How to spice up an Irish festival

I kinda thought last week’s column that took festival organizers and Irish merchandisers to task for peddling the same old green drivel each year and then wondering why attendance is plummeting would cause a stir.

I was right. A spy tells me that the article was the talk of a book signing at the Glucksman Ireland House at New York University, and there have been a number of emails praising me and damning me in equal measure.

“Yeh can really be a vicious, mad dog when yeh set your mind to it,” my dad (and sharpest critic) said on the day the Irish Voice landed in his mailbox. We were walking around last week’s Jersey Shore Irish Festival when he warned, “I’d lay real low around here if I were you.”

Well, nothing ever got done by just complaining about it; you have to propose solutions to the problem in order to create real transformation.

With that in mind, I would like to offer helpful hints to the music roster for next season’s festivals that might spice up your entertainment offering and paint a more accurate picture of our culture.
I am also mindful of our need to keep younger audiences engaged, and the attendance records of the last few years indicate that we have to change up the tired parade of bands out there.

Now, I’m not suggesting something radical here by going with new, unproven talent. That would be suicide.

Since this is the wedding season, I would like to propose something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue to festival owners eager to bring blockbuster attendance back to their events.

Think now about employing the Facebook and MySpace fans of these bands to further your own fortunes and other ways to think differently this year. And for God’s sake, verify my theories below with some online research about what your market needs. So here’s my list:

Something old: Derek Warfield and the new Young Wolfe Tones. The copyright infringement battles about who owns the Wolfe Tones name are now legendary in Irish music circles, and there are some that think Derek has put together a “scab band” in a desperate attempt to hang onto his legacy.

I say nothing could be further from the truth.

As the name would imply, the Young Wolfe Tones bring a youthful energy to songs like “Some Say the Devil Is Dead” and “Get out Ye Black and Tans.” Warfield was the head cheerleader of Irish culture, waving his hands and encouraging a spirited sing-along through the rebel songs in our culture.

I happened to be in the audience with my parents and two daughters who liken Irish music to Chinese water torture. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and it is a rare feat indeed to keep three generations of Irish people engaged.

Some say this devil is dead, but I say he would be a welcome addition to your festival. Check him out at www.derekwarfield.com.

Something new: I caught Raining Hearts at the sparsely populated Irish festival in Wildwood, New Jersey. They were the supporting act of Barley juice, the powerhouse led by musical madmen Kyf Brewer.

It turns out none of the girls in this band are over 16, and three (Scotlyn, CoCo, and drummer Claire) call Brewer Dad.

Their set was an appealing mixture of old (Bothy Band’s “Do You Love an Apple?”) with an emphasis on the new. Scotlyn led the band through a drowsy, smoky acoustic read of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” before hitting every note above the sonic firepower of the Cranberries’ “Zombie.”

They write some of their own stuff. “Pretty Sled Dogs” proves the girls have their dad’s knack for mixing power chords and storytelling.

It’s difficult to express into words the pride and thrill you get when you see kids this young handle instruments this well as they express their love for Irish culture. What a great example for your own kids!

Irish rock can be cool, and you’re never too young to pick up an instrument and join the fun!
Since Mom and Dad have to drive the girls to the gig, you might as well book Barleyjuice while you’re at it. They were painfully shy during our interview backstage, suggesting that this band of tough young girls are letting the music do the talking.

“I think I like them better than you,” I whispered in Kyf Brewer’s ear as we watched Raining Hearts from the merchandise table.

“So do I,” he quipped.

You can download tracks from their debut CD by logging onto http://store.itsaboutmusic.com/raininghearts.html

Something borrowed: A painter friend of mine described the artistic process thusly: “Nothing is original any more. Creating art is like stealing a bunch of bicycles. You take them down to a chop shop, put pieces together, paint the steel frame purple, and ride around town and call it your own.”

It’s no coincidence that Seanchai and the Unity Squad operates out of Rocky Sullivan’s in the Red Hook section of Brooklyn, where the chop shop industry is a brisk business indeed. You can hear it in their music.

In one set, Black 47 founding member (and former New York City cop) Chris Byrne will hanker down on his prized uilleann pipes for a wicked solo as the band nicks Sly and the Family Stone’s “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin).”

