Well, the answer to Bing’s question is a resounding Yes!
Did she kiss The Blarney? Not literally, but if I have any gift for words, for telling a tale, it comes from her.
There were some stories of her youth in Kerry she must have told me a thousand times or more and yet every time they came up fresh and left me asking for more.
Did she dance to the Kerry Pipers?
She sure did – at Duffy’s in her best dress with her hair dressed up pretty.
Now she wasn’t from Killarney but Killorglin just a few miles down the road – a town she never left in her heart and her memory.
She has been dead these twenty years but not a day passes when I don’t think of her with love and profound gratitude.
On her headstone we carved, ‘All we laughed’ as that was the punchline to so many of her stories and thinking of her joyous laughter still bubbles up.
Joan O’ Sullivan (cracked Joanie) cracked because she was so alive to the humour and crazy joy of the world became Joan Hickey and day after day, year after year, transmitted that joy in living wrapped up in unconditional love to Thom and Ger and Julie.
It’s the most precious gift a Mother can give to her children and she gave it to us unstintingly.
One time I was sheltering from the wind outside of Medicine Hat and when the 18 wheeler pulled to a halt the driver asked, ‘Where you headed?’ so I said, ‘North to Alaska, through the woods and the frozen lakes. I’m trying to find the straight path again’.
‘Hop in – I hope you like Gordon Lightfoot ’cause I got nothing but Gord on these tapes and we sure got a ways to go to get you to Alaska.’
It can be read as a very specific question or as a very general question or as both – like all the really interesting questions.
We are all headed somewhere or away from somewhere endlessly redrawing the map of our lives.
We all have miles to go before we sleep – we just don’t know how many miles we still have left on the clock.
Where you headed?
Sometimes the world falls on your shoulders and wherever you’ve fetched up, for whatever reason, you find it’s time to head back to where you were raised up to lick your wounds and get ready to ramble again.
And, if you want a true voice to accompany you down the road as you try to find that straight path let me tell you that you’ll struggle to find a truer one than that of Gordon Lightfoot.
Gordon knows all about the ramblin’, about the taverns, about the gamblin’, about the lovin’ and all the extremes of temperature we encounter on the road.
You know this is a man who has been places and seen things and heard all kinds of stories from all kinds of men and women.
Stories you can’t help but recognise when they’re told in Gord’s rich baritone croon.
‘He was standin’ by the highway with a sign that just said ‘Mother’ ….’
Now I don’t usually find the citations issued by august bodies when inducting an artist to the company of the great and good worth quoting but in the case of Gordon Lightfoot’s elevation to a companion of The Order of Canada I’m gonna make an exception :
‘A singer-songwriter, musician and poet, Gordon Lightfoot has been telling our stories for over five decades. He possesses a unique ability to blend contemporary urban music with our traditional roots. Genuine and reserved, he has a down to earth style that defies categorization’.
Where you headed?
Down the road a piece?
Lincoln County Road or Armageddon?
Santiago de Compostela?
Rain fallin’ on your shoes?
Feet almost frozen?
World fallin’ on your shoulders?
Where you headed?
Keep on keepin’ on.
Someone might just pull off on the shoulder and you’ll be on your way again.
But, remember people don’t usually stop if you don’t put up a sign.
‘Won’t you listen to me brother ….’
Nanci Griffith has always had a very good ear for Songs.
She’s a troubadour like Gordon Lightfoot and knows that some songs bloom every time they’re played – season after season after season.
You just have to respect ’em, sing ’em right and let ’em fly!
Nanci sings, ’10 Degrees ..’ just right.
Where you headed?
Rome? Jerusalem? Mecca? Kedarnath?
I’d advise you to travel light – you’re carrying enough baggage in that heart of yours.
Where you headed?
Wherever it is you might never get there.
You might turn back.
You might find the road you set out on takes a turning you couldn’t have imagined from looking at the map.
You might find your steps matched by another’s and decide to set off together on another path altogether.
Where you headed?
