Let’s toast the Irish Pioneers

Mike's first book cover

'Tis the season to be jolly, and when you’re Irish that means plenty of temptation at holiday open houses! On one such evening, a friend wrapped his arm around my shoulder and raised his glass in a toast.

“Two Irish guys that come from a long line of drunks -- the tradition lives on!”

He had a look of surprise and disappointment when I didn’t lift my pint in response.

Both of my parents were Irish Pioneers, and they gave an oath to God around the time of their Confirmation to never touch a drop of alcohol. Many of their siblings and their children took the same oath.

According to the official Pioneer website, the Pioneer Total Abstinence Association (PTAA) of the Sacred Heart was founded by the Wexford priest Father James Cullen in Dublin in 1898. As the story goes, his motivation in setting up the Pioneers was to address the enormous damage that he saw excess alcohol was doing in the Ireland of his times.

Many workers were heavy drinkers, and alcohol was the greatest drain on the weekly earnings of the family. Members pledged three things -- to abstain from alcohol for life (which Cullen referred to as “the heroic sacrifice”); to say the Pioneer prayer twice a day; and to bear witness by wearing the pioneer pin at all times.

The PTAA has always been underpinned by devotion to the Sacred Heart, and its emblem reflects this.

The existence of this organization comes as a complete surprise to the average Irish American, as well as some Irish-born people I know. Yet a dry household is a critical element to my Irish upbringing and has produced some interesting Irish customs.

Until recently, my mother would write to the Hallmark card company in protest over their portrayal of the Irish as drunks in their St. Patrick’s Day greetings. Public displays of liver-abusing reindeer games never played well with my parents, and we were always discouraged from partaking.

“Can yeh believe she’s walkin’ around like that?” Mom would huff, motioning her head in the direction of a bride walking from table to table at a wedding reception with a beer in her hand.

“Shows no class a’tall. Some people think the only way to have a good time is to have a drink in their hand.”

I don’t remember ever being asked by either parent to join the Pioneer movement when I was being confirmed; I don’t think I could have signed up for that, but there are times when I wished I did.

Coming to in a New Orleans gutter as a drug addicted drag queen rifles through your pants pocket for a wallet and God knows what else is one time when being a Pioneer would have been a good thing.

Waking up next to what looked like a warthog with lace undergarments caught in her tusks is another time that being a Pioneer would have been a good thing.

Steadying yourself with one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on a bottle of Windex as you gamely attempt to wipe the dried vomit from the passenger side carpet of your wife’s brand new car while your head pounds mercilessly is yet another instance where being a Pioneer would have been a good thing.

You get the idea. 

If I know my mother, she just read the last few paragraphs and said aloud to no one, “The eejit didn’t get that example from his parents!” As usual, my mother is right on the money.

“Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself,” is a twist on the Lord’s Prayer that I usually utter before a shot of Jameson’s goes down the gullet, and truer words have never been spoken.

Despite the pristine example of clean living set by my parents, the bottle has tempted me into dark neighborhoods and it hasn’t always been easy to throw the car into reverse gear.  I never had to go down the road of attending church basements except for fundraising suppers, and for that I thank the Lord.

Speaking of the man upstairs, I’ve asked the Lord to take the wheel in those dark neighborhoods and you reading this proves that Jesus has mad stunt driving skills!

I was a bartender once, which is never a good profession when the bottle calls to me as loudly as it sometimes does. Back then, club soda was my best friend because it looked like a real drink when you dropped a wedge of lime into it.

“Let’s re-work that toast,” I say before pouring a club soda in a pint glass. “To the Pioneers and their sacrifices – let’s pray they gain entry into heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows they’re dead!”

Now THAT is something I’ll drink to!

(Mike Farragher's collection of essays makes a great gift! Check it out on www.thisisyourbrainonshamrocks.com.)

‘Fairytale of New York’ a Christmas song that works all year round

Shane McGowan

So here’s something you don’t do every day -- I was interviewed by BBC Radio as part of a retrospective on the Pogues tune “Fairytale of New York” that will include musings from band
members, producers and industry types like myself.

To add street cred to the interview piece, we did the interview in front of the Roseland Ballroom on
Broadway. The producer waved her hand to the skyline and asked me what significance the song had for the city.

“Can you identify with the song?”

“No,” says I.  “I never found myself in the drunk tank on Christmas Eve, but the season is young!”

Yet there is a significance on the song and it resonates today. Our sister website Irish Central reported recently that British music body PPL officially named “Fairytale” the most played Christmas song of the 21st century.

