Tracklist

True Love Knows No Season (Billy Gray) 5:29
Pat Reilly 3:15
Sí Bheag, Sí Mhór 3:33
Follow Me Up To Carlow 2:20
Băneasă’s Green Glade/Mominsko Horo 5:48
Aconry Lasses/The Old Wheels Of The World/The Spike Island Lasses 3:32
The Pursuit Of Farmer Michael Hayes 6:10
Accidentals/Aragon Mill 6:02
The Irish Marche 3:37
The Rambling Siúler 4:19
The Well Below The Valley 5:30
Junior Crehan’s Favourite/Corney is Coming 2:36
Roger O’Hehir 5:33
Smeceno Horo 4:32
The West Coast of Clare 5:30
Nancy Spain 3:32
Timedance 6:30

Live From The Late Late Show (1972)

The Blacksmith / Blacksmithereens

The Music Makers, Live From The National Stadium (1973)

Three Drunken Maidens / The Foxhunter’s Reel
When First Unto This Country
Sweet Thames Flow Softly
The Gold Ring (Jig)
Hey! Sandy
Kitty Gone A Milking / Music Of The Forge (Reels)
Only Our Rivers Run Free
Raggle Taggle Gypsy / Tabhair Dom Do Lámh
Three Drunken Maidens / The Foxhunter’s Reel (Reprise)

Live From The Abbey Tavern (1980)

The Good Ship Kangaroo
Ride A Mile / Hardiman The Fiddler / The Yellow Wattle (Jigs)
The Hackler From Grouse Hall
An Bonnán Buí / The West Wind (Reel)
The Jolly Beggar
Sally Brown
Bean Pháidín / Rakish Paddy
Little Musgrave

Live Aisling Gheal Special (1980)

East At Glendart / Brian O’Lynn / Pay The Reckoning (Double Jigs)
The Lady On The Island / The Gatehouse Maid / The Virginia / Callaghan’s (Reels)
As I Roved Out
Smeceno Horo

Festival Folk, Live From The National Stadium (1982)

Johnny Of Brady’s Lea
The Pullet / The Ladies’ Pantalettes (Reels)
I Pity The Poor Immigrant
Arthur McBride
True Love Knows No Season (Billy Gray)
Timedance
You Rambling Boys Of Pleasure
The Good Ship Kangaroo
Táimse Im’ Chodladh
Thousands Are Sailing
The Queen Of The Rushes / Paddy Fahy’s (Jigs)
Little Musgrave
The Scholar / The Chattering Magpie / Lord McDonald’s / The Virginia / Callaghan’s (Reels)
The Cliffs Of Dooneen

Flying Into Mystery

Track List
1 Johnny Boy
2 Clock Winds Down
3 Greenland
4 Flying Into Mystery
5 Gasún
6 All I Remember
7 December 1942
8 Van Diemen’s Land
9 The Bord na Móna Man
10 Myra’s Caboose
11 Zozimus & Zimmerman
12 Pity the Poor Immigrant

Christy Moore – The Early Years 1969-81

Track List

1 Home By Bearna
2 Lanigan’s Ball
3 Limerick Rake
4 Johnny Jump Up
5 Tippin’ It Up To Nancy
6 Nancy Spain
7 The Cliffs Of Dooneen
8 Little Musgrave
9 Rambling Robin
10 Trip To Jerusalem / Two Reels: The Mullingar Races; The Crooked Road
11 John O’Dreams
12 Sacco & Vanzetti
13 The Ballad Of Tim Evans
14 One Last Cold Kiss: Trip To Roscoff
15 The Raggle Taggle Gypsy: Tabhair Dom Do Lámh
16 The Moving-On-Song (Go! Move! Shift!)
17 I Wish I Was In England
18 Hey Sandy (Live in Dublin, 1978)
19 The Crack Was Ninety In The Isle Of Man (Live in Dublin, 1978)
20 January Man
21 Clyde’s Bonnie Banks (Live in Dublin, 1978)
22 Black Is The Colour Of My True Love’s Hair (Live in Dublin, 1978)
23 Spancilhill
24 The Ballad Of James Larkin
25 Paddy On The Road

Magic Nights

Track List

1 Magic Nights In The Lobby Bar
2 Matty
3 Sonny’s Dream
4 Ringing That Bell
5 A Pair Of Brown Eyes
6 Sail On Jimmy
7 Burning Times
8 The Tuam Beat
9 Back Home In Derry
10 Rosalita and Jack Campbell
11 Duffy’s Cut
12 Motherland
13 Spancilhill
14 Before The Deluge
15 The Two Conneeleys
16 Missing You

Pity the Poor Immigrant

Bob Dylan (to an older air)

I pity the poor immigrant who wishes he’d stayed at home
Uses all his power to do evil, in the end is always left so alone
That man who with his fingers cheats who lies with every breath
Who passionately hates his life and likewise fears his death
I pity the poor immigrant whose strength is spent in vain
Whose heaven is like ironsides, and whose tears are like the rain
Who eats but is not satisfied, who hears but does not see
Who falls in love with wealth itself and turns his back on me
I pity the poor immigrant who tramples through the mud
Who fills his mouth with laughing and who builds his town with blood
Whose vision in the final end must shatter like a glass
I pity the poor immigrant when his gladness comes to pass

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I recorded this previously with Planxty in 1982. I feel more at ease 40 years on. I love the abstract nature of these three verses. My favourite song from the song and dance man. Singing it has knocked me sideways betimes. One night in London, out of the blue, the emotion caught me. I choked up. Liam O’Flynn recognised my predicament. He took up the melody and carried it away. I dedicate this version to the memory of my late Uncle Jimmy Power of Ardmulchan, Co. Meath.