Now, let’s turn to the high lonesome sound of Bluegrass aces Tony Rice and Ricky Scaggs.
When it comes to pickin’ clean and singin’ sweet you can’t, just can’t, beat Tony and Ricky.
They’ve logged up sideman credits with marquee names but I always like the taste of the pure drop myself so let’s hear their clear as a mountain stream version of, ’10 degrees …’
‘ .. he held the sign up higher where no decent soul could miss it .. It was ten degrees or colder down by Boulder Dam that day ..’
Where you headed?
Even if you’re following a path that’s been trod a million times before you’ll leave only your own footprints and no one can walk the way for you.
Where you headed?
Arcadia? Atlantis? Camelot? Elysian Fields?
Wherever you set out for you’ll find you’re changed by the journey even if you never reach the fabled destination.
Accept the wind – at your back or in your face.
Where you headed?
Lift your eyes to the sunny hill far ahead.
Walk on Pilgrim!
Walk on!
Where you headed?
‘Now he’s traded off his Martin but his troubles are not over ..’.
Sing it Gordon.
Where you headed?
Listen.
‘He was standin’ by the highway with a sign that just said ‘Mother’ when he heard a driver comin’ ..’
I forgot that not only did I have a duty to celebrate the season of St Patrick here on The Jukebox I also had to celebrate in person and recover from those celebrations!
So, a little delayed, but I trust well worth the wait, the Official Immortal Jukebox St Patrick’s Day Post!
Now read on ….
All Hail St Patrick!
All Hail the Women of Ireland
Today we conclude our tribute to the intelligence, wisdom and beauty the Women of Ireland have brought to the arts of Song, Poetry and Painting.
Songs by Eleanor McEvoy (At the Mid Hour of Night & A Woman’s Heart) & AIlie (The Rocky Road to Dublin).
A Poetry Reading by Paula Meehan – ‘The Pattern’.
A Painting by Moyra Barry (1886-1960) : ‘Cinerria’
More years ago than I care to count seeking sanctuary from the crazed cacophony of life in London I frequented an out of the way social club whose clientele was largely comprised of Irish men and women who had emigrated to England in the late 40s/early 50s.
For an hour or two I would savour a pint or two of plain and drink in the rich accents and the rich conversation.
One of the habitues of the club, a whiskery Corkman, let’s call him Seamus, always greeted me by announcing, ‘You buy me a pint of porter and I’ll sing you one of Moore’s Melodies’.
My reply was always, ‘Done – let’s start with, ‘The Last Rose of Summer’ and if the thirst is on you and the humour on me we won’t stop until we’ve sung, ‘Oft in the Stilly Night’, ‘The Harp’ and, ‘The Minstrel Boy’ before we leave.
I usually emerged spiritually refreshed if somewhat intoxicated from the porter and the romanticism of the melodies.
Thomas Moore was something of a 19th Century superstar in English and Irish society.
His, ‘Melodies’ lyrics set to established Irish tunes and melodies were much admired by Lord Byron and became songs that entered deep into the consciousness of generations.
As such, in modern Ireland, they came to be regarded, in certain chilly circles, as period pieces from the parlour best left to the tourists to enjoy.
A view I never had any time for.
So, I was delighted to learn that Eleanor McEvoy had recorded an album entirely devoted to Thomas Moore Songs, ‘The Thomas Moore Project’.
The distinguishing mark of Eleanor’s career, for me, was a wholly admirable creative restlessness which led her never to attempt to simply repeat earlier successes but rather to challenge herself to open up new artistic territory with every new record.
It seemed to me that her background; incorporating a music degree, a spell in the RTE Symphony Orchestra and a string of imaginative singer/songwriter albums made her an ideal candidate to present refreshed versions of songs from Moore’s great canon illuminating them brightly for new generations to enjoy.
And, praise be!, the, ‘Thomas Moore Project’ turned out to be an absolute triumph due to the endless care and consideration with which the songs were approached.
Original, imaginative arrangements combined with superb instrumental playing and heart-piercingly intimate vocals shook the dust off and revealed the ravishing beauty and sophisticated emotional acuity of Moore’s works.
