Calling Out Around The World

What s guaranteed never to happen after a rock reception? Real or aspiring rock stars unlocking their instrument cases and taking out acoustic guitars to jam or swap songs with their buddies or bosom pals. After all, the protocols must be observed. Get unplugged on MTV but nowhere else.
But such strict etiquette is absent in the trad world. Long after their own reception in the Taylor s Hall, the members of Alta are joining a wild informal seisizn in the Harcourt Hotel and all heaven is breaking loose.
In one corner of the bar, Mairiad Ni Mhaonaigh and her father, Francie, are swopping lines and verses of an old Donegal song while members of Clannad, their Gweedore friends and allies, gaze on. Almost simultaneously in another corner, Seamus Begley is having a mischievous cutting contest with of all people and instrumentalists saxophonist Richie Buckley.
Meanwhile Mary Black is at in another corner, Larry Klein, the producer of her forthcoming album, beams as he watches the Begley/Buckley colloquy. Clare accordionist, Josephine Marsh, who s just finished her own serene Harcourt date, slips by. Eventually and inevitably, Mairiad and her two Altan colleagues, Ciaran Tourish and Dermot Byrne join the seisizn wild bunch while Francie perches on the arm of a chair to benignly preside over the merriment school. Really, it s just another normal night in these parts.

Far less normal was the earlier Taylor s Hall bash. Not for the typical quality of Altan s latest album, Blackwater, but for its sponsors, Virgin. For their new record contract isn t significant for only Altan. Set aside the Chieftains long-established connections; surprisingly this is the first time any unadulterated Irish traditional group has signed to a major label since the Bothy Band linked with Polydor in 1976. So should Altan prosper, will others follow?
That question may soon be seriously asked especially since other major record companies are now starting to sniff around the scene. Of course some traditionalist die-hards distrust any commercialisation and decry it as cancerous. Even so, it can t be denied that Irish music in tandem with the Riverdance phenomenon is no experiencing a new upsurge of interest, both internally and internationally.
Still Altan have been classic slow burners, only gradually emerging as the leaders of the new breed successors to Planxty, De Dannan and the Bothy Band. For most of the past ten years, they concentrated their efforts on America. Only recently have they moved from being cultists favourites to their current Irish pre-eminence.
Sitting in Virgin s Dublin offices, Mairiad Ni Mhaonaigh and Ciaran Tourish try to focus on these myriad issues. Ciaran certainly believes that Altan had been helped by an improved climate at home.
I think there s been a great turnaround towards Irish music in general and not just necessarily to ourselves, he observes. It s just something that you can sense. The younger people understand the music more than they did when I was younger and learning music. Even at school I was the only one in the class learning Irish music. Like everyone did it for a while to get out of class. But there was a stage at primary school when I was alone. It just wasn t the thing to do.
So Altan s move to Virgin should be seen as far more than just a shift of gear. Besides, their promotion from indie status has also compelled other business changes. If they once controlled their own activities, they ve now joined the Asgard agency of the Dungiven-born Paul Charles while former Thin Lizzy mentor, Chris O Donnell, has taken over their management.
Early signs give grounds for optimism. Like seeing a half-page ad in the Friday music pages of the Guardian. Or though this has a downside for the excluded hearing 2FM reverse their usual prohibition policy against Irish music by placing Altan s single on their playlist.
Indeed, the Virgin deal makes so much sense that you can marvel at the 20-year hiatus between Altan and the Bothy Band. For by definition, Irish music controls its costs. Quality albums can be easily recorded for a quarter of the expenditure of even a rock debut. Nor are large advances needed to fund a troupe of roadies and wagon loads of equipment to tour the globe. In this regard the record company accountants can breathe easy instead of blanching.
Of course, there are reasons for this long period of neglect. The disinterest of the vast majority of British and American A&R personnel is an obvious factor. Similarly, Irish music requires specialist knowledge for precise and refined marketing strategies beyond the ken of most majors press and promotion departments.
But Irish musicians self-reliance has also made them elusive. Irish music s economies of low scale are the reason. They don t need to totally commit themselves to a single act s brandname and can instead slip between different group and solo contexts. Or they can make a useful living on the live circuit without being compelled or indeed enslaved to record within the stricter contractual frameworks that contain most rock acts. Their hands haven t needed to fit the majors gloves. But Altan are different. For over a decade, they ve displayed their durability and commitment. Key players won t suddenly go walkabout. Nobody need fear that they will collapse in recriminations or tantrums before their second Virgin album.