Zozimus and Zimmerman

Christy Moore and Wally Page

Zozimus was singing the Pharoah’s daughter
As Me and Valerie we left O’Donoghue’s
On Butt Bridge we crossed the River Liffey
Down along the North Wall we joined the queue
There was Hippies there and Lurchers from Dunmanway
Flash Harrys down from Killiney Hill
Quare Hawks in Limousines and Helicopters
To hear Zimmerman the King of Vaudeville
The lights went down and the crowd went cat melodeon
We were all revved up and ready to engage
Having hitch hiked all the way from Minnesota
Zimmerman was there before us on the stage
He made his way to the piano
One by one the Band began to play
When he laid his fingers down upon the keyboard
He opened up with Lay Lady Lay
Homesick Subterranean
Hard Rain Gonna Fall When the Boat Comes In
Black Diamond Bay
The Dirge and The Hurricane
Hattie Carroll and Hollis Brown
Summer Days Forever Young
St. Augustine Maggie’s Farm
And Like a Rolling Stone
Some old singers rest upon their laurels
Some old hoofers hang up their dancing shoes
But when Kings and Queens and Laureates came calling
Zimmerman still had lots of gigs to do
He’s up there now blowing hard upon his Hohner
Zozimus and Zimmerman were born to sing
Like two old buskers down at Puck Fair in Killorglin
Two old tanglers at the Fair of Spancilhill

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We’ve been attending Zimmerman gigs for over 40 years. We’ve been singing Zozimus songs even longer. Valerie and I have long since followed Bob whenever given the opportunity. Nights at the National Stadium, RDS, The Point, Vicar Street, Slane, Kilkenny, Finsbury Park come to mind, but best of all was that night in Slattery’s of Capel Street, Dublin when he got up and played with Myself and Wally. Disguised in his suit of Pearly King, no one recognized him nor realised the significance of the moment. He’s been on our case ever since. You can’t get too much of a good thing. Last time he busted his skull off a gable wall at the end of a top shelf stagger.

Zozimus – Michael J. Moran (c.1794-3 April 1846), popularly known as Zozimus, was an Irish street singer.from The Liberties. He wrote, among others: “Praise of Poitín”, “The Twangman”, “Finding of Moses”, “Pharoah’s Daughter”, “The Night Before Larry was Stretched”, “St. Patrick Was a Gentleman” (this list is neither precise nor complete). We await correction. Zimmerman, Song and Dance Man (still delivering the goods) “Whack Fol de Diddle”, “Ar Fol de Dol Doh”, “Toora Loora Loo”, and “Wid Me Toorim Minya” etc.

Myra’s Caboose

Christy Moore (Trad Arr.)

It being one evening of late as I strayed and I rambled through fields
Where oft times I wandered in haste and very quick speed
I was going to a wake where the rakes and factions do meet
There’ be drink and strong tea, hot cake and things that were sweet
O when the evening being freezing, indeed and it was very cold
With corns on my heels and my ankles ‘n cramps in my toes
I thought it no harm to warm me shanks by the fire
Thinking Myra and her daughter surely would me admire
O when the tea it came round in big geowls it was stuff very strong
When Myra said speak up or make us the verse of a song
Old Bill by the fire he was cursing and swearing with fright
For his gander was stolen and roasted last Saturday night
This Gander was graceful and gentle, both sturdy and strong
He never grew cold although he lived very long
His beak and his legs were as yellow as the gold that does shine
And his gob it would bore an inch board in a very short time
Well I’ve travelled Killarney, Kilgarvan, Kanturk and Kilmeague
Down around by Cork Harbour I was dealing in turkeys and geese
In all of my rambles and travels I never did see
O the likes of Bill’s gander for grandeur and Championship breed
The Boys and the Girls gathered at Myra’s Caboose
For they’d heard of the name and the fame of Bill and his goose
They’d measure this fine gander’s legs with a carpenter’s rule
And they never would leave ‘til they saw the length of his wings

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I arrived into Miltown Malbay, County Clare in the winter of 1964. It was there I met the Uilleann piper Willie Clancy. Seeing a guitar, Willie asked me did I know “Liverpool Lou”, a Dominic Behan song then riding high in the charts. I sang and Willie backed me beautifully on his legendary chanter. Sadly (or gladly) there was not a single smart phone in the house. Later in the night he sang this song which is known locally as “The Gander”. It has always remained with me and resurfaced in recent lockdown times. I always felt that Myra was overlooked in the narrative and decided to re-name the song. I imagine an old railway carriage repurposed as a trailer and parked in verdant forest. A rambling House where Myra and Bill were the most welcoming of hosts.

The Bord na Móna Man

Christy Moore

She spent seven days creating the World, the Sun the Moon and the Stars
The Plough, and the Milky Way, then Jupiter and Mars
Then She opened up her rib cage, pulled out a little man
She put him down near Timahoe, that’s where it all began
As to why she picked the Shortgrass God only knows
Life began for the Bord na Móna man without a stitch of clothes
Go forth says she and multiply God mam and I will begod
What better place to start the race then below in the Yellow Bog
Don’t you know he’ll never go
Once he gets his foot half in the door
He’s sound as a bell he’ll work like hell hire him if you can
‘clare to God you’ll never meet the beat of the Bórd na Móna man
At the edge of Tankard’s garden he built a lonely cell
Where he contemplated Limbo, then Purgatory and Hell
With the barbed wire in his Calvin Klein’s the poor man couldn’t sleep
All he had for company was jockey boys and sheep
When he’d converted Moorefield, Raheens and Ballitore
He set sail down the Grand Canal ‘til he came to Lullymore
Where he broke up the Bordellos and smashed the Poitín Stills
Began to bale the briquettes around the Sandy Hills
And don’t you know he’ll never go
Once he gets his foot half in the door
He’s sound as a bell he’ll work like hell hire him if you can
‘clare to God you’ll never meet the beat of the Bórd na Móna man
He opened up the Klondike, and he blazed the Yukon Trail
Crushed grapes in California before Columbus had set sail
He Drank tea on top of Everest before Hillary was born
Blindfold up the North Face, backstroke around the Horn
Way back in the 1960s when the world was facing ruin
The East and West were neck and neck to be first on the Moon
When the Yankee steered his module down on the moon to land
Who was there to hold the ladder but the Bord na Móna man
And don’t you know he’ll never go
Once he gets his foot half in the door
He’s sound as a bell he’ll work like hell hire him if you can
‘clare to God you’ll never meet the beat of the Bórd na Móna man

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What more can I say. Growing up we were surrounded by Turf; “cuttin it, footin it, clampin it together, bringing home the turf no matter what the weather” – Luka. Those great black sods would glow in the hearth all the year round, centre point of the Dowling household. Thousands came to harvest the black loam. It fuelled the nation, but like all good things it has (almost) come to an end. I still love to walk the bog.