Eleanor McEvoy’s take on, ‘At the Mid Hour of Night’ reanimates those, ‘past scenes of delight’ and is indeed rapture to hear.
‘At the mid hour of night when stars are weeping, I fly To the lonely vale we lov’d when life shone warm in thine eye; And I think that if spirits can steal from the region of air, To revisit past scenes of delight; thou wilt come to me there, And tell me our love is remember’d even in the sky.
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Then I’ll sing the wild song, which once ’twas rapture to hear, When our voices, both mingling, breathed like one on the ear, And, as Echo far off thro’ the vale my sad orison rolls, I think, oh my love! ’tis thy voice from the kingdom of souls Faintly answering still the notes which once were so dear!’
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Our Poetry Reading today comes from a former Ireland Professor of Poetry, Paula Meehan.
She has a plenitude of poetic powers at her command.
Reading through her works it seems that no aspect of the struggle to live a human life in our times has escaped her poetic eye and ear.
There is tenderness and rage, grief and joy and empathy embedded in her poetry.
She is a Poet who believes in the enduring power of Poetry to affect the human heart.
Her Poems exemplify the truth that there is a never to be sounded mysterious energy and power in Poetry.
She has said that, ‘ …Poems tell stories but there are also poems that just give you a moment of vision or transcendence .. two lines, two lines can save a life, I believe it.’
In, ‘The Pattern’ Paula Meehan captures with truth and tenderness the gravitational power of the Mother/Daughter relationship.
Today’s painting is by Moyra Barry.
Her special gift was for flower paintings.
These works have a quality of engaged observation and radiance which forces the viewer to take a breath and really Look!
Now to a new star from Ireland.
Ailie (Blunnie) from County Leitrim.
Her debut album. ‘West to the Evening Sun’ was a confident and mature work showcasing a talent that was wholly of the Now while being in no way cut off from the rich and diverse heritage of Irish music.
Highly atmospheric production added to the poetic imagination of her songs ensured the album packed a real punch.
Here she gifts us an unforgettable and invigorating version of the Rocky Road to Dublin.
Ailie plays Piano, Bass and Electric Guitar as well as all the singing here.
Daragh Dukes’ production makes the whole thing gleam.
My, ‘Brand new pair of brogues’ did some high stepping to this one I can tell you!
I am going to conclude this tribute to Irish Women with a song by Eleanor McEvoy which has rightly become a modern standard, ‘A Woman’s Heart’.
I hope this series has made plain that there are some things only a Woman’s heart can know and that we should be grateful for that knowledge being passed on to us in Songs, Poems and Paintings.
There will never come a time when Eleanor will not be asked to sing this song and there will never come a time when it fails to move all the hearts of those who hear it.
All hail the Women of Ireland!
For Peg, Marguerite, Ann, Roisin, Hannah and Martha Brosnan, Irene, Geraldine and Nina Fitzpatrick, Maura Dee, Deirdre and Sinead Trant, Niamh & Aisling Blackburn and Patricia & Grace O’Sullivan.
The Jukebox continues the celebration of the glories of Irish Women with :
Songs from Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh (An Mhaigdean Mhara) & Sinead Lohan (Sailing By).
A Painting by Letitia Hamilton (1878-1964) – ‘A Rest from Hunting’.
A Poetry Reading by Catherine Ann Cullen (Meeting at the Chester Beatty).
Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh, a Donegal native, is a wonderful fiddler and a spellbinding singer.
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With the traditional music group Altan she has honoured that tradition and shown that there is a considerable global audience for the music when it is performed with heart and drive.
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And, when Mairéad sings the song below there is something more than heart and drive; there is the shiver of an encounter with the numinous.
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Her singing here dives to the deep core of the song and to hidden truths swaying in the subconscious.
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This is a lament and all of our lives will have cause at some point to call out for a lament.
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No life escapes loss and exile. All time is borrowed.
