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[seagull squawks]

[Irish folk music playing]

A very good evening to you all. You're listening to Clare FM

and it's Friday night's West Wind.

I'm Eoin O'Neill with you for the next two hours.

Start off with lively music and happy music.

[Irish folk music playing at the bar]

[crowd chattering]

The magic of the west of Ireland is the time.

[Irish folk music continues]

[Luka] It is the time that you've spent with yourself

sitting down at the pier, watching the day go by,

watching the boats go out, taking the time

to come back in and sit and wait for the music to begin.

[Irish folk music continues]

[crowd cheers, claps]

[Christy]

[Irish folk music playing]

[Irish folk music continues]

[Katie] Before Instagram and telephones,

the traveling Pipers used to travel around

the country and that's how people learn new tunes.

They would wait for them to come and then they would be like

delighted to see them coming up the road

and they'd camp out the road

and they'd play tunes on the street.

["Spancil Hill"]

♪ Last night as I lay dreamin' ♪

♪ Of pleasant days gone by ♪

♪ Me mind bein' bent on rambling ♪

♪ To Ireland I did fly ♪

There's always to keep your two feet on the ground

and remember where your music came from.

'Cause we're only carrying the music.

It's not ours. It doesn't belong to us.

It belongs to, it belongs to everybody.

♪ I came to anchor at ♪

♪ The cross at Spancil Hill ♪

[indistinct lyrics]

♪

[Christy Mc Namara] When we were conquered by the English,

we lost our language,

but we never lost our music.

I think it's the one thing in Irish culture

that links us directly to our ancestors.

Immigration has been a big factor in the lives

of Irish people, really from the 1840s

with what they called the great famine.

There was a huge exodus of people.

When people had nothing, they carried it in their head.

Even if they hadn't instruments, they had the music.

♪ But the cock, he crew in the morning ♪

♪ He crew both loud and shrill ♪

♪ And I awoke in California ♪

♪ Many miles from Spancil Hill ♪

[crowd cheers, claps]

This ancient music that was created

in this area is still alive in the lives of these people

who are still sharing it within the community.

And they're the sad songs that tell the sad stories

of the people who left,

who fled the wars and fled the famines.

And then there are these beautiful, exciting tunes

that bring people together to dance

and to flirt with each other and connect with each other

and have fun together and forget the hard times.

[Irish folk music playing]

[Irish folk music continues]

[Luka] The songs that come from the ancestors had

to be created by somebody.

So somebody was doing exactly what I was doing

two or three or 400 years ago.

By the way, at a time when our nearest neighbors

regarded Ireland as an illiterate country,

there were Bards wandering the country,

singing songs that had 300 and 400 verses.

- [music stops] - [laughing]

[Christy Mc Namara] Biddy can't stop dancing.

[Eoin] That's lovely music there from county Claire.

And as usual, our friends from all over the world

are listening to Claire FM online and enjoying the music.

And Jennifer's in the States, which is in the States.

Veronica is over in Germany,

and Bridget is in Belgium, Deirdre-May from the States

all listening, and are very welcome to listen

and are loving the music the same as we love the music.

Going-- gonna take a break. I'm gonna come back with a song.

I have no idea what it's gonna be though.

I better start thinking about it real fast

'cause I got two minutes and 29 seconds to do that.

[announcer on radio]

Sometimes I start a sentence and I can't finish it.

[laughing] But people don't mind.

Perfection is boring.

I don't want to know what I'm gonna play next.

So whatever song's on. It's like a session.

You don't know what tune comes after another one.

[Adam] The session at its core

is about being with other people.

It's not in a structured setting.

It's just about ten people having fun together,

sat around the tables,

and you can play with anyone at any time,

even if you've never met them. It's inclusive.

Always try and get everyone in

because that's what I liked about

the music in the first place.

The fact that it is open to anyone.

Anyone can bring something good to a group or a session.

It can be the worst playing you've ever heard,

but it could be at the right time

and it can be in the right mood

and it can just make everyone smile.

I first came to Doolin in 1974

on a August bank holiday weekend,

and it changed my life.