Van Diemen’s Land

Christy Moore (Trad Arr.)

Me and three more went out one night into the Squire’s Park
We were hoping that we’d get some game the night it being dark
To our sad misfortune they captured us with speed
And they brought us down to Warwick jail it caused our hearts to bleed
Young Men all be aware
Lest you be drawn into a snare
Come Monday morning at the court we did appear
Like Job we stood with patience our sentence to hear
No jury, bail nor witness our case it did go hard
Our sentence was for fourteen years straight away being sent on board
The ship that bore us from the land the Speedwell was her name
For full five months and upwards we ploughed the ragin’ main
We saw no land nor harbour I tell you its no lie
All around us one Black Ocean above us one Blue Sky
About the Fifth of August its then that we made land
And at 5 o’clock next morning they tied us hand to hand
To see our fellow sufferance it filled me heart with woe
There’s some chained to the harrow and others to the plough
To see our fellow sufferance filled me with despair
They’d leather smocks and Lindsay shorts their feet and hands were bare
They tied them up two by two like horses in a dray
And the ganger he stood over them with his Malacca cane
There was a female servant there Rosanna was her name
For 16 years a convict from Wolverhampton came
She often told her tale of love when she was young at home
Now its rattling of her chains in a foreign land to roam
So come all of you young poaching lads and a warning take from me
Mark you well the story that I tell and guard your destiny
It’s all about transported lads as you must understand
The hardships we did undergo going to Van Diemen’s land

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I played Waterson’s Folk Club in Hull in 1968. Later, Mike Waterson sang this song for me. A unique and influential singer, Mike was a member of the Watersons. Their sound still reverberates around this poor old head. Verse 6 always gets me. Earlier verses describe miscarriages of justice, slavery, savage cruelty and terrible exploitation but the heart-breaking loneliness of Rosanna from Wolverhampton has kept me singing this song for over 50 years. I recorded it once before in the 1970s. There are many different versions of Van Diemen’s Land. One which has a Tipperary setting. I sometimes get to sing this song in the Góilín Singers Club. It lifts off when 80 singers join in the chorus and harmonise with gusto.

December 1942

Ricky Lynch

It’s freezing cold the snow comes down there’s ice on the barbed wire
Everything is ready right on time another train is due
Now it’s coming down the line it’s heading for the fire
Just another December day in 1942
The train is packed with dispossessed people from the ghetto
Treated worse than animals in some cruel filthy zoo
Terrorised and beaten starved into submission
So it was on that December day in 1942
The train came to a stop to unload its human cargo
Met be demons and by devils and their savage dogs
Curses blows and whips rain down on those exhausted people
But their deadly nightmare had only just begun
And they cried out to the Lord God Creator of the Universe
In our despair we call on you
But all their tears and all their prayers they went unanswered
On that God-forsaken December Day in 1942
Women men and children in that freezing winter twilight
Families torn in two by thugs with sticks and guns
Made to undress driven and naked to the slaughter
And then into the chamber they were forced to run
When the doors were locked and sealed no mercy and no pity
The word came down the line and the orders were carried through
Just another number to add to their statistics
On another God-forsaken day in 1942
And they cried out to the Lord God Creator of the Universe
In our despair we call on you
But all their tears and all their prayers they went unanswered
On that God-forsaken December Day in 1942

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I thank Ricky Lynch for sharing his song with me. It is a privilege to have been given the opportunity to sing it. I dedicate this recording to Tomi Reichental. Tomi’s lifelong dedication is an inspiration. For decades now he has been commemorating the six million Jews murdered by Nazi Fascists in the Holocaust of 1939-1945. Tomi’s life story is well described in his book I Was a Boy in Belsen (O’Brien Press). I recommend it. Ricky Lynch is an artist at the heart of the Cork music scene for many years. He sings, writes, paints and nurtures the live music scene in his native city

All I Remember

Mick Hanly

I was lured by the rockin horse, sweets and the búl-a-bos, 50 wild boys to a room
Sing lámh lámh eile the dish ran away with the spoon
Black shoes and stockings for those who say don’t Blue is the colour outside
God made the world, and the snake tempted Eve and she died
Wild Christian Brothers sharpening their leathers, learn it by heart that’s the rule
All I remember is dreading September and school
And they made me, for better or worse
The fool that I am or the wise man I’ll be
And they gave me their blessings and curse
It wasn’t their fault it was me, the one that you see
The priest in confession condemns my obsession with thoughts that I didn’t invite
I mumble and stutter he slams down the shutter, goodnight
Stainless as steel you know how I feel someone shoot me while my soul is clean
I don’t think I’ll last, my vow to abstain is obscene
Arch-Confraternity men to the fight raise up your banners on high
Searching for grace securing my place when I die
And they made me, for better or worse
The fool that I am or the wise man I’ll be
And they gave me their blessings and curse
It wasn’t their fault it was me, the one that you see
God kept a very close eye on me
All round my bed in the darkness he spied on me
Caught me in the long grass so often he died for me
Ballrooms of Romance in Salthill and Mallow I stood like John Wayne by the wall
Lined up like cattle we wait to do battle and fall
You can’t wine and dine her in an old Morris Minor but ask her before it’s too late
I danced on her toes, accepted rejection as my fate
Drink was my saviour it made me much braver but I couldn’t hold it too well
Threw up on the coach, it ruined my approach when I fell
And they made me, for better or worse
The fool that I am or the wise man I’ll be
And they gave me their blessings and curse
It wasn’t their fault it was me, the one that you see
God kept a very close eye on me
God He kept a very close eye on me
God She kept a very close eye on me