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Is cosúil gur mheath tú nó gur thréig tú an greann
Tá an sneachta go freasach fá bhéal na mbeann’
Do chúl buí daite is do bhéilín sámh
Siúd chugaibh Mary Chinidh ‘s í ‘ndiaidh an Éirne ‘shnámh
A mháithrín mhilis duirt Máire Bhán
Fá bhruach an chladaigh ‘s fá bhéal na trá
Maighdean mhara mo mhaithrín ard
Siúd chugaibh Mary Chinidh ‘s í ‘ndiaidh an Éirne ‘shnámh
Tá mise tuirseach agus beidh go lá
Mo Mháire bhroinngheal ‘s mo Phádraig bán
Ar bharr na dtonna ‘s fá bhéal na trá
Siúd chugaibh Mary Chinidh ‘s í ‘ndiaidh an Éirne ‘shnámh
You seem to be pining and forsaking the fun
The snowdrifts are heavy by the fords in the burn
Your bright golden tresses and smile gentle and mild
I give you Mary Kinney who has swum the ocean wide
“Darling mother, ” cries Máire Bhán
From the banks of the ocean and down by the tide
“Mermaid, my mother, my pride”
I give you Mary Kinney who has swum the ocean wide
I’m tired and weary and will be ’til dawn
For my darling Mary and my Pádraid bán
As I ride on the billows and drift with the tide
I give you Mary Kinney who has swum the ocean wide.
The Poet showcase today is Catherine Ann Cullen.
She has written a wonderful lyrical and informative essay (in essence an introduction to her PhD) which references the ‘Singing Without Ceasing’ and the ‘Murmur of Voices’ which formed the musical and cultural landscape of her childhood.
This is perhaps the source of the poise and intense musicality gold-threaded through all her writing.
I highly recommend her collections, ‘A Bone in My Throat’ and, ‘Strange Familiar’.
She has also written a book, nominally for 6-8 year olds, ‘The Magical, Mystical, Marvelous Coat’ which is truly enchanting whatever age your birth certificate might say you are!
All Poetry is a kind of cartography – a description and revelation of the Poet’s territory and the developing outline of a personal, emotional, cultural and literary landscape.
The poem below shows Catherine Ann Cullen weaving a brilliantly coloured and textured tapestry of recollected feeling. .
The Painting today is by Letitia Marion Hamilton.
Her paintings of the Irish landscape and rural life have the quality of intoxicatingly hazy summer dreams that linger in the imagination.
It is very rare for an artist enjoying critical and commercial success and with the promise of greater success in store to decide to simply walk away to pursue another life away from the stage.
Yet, that is exactly what Sinead Lohan has done.
In the mid/late 1990s she released two highly prized records, ‘Who Do You Think I Am’ and, ‘No Mermaid’ which still get selected from the Jukebox’s extensive library on a frequent basis.
Two of her songs were covered by Folk Icon Joan Baez and all seemed set fair for a stellar career as she was capable of writing distinctive hypnotic songs and of performing them with beguiling charm.
No new material has emerged since 1998 so we will have to treasure what we have.
Thanks for the songs and the singing Sinead.
If you enjoyed this post and know anyone who is Irish or of Irish heritage (and you do!) share it with them and ask them to share it further.
Next Post tomorrow Sunday 17th March, St Patrick’s Day – don’t miss it!
Songs by Eleanor Shanley ( Come Back Paddy Reilly) & Inni-K (Teardrop).
A Painting by Estella Solomons (1882-1968) ‘Moppie Morrow’.
A Poetry Reading by Rita Ann Higgins : ‘The Hedger’.
The Irish temperament is formed out of the knowledge that, in the end, no one survives this world without a broken heart.
Irish singers, painters and poets have for millennia embodied this truth in their works.
Tragedy abides but the true artist, not ignoring the darkness, finds within themselves sparks of joy to light up the glowering sky.
In the voice of Leitrrim’s Eleanor Shanley we find a tenderness and sustaining sweetness that glows in the heart.
