Moya Brennan: A True Icon of Irish Music

For a long time, it seems now, we were aware that the great Moya Brennan of Clannad wasn’t well. That her time with us would be limited. That she was slowly but inexorably edging towards the moment when she would pass over the threshold and onwards, to a different, liminal place. But there is still a profound sense of shock, dismay and sadness to know today that this brilliant musician’s time has come, far too soon – and that we must now find a way of saying our last goodbyes.

This issue of Hot Press was ready to go to press, with just the final corrections to be done and proofs to be signed off on, when the news hit.

“Did you hear about Moya?”

We just had, and decided to hold the front page and get the sad tidings in there. This is part of what we do, or try to do – bringing you the news, whether we like what has happened or not. We would love – dearly love often – to be able to bend reality to a better shape, to change the direction in which the axe has fallen, or to redirect it into the void so that no one is hurt.

But illness, and accidents of place and circumstance, are part of the human condition. We cannot stop the ticking of the clock, nor press ‘undo’ to make things not happen back then that might have led to the present realities we would desperately want to render null and void if only we could. And so there are times when it is with shattered hearts, and tears forcing their way to the surface, that we hammer the final pieces of an issue of Hot Press into place. This is one of those occasions.

HUMAN RIGHTS MATTERED

I had words written that seemed important, excoriating Donald Trump for his utterly twisted social media post, presenting himself in the role of latter-day Saviour – AI generated of course. And for the insultingly stupid excuse he fabricated later, saying that he thought he was being depicted as a doctor, making people better. “And I do make people better,” he said. “I make people a lot better.”

Breathe deeply.

People like, for example, the 73,500 or so butchered in Gaza using US-supplied bombs and guns. Or the 3,600 killed in Iran so far, since the US and Israel began their brutal war of choice. Donald Trump has helped these multitudes alright – to an early grave. But made them better? Moya, I figured, wouldn’t have thought so.

He is guilty of war crimes. Of course he is. At some level everyone in the world knows it. That he is a man entirely without a moral compass. A monster of greed. The liar in chief. A complete fraud, who – along with his puppet-master Netanyahu, who plays him like a yo-yo – launched a murderous sneak attack, killing the Iranian leaders, in the middle of what they had assumed were good-faith negotiations.

A man who jokes about dropping bombs on Iranians for fun. Who threatens to wipe out an entire civilisation overnight. And who, by the way, has plunged the entire world into economic and political turmoil, and potentially recession, because he hasn’t a clue what he is up to, except where the small matter of making billions at other people’s expense is concerned.

We all know that the regime in Iran is a brutal one. But launching a war of choice against them without the approval of congress makes it an illegal war. Instinctively, like so many in Irish music, Moya was deeply opposed to the patriarchal bullying that Trump represents; and to the hypocrisy, the lies, the venality, the brutality, the downright sleaziness of the man and of those who enable him.

I had questions to ask too about why so many world politicians are too cowardly to take the only peaceful action that would stop Benjamin Netanyahu in his tracks, rather than enabling him to commit  fresh war crimes, by – in the past week – pursuing a scorched earth policy, levelling entire villages in Lebanon, in order to make it impossible for people ever to live there again.

This mass destruction of homes is called domicide. It is a barbaric twin of genocide. It is what Netanyahu did in Gaza – is still doing in Gaza – killing tens of thousands and displacing more than a million and wantonly destroying infrastructure. And it is part of a corrosive, treacherous plan to create a so called “Greater Israel”.

The Israeli government’s actions have been condemned by numerous European politicians and rightly so. But words mean absolutely nothing. They are routinely ignored – and the killing, bombing, calculated destruction and brazen land theft go on.

Moya raised funds for Gaza. Supported the flotilla. Was idealistic even as her health failed. She was kind and generous and did everything she could in a spirit of benevolence. That was always Moya’s way. We know that it can never be enough when we are confronted by evil incarnate, but we do what we can to help anyway.