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Previously recorded with Moving Hearts in 1981, Mick Hanly’s opening verse brings me right back to my first day in infant school (Sept 1949). Sister Philomena sought to comfort us with Honey Bees. Sister Rose lurked in the background. Those Brides of Jesus were primed to prepare us for the 15 years of doctrine and programming that were to follow. Patrician Brothers and Dominican Priests continued the process, some with decency and kindness, others with violence and frustrated intolerance. Some of us slipped the net, others took the cloth, some lived on blissfully, a few unfortunates took the high jump or made for the river. Mick well describes elements of our early lives as we grew up in a culture that was tightly controlled by the power from Rome. Over the past 10 years Jim Higgins repeatedly called for this song at sound checks. It began to drift back into the set list. He remembers seeing the sleeve of the 1981 Moving Hearts single in his father’s record store (Music City, Shop St. Galway). And still they keep on ringing the bell.

Gasún

Tom Tuohy and Ciaran Connaughton

Gasún, Gasún why do you walk alone
Must be the strangest feeling
Gasún Gasún you don’t have no one
All has lost its meaning
As the apple falls from the orchard tree
We grow slow as time
Walk through all those golden fields
Through the barley wheat and the rye
And now you say to me
There must be a way
For all that time will bring
Is another day
Remember when we used to talk
Down by the old oak tree
Winter nights are colder now
It’s been so many years
And now you say to me
There must be a way
To find a home for you
A place for you to stay
O Gasún where are you
Lost like a bottle
Washed out across the sea
Soon to be forgotten
Ní neart go cur le chéile
Conaic mé solas san spéir
Ní neart go cur le chéile
Conaic mé solas san spéir

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This beautiful song was sent to me by Tom Tuohy. I recorded his “Honda 50” some years back. Two songs that illustrate the diversity of his writing. Tom has flown from the boglands of sweet Kildare and now resides with his family somewhere over on the European mainland. While Gasún is laden with the hopelessness and despair of homelessness, other elements appear in its short verses. I hope Tom continues to write and record. Every time I hear from him, his music has developed, his skills advanced, yet he remains a Bog Man to his very core. Ride on Tom Tuohy.

Flying into Mystery

Wally Page and Tony Boylan

Sixteen Fishermen raving out on the town on E
Sixteen peacocks leave their nest and go flying into mystery
They try to cut the Spanish look but they look so untidy
Don’t ask too much, you’ll never get enough when you’re flying into mystery
Flying into mystery when they should be out seafaring
Run out the jib and rig the boom, step back reality
When their ship is on the ocean their nights are so empty
They weary of the smelly fish and the wash of the salty sea
Sixteen jolly ravers each one carrying his own caul
They believe it will keep death away when they face the angry squall
Why face the angry squall when you could go Go-Go dancing
Run out the jib and rig the boom, step back reality
Yabba Dabba Da, Yabba Dabba Da, yat tie a rat tie a rat tie a rada
Yabba Dabba Da, Yabba Dabba Da, yat tie a rat tie a rat
To the Sixteen Fishermen raving O the girls look so fancy
You could ate your fry off the back of her neck if you want some more say please
When fishermen are feeling good they feel it musically
They go down singing shanties to the dance floor all at sea
To the dance floor all at sea go the Sixteen Fishermen raving
Run out the jib and rig the boom, step back reality
Flying into mystery when they should be out seafaring
Run out the jib and rig the boom, step back reality

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Previously recorded as “Sixteen Fishermen Raving” back in 2005, I first heard Wally sing this in The Cobblestone, Dublin in 1999. I played it in last year’s lockdown sessions and again at a streamed gig from Vicar St. Dublin. Since then the song has gained greater popularity and newfound interest. A different version 16 years later. My hairy ears seem to detect variations in the timbre of this ancient voice box. Perhaps this 76 year old instrument gains fresh intonation from the experience and the trauma of recent events. (Pseud’s Corner here we come). I still carry my own caul. Safely tucked in my breast pocket alongside a double-michelle-pfizervaccination-passport.

Greenland

Paul Doran

We filled the boats with what we hoped would last us for the journey
Silently we gathered on the shore
On us shone the midnight sun and everywhere around us
The land where we could stay no more
From the shelter of the bay out to the open water
Floating on a picture of the sky
Leaving what we knew not knowing what’s to come
One last look and then we said goodbye
To Greenland, Greenland
My soul is in the rock in the grass and on the air
It moves between the Caribou and the Puffin
Dives beneath the ice sheets with the Narwhale and the seal
Feels the hunger of the bear
Endless days, restless nights, stories from the past
Remembering the Mother of the Sea
In her tangled hair she holds the sins of Man
Every missing creature there would be
The harshness of the hunter’s life the struggle to survive
The frozen beauty of the land
The wandering spirit of Qivitoq who chose to live apart
Like a Man-Dog in the wild
We filled the boats with what we hoped would last us for the journey
Silently we gathered on the shore

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I’ve previously recorded two Paul Doran songs, “Natives” back in 1987 and “The Gardener” in 2016. I fell beneath the spell of Greenland when Paul shared it with me last year. It took months for me to find my way into this landscape. The melody stretches to the upper and lower limits of my vocal range but I was determined to sing Greenland. Not since “Lord Baker” have I been so transfixed by a song, ‘floating on a picture of the sky’. An extra pleasure to sing this song with my son Andy.