They cool things off with a quaint set of traditional reels before they raid Bob Marley’s rhythm for “Miss Eire,” a run-through of Irish rebel history set to a reggae beat.

Like a gun to the temple, Byrne unleashes a punk rock ethos on “Irish Catholic Boy,” the title track from the band’s last album. He does borrow a number of Black 47 fans that have remained loyal to him, which could result in a boost of attendance if promoted the right way.

Something blue: Irish music fans became aware of Eileen Ivers’ famous blue fiddle during her stint as the Riverdance band leader, where she thrilled audiences with Jimi Hendrix-like solos.

In recent years she has been backed by Immigrant Soul, a band of musicians that match her talent and stretch this Irish fiddler into new global terrain. “Afro Gig” and “Paddy Goes to Zululand” from their 2003 album showcase the band’s ability to mix it up with strong African percussion.

I’ve seen the band plenty of times and they never fail to thrill. Ivers’ face radiates fun as the band challenges her to new musical heights, and the audience members that might have been wary of the mixture of traditional fiddling and global beats are soon hopelessly under her spell.
For more information, log onto www.eileenivers.com.

A letter to festival organizers and merchandisers

Hey Guys:

This summer sure flew by for me. Where the heck did August go, for chrissakes?

For you, I bet the summer can’t move on quick enough. I can’t remember a worse year for the Irish festival.

Like the next Mel Gibson romantic comedy, you have yourself an attendance problem.

Sure, you can blame the hot weather, the World Cup, the change in venue and the economy. But the sad fact is, fewer people are buying what you’re selling.

I just came in from the one in Wildwood, New Jersey last weekend. It was run by a group of great people with the best intentions of promoting a culture, just like yourselves.

They had a great lineup of artists and a built-in crowd in this seaside summer vacation spot, yet they only attracted a couple of hundred people into their event.

The vendors were angrier than BP shareholders at an investor conference, meeting one another in the aisles to bemoan the lack of foot traffic. I’m not sure how well or poorly the event was promoted, but based on the low attendance in other parts of Jersey and last weekend’s festival in Bennington, Vermont, perhaps both Irish merchandisers and festival organizers alike are responsible for this sad state of affairs.

You see 'em out dancing with their flat caps on
Wavin' their banners and tippin' their drum
And the blood runs deep
When the booze is cheap
Long as you ain't got an agenda to keep
You can be a Weekend Irish, hey!
Aye, aye, we're the Weekend Irish.

These are lines I got from Kyf Brewer of Barleyjuice, from his song “Weekend Irish.” He played it at the Wildwood show. He is singing about a class of people these vendors are clearly catering to that leaves the rest of us feeling cold.

What’s up with a certain sector of Irish Americans and their addiction to kelly green clownery that is available at these shows? Do you ever see a real Irishman walking down Grafton Street wearing that loud crap?

The drunks you see lining the curb on any given St. Patrick’s Day parade, with their shamrock sunglasses, plastic green beer necklaces and emerald colored feather boas, look less like Irish people and more like the love children of Adam Lambert and the Jolly Green Giant. Ho, ho, no!

Look around any Irish shop here in the U.S. and you see the same fare. “Kiss Me I’m Irish” buttons and green shirts made in China? Check. The flat caps with patchwork designs? Check.
The Aran sweaters that went out of style when the Clancys played Carnegie Hall in the sixties? Check. The smattering of Guinness merchandise for the special alcoholic on your naughty list? Check, check, check!

Is this is what our national soul has been reduced to?

I have had a front row seat on Irish culture during my time at the Irish Voice these last dozen years. I have been in the snug of a pub with Frank McCourt, sipped tea with Bob Geldof at Fitzpatrick’s Hotel, and watched the nervous and bitten hands of Sinead O’Connor poke the air for emphasis during an interview.

In all my time as a reporter, none of these artists ever came to the interview wearing a shamrock brooch or a plaid pair of pants. So where did this cartoonish depiction of the Irish come from?

I have a good mind to gather all Irish merchandisers together on one school bus and drive them over to New Hope, Pennsylvania. It is there that the vibrant, innovative self-expression that I know in our artistic community is on full display at the Celt-Iberia Traders.

The store is an eclectic and unique gallery inspired by the rich and culturally distinctive art and craft works of Ireland and Spain that are rarely, if ever, presented in the U.S. The owners just moved to a bigger space, indicating that business is good.