The song she sings here Percy French’s, ‘Come Back Paddy Reilly’, has a special poignancy for me as it was my late mother’s favourite song and its haunting air accompanied her coffin as we carried her out of the church at her funeral.
It was also sung as a lullaby to my wife by her late father.
We think of them both with love and gratitude and with smiles and tears whenever we hear this song.
The garden of Eden has vanished they say But I know the lie of it still Just turn to the left at the bridge of Finea And stop when half way to Coote Hill
Tis there I will find it I know sure enough When fortune has come to my call Oh, the grass it is green Around Ballyjamesduff And the blue sky is over it all
And tones that are tender and tones that are gruff Are whispering over the sea “Come back Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home Paddy Reilly to me”
My mother once told me that when I was born The day that I first saw the light I looked down the street on that very first morn And gave a great crow of delight
Now most newborn babies appear in a huff And start with a sorrowful squall But I knew I was born in Ballyjamesduff And that’s why I smile on them all
The baby’s a man now, he’s toil-worn and tough Still whispers come over the sea
“Come back Paddy Reilly to Ballyjamesduff Come home Paddy Reilly to me”
The featured Painter today is Estella Solomons who was a Dubliner.
She was a member of a distinguished Jewish family with both her father and brother being mentioned by he great chronicler of Dublin life – James Joyce.
Her mother was a Poet and her Sister an opera singer.
She was deeply involved in the Irish Republican movement as a member of Cumann na mBan and in the cultural life of post revolutionary Ireland through her own work and that of her Poet and publisher husband, Seamus O’Sullivan.
The humble steady gaze of her paintings and prints have a meditative stillness which can be intensely moving.
Rita Ann Higgins is a Poet whose work has fierce feminine energy and lacerating emotional force.
As a Galway Woman from a large working class family she has broadened the canvas of Irish Poetry through an alert, inventive voice charged with righteous anger and absurdity.
This is a Poetry responding to and teeming with life in all its maddening plenitude.
Every now and again you hear a record that startles you by the freshness of its imagination.
‘The King has Two Horse’s Ears’ by Inni-K (Eithne Ni Chathain) from 2015 was one such record for me.
Irish Folk? Certainly.
But experimentally infused with Pop, Jazz and World Music accents.
All carried off with tremendous confidence and élan.
A record that repaid repeated listening.
Her new album, ‘The Hare & The Line’ has much to live up to!
In memory of Sheila Doyle and Joan Hickey.
Notes :
Eleanor Shanley recorded three highly recommended albums with the legendary group De Danann : ‘Jacket of Batteries’, Half Set in Harlem’ & ‘Wonderwaltz’.
I particularly prize her Solo albums – ‘Desert Heart’, and ‘A Place of My Own’ .
The two records she made with Ronnie Drew – ‘A Couple More Years’ & ‘El Amor De Mi Vida’ have a wonderful warmth.
If you enjoyed this post and know anyone who is Irish or of Irish heritage (and you do!) share it with them and ask them to share it further.
Songs by Maura O’ Connell (Helpless Heart) & SÍOMHA (July Red Sky)
A Poetry reading by Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin (Studying The Language).
A Painting by Lilian Lucy Davidson (1879-1954) : Wicklow Goats.
A Paul Brady song sung by Maura O’Connell – it really doesn’t get any better.
Maura inhabits a song, finds its essence and then using all the considerable craft at her command sets it free to bloom in our imaginations.
There is a repertoire of traditional songs and modern folk classics that generations of Irish Women singers have returned to over and over again seeking to release and reveal the wisdom and mystery these masterworks contain.
Time after time I find it is to the Maura O’Connell versions I turn to first and last because these songs shine brightest and settle deeper in the heart when she sings them.
There is reverie and rapture here.
Reverie and rapture.
And, the video clip is enormously nostalgic!
Our painting today comes from Lilian Davidson who was born in Bray, County Wicklow.
Her work shows she was aware of movements in European Art and had secure painterly skills.
I am struck by the vivacity of the light and colour in her paintings which seem to gleam before the viewer.