Clock Winds Down

Jim Page

It’s hard to know what to say
As the world around us fades away
Reason falls on deaf ears
And the Truth dissolves and disappears
As the Clock Winds Down
Warning signs years ago
We did not want to know
All consuming selfish ways
Now there’s a price to pay
As the Clock Winds Down
The ice caps melt The Amazon burns
To the point of no return
The grid goes down Screens go blank
We’ll be walking down the plank
As the Clock Winds Down
See the children take to the streets
When they hear Greta Thunberg speak
Watch the young warriors climb down from the trees
Chain themselves to machinery
As the Clock Winds Down
It’s hard to know what to say
When a child looks up and says
Hey old man, what did you do
We were depending on you
Now the Clock Winds Down
Now the Clock Winds Down
Now the Clock Winds Down
To Zero

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Jim Page arrived at Carnsore Point, County Wexford in 1978. He came with the dawn and left on the wind, leaving a basket of good songs in his wake. Some of us sang them. (I sang “Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Russian Roulette” on the 1981 album Moving Hearts). Last time Jim showed up was at a gig in City North, County Meath in March 2020 (my last gig before lockdown). Afterwards we shared a few songs over strong tea – that’s when I first heard “Clock Winds Down”. The inevitable happened. I wanted to cover Jim’s song. He gave me the nod. I’ve messed it around a bit, juggling lines and verses, but Jim is a patient man and the song will always be his.

Johnny Boy

Gary Moore (1952-2011)

O when I hear that wind blow
All across the Wicklow Mountain
Is it you that I hear calling
Johnny Boy O Johnny Boy
And when I look to the West
Far across the River Shannon
Is it you that I see smiling
Johnny Boy O Johnny Boy
When the leaves they turn to brown
And wintertime is coming
As I watch the sun go down
I’ll be thinking of you
So when I hear that wind blow
All across the Wicklow Mountain
I’ll know it’s you that I hear calling
Johnny Boy O Johnny Boy
When the leaves they turn to brown
And wintertime is coming
As I watch the sun go down
I’ll be thinking of you
So when I look to the West
Far across the River Shannon
I’ll know it’s you that I see smiling
Johnny Boy O Johnny Boy

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I met Gary Moore briefly when he came to a Planxty gig in Cecil Sharpe House, London in 1972. We met again at Jimmy Faulkner’s Memorial Concert in the Olympia Dublin in 2008. We did not know each other, but I have long since loved his soulful music. A true Master of his instrument, his playing is simply beautiful; his memory lives on. I spent a long night last year listening to Gary Moore’s legacy. Late that night this song appeared, a simple, soothing, soulful ballad. It evokes different emotions, recalls different events in my own life. Johnny Boy creates a space that any listener can inhabit

On The Road

I consider myself very fortunate to have new generations coming to hear the songs. Many of these listeners were not even born when I first began recording some of these tracks. Many enquire about a collection of the most popular songs. This collection has been gathered from gigs recorded over the past 3 years. It features new versions of the most requested songs. They were recorded at 17 different venues in Ireland, England and Scotland.

Its been a fulfilling project, comparing different versions, hearing old songs with new arrangements and different musicians..

Its a great buzz for me…. to have such great listeners, to be still out here “On The Road“.

Sleeve Notes

Track List:
Ordinary Man
Ride On
Joxer Goes to Stuttgart
Black Is the Colour
Don’t Forget Your Shovel
The Voyage
Delirium Tremens
Fairytale of New York
Lisdoonvarna
Cliffs of Dooneen
Weekend in Amsterdam
Viva la Quinte Brigada
City of Chicago
Go, Move, Shift
Nancy Spain
Lingo Politico
The Raggle Taggle Gypsy
St. Brendan’s Voyage
Beeswing
McIlhatton
Bright Blue Rose
If I Get an Encore
North & South
The Time Has Come

Where I Come From

I started singing songs when I was six years old. As a young lad I sang “Kevin Barry”, “The Meeting of The Waters”, “The Three Flowers” and “Eamon an Chnoic”. All of these came from my mother Nancy Power. From there I sang in the school choir, in feiseanna and in local concerts, always singing what was put before me. After teenage attempts to play early rock and roll on piano I heard The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. This was to be my turning. Their sound set me off on a journey that continues to this very day. I first heard them on radio and then I got to see them live in The Olympia Theatre, Dublin circa 1961. That was the most exciting concert I have ever attended. I became absorbed in their repertoire and soon after got my first guitar. Clancy songs like “The Jug of Punch”, “Rosin The Bow” and “Brennan on The Moor” were cornerstones of my early repertoire. I began looking further afield and soon gathered “Mary from Dungloe”, “The Curragh of Kildare” and “The Rambler from Clare” from old books and collections. Travelling to Fleadhs and Ballad Sessions, I began to develop my own repertoire and singing technique. I encountered other singers and began to absorb different singing styles. The likes of Al O’Donnell, Johnny Moynihan, Mick Moloney and Andy Irvine were all part of the folk revival whilst singers like John Reilly, Joe Heaney and Frank Harte were singing from within The Tradition. Looking back now I realise that I was learning all the time.

All early attempts at writing were adaptations. Songs such as “I wish I was in England” back in 1964, I found in a collection in Tulla, East Clare. It was in Tulla that I gathered “The Scariff Martyrs” and “Spancil Hill”. When I moved to England in 1966 I began to hear contemporary songwriters for the first time. Among others, I encountered Ewan McColl, Dominic Behan and Ralph McTell. It was exciting to hear songwriters performing their own works, and I began trying to write, but never produced anything that survived. In 1968 my singing career began to gather momentum on the English Folk Club circuit. I turned once again to the tradition for repertoire and also began covering the work of other writers with songs like “John O’Dreams”, “Nancy Spain” and “Letter to Syracuse”. It was to be another 10 years before I started writing again. In the late Seventies I wrote and recorded “90 Miles to Dublin”. Since then I have continued writing but I have never been prolific. Whilst I do enjoy the writing process I still listen out for songs to sing and a constant stream flows my way.