My birth name is Barry Moore.

I was born in Newbridge County, Kildare.

At the age of 32, I created

the, uh, stage name of Luka Bloom,

which I've been working under for the last 30 years.

In 1974, I'd been hearing about this village called Doolin.

All five of us packed into my mother's car,

she gave us a loan of the car for the weekend

on condition that I wasn't driving.

And we were allowed to pitch a tent

in the field behind O'Connor's Pub.

I had been living up in Kildare and music and songs

had already become the most important thing in my life.

But I wasn't aware of a community

where it was like that for the community.

As a 19-year-old boy, it was mind-blowing.

Seeing Micho, Gussie, and Packie Russell sitting around

the fireplace in O'Connor's playing their ancient music.

And it quickly became clear to me

that this is something that they did every day.

Well, Micho Russell here is a man

who has his own style of playing Irish music.

He comes from the west coast of county Clare up near the north.

Micho, would you like to play us a tune maybe on the tin whistle?

- I will, Tony. I will. - On this nice day. [laughing]

There's a tradition of music here in this village.

I suppose it came to the fore through the Russell Brothers,

Micho, Gussie, and Packie Russell.

[tin whistle music playing]

[Christy McNamara] They're all dead and gone now

but Micho was probably the best known one.

[tin whistle music playing]

- Lovely Micho great. Great. - [applauding]

I did, um, a tour with him in-- in Germany in 1976.

And I was 21. And it was an amazing education.

And the person I watched most of all was Micho.

He'd do this funny thing where he'd walk on stage

and he'd blow into the microphone.

And you know, when you blow into a microphone,

it makes a huge sound. And it was like a gun going off.

And audiences absolutely adored him.

Whereas at that time, I would've been so self-conscious.

I'd be kinda like before going on stage.

I'd be, you know, [indistinct]

a little bit of this going on, you know.

But Micho was just busy being Micho.

And when the tour was over, he came back and he continued

to do exactly what he'd be doing before that tour happened.

[Christy Mc Namara] I did a lot of work on music photography.

Besides that-- that-- that my pictures are hanging

in places where they were made.

And this is another one there. This is Tommy Peoples.

I played with Tommy for a number of years

and Tommy is a legendary fiddle player.

County Clare as a whole, he's very rich.

Not alone with musicians, but with,

uh, the people who come and listen that know every tune.

It's interwoven into daily life.

[crowd chattering]

My dad was a fiddle player. Paul Theasby when I was small,

he moved over here and I stayed in London with my mother.

So I kinda had the best of both worlds, really.

My name's Katie Theasby and I am originally from London.

And I grew up around the London Irish scene.

I think I asked my dad for a bowron

at a [indistinct] and he just said, no.

He says, "Here's a whistle, and here's a book."

So I taught myself basically.

And then when I had about a tune and a half,

I started going to sessions when I was over in London

and there was a great fella by the name of, uh, John Curtin.

And his advice to me was, even if you only know two bars

of a tune, when you hear the tune being played,

play the two bars you know,

and then the tunes would build up.

[Celtic music playing]

I was always singing around the house,

but never would've thought of singing

in front of anybody really.

I was encouraged to go singing one night.

I got [indistinct] out of it.

I was like, I have to do this again. It's great.

[Celtic music continues]

[Katie] I was told when I was about 26, by PJ Curtis,

uh, he-- he said to me,

"You would-- have an amazing voice and you really need to be

thinking about putting it out there."

And I had zero confidence in myself.

[music stops]

[Irish folk music playing]

[guitar strumming]

♪ The sky it turned from red to blue ♪

♪ And my thoughts did turn to you ♪

♪ Tonight I will be alone in blue ♪

♪ With empty arms that long for you ♪

♪ I only hear the lonesome sound ♪

♪ Since you left our little town ♪

[Kieran] Only thing I'm consistent at

is being inconsistent.

Music was the only thing

that I was consistently interested in.

I used to write lyrics like always.

I was always writing. It was like a like, um,

like a therapy kind of, you know?