Still, this doesn t completely explain why Altan departed Green Linnet for Virgin. The Connecticut label could very possibly have satisfied them in both the American and Irish markets but it s weak in Europe, Australia and Japan. Altan had reached a ceiling or so Ciaran Tourish seems to put it.
What I saw happening with Green Linnet is that they were growing as we were growing. We were helping them as they were helping us. Which is grand if you want to stay at that level. But we decided that it was now good enough to explore worldwide.
But what about the sceptics viewpoint that Altan could face the hazards of being lost in a large label with other priorities?
Tourish accepts that risk and says they carefully explored its dangers. These are points that we obviously brought up very early in the proceedings. We were going from being a big fish in a small pond to being a small fish in a big pond. There was no way around that no matter how you looked at it.
He continues: As it happens, we ve been given priority within Virgin marketing-wise. Virgin have sat back and done a lot of research. They ve put staff on it and nothing else to try and get the markets. People have put their hands up and said I d love to work on this one.
Both concede more persuasion was needed to convince Virgin s American wing, the album release has been delayed until June and they ve played two showcase concerts in both LA s Viper Club and New York s Bottom Line to acclimatise the staff. Mairiad thinks the New York date definitely furthered everybody s mutual education:
We had a proper audience who really knew our music. And the Virgin people realised that they weren t just talking ethnic music. It was something that could be wider. Before that they had been talking about a very Irish market which scared us in a way. Because we ve already covered that ground as much as we want to. We don t want to go into the ballad scene. The Blarney people would be into a certain style of music that we wouldn t be satisfied with anyway.
The point being that both Altan s existing and potential US audiences also listen to bluegrass, African and Indian music. Mairiad says she thinks that Chris O Donnell put it in a nice way to the people in America when he said that if you just focused on black people for blues, wherever would it have gone?
Furthermore Altan hope the Virgin deal will give them more time to relax to find new perspectives on their music. They can t spend the rest of their careers scurrying and scrambling on the road. Ciaran Tourish explains:
The idea is to spend less me on the road and work more towards an album. Hopefully then record sales will subsidise income more. At the minute, the income s been more from live work and we want to balance that. Because you could burn yourself out.
And no, this new emphasis doesn t mean synthetic additions on future albums. Mairiad mentions some priorities:
I really feel that we haven t reached the potential that we can get with all the different musicians in the band and all their different instruments. For instance, Ciaran really hasn t developed his whistle playing much within the band. Ciaran Curran has a range of instruments that he could use. It s a matter of bringing in more all our different ideas and talents and blend them.
Ciaran says they ve already experienced a change recording Blackwater. We had more money to play with. There was just that bit of not having to rush the thing. There was just that bit more freedom. Even though the album was finished within a day or two ahead of time and budget. I think the reason that did happen was because we were more relaxed.
Nor need Altan worry about lack of support within Virgin since two key figures are on their side. Dubliner Declan Colgan once signed Micheal S Szilleabhain for his Virgin offshoot label in the Eighties. Perhaps even more significantly, the Virgin MD, Paul Conroy, signed and nurtured their Gweedore neighbour, Enya, in his previous role as UK head of Warners.
But could Altan be pressurised into making showcase thematic albums with a castload of guests who deflect attention from the essence of the music? Some have worked spectacularly like De Dannan s star spangled molly; others have been far less enduring.
The Altan pair are cautious. Mairiad goes as far to claim that what we ve always been trying to do is a live album. We re always trying to achieve that energy. We notice it ourselves when we do the new stuff on stage that it has more energy, more personality, more vitality no matter how live we tried to do it in the studio.
I can t see us jumping into different traditions, Ciaran adds. I haven t seen anyone who s had huge success with it. De Dannan did it and they had the greatest success when Maura O Connell was singing with them. We were talking among ourselves during the recent tour that we d like to record an album in America, not necessarily to bring in bluegrass or country musicians, but just as a change of scenery with maybe a different producer from a different musical background. But it would have to take our music as it is.

Quit America, return to Gweedore. On New Year s Eve, I d watched Mairiad, Maire Ni Bhraonain and Mairiad Ni Dhomnail sing at the Frankie Kennedy Winter School. Like every witness present, I was struck by the glaring fact that there was an essential communal album just crying out to be made that wold document the past and present of the music of the locality.
Mairiad agrees that it would be very interesting to the general public. It is quite strange that the Lunnys, the O Dhomnails, the Brennans, the O Dugains and ourselves all come from generally the same area and that we re all playing in different directions.