In addition to her paintings she also wrote plays, poems and short stories under the name Ulick Burke.
The National Gallery of Ireland keeps her portrait of W B Yeats.
Our Poetry reading today comes from Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin.
For almost half a century now she has been adding magical poems to the cairn of Irish poetry and the global word hoard.
In her poems language is thrillingly allusive and alive.
It is in the testing of thought and belief through charged engagement with language that Poetry is made.
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin has said that her Poems emerge out of her desire, need, to question – Is this true? Do I really believe this? Do I really feel this?
If the Poem lives the question is answered.
Often in ways that could not have been anticipated.
True Poetry is always surprising both to the Poet and the reader.
Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin has written many true poems.
SÍOMHA (Brock) is, in her music, wholly Irish and wholly international.
She draws deeply on the traditions of traditional music, folk music, chanson and gypsy jazz to create an alluring synthesis.
On stage she has an energy, expertise and magnetism in her singing and guitar playing which wins and holds audiences.
We are all going to hear a lot more from SÍOMHA!
This post in memory of Mary O’Sullivan and Nora McElligott.
If you enjoyed this post and know anyone who is Irish or of Irish heritage (and you do!) share it with them and ask them to share it further.
March is the month when the Immortal Jukebox, in the run up to the St Patrick’s day festivities, celebrates the enormous contribution Irish artists have made to the World’s treasury of Poetry, Song and Paintings.
This year’s posts are in celebration of the works, so often under regarded, of the Women of Ireland.
Each post will feature a song by an established singer and another by a singer or group who may not yet have gained fame outside of Ireland.
I will also be showcasing a Poetry reading and a Painting.
I hope I will be making introductions that will lead you to further exploration.
Today :
Songs by Dolores Keane and The Evertides.
Eavan Boland reading :
‘The Lost Art of Letter Writing’, ‘Quarantine’ and ‘The Emigrant Irish’.
A Painting by Mildred Anne Butler (1858-1941) : A Murder of Crows
My admiration for Dolores Keane knows no bounds.
In her voice you can hear Ireland speaking with power and authority.
In her voice you can hear Ireland speaking of pain, exile and loss.
In her voice you can hear Ireland speaking with faith and joy.
Listen to Dolores Keane.
Listen to Ireland.
Our painting today comes from Mildred Anne Butler who looked deep into the domestic and the animal life all around her Kilkenny home.
She painted en plein air and there is a startling freshness shining from her works.
She is well represented in galleries and latterly was commemorated on an Irish postage stamp.
Eavan Boland is a Poet of patience and fortitude.
Throughout her career she has attended to the whispers and looked unflinchingly into the dark shadows of Irish life and culture – particularly as experienced by Irish Women.
There is a complexity and precision of language and weight of thought in her work which is the mark of a major Poet.
The Evertides are a trio of wonderfully talented Irish Women – Ruth McGill, Alma Kelliher and Ruth Smith.
Their instrumental and vocal blend is that of Sisters in Song.
Their three part harmonies surround, enchant and elevate our senses.
The ability to enchant and to open doors into the numinous makes The Evertides a very special group.
In memory of Julia O’Sullivan and Hannah Hartnett.
If you enjoyed this post and know anyone who is Irish or of Irish heritage (and you do!) share it with them and ask them to share it further.
Notes :
In addition to her role in The Evertides Ruth Smith presents one of my, ‘Must Listen’ radio programmes, ‘Simply Folk’ which airs on RTÉ Radio 1 on Sundays at 10pm.
Seek it out!
The next Post in the series will be published on Tuesday 12 March – Don’t miss it!
Lifted up in the chill night air surrounded by heady scent of white blooms all the moon long.
Blanketed in sulphurous Fog you walk hand in hand with Dad and though you can’t see road or pavement and don’t know where you are going you do know you are safe and will arrive – because you are hand in hand with Dad.
The Walnut of the radiogram gleams to reflect your face.
And, when the knob is turned a lovely green light blushes the room.