Its calculations include plays on the radio, TV, and as background music in shops, bars, gyms and restaurants. They began their calculations in 2000.

For me the song is a mere jukebox novelty, but for the majority of folks it’s a significant cultural touchstone, especially to forty-something Irish immigrants who took shelter in the Manhattan skyline during an Irish economic downturn three decades ago.

I would imagine if you found yourself working on a scaffold in the city and you’re longing for Christmas with the folks from home, the imagery of the fictitious NYPD choir singing “Galway Bay” and snippets of the old Irish drinking ballad “The Rare Old Mountain Dew” added salt to the wound of an aching immigrant heart.  I’ve seen many a hardened middle-aged man cry when the tune plays in a bar.

Joe Cleary, a lecturer in the National University of Ireland, Maynooth, said that the song told the story of the reality of Irish emigration and what lay behind the American Dream.

He wrote, “With the exception of Joyce's The Dead or Patrick Kavanagh's Advent, no work of the 20th-century Irish imagination has managed to illuminate a particular sense of Christmas so well as that song has done … It is at once a twisted love song, an emigrant ballad, and an anthem to the capital city of the 20th century. And it is perhaps for that reason that it is the only ‘Christmas classic’ that one can hear without wincing in July."

He hit the nail on the head. The lyrics are brilliant, drunken, and angry poetry, not the stuff of Christmas tunes. When Shane sings “yer an auld slut on junk,” it doesn’t make sugar plum fairies dance in your head!

This holiday season, a few Irish musicians will take a stab at the rock classic. Barleyjuice's Kyf Brewer and his wife Kay had been joking for years about what a kick it would be to record their own version of “Fairytale,” and this year seemed to be the perfect time.

It became a Brewer joint after daughter Scotlyn joined in on bass. The "beautiful" factor was covered nicely by the Juice's Shelley Weiss on violins and violas, and Mary Bryson from the Divine Hand Ensemble on harp.

Brewer's version is not presently available anywhere until it appears on iTunes after the holidays. Fans can get a free mp3 of it this holiday season by going to http://corporatemohawk.net/holiday-sale and buying some holiday Barley gear.

Lilting Irish soprano Emma Kate Tobia joins with the soulful traditional Irish vocalist George Murphy for a version that is on iTunes already.  Tobia is a classically trained soprano whose debut solo release, Aisling na nGael (An Irish Dream) received critical acclaim here.

Murphy is known initially for being a runner up in the Irish TV show You’re a Star, where he sang traditional Irish songs in his very large and gritty style at only age 17.  His first solo CD was produced by Phil Coulter, and his debut, The Ballads of Archie Thompson, was on our “best of” list this year!

Give these new versions a spin and have yourself a Merry Christmas!

Top Irish music makers of 2011 - Lisa Hannigan, Gavin Friday, The Script and more

The Script

This past year further stretched the boundaries of Irish music. The artists on this list run the gamut from chart-topping pop to folk to the diddly-diddly you know and love.

I’m publishing this best of 2011 list early in the hopes that some of these worthy artworks will make their way into stockings hung by the chimneys with care by that special Irish music fan in your life. My very best to you and yours for a Happy Christmas!

Beannacht’s Gra na Firinne (Love of Truth):

This gets my vote for rookie of the year! Beannacht’s songs are intricate acoustic folk tapestries that envelope Deirdre Forrest’s warm vocals. “Your love of truth is all that you need, your love of truth will set you free,” the duo sings on the chorus of the title track, an album standout. To order Beannacht’s Gra Na Firinne or to hear samples of the music, log onto http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/beannacht.

Lisa Hannigan’s Passenger: 

This is a brilliant swirl of the folk, the jazz and good ol’ fashioned Irish storytelling, giving the listener a most satisfying ride! On most of Passenger, the violin of Lucy Wilkins provides that perfect extra smidgen of ache to the longing vocals.

Like great jazz singers, Hannigan’s aching phrasing becomes yet another instrument on the mix. The hushed composure in her vocal delivery falls in line with the brushed drums that start “Paper House” before raising to match the ache of the fiddle chorus at the end of the song.



Seamus Kelleher’s Another Side of Town: 

The guitarist left his comfort zone of Blackthorn, a legendary Irish American outfit that consistently sold out venues throughout the Philadelphia area, in order to pursue a solo career.

His first album, Four Cups of Coffee, landed on this column’s best of list a few years ago. His new disc, Another Side of Town, is equally impressive.