And once I had a couple of chords to put some chords

to the words that I had written

that was the best feeling in the world.

[indistinct chatter]

When I was traveling, I had-- I was in this hostel,

there was a Canadian girl there, she was just sitting near me

or whatever and I took the guitar and taking-- I borrowed--

borrowed for the day and I was just teaching myself chords.

And, uh, that was it.

She came back that evening and said, "I-I want my guitar back."

[laughing] And, uh, I had to give her guitar back

and I was like, "Man, I need to buy myself a guitar."

I spent all my savings on this car.

It broke down.

So I was stranded in this hostel in Australia

and I spent my last $200, which was left

in my Irish account for emergencies on my first guitar.

There was probably about ten days where I had no job

and I was just sitting in the room in the hostel

every single day just teaching myself chords.

And that was the start of it.

[Eoin] Yeah, it's Claire FM West Wind, and, uh,

the text are flying in and I appreciate all the contact.

Lehman, West Limerick is enjoying the show.

Good stuff. Good to all listening in West Limerick.

And Ella is listening. Hi Ella, lovely to hear from you.

Anyway, 086 1800 964.

Let's listen to another track.

[tin whistle playing]

[Luka] How can you explain how somebody hears a song

and that person has moved to tears even though

they're hearing the song for the first time.

But there's something in the song or something

in the emotion behind the song that makes a person go, "Oh."

[tin whistle playing]

[Luka] You're arriving in to Doolin and you're hearing a song

that someone is singing and it's about immigration.

And you're probably sitting in O'Connor's in Doolin,

and there's maybe a hundred other people,

but at least four or five or six of them are listening to a song

that's describing the experience that your great-grandmother had.

And they're closing their eyes and they're totally

connecting with the song and they're actually reliving.

[tin whistle playing]

It's what I call the Job of Songs.

The Job of Songs can sometimes be to entertain, but it's this--

it's this thing of giving people who don't have songs permission

to feel things that are really deeply ingrained in them

that they don't necessarily intellectually understand.

[tin whistle playing]

[wind whistling]

[indistinct chatter]

[Ireland folk music playing]

You can't really come here, take a photograph on your iPhone,

and drive back to Dublin or wherever it's you've come from

and think that you've done the West of Ireland.

I mean, of course, you can do that.

And it is now logistically possible

to leave your hotel room at 7:00 a.m. in Dublin,

drive across the river Shannon,

arrive at the Cliffs of Moher take a photograph,

come to Doolin, have a bowl of stew or soup,

and get back on your bus and be back in Dublin in time

for tea at 7:00 p.m. and declare to your family

back home that you've done the west of Ireland.

[Ireland folk music playing]

[indistinct chatter]

I'm not sure that it's good for the areas and I'm not even

entirely sure it's good for the people who are doing it.

[Anne] They probably wouldn't even meet an Irish person

doing it that way.

[Anne] They're missing the people.

The most important thing in Ireland is the people.

I mean, we've beautiful scenery,

we beautiful this, beautiful that.

But we have amazing people in this country.

It's such a pity 'cause we have an awful lot to offer

if people could just take their time.

[Luka] For me, part of the beauty of life is waiting.

[indistinct chatter]

[instrumental playing]

I think that one of the-- one of the sadness’s about

life today is there's an absence of waiting.

[crowd cheers, claps]

'Cause the inability to wait is absolutely

detrimental to growth.

The inability to just sit and be.

We're so busy experiencing all the time

and challenging ourselves and achieving

that I think we-- we miss out on sunsets.

We miss out on a bird that just happens to be there.

We miss out on the heron that's sitting over there.

That if you just waited another ten seconds before you check

your emails or your--

we're complicit in this race to what?

For what goal? For what achievement?

[Ireland folk music playing]

[Irish traditional music playing]

[Katie] Would've been the sixties.

We moved away from the houses and into the pubs

because there was some kind of, I dunno what to do with

the church or whatever, but there was some kind of a,

you can't have men and women mating up and dancing

around the kitchen table.