It sounds weird mixing Irish and Spanish together, right? It’s like serving soda bread with paella.
Actually, there is a Galicia region in Spain that was populated by Irish and Scottish settlers. They blended with the local folk to create an offshoot of music and art that is every bit as Irish as a shamrock, but most Irish vendors are either too lazy or too scared to “mix Irish blood” to offer Galicia art to the summer Irish festival attendees. That is a shame.

In that shop that you’ll be introduced to the works of Sharon McDaid, who works in textiles and mixed media in her studio on the Malin Road outside Carndonagh, on the way to Ireland’s most northerly point, Malin Head. Her stuff is brilliant.

Sadly, Irish shops like the one I found in New Hope are few and far between, and I applaud the likes of Mary Foley Reilly of the Irish Centre in Spring Lake, New Jersey.

Sure, she stocks her store with some of the same green nonsense that everyone else does, but she also uses her showroom floor to promote the art of lesser known glass blowers, artisans, writers, and musicians that Irish Americans might not know in the hopes that a customer will slide a new cultural artifact into the bag along with their Claddagh sweater. Fair play to her, and we need more festival merchandisers thinking that way.

I actually tried to do something about this a few years back by joining one of the festival committees nearby. It was stocked with folks a good deal older than me. They held their meetings in the back room of the bar, with most participants rolling dry tongues and licking their parched lips with one eye to the bar outside during the critical planning stages.

I remember broaching the subject of bringing Black 47 onto the roster, but the universal consensus was that they were “too edgy.”

Now, there certainly was a time when the concept of mixing fiddles, political sentiment, and power chords was considered too dangerous in the early nineties, which was when Larry Kirwan and the lads first came together. But the scene is now so crammed with bands that are in that genre, like Barleyjuice and the Prodigals, that the mixture of traditional and rock is now mainstream.

Black 47, though still an immensely enjoyable rock act that is playing its best shows right now, is about as edgy as a butter knife 20 years on.

Instead, the organizers that year played it safe with a roster of folkies and the traddies that seem to share the same set list. “Fields of Athenry.” “Irish Rover.” “My Lagan Love.”

No, nay, never again, please!

The face of Ireland has changed forever, and it is no longer an odd sight to see a Polish or African musician join a traditional seisiun back on the auld sod.

Even on this side of the Atlantic, artists like Susan McKeown are mixing it up with Yiddish musicians on her new Saints and Tzadiks album and tour, yet she was curiously absent from most festival lineups this year. With so many Irish people marrying Jews here in the States (as I have), one would think that a little out-of-the-box marketing to Jewish communities would bring in more paying customers to our events.

You may be thinking to yourself that the Irish Voice has some nerve bringing this up, especially after you advertised here in the paper. Understand my concern comes from self-preservation, and I am not trying to bite the hand that feeds us.

I derive my living as a culture vulture, commenting on the state of Irish and Irish American rock. If this scene goes away, so do I. I know after reading this you might think that would be a good thing, but we both know better.

The time is right for us to capture the imagination of a broader audience once more by embracing the changing face of Ireland instead of sticking to this dated vision that appears to be trapped in a time when Maureen O’Hara was still of childbearing age and had real red hair.

What you’re selling at Irish festivals might go down well to an older generation, but they are dying off and the attendance records prove that.

To resume blockbuster attendance at these Irish festivals, I propose we put our heads together, maybe do some market research or online surveying, and use the viral attributes of Facebook and IrishCentral.com to get a sense of attitudes, tolerance for ticket prices, promotion, etc.

Any sales and marketing textbook tells you to find out what your audience needs and deliver it to them. Online technology makes that much easier and cheaper to do nowadays.

I’m not looking for a fight here, but I do think picking at a scab is the best way to heal the wounds of your balance sheet. If you need my help, drop me a line here at the office.

Still friends?

Mike

Moya Brennan back with more history

Moya Brennan, lead singer of Clannad and the first lady of Celtic Music, returns to public television this month (check local listings) with Music of Ireland -- Welcome to America.

The first part of this expansive documentary of Irish music aired back in March to rave reviews that ended with a heart-tugging interview with Liam Clancy that was filmed weeks before his death. This installment jumps the pond for a trans-Atlantic journey from Ireland’s West Coast to the heartland of America.