In 2012 I began to gather my songs together for this collection. Then I re-recorded them all. Most are contained here. Best do it while I’m still able.

Ireland: A Nation’s Memory (1973)

Fantastic documentary about Ireland in the 1970’s, wait until 40 minutes to see some very familiar faces.

Dark End Of The Street

By the time we got to do this album we were all a bit fucked. I certainly was. I had some throat problems that required surgery. I was doin’ too much toot and I was tryin’ to be a rock singer to keep up with the arrangements the arrangers were arranging!†

There was fuckin’ chords to bate the band and Ayrton Senna was being overtaken in every chorus. But there were fantastic nights too. The Half Moon in Putney, the Lake of Shadows in Buncrana, The Green Briar in Belfast and The Baggot ran and ran.

All I Remember 127074626272_alliremember

Allende 127074628471_allende

Half Moon 127074631452_halfmoon

Come All You Dreamers

Come All You Dreamers Live At Barrowland Glasgow[dvd]

Planxty Live – 2004

Sleeve Note from Leagues O’Toole:

Amongst other things, the year 2004 will be remembered for the public re-assembling of Planxty for twelve concerts – two in Glór, Ennis, in the music heartland of County Clare, and ten in the plush confines of Vicar St, Dublin – their first live performances in twenty-something years. †This is an event of some considerable historical and cultural magnitude, rendered all the more pertinent given the seamless realignment of Donal Lunny, Andy Irvine, Liam O’Flynn and Christy Moore.

Surreptitious rehearsals in Paddy Doherty’s Spa Hotel in Lisdoonvarna the previous October had revealed to the Planxty players that the chemistry was alive and well and ready to blow. And so it did, as each night the music tumbled magically from their fingers, smiles stretched across our faces, heads bobbed, feet tapped, Christy ‘hupped,’ and we all set adrift on a musical journey that would sail us through the full gamut of emotions.

A cast of odd characters starred each night; lusty blacksmiths, murderous Lords and adulterous Ladies, mighty mariners, raggle taggle gypsies, and shillelagh-wielding latchecos. There was drama, laughs, slagging, jubilation, reflection, and love coming from every corner of the room. The songs and tunes came to us from decades and centuries gone, from 17th century harp music, to the singing of John Reilly, to the priceless pages of the PW Joyce Collection.

Moving Hearts The Album

This was an exciting time. Donal and I agreed to work together and our next port of call was with Declan Sinnott who volunteered immediately. Then we gradually expanded. Richie Buckley played one gig in Kilkenny, Bill “Riverdance” Whelan left after one rehearsal citing political differences.† Tommy Moore came and left to join Paul Brady.

One by one we slowly assembled. Brian Calnan came from Cork to sit in the traps, Eoghan O’Neill ran out of Tipperary to drive hot bass up our spines, Keith Donald came down from the mountain blowing cool air through his reed, Davy left the camps and got up on the amps – the collective was completed by Matt Kelleghan, George and Cyril and we were ready to roll.

Faithful Departed 127074600893_faithfuldeparted

Irish Ways and Irish Laws 127074603269_irishwaysandirishlaws

Before the Deluge 127074610750_beforethedeluge

Planxty Live, DVD

Sleeve Note from Leagues O’Toole:

‘The Starting Gate’ eases us into the music with delicacy and intricacy, quickly introducing that building block technique that marks so much of Planxty’s music; the blissful bouzouki-mandolin marriage, the otherworldly whistle, the drone, the raspy guitar, the thump of the bodhrán. And in the middle of this melee is Liam O’Flynn whose knife-edge precision piping raises a roar from the audience and elevates the music to the high heavens.

On his solo piece, ‘The Dark Slender Boy’ a mood of pin-drop rapture cloaks the room as Liam bends yearning notes and stretches whirring drones into this profoundly mournful music. In contrast, on ‘The Clare Jig’ his pastoral whistle dances gleefully between the double-bodhrán attack of Donal and Christy.

There are some fantastic stories told within the songs performed here. ‘Arthur McBride’ is an anti-conscription / anti-war song, and one which resonates as much with Planxty’s virgin audience as it does with veterans of the 70s. Here, Andy Irvine calls upon his colleagues to back him up on a suitably rousing rowdy-dow-dow chorus. The nine-minute plus ‘Little Musgrave’ is a poetically written fable of love, lust, infidelity, jealousy, murder, and remorse – the words to which Christy Moore found on pages scattered on the floor of an auctioneers in the early 70s. This particular rendition captures the singer in majestic free-flow.

We rarely discuss Planxty without referencing the unusual new flavours, arrangements, and instruments they brought to traditional Irish music. In a demonstration of their peerlessly inventive verve, they stitch ‘Blacksmithereens’ (a tune based on Andy’s first impressions of Balkans music) onto an old English folk song, ‘The Blacksmith’. This fiery performance is driven by Donal Lunny’s robust, rhythmic, bouzouki and underpinned by Liam’s dramatic phrasing, which prompts another round of hollering from the congregation.

The loudest roar though is reserved for one of the most celebrated segues in traditional music – that invisible bridge from ‘Raggle Taggle Gypsy’ to ‘Tabhair Dom Do Lámh’. And who could deny Andy’s ‘West Coast of Clare,’ a lament of unrivalled pathos that has heads bowed in contemplation right across the venue. It’s rare to see an audience so possessed. It’s little wonder they received standing ovations every night upon entering and exiting the stage.

Nights like those in January and February of 2004 have been wished for, dreamt of, and fantasized about by thousands of Irish music fans for over two decades. We arrived excited, anxious, and downright nervous – there was a lot at stake; memories, expectations, and reputations. We left smiling, speechless, and wondering would we ever see their likes again.

It was a good start to the year.