You know you’re not allowed to switch it on.
But .. and from the speakers emerges something wonderful, miraculous :
Don’t want your love anymore
Don’t want your kisses, that’s for sure
I die each time I hear this sound
Here he comes, that’s Cathy’s clown.
Now, the room is filled and your heart is filled and your soul is filled and you will never forget this moment.
Happy Highways.
Blue remembered hills.
Shining plain forever in the memory.
When you are small you are told and might believe you know nothing worth knowing.
Ah! but to be the prince of apple town.
To be green and carefree, huntsman and herdsman, in the Sun that is young once only.
First knowing.
First morning song.
Young and easy, oblivious of the mercy.
Angel infancy.
Shadows of eternity.
Bright shoots of everlastingness.
Oh, to travel back and tread again on that ancient track to the land of lost content.
The slender tops of fir trees close against the sky.
Now there’s more to do than watch my sailboat glide.
In 1966 Carole King and Gerry Goffin gave us a magic carpet ride song that looked poignantly back to the childhood land of lost content and tremulously forward to a world where thinking young and growing older is no sin.
A world where the game of life can be played to win.
Catch me if you can.
Streaming, filled with light, through the eye of a needle.
Going back.
Sing it for me Dusty.
Take me back.
Dusty Springfield.
Unquestionably thev finest pop/soul singer ever to come from the British Iles.
A singer of both power and delicacy.
Dusty finds the deep melancholy and the fragile hope in Goin’ Back.
Dusty knew that great songs were rare and precious things.
Time after time Dusty found depths of meaning within songs few had even guessed at.
Time after time singing these songs Dusty found something within them that brought out aspects of herself she had barely guessed at.
Beauty emerging out of Hide and seek with her fears and ours.
Catch me if you can ….
Now let’s fly high, eight miles high, with The Byrds for a panoramic take on Goin’ Back.
I think I’m goin’ back to the things I learned so well in my youth.
Catch me if you can.
Catch me if you can.
Carole King left an indelible mark on the 1960s threading veins of pure gold through the decade with the songs she wrote with Gerry Goffin.
Come the 1970s she was ready to move to the centre of the stage and put her own stamp on the songs she had gifted to other singers and groups.
Listening to her version of Goin’ Back it occurs to me that she has rarely received due praise for the singer element in the Singer/Songwriter appellation so often ascribed to describe her solo records.
There is aching truth and no little heartbreak in the way she tells herself and us that she could recall a time when she wasn’t afraid to reach out to a friend.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Carole King’s songs reach out in faith and friendship.
Thinking young and growing older is no sin.
Plaing the game of life to win.
Catch me if you can.
Catch me if you can.
Goin’ Back.
Nils Lofgren – Guitar Slinger for the greats.
Neil Young. Bruce Springsteen.
Yet, too often forgotten a very fine artist in his own right.
From his early years with Grin and throughout his solo albums you hear the sound of an extravagantly gifted musician whose greatest gift was the depth of heart he brought to every performance whether on record or on stage.
With Nils Goin’ Back really does become a magic carpet ride.
Catch me if you can.
Catch me if you can.
Goin’ Back.
Happy Highways.
Blue remembered hills.
Shining plain Forever.
Catch me if you can.
Catch me if you can.
I’m Goin’ Back.
Streaming, filled with life through the eye of a needle.
Goin’ Back.
Now, here’s that hidden track you sometimes find when you think the CD/LP has no more gifts to give.
Guitar Gurus Roger McGuinn and Richard Thompson with a 6 string colloquy.
Starry eyed and laughing.
Bright shoots of everlasting ness.
Catch me if you can.
Catch me if you can.
Goin’ Back.
Goin’ Back.
Notes :
Thanks due to Dylan Thomas, Seamus Heaney, Thomas Hood, A E Houseman and Henry Vaughan for their wisdom and inspiration.
Look out for the annual St Patrick’s Parade series of posts starting on Sunday – this year celebrating Mná na hÉireann – The Women of Ireland.
The Immortal Jukebox 