So I will say this on my own behalf. The time for platitudes is done. If Europe wants to face down the blood-thirsty, supremacist madness of Benjamin Netanyahu and his far right Israeli government, there is one thing that would have at least a chance of working – and that is a complete boycott of Israeli goods and services. This is what the EU, and countries like Canada and Australia, should do if there is any semblance left in the world of conscience, of humanity, or of what the phrase ‘human rights’ is supposed to mean.

Human rights mattered to Moya. She supported Letterkenny Pride, sure in the knowledge that love is what counts, not the tired restrictions imposed by the self-appointed moral police. She raised money for victims of domestic violence, knowing that women must stand together in solidarity, but never for a moment relegating men to second place.

Real equality was what mattered; is what matters. With Moya, we really were in this together.

Clannad

SOLO SUCCESSES

I’m lucky enough to have known Moya Brennan – or Máire Ní Bhraonáin – since the turbulent days of the 1970s. The first time I saw Clannad live, they were supporting Eyeless, the band my brother Dermot and I were involved in back then, at the Folk, Blues and Beyond gigs run by Larry Roddy upstairs in Slattery’s of Capel Street.

I was hugely impressed on the day by the lovely musicality of their work: by Ciarán Brennan’s double bass, influenced I thought, by Danny Thompson of Pentangle; and by Pól’s nimble flute playing. But most of all, of course, I was taken by the gorgeous woman out front, at a time when women involved in cutting-edge music were few and far between. That she had come all the way from Donegal and played the harp with such grace made her seem even more exotic.

She never lost it.

In the early days of Hot Press, we followed Clannad’s development and progress through the Nicky Ryan years – from Dúlamán in 1976 to Fuaim in 1982 – and subsequently on to the breakthrough with ‘Theme From Harry’s Game’ in 1982, and the album Magical Ring in 1983, with mounting excitement.

What an extraordinary moment it was to see a band from the Gaeltacht in Donegal singing in Irish on Top Of The Pops, and claiming their place in the upper reaches of the British charts.

“I almost crashed my car,” Bono told Hot Press, of the first time he heard 'Theme From Harry’s Game'. “There were bass synths and vocal banks, people keying vocals through keyboards. There it was under my feet, more developed than anything else.”

‘Harry’s Game’ was just the start of a golden period for the band, and for Moya, that saw them achieve even more widespread and deserved international acclaim.

There were many elements and aspects to that flowering, including an increasingly ambitious compositional sense among all of the group’s songwriters and composers, in particular Pól and Ciarán.

Legend in 1984 was the soundtrack to the ITV series, Robin of Sherwood.

Then came Macala (meaning ‘echo’), in 1985, considered by many to be the real follow-up to Magical Ring, and featuring the marvellously ambitious recording of ‘In A Lifetime’, with Moya trading high-vaulting vocals beautifully with Bono on a single that was a UK Top 20 hit and reached No.5 in Ireland. It brought Clannad’s music to a whole new audience, an effect compounded by U2 closing their shows by playing ‘Harry’s Game’ through the PA, as the crowds filtered out.

Moya’s voice was central to everything that Clannad did, as were the harmonies with which the other family members swaddled and supported her, depending on the mood and the effect required. They made marvellous, haunting, atmospheric music, winning a BAFTA, an Ivor Novello (for ‘Harry’s Game’) and a Grammy.

The band drifted apart, during which time Moya delivered a string of solo successes. In all, she released 15 solo albums winning a Grammy nomination as Best New Age album for Whisper To The Wild Water, released in 1999 and nominated in 2001.

The 1999 single ’Saltwater’, in collaboration with Chicane, and accompanied by a powerful video, played with, and speeded up, the blueprint established by ‘Harry’s Game’ to produce a superb trance-influenced UK No.6 hit. She was, it turned out, a great collaborator, working at different times with Shane MacGowan, T With The Maggies, Cormac de Barra, Secret Garden, Brian Kennedy, The Chieftains, Alan Parsons, Denise Chaila (with whom Clannad re-recorded ‘In A Lifetime’) and over a dozen more, including Irish Women In Harmony – with whom she was a totemic presence.

