would protect others from being arrested if they were to admit past membership of paramilitary organisations?

It would be a very good healing process to have a truth and reconciliation forum for everybody to come out and start the healing process properly: where people get information that they need to be able to close this chapter in our history.

Why isn’t it happening?

It’s something Sinn Féin has asked for. There’s resistance from different sides because truth is going to hurt people that don’t want to admit that they had any involvement – and I’m talking more now about the British Forces than anything, and the collusion that’s gone on there.

Would you see what the IRA did as a form of terrorism?

I don’t really like the word terrorism. I don’t think you can have a blanket word like ‘terrorist’ to describe every conflict situation in the world, because you’re almost automatically then putting, say, the IRA, for instance, as the one who created this terror, created this conflict. I think that’s a very simplified view to have. No, I wouldn’t agree with that wording at all.

But the argument would be that Black Friday, Aldershot, the Warrington bomb attacks, the Birmingham bombings of the Mulberry Bush and the Tavern in the Town pubs – they were all specifically terrorist attacks.

I don’t think you can be as black and white as that about it, because then you could come back and talk about the other atrocities like the Miami Showband, on the other side of the extremes – they were all terrorists attacks if you’re going by that logic too.

I’m going by that logic: that everything the Loyalist paramilitaries did, and the IRA did, were terrorists attacks.

I’m uncomfortable with the use of the word terrorism, because it’s a blanket description of what atrocities are there. And yes, nobody in their right mind would condone such scales of violence of any kind. Certainly, I wouldn’t. But you have to understand why these things took place. It’s a mature response to examine the reasons why it happens before brandishing things as, ‘Oh, that was a terrorist attack.’

But you’d describe both the Miami Showband incident and the Aldershot bombings as terrorist attacks?

I would describe them as attacks. I have an issue with the word terrorism; I would say that they were acts of violence. They were terrible acts of violence. Look, you can call it whatever you want to – it’s semantics in one sense. At the end of the day, lives were lost. It was a terrible time of conflict. But there is no conflict without a reason. So you have to examine that, rather than getting bogged down in the semantics of it: whether you call it an act of terrorism or an act of violence, or murdering people.

But would you see the recent Manchester incident as an act of terrorism?

I would see it as an act of absolute horrendous violence. I don’t want to be hypocritical and say that’s terrorism and then people would say, ‘Were the IRA not terrorists?’ You know what I mean? And I can understand that. I think, again, with Manchester it absolutely beggars belief. I found it heartbreaking. I think particularly for parents who had kids going to concerts. It was just awful. Words fail to describe it. But you have to look at why that was carried out again.

What do you mean?

You have to go into the whole idea of western culture, and how Trump and previous governments in America, and the Brits, have been funding arms to Syria, Afghanistan and Iraq. It needs to be, ‘Who’s supplying the arms to these people? Why are they doing it?’ We need to get behind the instant knee-jerk reaction, which is the human thing to do, and try to find some way of solving that. But the Brits and the rest of Europe have to put their hands up and say, ‘If we’re feeding into this and if we’re supplying arms in different conflict areas to create the conflict in the first place, there has to be responsibility taken’.

Even with Isis, you’re uncomfortable using the word terrorism.

My inclination is to use the word terrorism for them – because that’s what they do. But I could be accused of being a hypocrite and I could understand somebody would say that. So, it’s a hard question to answer. Because I can’t be talking about inclusiveness, equality right across the board on everything and yet say, ‘These are terrorists – but the UVF are not terrorists!’ It’s a horrible question. But if I had a choice: I would say that they were terrorists.

But then you’re a hypocrite if you cherrypick.

It’s a conflict. It’s an eternal struggle to try and find some way of resolving that, because we absolutely condemn what happened in Manchester. And there’s no way you could justify that on any grounds.

There’s different levels of terrorism, in my opinion. But we’re not here to express my views: we’re here asking for your opinions.

(Nods) There are different levels of terrorism. Maybe that softens it slightly, or maybe allows you to identify what constitutes an act of terrorism, and the different degrees or the different levels of terrorism, you know? I could live with that.

Do you believe in an afterlife?

I don’t believe in heaven and hell. I believe maybe in something else. I’m not sure what it is. I think heaven and hell are just words to describe a different space that we move into. But then again, without absolute conviction, I can’t say we definitely move on to somewhere else after we die. I sometimes think you’re just put into the ground and that’s it.

It sounds like you want to naïvely believe in an afterlife?

What’s wrong with being naïve about it? Doesn’t it make the world a nicer place to believe or think that there could be something wonderful after this life, rather than thinking that’s it, you’re just in the ground? End of story! What was the whole point of it? I’d be inclined to go more for the endless possibilities of others existing. I would like to believe that there’s somewhere better that we go to than here: that this is just a learning curve to improve you until you gain enough brownie points to move on to the next place. But, sure, look it, we’ll meet each other in the afterlife, Jason, and we’ll have a good old yarn about it.

What about hell?

Oh, I’m sure hell is probably there alright! I don’t believe in the devil and pitchforks and burning fires now. Hell is probably people’s worst fears or maybe karma coming back to bite you in the ass. It’s certainly not the traditional image that we’re given – that’s a very simplified version. Repetition is probably quite hellish: the idea of repetition constantly and never being able to get off that – that could be a form of hell.

But what about this nonsense that’s God’s a man? It’s very sexist, isn’t it?

Ah, it’s ridiculous. God could be an energy or a force or something else – but I don’t think you can say God is a man or a woman.

Do you think there might be aliens out there?

It’s very egotistical of us to think we are the only one of our kind. I’d say there’s some other life. I don’t think they’re the green monsters that are portrayed on television. The galaxy and the universe are so vast.. that the possibility has to be considered. I’m not saying that they’re coming to Ireland any time soon – other than Donald Trump might conceivably be one of them! (Laughs)