Kelleher, a native of Salthill, Co. Galway, has turned in performances with Blackthorn steeped in the blues, a side effect of a lifelong obsession with the legendary blues great Rory Gallagher. The folksy acoustic picking that anchors the title track on Another Side of Town sets an agenda that something different is in the air. For more information, log into www.seamusk.com.

Moya Brennan’s Harps and Voices:

This is a gorgeous collection of songs driven by the brilliant harp work of Cormac DeBarra, a member of Brennan’s touring band and a much-sought after producer and player that has worked with the likes of Ashley Davis.

The intoxicating combination of Brennan’s ethereal voice and phrasing with the rich tones of an Irish harp is sheer joy. “She Moved Through the Fair” and “The Streets of Derry” are just some of the gorgeous songs on Harps and Voices.

This is not just a fantastic CD, it’s also an educational movement and celebration that Brennan has spread to Ireland. She and DeBarra recently hosted a workshop and invited the public to Donegal to partake in lessons and collaborations with harpists and vocalists.



Jameson’s Revenge’s While Yer Up:

This traditional band of hooligans breaks the mold of traditional Irish music. That is by design, according to singer and vocalist John Walsh.

“The way we were going about it was to create Irish music for the rest of us,” he explains. “We are not purists. It’s not like we don’t get along with everyone, but it’s just that we feel the traditional music players don’t like when you mess with the formula that is set in stone.”

The collection begins innocently enough, with “The Durty Konway/Hogan’s Hill,” a feisty workout of acoustic instruments that sounds suspiciously like a trad ditty.

The bodhran work of percussionist Brian McCarthy takes some refreshingly funky turns on tracks like “The I-Hop” as Andrew McCarrick layers sweet flutes and whistles on the beat like syrup on a pancake.
The woodwinds add a Jethro Tull drama to the mix, turning this traditional reel on its ear.

“Mama’s Porch” has the sweet hayseed charm of a slow dance at the barn, and though “The Golden Shower” title makes your mind make a beeline to the gutter, the tune has the sweetness of morning dew.
It’s that irreverent play on words and sounds that makes While Yer Up such a winner.

Gavin Friday’s Catholic:

Country heartache, Bowie-synths, sci-fi swirls, epic strings, trance, and chilly Germanic rhythms run through an album that is a glorious study in contradiction.

“Able,” the album opener, has a crisp eighties pop sheen that you’d hear on a Psychedelic Furs album, while “Song That Hurts” has a lazy, acoustic cabaret feel underneath the singer’s cracked falsetto. The lyrics are equally gorgeous.

“I want to be able to hold my own/to breathe without drowning/to find a home,” he whispers on “Able,” a song that brings the man out of the dark and into the sunlight of bold survival in 4:46.



George Murphy’s The Ballad of Archie Thompson: 

The bar scene in Dublin has produced a number of bright folk stars, but there are so many wannabe balladeers trying to cross the pond through my mailbag that this reviewer sometimes feels like he’s swimming in the poop to find the pony.

Yet every once in a while a young Irish singer makes it all worthwhile. From the first note out of his mouth George Murphy gives the listener an instant connection to Liam Clancy, Luke Kelly and the best balladeers of our culture.

It’s the ragged, desolate quality in his voice on the traditional ditty “Peggy Gordon” that tells you you’re onto something truly special. He puts a lump in your throat and a knot in your rib cage as he sings, “I'm so in love I can't deny it/My heart lies smothered in my breast/It's not for you to let the world know it/A troubled mind can know no rest,” and digs himself out of “the lonesome valley.”



The Waterboys’ An Appointment With Mr. Yeats:

Mike Scott revisits the poetry of W.B. Yeats. Do you need to know anything else?

“The Hosting of the Shee” starts off the collection with a watery piano that fades in and slams into a wave of guitars that is the musical equivalent of a churning Irish Sea.

A soulful electric piano rolls under “The Song of Wandering Aengus,” a poem that Christy Moore and others have also put to song.

Scott is accompanied by Dublin singer Katie Kim, who adds an ethereal, Wiccan vibe that blends perfectly with Scott’s mystical phrasings.



Album of the Year

The Script’s Science and Faith:

The sophomore slump is one of the oldest cliches in the music business, and there would be a better than even chance that the Script might be a flash in the pan instead of the “next big thing.”

In 2011, the Script made an album that is both worthy of their hype and better than the first album that brought on the fame in the first place.