She published her autobiography The Other Side of the Rainbow in 2000, became a Goodwill Ambassador for Christian Blind Mission in 2003, and worked in Congo, Rwanda, Brazil and Tanzania supporting children who had been abused. She was always exceptionally unselfish with her time and her talent. It was never about ego for Moya.

She featured at Hot Press’ Nothing Compares Brigid’s Day festival, alongside fellow Donegal musicians The Henry Girls, Loah, Lisa Lambe and Brinda Irani, in the epic setting of St. Brigid’s Cathedral, Kildare in 2024, and delivered a masterful performance.

Moya Brennan at 'She Moves Through The Fair' in St. Brigid's Cathedral, Kildare, in February 2024. Copyright Miguel Ruiz.

That night, she spoke at length with me and my partner Máirín Sheehy about idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, the mystery illness with which she had been diagnosed seven years, or so, previously. Máirín knew all about the way it gradually affects your ability to breathe. Her brother Brendan had been using an oxygen tank for a few years and was on the list for a lung transplant when he died, just a few months beforehand.

Moya had managed the condition with great dignity, and come to terms with it, accepting that whatever would be would be. Our embrace that night, before we went our separate ways, was longer and stronger than ever.

ALWAYS LOVED THEM

It was always a joy to meet Moya, share a hug and a laugh, and to sit down and talk. In Hot Press, we had a wonderful relationship with her and with Clannad – from the time bro’ Dermot went on the road with them in 1978, and joined in the mischief, onwards. I travelled to London to hear the final mix of Magical Ring being completed in the Spring of 1983 and Colm Henry took the pics for what was our last officially black and white front cover.

Later, we got her to don a Donegal jersey for a special cover shoot, for a Sports Issue of Hot Press.

Moya was always warm, kind, funny and game for an adventure. Her support for, and advice to, young artists was legendary. She was lovely company. Or as fellow Donegal singer Eve Belle put it: “She was endlessly patient, kind and supportive.”

She will, of course, be remembered for all of those things among people who knew her. But for music fans across the world, who listened to Clannad’s albums with such intensity and devotion, and who came to see them live, she will always be renowned as a brilliant singer, a marvellous musician, a compelling presence and a pioneer who opened the doors for other female performers, whether with Clannad or solo.

It is just a few months now, since I called Moya’s husband and manager Tim Jarvis, and then spoke to Moya, asking her to be part of our History In The Making gig, kicking off our 50th Anniversary celebrations, in 3Arena on February 6 last. It meant so much to us when she said ‘yes’ – asserting that she really wanted to be part of the celebrations.

I had imagined the beautiful, supremely atmospheric ‘Theme From Harry’s Game’ as the perfect opening number and it suited Moya to do just the one song. Pól took up the organisational reins, and many family members became part of the ‘Harry’s Game’ troupe on the night. It was a stunning opening to the event, and there was a lovely sense of family and community gathering, wherever Moya and the Clannad collective moved on the night. She met old friends and renewed acquaintances. “It was fantastic chatting to the Clannads,” Bob Geldof messaged me afterwards. “Always loved them.”

Clannad at History in The Making Concert on February 6th, 2026. Copyright Abigail Ring- hotpress.com

As did we all, which makes the news this week particularly, unbearably sad – most of all for her husband Tim Jarvis, children Aisling and Paul, Clannad members and brothers Pól and Ciarán, sisters Deirdre, Enya, Olive and Brídín, mother Baba and brother Bartley – and all of her extended family and friends in music and in life.

They can all feel secure in the knowledge that Moya Brennan’s legacy, and the huge contribution she made to Irish music, and to contemporary music all over the world, will live on forever. She is and always will be a true, majestic icon of Irish music.

Slán go fóill, a chara álainn...