And a lot of the time the females don't get the chance

to go out that often and play their tunes 'cause they're--

[chuckling] It sounds really sexist to say,

but a lot of the time, you know, especially if they're mothers,

they're at home and they're minding the kids.

And a man can just pick up his accordion box

or his guitar box and go, "Good luck. I'm out the door."

And he's gone. You know? And she's gotta make,

uh, arrangements and to do-- to do her thing.

[Anne] As a child, I was, uh, taught the piano.

I did grades, I did up to about grade six or grade seven.

And then of course, as per usual with me, I kind of dropped out.

I dropped outta school when I was 15 and I met Davoc.

[laughing] And I didn't play or sing music.

I didn't do anything around music.

But I love, love listening to music.

[guitar strumming]

[Luka] My family were very happy that I was into

music and into sounds, but I think they were slightly

concerned about the-- the extent of the pull of it.

You know, because you really should go to university.

You really should do blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

My mother became a widow at 33.

She was about survival.

The idea of a-- 14-year-old kid

who's spending way too much time

in his bedroom with a guitar, writing songs.

The idea that he was ever going to make a living

from doing that was so alien to her, was alien to me.

But it was doubly alien to her.

And so it came from that just concern,

how is this kid going to survive?

And for the next 15 years, I kinda pretty much proved

that she was right to think like that.

'Cause, you know, coming into my thirties, I was still sleeping

on people's sofas, but I didn't have a choice.

I-I did have a choice, but to me, I didn't.

I could never have imagined in a-a million years,

44 years ago, August Bank holiday weekend,

sitting in O'Connor's watching Micho, Gussie,

and Packie Russell playing their music that 44 years later

I'd be back in this beautiful building.

What an amazing thing.

- Just so incredible. - [crowd applauding]

So I wanna sing this song.

It's a song called Thank You For Bringing Me Here.

["Thank You For Bringing Me Here" by Luka Bloom]

♪ Where the limestone slopes down to the sea ♪

♪ Where my father walks tall, proud, and free ♪

♪ Where the birdsong is music to my ear ♪

♪ I thank you for bringing me here ♪

♪ I thank you for bringing me here ♪

[crowd applauding]

I had this conversation with Luka Barry

my brother, Barry Luka, also known as Luka Bloom.

And he said to me, "What is it with you singing song then?

Why don't you sing? You have a great voice."

And I said, "I don't really know, Barry." And I-I didn't.

And I suppose I got into the habit of not singing.

So, um, he says, "You know, you have a great voice

and you really should be singing.

And you must remember that when you're singing a song,

you're delivering a message."

And that just flipped my world around. Oh my God.

A couple of days later, he came into the house carrying

the guitar and said to me, "I'm not giving you this.

I'm loaning you this for 50 years on conditioned

that you play it every day." And I do.

So now you can't shut me up.

At the moment, I'm trying to get the F chord.

Oh my God. It is impossible, but I'll get it.

I'll get it. [laughing]

I was kinda getting old.

I don't even know that word into my mind anymore.

I certainly don't feel like I'm 70.

I feel like I'm about 26.

And so I got mi hair dyed and everything.

Sure, for God's sake. My kids, they think I'm bonkers.

Anne Rynne started playing the guitar when she was

in her early 60's and started writing songs.

It's really about seeing people almost finding a voice.

Sometimes here the-- you know what we'd have people in and--

and the conversation would be getting very hot and heavy.

And I'd say, "Oh, lads, for heaven's sake."

And I'd pick up the guitar and I'd sing a song.

'Cause you see, you can say things in songs that

you can't say in conversation.

And you can be more truthful almost.

You can tell the truth.

Uh, we have a system in this country called Direct Provision.

People who come looking for refuge they're put into

direct provision when they come into the country while

their papers are being sorted.

Some of them are in direct provision like five years later,

six years, they're still there.

And another friend of mine has written a song about that.

She heard a woman from Somalia speaking

at a meeting in Limerick and she used her words.

It's called "Release Me."