Music of Ireland – Welcome to America (part II) picks up the story with the emergence of U2 and the global phenomenon they caused. The show makes a clever right turn, taking the spotlight off U2 and putting it squarely on the busker’s scene in Dublin that eventually launched the likes of Academy Award winner Glen Hansard of the Swell Season and the Frames, Damien Rice and Damien Dempsey.

“That was so important to do -- take the fame of Bono and spread it to others,” says Brennan during a chat with the Irish Voice.

“The busker scene is the roots of where we all came from as singer songwriters. It makes Bono and Sinead make more sense; maybe its not such a fluke U2 came from Ireland. I mean, look at all the people that came from here! It’s not just about Celtic Woman or Riverdance.”

Sinead O’Connor’s controversial Pope-ripping incident on Saturday Night Live many years back is analyzed, then leads to the rise of the Cranberries, the Corrs, Black 47 and the Script.

Viewing this amount of history boiled down to an hour might feel like cultural whiplash, but the program moves along beautifully and makes the viewer either proud to be Irish if they already are, or wishing they were Irish if they weren’t.

This is less of a documentary and more of a national treasure that has the potential to capture the imagination of millions.

One of the most interesting moments in the show explores how Irish music has influenced America and American culture, with footage from Dublin’s Irish Festival in Dublin, Ohio. It was there that Brennan discovered the diversity of Irish American music that included Salsa Celtica and Gaelic Storm.

“I played Dublin, Ohio and the response was amazing,” she enthuses. “I loved seeing the families. You see grandchildren getting into their culture with their grandparents there.

“Irish music was all about fun. Irish music in this documentary is about having a smile on your face. There is a lot of tragedy in our history, like immigration, but there is always a sense of hope. That’s what I saw come out of my festival experience.”

Brennan reports that all artists gave her feedback of being honored that they were included, which thrills her. After the cameras stopped rolling, promises of doing something together were exchanged and Brennan now finds herself with a busy dance card that includes jamming with Dervish, Dempsey and Andy Irvine.

“It is thrilling to have another artist ask you to collaborate and I always try to accommodate those requests because I love it!” she says.

Brennan has been involved in a labor of love all summer, recording a project called T with the Maggies with Triona and Maighread Ni Dhomnadh. It is a combination of originals, cover tunes and traditional ditties that Brennan says is the most fun she has ever had making.

“We know each other for donkey’s years,” she says. “They used to spend their summers near us growing up. We did one off gig for a laugh and we had so many people at the first gig you couldn’t get a ticket.

“We looked at each other and we said we should do something some time. We were then asked to do the Cape Breton Festival this October plus a radio show.

“We went into the studio and record an album for that. We will have it done by mid September and it’s really good. I think this is the real Celtic Woman.”

For more information, log onto moyabrennan.com.

Remembering an Irish hero of Haiti

In this 24/7 news cycle we live in, stories come and go. The entire country showered the folks of Haiti with support after the earthquake January, with artists and musicians raising money for telethons and the like.

When a devastating flood hits Pakistan or a politician gets caught with his pants down, the 24/7 news media turns its attention elsewhere and the Haitian people are forgotten.

This is not the case for Greg Grene, leader of the jig punks that make up The Prodigals. He lost his twin brother in the rubble of the United Nations building there, making the pain and loss a daily reminder of the country that was left in ruins.

“This is something that is not really a ‘coping’ thing -- there is no answer, no solution,” Grene says when asked how his family was coping with the loss. “Everyone is just dealing with it as they can.”

As a tribute, Grene and friends have formed the Andrew Grene Foundation, an organization committed to the rebuilding of Haiti.

“For me the foundation is a way of directing some of the belief in all that Andrew stood for, and admiration and love for all that he was, into something other than solely mourning the passing of a truly remarkable soul,” says Grene.

According to the website andrewgrene.com, donations of as little as $25 cover the cost of teaching one woman to read and write, the first big step to independence and economic mobility in Haiti.

Some of the microfinance loans that the organization will put forth with donations as little as $50 will provide the beginning of a self-enabled road out of poverty.

The Andrew Grene Foundation has taken off globally, with support from the likes of the Irish government and 10-year-olds forgoing birthday presents in favor of donations, with everything in between.