Tracklist:

1. The Starting Gate 4.38
2. The Good Ship Kangaroo 4.31
3. The Clare Jig 3.14
4. Arthur McBride 3.59
5. Little Musgrave 9.20
6. Vicar Street Reels (2004) 4.21
7. The Blacksmith / Black Smithereens 5.03
8. The Dark Slender Boy 4.37
9. As Christy Roved Out 4.01
10. As Andy Roved Out 5.17
11. The Kildareman’s Fancy 4.15
12. Raggle Taggle Gypsy 5.46
13. The West Coast Of Clare 6.05

Words And Music

I can’t remember much about this or why we recorded it. Donal and I spent a lot of time in Windmill Lane and Liam and Andy came in when their schedules permitted. I heard the album a couple of year ago and thought I sounded whacked. I like Andy’s stuff and Liam’s stuff on this – but not my own singing.†

Lord Baker 127074642099_lordbaker

The Irish Marche 127074645067_theirishmarche

Thousands Are Sailing 127074647827_thousandsaresailing

Listen

2009

Track List

1. Listen
2. Does This Train Stop On Merseyside?
3. Shine On You Crazy Diamond
4. The Ballad Of Ruby Walsh
5. China Waltz
6. Barrowland
7. Duffy’s Cut
8. The Disappeared (Los Desaparecidos)
9. Riding The High Stool
10. Gortatagort
11. I Will
12. John O Dreams
13. Rory Is Gone

The Woman I Loved So Well

The original band augmented by Matt Molloy, Noel Hill, Tony Linnane and Bill Whelan. For me this was a different sounding Planxty again. There are tracks that I like but it lacks the fire that I loved in the early band. The set of reels nods in the direction but even on this track for me there is too much going on.†

I do like the band on “ Little Musgrave” but my own singing on this album sounds drawn and distant almost as if I was drugged. The band sounds more like a becalmed yacht than a whitewater raft.

We were coasting, over-fed and in need of the whip.
Still a good band but, they do though don’t they in anyways but!

The Tailors Twist 127064052532_thetailorstwist

Kellswater 127064055655_kellswater

True Love Knows No Reason 127063971922_trueloveknowsnoreason

Live At The Point 2006

Some Sleeve notes from ‘Live at the Point 2006’:

These recordings were made at The Point Depot in Dublin on December 29th and 30th and January 5th and 6th, 2006.

Since first stepping before the lamps I have played in all sorts of places, upstairs rooms and downstairs basements, outside halls and inside tents from Carnegie in Manhattan to the 12 Pole in Carndonagh. I have been singing in different lineups and some strange combinations.

This particular leg of the journey began in 2001 when I hooked up once again with Declan Sinnott. We
kicked off in Cleeres Theatre, Kilkenny back in 2001 and over the past 5 years it has developed into, what has become for me, the most satisfying period of my working life. Last year I decided I would like to mark the work by trying to get it
filmed & recorded. John Sheehan at Sony gave me the nod and the project began. I opted for a huge kip of a shed down-by where the Liffey flows into the sea. They call it The Point Theatre but it is in fact a railway depot, a shed that
can be dressed up into a fantastic venue. I have had many wonderful nights there both as an audient and as a singer. This gig began when Paddy Doherty got together with Peter Aiken and The Point crew to figure out how best to doll up the old building.

Davy Meade serviced the amps and laundered the pop shields while Dickon Whitehad tweaked the feedback in the foldback. (I like everything to be louder than everything else). Johnny Meade massaged the bowrawn, tuned the boxes and kept an eye on the clock. Geoff Ryan showed Tom Kenny where our good sides lay and how they might be lit. Philip King rounded up all the usual suspects including Maurice Linnane, Cian De Buitleir and Tina Moran et al, Best Boys one and all. When the Clapper Board came down Tim Martin had all the knobs well polished and turned up to 11. Michael Devine was all over the shop, himself and Crossroads keeping an eye on everything that moved and quite a few that didn’t. We were ready. We were well
catered and coiffed as, with trousers pressed, we made the long walk out to face the music.

The repertoire here spans the decades, old and new, all mixed together. As the songs tumbled out some were well rehearsed while others were more of the moment. I thank you for your support and encouragement. The way you have listened has always raised me up. The songs will live on as long as we sing and hear them.

Ride On!

After The Break

A guy called Kevin Flynn from Sligo was running gigs in London. He also ran the Ballisodare Festival in Sligo. This was an important festival at the time for it focused on a broad spectrum of pure music. Sadly it went the same way as the Lisdoonvarna Festival. Both were seduced into booking rock acts and they both lost the direction that had made them special in the first place.†

Kevin Flynn also ran the National in Kilburn and he began to book different members of Planxty. He then booked us all to play individually with Doc Watson at the Gaumont State Theatre in Kilburn in 1978. Kevin put it all together and the inevitable happened – we decided to re-form.

We welcomed Matt Molloy on board and also had Noel Hill and Tony Linnane as guests. We assembled in St. Mullins Co. Carlow for lengthy rehearsals along with nights on the river. We did a ball breaking European tour and then recorded this album in Windmill Lane.

The Good Ship Kangaroo 127064149339_thegoodshipkangaroo

Cold Blow and the Rainy Night

Donal rang me early one morning and said he would like a chat. This unnerved me somewhat not only for the rarity of such an event but also from the serious tone of his banter. He was leaving the band. 30 years on I can still remember feeling gutted. I had become dependant upon him in music, for me he was the heartbeat of the band.†

Johnny Moynihan joined as Donal left to blow his own bugle. Donal is irreplaceable and Johnny did not try. He came with his own repertoire, style and artistry and he simply changed the band.

Rehearsals became more challenging as we set out for London to record this album in Sarm studios London. The owner was a Coulter chum and I still remember feeling outside this loop.