["Release Me"]

♪ There is a fine line ♪

♪ Between this and prison ♪

♪ Yet I have done no wrong ♪

♪ I came for refuge, I got direct provision ♪

♪ And I'm still waiting ♪

♪ Five years on ♪

♪ I have no privacy ♪ ♪ I have no dignity ♪

♪ The system is killing me slowly ♪

♪ Release me from provision ♪

♪ Let me realize my vision ♪

♪ Give me some hope to carry on ♪

♪ Release me from provision ♪

♪ Let realize my vision ♪

♪ Let me join in your Freedom Song ♪

Anne Rynne, fantastic stuff.

I never learned music. I never learned.

I wouldn't even know a note. Another note.

Uh, I just learned. I went Boston.

When I was 17 I went in-- over to Europe in Boston,

then I arrived in Doolin somehow and never--

never left Claire since people that love music come here.

[guitar strumming]

I can't relate to normal people

because I can't imagine life without music.

It's everything for me.

Like it's my therapy, it's my, uh, release of emotion.

Um, it's kind of, yeah, it's-- it's my social life.

[Eoin] I'm just happy to be part of the community the same as

a electrician or a plumber or a school teacher or whatever.

I'd be the music person.

So once I can make a living the same as anybody else,

I'm-- I'm real happy. So I play like about

as many gigs a week as possible.

I do make a living and I'm very happy about that.

[on the radio] Clare FM at the heart of it.

Good evening. All great and powerful music this evening

especially the songs from Anne Rynne,

Christine in Germany.

My name is Terrence Mc Cormac or Ted for short.

And that's it. I'm from Dublin originally,

but I came here 30-odd years ago.

Ran away from home and I never went back.

["From Clare to Here"]

♪ Where there's four of us who shared this room ♪

♪ And we were caught up in the brass ♪

♪ And getting up late on Sundays and we'll never get to Mass ♪

♪ It's a long, long way from Clare to here ♪

♪ It's a long, long way from Clare to here ♪

♪ Oh, it's a long, long way ♪

♪ It get's further day by day ♪

♪ It's a long, long way from Clare to here ♪

♪ And it always breaks my heart... ♪

[Eoin] You know, there is nothing wrong with having lots

of restaurants and lots of coffee shops and a new hotel.

There's still music in all the pubs.

Like, it's fantastic.

They're bringing people in so I can play.

I don't-- no, no.

I mean, everywhere has changed in 40 years.

Everywhere has changed.

I don't see any reason why Doolin shouldn't.

You know, you can live in the past where it's really boring

and absolutely useless.

♪ It's a long, long way from Clare to here ♪

♪ Yes it's a long, long way from Clare to here ♪

[crowd cheering and applauding]

I have so much respect for musicians who decide

to go full-time and to make that their sole way of living.

I'm kinda jealous as well 'cause I'd love to do it full-time.

'Cause I just love-- I love playing.

I love the social interactions. I love everything about it.

But I have massive respect for people who just say,

I'm gonna go and do that full-time.

I'm a single mom and I'm rearing my daughter here.

And I-I have to have that security otherwise

the mortgage doesn't get paid.

And, you know, it's not feasible for me

to go out four or five nights a week 'cause I have her.

Sorry, my daughter's making faces at me.

[laughing] We'll just give her a minute.

Would you like slice of lemon with that?

[laughing] I'd hate to just another ten years,

12 years down the line look back and go,

"Why didn't you just take more time out for yourself?

Or why didn't you, you know, why weren't you less tired

when you were rearing your daughter?"

[Christy singing] Okay, I'm going to try it again now.

[accordion playing]

- No. No. - Wrong?

- Am I getting it wrong? - All wrong.

- All wrong? - All wrong.

Okay, I'm going to-- I'm gonna have a go again.

- [accordion playing] - Yeah.

No, you know the tune.

Will you give it a go?

All right. [whispers] After you.

[tin whistle playing]

[Biddy] Isn't that lovely?

[Christy] Put it there, my friend.

[laughing]

[Christy] Fantastic.

[Katie] I think I have one CD in me and I'm--

I'm going to get it out there.