Yes, the uncharted mystery of Donegal. Other counties like Clare, Connemara, Sligo and the Sliabh Luachra region of Cork have their vogue, but somehow the less chronicled county of Donegal has bred the greatest commercial successes. Why?
I m not even certain that Mairiad or Ciaran can give me a foolproof analysis. Mairiad reminds me of the contributions of fiddlers like Tommy Peoples and Paddy Glackan and then continues: Maybe it was time for Donegal to get focused on. When the first 78s came out, it was Sligo and then it was Clare and Kerry. Their time had come when a certain amount of musicians or a single musician would peak and people would look towards that area. And I think that s what happened here.
So who were Mairiad s mentors and influences when she started? Planxty, the Bothy Band, Clannad and the original O Dhomnail family band, Scara Brea, all get mentioned. It meant more to me because I knew the songs so it was like listening to The Beatles, but the song were from your area, she observes. But it had a modern feel as well which was making it more appealing.
She continues that most of them were older than me so I kind of looked up to them. So when the O Domnails came up to Donegal on holidays, they were like the heroes and heroines. And the same with Maire Brennan. She was away at school at the time so I d only see her in the summertime. I think Ciaran and Pol used to join us in sessions but Maire was always away so you weren t able to have that conversation though over the years we did.
Likewise with Donal Lunny. He might have always been bringing his family to Donegal but Mairiad didn t really know him until she became a teacher in Dublin in the late Seventies.
She accepts that all these examples helped pave the way for Altan and adds that Donal Lunny was always very good at advising us in a professional way. I suppose it was always artistic rather than business. Like he d say if you want to play a tune so many times, you ll have to do this. Or get focused on stage when somebody else is playing. I m sure what we were doing wouldn t be what Donal would do himself musically, but he still appreciated it and always gave very solid advice especially in studio situations where he was so experienced.

Ciaran s departed the room for a telephone interview. Only now do I mention the other change in the Altan firmament since their last album the death through cancer of Mairiad s husband, the band s flautist, Frankie Kennedy, in 94.
He was a brave, determined man, still playing in his last year between his painful chemotherapy sessions. His load was lightened since Altan cut their concerts in half so Frankie only played the second half. Notwithstanding his suffering, he travelled with the band to America when they were invited to play and record with Dolly Parton. What precious life he had left, Frankie Kennedy was not going to lose.
In December 94, the Olympia hosted a special commemorative concert. Just about every available name played. In retrospect, the event can be seen as a landmark, the first confirmation of the new strength and status of Irish music.
Now Mairiad understandably confesses that it s all sort of a blur to me because all of that area is a blur now. I hadn t slept, I think, in six months or a year. I was just going in there with energy because we were going through so much. And then it was inevitable that the only way for his relief was to die.
And it was all very practical. But now when I think of it, it was so final and when I settled down two years, a year and a half after it, I realised what had happened. But at that stage, it was an amazing amount of love and give. You would actually sense it on stage that night. Everybody was giving so much that you felt the world isn t all that bad.
It was a congregation of love. Mary Black was actually recording that day and she left the recording studio and came in specially to sing And I couldn t believe Christy Moore arriving. It was like the President of the country arriving. I could have never believed it. And wanting to sing, insisting he sang. People gave so much. Like Paul Brady and Sharon Shannon and everybody was there for Frankie.
The experience of her husband s lingering death may have been severely traumatic for Mairiad yet she best summarises it so: It was very, very sad but uplifting. Just this feeling of bond-ness. That you ll never, never ever be lost if you have people like that around.
But wasn t Frankie a driven ma n in his last weeks and months, somebody who utterly refused to be invalided?
Yes, he was driven, she agrees. When the cancer reoccurred I could see that he was more determined than ever to play every single day that he could. At that stage, it had affected his hands and his limbs. Actually he really should have been a paraplegic but whatever way his mind was working, he got around to playing.
Like I remember many a time when he would insist on me going off with the lads and I didn t want to go. And then at the last minute, he d ask have you got my toothbrush, I m going too. Now he d be sick about five seconds before we d go on. But he d make that effort and put himself through some misery to arrive on stage to the joy of ourselves and everybody there.
Now that Frankie s gone, have they ever considered a direct replacement?
Most wisely, Mairiad answers in the negative: We never thought of it, we decided to leave a void. Not that we have sat around and said we re not going to have another flute player. It was let s go on, let s accept this.