Grene has just returned from Haiti to see how the funds of his foundation are being put to use, and he talked to the Irish Voice about what he saw. Here’s how it went.

What was it like going back there, knowing how much effort both Andrew and now you/the charity is putting into that country?

In terms of Andrew, it was wrenching in the way you would assume; it was also a revelation to see just how much of a legacy of love Andrew had left behind him. Not just his UN colleagues, who were unbelievably supportive and kind, but also Haitians on the ground.

We visited this extraordinary community in Pandiassou, run by a Salesian father, and they were inaugurating their communications room, including their radio station. Radio is obviously hugely important there, among a population who have 50% literacy, and the room was named the Andrew Room. We cut the ribbon with Father Armand, the head of the community.

What do you want readers to know about the people and culture of Haiti?

This is an incredibly complex, difficult terrain, both physically and politically. The one thing to bear in mind, to those who would be impatient, is the extraordinary spirit of the Haitian people.

To put it in context, the average income of the majority of the population is $2 a day. There is 85% unemployment because there simply are no jobs. And yet they spend 45% of their income on education, and in the most remote areas you will see immaculately dressed school children wending their way to school over mud and rock.

To get to the school we are actively supporting, the Ecole Christ Roi, you clamber over a mountain of rocks, which is the ruins of the prior buildings, and ascend to the top of a slope, where there are tents set up, and every child, every book, every desk impeccably in order, as the heat beats down and the wind lifts the tarpaulin. You can see video of this on the Andrew Grene Foundation site, andrewgrene.org. It's something unbelievable.

Times are tough and people are mindful of the pennies, and charities are hurting. I was on the website and was amazed at how many factions came together to contribute. What are some of the worthwhile endeavors you have taken on with this support, and to what do you explain the outpouring of charity to this new charity?

I think that at this point, the outpouring is above all a profound tribute to the greatness of soul of my twin. He was a truly loved individual.

I think that as time goes on, the charity is going to prove itself with what we are doing, and I hope to continue to grow. But the initial donations -- they simply are a gesture of love to my dear hero of a twin.

What have been the most encouraging/discouraging things you've encountered around the re-building of Haiti?

The spirit of the people is by far the encouraging aspect. Discouraging -- the degree to which they are battling vicissitudes of weather, terrain and natural disasters. And the state is to an extent simply overwhelmed. And the donations that come in, where folk hear that other nations have pledged $10 billion, that sounds amazing, indeed.

The problem is that between 10% and 2%, depending on whose estimate you hear, has actually materialized. It can play very well to the folks back home to say we're pledging “x” amount. But there is a certain political game in this, so that if the spokesperson can score the goodwill without actually having to disburse the funds, that's kind of a political double-whammy.

Haiti is rich in words of goodwill, but not in funds.

I completely get the impact Andrew had on your life and your family and cannot begin to imagine the loss you've experienced -- he was so special and one of a kind. Was there anything you learned about your brother in the outpouring of other people's grief? Was there something in that outpouring that you wished Andrew could have seen?

Andrew was such a modest person in some ways. I think I told you before that when he first arrived in Haiti, he had to wear a bullet proof vest and helmet, and the bullets were pinging off his car, and he never told us this. We found out afterwards from a journalist.

In the same way, I simply had no idea exactly how influential he was, and I wonder if he did, if he knew just how much admiration and love he left behind him. From the radio station in Haiti, to the farmer's daughter in Ireland that instead of accepting presents for her 10th birthday instead collected donations from her friends for the Foundation.

I was amazed and moved to hear Matt Damon and Clint Eastwood talk about Andrew's life and work on the Hope for Haiti telethon. How did that come about, and how surreal must that whole experience have been for you?

Totally surreal. I had no idea it was going to happen. I got a text when I was visiting a woman who had babysat Andrew and I in Cavan when we were children. I didn't quite take it whether or not it was for real until seeing it later.

From an artistic perspective, is there anything in your concerts or writing that has been formed as a result of your pain/experiences this year that you care to share?

There is nothing artistic per se that I can share at this time -- it's simply too raw. But what I will say is that the community of musicians and music people has been so, so kind and supportive.

I've had beautiful things made for me, a rosary and a memorial bracelet, and benefit concerts set up totally independently of us, and just an amount of kind words and thoughts that were amazing.