Because it's mad I'm trying to fit it in between

working and rearing my daughter and like stealing a day

here and there and going up to Dublin on the bus

and recording it and coming-- Oh, it's just, you know,

it's like something is unfinished.

If you feel it, you have that in you and you want to just do it

just to say that's, you know, that's something I've achieved.

And it's-- it's out there and it'll be there for-- forever.

You know, for my daughter, and her children, grandchildren,

to listen to down the line when I'm gone, it's there.

You know, it's-- it's a--

it's a kind of way of saying, you know, I was here.

["City of Chicago" by Luka Bloom]

[Luka] So in 1984, I'm sitting in my then apartment in Dublin.

My brother, uh, Andy comes with his wife Sandra

and their two kids, Gavin, uh, and Killian.

And they're passing through on their way to Dublin airport

because they're going to America.

And they weren't going on holidays.

They were going away.

♪ In the city of Chicago ♪

♪ As the evening shadows fall ♪

♪ There are people dreaming ♪

♪ Of the hills of Donegal ♪

And I remember when they left the house,

I-I just-- I was absolutely devastated.

I just-- I couldn't believe how, um, upset I was.

I didn't realize it at the time.

I think I tapped into a feeling

that generations of Irish people had saying goodbye.

So when you wave goodbye to someone

a hundred years ago, you were saying goodbye

to someone you were never gonna see again.

Even though I didn't really think that at that time,

in 1984, I felt that.

And, uh, so I wrote this song.

♪ Eighteen forty-seven ♪

♪ Was the year it all began ♪

♪ Deadly pains of hunger ♪

♪ Drove a million from this land ♪

♪ They journeyed not for glory ♪

♪ Their motive wasn't greed ♪

♪ A voyage of survival ♪

♪ Far across the stormy seas ♪

♪ To the City of Chicago ♪

♪ As the evening shadows fall ♪

♪ There are people dreaming ♪

♪ Of the hills of Donegal ♪

[music stops]

♪ To the City of Chicago ♪

♪ As the evening shadows fall ♪

♪ There are people dreaming ♪

It's amazing. I remember after one rehearsal with Luka,

I was at home and I was thinking, wow, like,

when I was younger,

one of my favorite songs was "City of Chicago."

And we had been practicing it at his house.

Suddenly realized like, Jesus, man,

one of my favorite songs when I was a kid was that song.

And now I'm sitting in the guy's kitchen singing it

with the guy who wrote it.

Wouldn't it be great to write something that's gonna be

around for the next 400, 500 years, like, forever?

[indistinct chatter]

["Hector the Hero"]

[Eoin] I think people all over the world of Irish music

have been plain tunes for the last few days

in memory of Tommy Peoples.

And, uh, they're like prayers, most beautiful tunes.

I think, uh, Tommy People's music will be

more important as time goes by.

[music continues]

Oh, yeah.

Cheers. Mind yourself.

Musicians are very sensitive creatures.

Like, I'm kinda new to the whole--

that whole world, you know.

And they're extremely sensitive, including myself.

Like it's a-- it's a funny kind of a-- kind of a monster.

When I first went down to college,

one of our modules was songwriting.

The first assignment that we had was to write a blues song.

And, uh, I guess I didn't really know

anybody else in the class and so I wrote like a joke song.

So it was-- it was blues and it was sort of sad,

but it was also done in a kind of a humorous way.

Like, that was just my way of just kind of hiding.

But artists are always hiding something, ain't they?

- Say that again? - The motor CDs.

Oh, yeah. [laughing]

[Ireland folk music playing at the bar]

[Ted] Oh, I have somebody coming in twice a week, you know.

I do my own laundry, of course, you know what I mean?

And-- and-- but she comes in

and she'll tidy up just the basic, you know.

It's supplied by the government an hour and a half,

twice a week.

And my kids, who live away from me,

they're happy that she comes in because at least

I'll be only three days dead when they find me.

Like, at the most. [laughing]

I'll still be fairly fresh after three days, you know.