“You Won’t Feel a Thing” is an exuberant rocker that hints at the tough core that lurks underneath the pretty faces of O’Donoghue, Mark Sheehan and Glen Power.

“For the First Time” follows the script of a typical Script hit sonically, but the lyrics go deeper quickly. Is this just another love song, or is the band describing what it was like to return home from Ireland after a wildly successful year that saw their country fall into a deep financial hole at the same time?

This is the level of maturity in songwriting that makes this disc such a winner. Pop music with a brain that rules the charts and is not just for teenyboppers -- imagine that!

De Dannan’s Maura O’Connell’s lament

Maura O’Connell

Former lead singer of De Dannan and solo chanteuse Maura O’Connell had some interesting things to say on her Facebook page about the recent Grammy announcements that provided this writer with some food for thought.

“It seems that folk music has been almost completely left out of the Grammys after the big redundancy of so many categories this year,” she said.

“I agree it was getting out of hand, but at the moment folk is represented only by Americana, folk and bluegrass. I'm a huge fan of all these genres, and the people nominated but, as you can see by the nominations, it's kinda of, out of the league of the genuine, working and touring folk musician.”
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O’Connell claims she saw the folk genre marginalized firsthand as the years went by, and she found herself nominated for a number of Grammys.

“I was nominated in the Trad Folk category a few times,” she says. “I went out to the nominees party, and the early part of the show.

“The difference between (my most recent trip) and the feeling I had in '91 when nominated for contemporary and the welcome given was much warmer. At that time, all noms including the ‘stars’ were at all events together. In ‘09, we were segregated and herded like sheep. It felt like we were in the way.”

“It has never easy for aspiring musicians to find a way around the music biz,” she laments when considering the direction that both the Grammys and the music business are taking.

“Going on the road, paying your dues, it has to be done. Spread the word, find a gig, build an audience, that is our job.

“In my early years, the people at the record company would use its various PR offshoots to garner bits of publicity, enough for it to fuel the fire. Now, with the demise of the recording industry, as well as learning the ropes of being an artist, you have to be your own publicist, record label, manager, agent.

“To have cut off the road to the Grammy prizes from so many aspiring artists, and only giving prizes to the most famous is the antithesis of the supposed ideals of (the Grammy organization). A Grammy award for a non-commercial artist, or at least, a not packaged artist, has been a way to show that the audience can trust that they should give it a listen.

“The radio stations are closed, the record stores are closed. Newspapers with arts sections are almost a thing of the past. I think we all have to consider how to keep the music flowing. I want to hear new music, I want to be excited about new music and emerging voices.”

I’ll drink to that. Perhaps artists, music critics like myself, and media outlets can make a New Year’s resolution to stop complaining about how things are and actually do something about it.

Dream fulfilled for Beannacht

Tom Johnston and Deirdre Forrest of Beannacht

This is the time of year when old friends get together around the holidays. Asking friends what they would like to have accomplished for themselves and their lives by next Christmas always makes for the most interesting bar stool conversation. 

“I used to play guitar in college a bit but I gave that up,” said my friend Tom Johnston over holiday pints two years ago. “This is the year I become a rock star!” 

Two years later, I am typing a review of his dream fulfilled. Gra na Firinne (Love of Truth) is the title of the debut CD by Beannacht, the folk duo Johnston formed with his niece, Deirdre Forrest. 

Beannacht’s songs are intricate acoustic folk tapestries that envelope Forrest’s warm vocals. 

“Your love of truth is all that you need, your love of truth will set you free,” the duo sings on the chorus of the title track, an album standout. 

“Our sound is a blend of all of our influences,” says Johnston when asked to describe the group’s sound. 

“It runs the gamut from traditional Irish music to folk, blues, classic rock and contemporary. The CD has 

touches of all those genres on it. There is a straight blues song on it right alongside the folk.”

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Within a few months of my initial conversation with Tom, he was playing coffee houses around the Garden State and building an audience. Deirdre would sing the melodies on traditional Irish songs while Tom would tweak them with American folk and blues flourishes. 

Deirdre would prod the addition of songs by Led Zeppelin, Adele, Florence and the Machine and Neco Case into the mix along the way. As their confidence grew with their audience, the duo began to write their own songs.  

Tracks like “Written on Both Sides” are driven by alt-rock chord structures and offbeat harmonies.  

“Roaming Knave” gallops without apology into Zeppelin’s classic Houses of the Holy, while “Lovin’ Ain’t Ever Wrong” has a hazy, lazy blues chord structure that produces a delicious humid sweat through your speakers. 