We were only the band – the Producer and engineer were driving the session – at least that’s how I remember it. I did what I did more often in those days. I went on the piss. I awoke to the sound of a fracas outside the Irish club in Eaton Square. There was shouting and banging and I recognised voices. I got to the window just in time to see Andy kick into the wing of a seven series B.M.W, which then departed with haste. The band was sick and sore and a sorry sight. (These are purely my memories and may differ greatly from others). I was unable to play my keyboard parts and Phil Coulter sat in and deputised. When we returned to the island I was beginning to eye the exit.

Johnny Cope 127074437666_johnnycope

Cold Blow And The Rainy Night 127074445562_coldblowandtherainynight

The Little Drummer 127074449682_thelittledrummer

The Well Below The Valley

We were in full flight now. The gigs were pouring in and we were pouring gin. The ford transit (double wheel base) was burning oil and so was the band. No time for rehearsal, trying to get new music together would have been anti-social. We arrived at some kip in Kent and the strain was starting to show.†

The studio was a plaything of some English guitar hero and he dropped in once or twice like a squire and condescended. A fuckin’ right good guitar hero he was too. At the time we were having a bit of difficulty in communicating with each other but the work was done and we made a good album but without the fun of our two previous albums.

Hewlett 127074274188_hewlett

Solo Jig 127074288185_solojig

Cúnla 127074256466_cunla

The Box Set 1964-2004

Download Booklet >>

YELLOW	PINK
Yellow Triangle (3.32) Dunnes Stores (3.48) They Never Came Home (4.06) Nuke Power (3.21) Who Cares? (0.36) Mullaghmore (4.39) Hey! Ronnie Reagan (3.10) St. Patrick’s Night in San Fernando (2.16) Tim Evans (3.19) Goose Green (Taking tea with Pinochet) (2.29) In Zurich (2.24) The Powdered Milk Brigade (1.06) Folk Tale (2.53) The Two Conneeleys (3.26) Don’t Forget Your Shovel (4.12) Quiet Desperation (3.01)	January Man (4.25) Poor Old Earth (4.04) Tippin’ it Up (2.46) Poitín (2.07) 1945 (3.24) Little Musgrave (6.36) Johnny jump Up (2.53) Radcliffe Highway (2.35) John O’Dreams (4.09) Cold Blow (3.33) The Raggle Taggle Gypsy (4.45) El Salvador (3.55) Jack Doyle (3.09) Joxer (original) (4.39) Intro (1.32) Lawless (4.03)
BLUE	RED
Different Love Song (4.05) Changes (4.43) Ballindine (3.25) Anne Lovett (3.08) The Dalesman’s Litany (4.01) Intro (1.04) Farewell to Pripchat (3.43) The Lakes of Pontchartrain (6.08) Cricklewood (2.36) Strangeways (2.58) Wise and Holy Woman (4.01) Veronica (3.33) Cry like a man (4.34) Vive la Quinte Brigada (5.08) The auld Triangle (2.39) Intro (1.06) Brown Eyes (for Joe Sheeran) (4.03) Johnny Connors (4.34)	Lay with Me (3.28) This is the Day (4.45) Among the Wicklow Hills (2.33) Aisling (3.20) Grey lake of Loughrea (5.15) All I Remember (2.56) Someone to Love (2.56) Trip to Carnsore (3.35) Danny Boy (Derrylondon air) (2.46) Ships in the Forest (3.11) 100 miles from Home (3.35) Intro (0.56) Smoke and strong Whiskey (4.16) The way Pierce Turner sings (3.30) Hamburg Encore Medley (9.20) Tyrone Boys (4.45)
LILAC	GREEN
Hey Paddy (4.30) On the Blanket (7.13) Southern Winds (3.23) Don’t Hand Me Over (3.29) Shoot out the Streetlights (1.49) The Bridge at Killaloe (Scariff Martyrs) (5.46) North and South (4.03) At the G.P.O. 1980 (1.30) 90 miles to Dublin (5.39) Wicklow Boy (3.42) Ballinamore (2.23) Rialto Derry January 1993 (2.01) The Armagh Women (3.41) On the Bridge (2.59) Scapegoats (2.50) “They Fouled the Ball Daddy” (4.13) No Time for Love (9.01) On a Single Day (2.58)	Roots (1.30) The Old Man’s Song (2.40) 1913 Lockout (2.17) Seth Davy (3.22) The Bould Rake (3.13) Bridget’s Pill (3.12) The Lark in the Morning (2.22) Come by the Hill (2.39) The Enniskillen Dragoon (2.20) Weela Waile (4.39) Whiskey in the Jar (3.08) Intro (0.33) Tribute to Ewan McColl (4.31) Finnegan’s Wake (3.01) Down in the Valley (3.07) Paddy on the Road (3.20) Three Drunken Maidens (2.33)

Live at Vicar Street

2002

We were giggin’ again and I felt the performances were worth capturing. The response to this collection would indicate that many of you agree with me.†

Track List – Live At Vicar Street, 2002

Continental Céili.
First Time Ever.
A Pair of Brown Eyes.
Biko Drum.
Quiet Desperation.
McIlhatton.
January Man.
Allende.
Johnny Don’t Go.
Wandering Aongus.
Lisdoonvarna.
Ride On.
Tribute To Noel Brazil.
Metropolitan Avenue.

Continental Céili 127080865935_continentalceili

Biko Drum 127080872948_bikodrum

January Man 127080875891_januaryman

Planxty the Album

Recording this album was a different Ballgame. Phil Coulter was riding over in London. He had landed us. In fairness no Irish label would sign us – so we were over in London hungry for action, and Coulter was the only one who showed any interest in us.

With no competition he gave us a shite contract and we signed everything away. All that said, 30 years on this album sounds good. He produced it well and although we would like to remix the early work, he did have the foresight and wherewithal to record the band at a time when no one else was listening.

We recorded in the Olympic studios near Picadilly and we stayed at the Irish Club in Eaton Square. There were nights of merriment and days that started late. The sleeve shot was done by Tom McIlroy and has received a recognition of it’s own. The picture is of our first appearance at the national Stadium in 1973.