Kíla discuss paying musical tribute to Michael D. Higgins: "He’s been there 14 years, championing us"

Kíla have just released Ómós Ar Son Micheál D. Ó hUigínn, an EP dedicated to Michael D. Higgins for his respect, courage and dedication to art, music and culture, especially the Irish language. With this issue of Hot Press being dedicated to all things Michael D., what better time to chat with band members and brothers, Colm and Rónán Ó Snodaigh?

As it happens, Michael D. and Kíla are something of a mutual appreciation society.

“We’re huge fans of Michael D’s,” Rónán relates. “But then it turns out that he, Sabina and their kids have been fans of ours for a few years. We’ve played at the Áras a few times, always had a great time and they seem to like us.”

“There is another connection,” Colm adds. “When Michael D. was campaigning for Irish language issues, our parents were side by side with him. So there’s a generational thing. He was able to hang out with our folks, and then hang out with us as well, and there’s also photographs of him with Rónán’s kids.”

Colm reels off a myriad of Michael D’s political accomplishments, including “securing the Independent Radio and Television Commission – Niall Stokes of Hot Press was the chairman of it for years – to regulate and license independent broadcasting, breaking the monopoly of the state broadcaster.”

“He’s always championed the arts,” Ronan expands, “which is us, and we respond. Of course, we’re going to do an album called Ómós. And of course, we’re going to put in a tonne of work and try and do the best we can. He’s been there 14 years, championing us. If you want culture to rise, you compliment it, and you big up artists. We’re not separate from normal people, we respond the same way.

“I’m so fond of Michael D,” Rónán continues. “I love how principled he is. We’re really lucky to have somebody like him as Uachtarán na hÉireann, someone who has principles and who you can trust. It’s a big deal that we’ve had 14 years of Mickey D. He’s definitely changed the presidency!”

Even with younger generations, he connects, which is incredible for a man in his ninth decade.

“I think he’s put in the road miles as well,” Colm explains. “Because part of his job is to get out on the road and meet people. And as you said, he’s an 84-year-old man. He’s got two walking sticks, but he’s out meeting people.”

“We’ve been in his presence so much,” Rónán says. “At gigs, at the Garden Parties – he actually loves you and you think, ‘Oh, he loves this country. He loves us. He wants us to be better and brighter and more beautiful.’ It’s a lovely feeling. You don’t get that feeling off loads of other politicians. This is a unique set of circumstances.”

I hear you. I attended one Garden Party and I’ve never been as proud to be Irish. It was like going into someone’s home.

“And even the fact that we sometimes come in scruffy,” Rónán agrees, “but you think, ‘Oh no, it’s okay. It’s Mickey D.’ And he has made the Áras, exactly what you describe, as feeling like someone’s home, and truth be told, it is ours. That’s our Áras an Uachtaráin, we should be welcome in Fantasyland. But suddenly it’s real, and he welcomes people. And you’d imagine, with the hierarchical shape of things, he’s tip of the pyramid, but he doesn’t talk to you like that. He doesn’t behave like that. He makes everyone else the tip of the pyramid.”

The opening track on Ómós features Stephen Rea reciting Michael D. Ó hUigínn’s poem ‘Stardust’, with Kíla sprinkling their magic sonic dust on it. I enquire about the Ó’Snodaigh men’s thoughts on Michael D as a poet.

“I think he’s genuinely good,” Rónán states. “I read some of his work years ago, I was aware of it. But this new thing he did, the Against All Certainty album with Myles O’Reilly, has some beautiful poems. He has a real hard one, called ‘The Betrayal’, that’s like cutting your leg off with a rusty saw. It’s really strong.

“It’s about leaving his auld fella in a care home, and the look his auld fella gives him – it rips the arse out of you. I’ve never heard anyone talk about that before. And he has another one called ‘My Mother Married My Father In Mount Mellary In 1937’, where he keeps repeating that phrase.

“It gets profound. The more he says it, I think of me own auld fella and Ma. It’s like rolling a big fucking cannonball down a pinball that knocks the shit out of you. That’s good poetry, that will trip you up like that, and make you feel human or a little bit vulnerable, or a bit proud. Yeah, he can swing a stick.”

Early in October, Kíla showcased pieces from the EP and, glory be, a forthcoming album at Áras Chrónáin, the Irish Culture Centre in Clondalkin. The concert was in honour of and attended by Michael D., who by all accounts was blown away by the performance.

“I can hardly say much,” Rónán laughs, “because I got so worked up. I was so determined to make our thing right. Even in the gig, I was hardly looking at him. I was just in me bodhrán, listening to the tunes, but there were a lot of hugs and stuff afterwards.

“Áras Chrónáin to me is beautiful. It’s slap bang in the middle of Clondalkin village. You’re really proud of whoever did their homework 50 or 70 years ago to make sure that there was a place where everyone’s welcome. It’s a really powerful place.”

“There was no press beforehand,” Colm explains. “It was invite only to the 350 Áras Chrónáin members. It only holds 200, but they organised a couple of rooms downstairs that had TV screens, so the whole place was stuffed. Michael D. had gone to Áras Chrónáin 30 years ago, and he said, ‘The work you’re doing is really, really brilliant, and maybe in 30 years’ time, you’ll have your own little Gaeltacht.’ And 30 years later, it is thriving. So that was the connection with Áras Chrónáin. The place is fantastic.”

As mentioned, the EP is soon to be followed by a full album of songs that were performed that night.

“When you get stuck into work,” Rónán says, “you’re stuck into it. I mean, we played a full set of new stuff and it’s not half bad, you know?”

Both Colm and Rónán continue speaking fondly about Áras Chrónáin, describing its multitude of traditional Irish music sessions and Irish language events. There’s a great photograph from that night with all the musicians, Sabina and Michael D. between Colm and Rónán, personnel from Áras Chrónáin (including COO Brian Ó Gáibhín) and some content children thrown in for good measure. An Irish Camelot?

“Clondalkin Camelot,” Colm laughs loudly. “Well, yeah, it’s an oasis of culture that place, it really is.”

• Ómós Ar Son Micheál D. Ó hUigínn is out now.