“You got a pocket for pretty words/I got a tune stuck in my head/that matches those pretty words that I haven’t said,” Forrest sings on “Quiet Desire,” the closing track. 

Accompanied by nothing more than a slow shuffle on a bodhran, she takes the listener back to the snug of an Irish pub by way of the Mississippi River. 

Johnston takes the microphone for a spin on “Better Angels of Our Nature,” a subtle yet pensive ballad about a couple trying to keep a relationship together.

For Beannacht, the relationship has been smooth sailing despite the decades that exist between the players.  

“The age difference melts away in the writing,” Forrest says. “I think I write poetry beyond my years that fits in with the folk that he typically writes. We also have a lot of the same influences, like Dylan.”

I say to the audience, “You’re wondering what the old fart is doing with the young chick up here,’” jokes Johnston. 

“When people see us live, they see that synergy and that comes out in the writing as well.”

Beannacht has won a number of awards among the Asbury Park musician community and have been building a steady following at Irish bars and festivals throughout the Garden State. 

With Gra Na Firinne, they will surely spread the “blessing” of their music to a much wider audience. 

Beannacht will host a CD release party to benefit Parents of Autistic Children at Atonement Lutheran Church in Asbury Park (308 First Avenue, corner of First Avenue and Heck Street) on Sunday, December 11 from 5-9 p.m. They will be joined by many special guests from the local community. 

(To order Beannacht’s Gra Na Firinne or to hear samples of the music, log onto http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/beannacht)

A name by any other name...giving thanks for family

'Brain on Shamrocks'

This was one of the most memorable Thanksgiving weekends for me because I spent it with cousins I never knew I had!

I met this lovely man from my old Hudson County stomping grounds at one of my book signings over the summer, who proceeded to blog about the book and our meeting on the Jersey City Facebook page that he runs.

A woman I did not know replied to his post. “OMG! I think this is my cousin!”

A cousin I didn’t know about in Jersey City? Impossible!

“Yeah, we have some McNaught cousins,” my dad confirmed flatly when I mentioned Donna McNaught’s name, not offering much detail as to why we never connected. “Your aunt had more to do with them than I did.”

We discovered that we both lived in Monmouth County, and lunch at a nearby Perkins was arranged a week later.
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Donna walked in and I could see no family resemblance whatsoever. She had an olive complexion kissed by the sun that was in stark contrast to my pink and freckled skin.

As we began our rapid fire exchange with one another, however, it was clear there was a lot of common ground. We went to the same grammar school, had the same teachers, were pathologically cheery and outgoing, and were raised by a good hard working stock of parents that ensured Irish roots were planted deep inside their children.

“I have a question I’ve been dying to ask,” Donna said before the waitress could even take our order.

“Why is your last name Farragher and my mother’s maiden name Farrington?”

My father’s uncle/Donna’s grandfather Darby had come over in the thirties and had changed his name to Farrington in an attempt to blend in.

With parades on Fifth Avenue on St. Patrick’s Day and Irish pride stronger than ever, it seems inconceivable in this day and age to conceal your heritage in the American melting pot, but prejudice against the Irish was strong back then and that’s exactly what had to be done to survive in this new land.

My dad’s older sister Mary came to America in the early fifties at a time when the effects of the “no Irish need apply” ethos were a not-too-distant memory, and she listed Farrington as her last name as well.

By the time my dad came over later that decade, jobs were plentiful for the Irish and he had more of a say in the matter of keeping the family birth name.

We decided to reunite our parents at our next meeting, and Donna’s mother Audrey came to my house for a barbecue. There was a tough Irish American matriarch under that thatch of dyed red hair, and she was not buying into this explanation of why our names were different.

“Your family changed your name before you came over,” she said, wagging a finger toward us and becoming visibly upset at my father’s explanation.

“You remember Peggy Ford?” my dad asked.

“Of course,” Audrey replied with a huff.

“Her family’s name was Rabbitte and they changed it when they came over,” my dad explained. “The only Ford ye’ll find in Ireland is parked in a garage!”

Audrey took this as more blasphemy and my father, allergic as he is to conflict, smiled politely and agreed to disagree. He kept his tongue until they left -- but just barely.

Of course, the practice of changing names predates my grand uncle Darby. The author Darren McGettigan blogs on familyhistoryireland.com that the first signs of change in Irish surnames actually began with the mass dropping of the O and Mc prefixes to many names during Elizabethan times.

The Tyrone surnames McCawell and O’Gormley became Campbell and Grimes, as an example, and the family of O Duibhdhiorma became O’Dermot and even Darby.

It was interesting to hear the plausible family legends that sprung from this name change when the larger group of cousins met over the weekend.

“He changed his name even before he hit Ellis Island is what I heard,” said one cousin.

“No, Darby was running from the Black and Tans and made his way over to Scotland, probably because he was running away from something or someone,” reasoned another in a more dashing interpretation of family history. 

Though the reasons why names were changed and the opinions on who has the “correct” last name may never be resolved between my dad and his cousin, it allows their offspring a space to share in a wicked humor that is a universal family trait.

“We’ll have to do this again soon, only bigger,” my cousin Donna said as she kissed me goodbye.

“And next time, we’ll make the reservation under Farrington!”

A name is but a name. I’m counting the days!

(Instead of fighting mall crowds, log onto www.thisisyourbrainonshamrocks.com and get a signed copy of Mike’s collection of essays!)
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U2’s 'Covered' CD proceeds go to Concern Worldwide - has a listen

U2 in their 'Achtung, Baby!' days

If you live in North America, chances are that you missed out on picking up a copy of (Ǎhk-to͝ong Bāy-bi) Covered, the U2 Achtung Baby cover CD that was bundled with the December issue of Britain’s Q magazine. 

Not to worry, you can now get the album digitally for about the same price as the imported Q magazine would've cost as it’s now available on iTunes. All proceeds go to Concern Worldwide, the Irish non-profit organization that provides aid to the world's poorest countries.

Concern's CEO Tom Arnold said, "Offering the proceeds to Concern's East Africa appeal also provides a timely reminder that alleviation of the hunger and wider health crisis in the region must not be forgotten and should remain a global priority."

The performing artists are a mix of U2's contemporaries and successors, including Jack White, Patti Smith, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode and the Killers.
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The reviewer is entering into dangerous ground here. The heart says download the album because it goes to a good cause, but the head would advise the reader to proceed with caution.

We all know that U2 has just finished the most successful tour of all time and have put out a string of classic albums in the 20 years since Achtung Baby was released, and that the songs from that album sounded fresh in 2011 when dropped into the last tour’s set list.

The same can’t necessarily be said for many of the artists on this album. I loved Patti Smith, Garbage and Depeche Mode in their heyday, but they have declined precipitously since they ruled the charts and their contributions to the album give you a hint as to why.

Smith slows “Until the End of the World” down to a screeching halt, layering what is essentially a monotone delivery onto a soft piano bed. I suppose playing fast and loose with a classic is in and of itself counterculture. But Smith to me is a snarling punk poet, not the toothless chanteuse we hear on this disc.

Snow Patrol sucks the funky blood from “Mysterious Ways” and replaces it with bloodless, pointless balladry.

Depeche Mode’s take on “So Cruel” begins promising enough, with a shimmering electronic beat percolating underneath the familiar chord structure. Singer David Gahan’s oozes seduction on Mode’s classic tracks, but he sounds like a lost lounge lizard playing for spare change in a hotel ballroom on this track.

There are some high points on the disc. It is fitting that Nine Inch Nails begins this collection with “Zoo Station.”

Lead singer Trent Reznor has worked with the band before, and U2 was allegedly listening to a lot of NIN and other industrial bands when they holed themselves up in that Berlin studio. Reznor plays it straight on this track, adding subtle electronic nuances and echoes that display creativity and restraint at the same time.

Damien Rice treads on sacred ground with “One,” one of U2’s biggest hits. He strips the song down to bare bones, lightly strumming the chords on an acoustic guitar before the song drifts off into a sonic dreamscape with layered and whispered vocals.

The organizers saved the best for last. Jack White pulls off a brilliant cover of “Love Is Blindness,” adding a creepy church organ, echoed drums and corrosive guitar feedback to the mix with marvelous results.

The Killers, a pale U2 facsimile if ever there was one, add crisp guitar chords and a marching beat that adds a fresh coat of paint on “Ultra Violet (Light My Way).” They accomplish what few do on this compilation -- they inject their own band’s personality in the disc without dishonoring the original.

Do something nice for the planet and download the whole album on iTunes. Yeah, some of the tracks are weak, but that’s no excuse to deny a starving continent its daily bread.

Snowpatrol's cover of 'Mysterious' Ways of Q Magazine's 'Covered':