[laughing]

You know, you've heard of these stories

about people being found dead weeks in the house,

lonely people, like, you know what I mean?

And, uh, if they haven't got the wherewithal to--

to force themselves out.

Great song that I used to sing about a guy called Matty.

[Irish folk music playing]

[indistinct chatter]

I couldn't sing a song without having a pint.

I couldn't. If you said, "Sing a song."

I'd go, "Gimme two or three more of

these now and I'd sing," you know.

You know, going in-- going into a session,

getting paid for your session and putting it behind

the counter number one, like your-- your music

has basically paid for your drink for the night.

Do you know it's exhausting.

I'd know a lot of musicians who kinda battle

with depression as well, do you know?

And you just know that it's a source of-- of comfort.

But at the same time, it can be part of the problem.

Like drinking music,

like hand in hand there's no doubt about it.

I had depression anyway and it wasn't making it any better.

And, you know, I'd go out and I'd be the life

and soul of the party and I'd have a great night and you know,

in the end, like I'd-- I'd go home and it would just be quiet.

And we were like, "Was that real?

Is that genuine? Is it--" you know,

and then like, feeling like crap for two or three days,

waiting for the weekend to come along.

I'd love to be that girl that could drink her ten pints

and it'd have no effect and have great crack and not get down.

And I'd only love to be able to do it.

But I-I wasn't any more for a finish. Do you know?

I was often ended up crying at the end of the night.

"No one will give me a gig. I'm no good on the whistle.

I'm blah--" you know.

And one night I heard myself and I was like,

"Oh, God, I wouldn't give me a gig."

[laughing] Do you know?

I was in counseling again.

You would be there quite a bit.

And she kinda said, "Now, do you drink much?"

I says, "Eh, not really. I don't drink during the week.

Like, I don't drink at home, but I go out

and I'll have a few scoops, uh, at the weekend."

And she says, "How many scoops is a few?"

And I was like, "Eh, so, we have about ten pints,

uh, Friday night.

And sure then if we'd go out during Saturday,

we'd probably have-- nearly have 15, 20 pints that day."

Is when she was like--

[Kieran] It stems from culture steeped in kinda drug abuse.

Like, you know.

And I'm talking mostly about alcohol, like,

and it being totally okay to be a fully-fledged alcoholic.

People they don't know, including myself,

how do you deal with sort of mental health issues.

Like, if somebody's physically sick,

you can help 'em out, comfort 'em,

or give them a glass of water or something, you know?

But, uh, it comes to mental illness,

it's-- it's a tough one because most of the time here

people avoid it like the plague.

The generation before me, you would never,

ever talk about it.

You just have to live with it.

Like, uh, it was just like, the attitude towards a lot of

things is you just don't talk about it, you know?

[Anne] For the last ten years or so since the crash, really,

we've had an awful lot of suicides in this area and,

uh, it's, uh, deeply disturbing and deeply troubling.

And, um, I was at such a funeral one day

and sitting beside a woman who's had suicide.

And then as people are going up and down to communion,

I counted about ten women that I recognized

who'd had suicides in their family, I mean.

[nostalgic music playing]

It's a very lonely place.

I know a lot of musicians are very empathic people.

I just think we need to just go, do you know what,

if you have depression, there's nothing wrong with you.

It's all right that you feel like that.

Because there's plenty others that are in a similar situation.

Like, I could take to the bed for two or three days

and I'd be-- I wouldn't be into talking to anyone.

Or when you're there, you just--

but you just have to ride it out, you know?

I know from experience now it's not going to last, you know.

In fact, things are a lot better since

I give up to drink, but that's my own stuff.

When somebody is sick or when they're dying, then you realize

that it is actually a family, community, family kind of thing.

You don't think about it if something happens

and you realize we're part of something, all right.

Which is great, even though we're all loners.

[announcer on radio]

It's funny that how [indistinct] can be a community.

Nice.

Woo-hoo. We're back.

And we're back and the text flying in.

086 1800 964 if you so wish.

Hi, both tuned in.

Just learned my first reel, the knotted card.

That's from Chris and Maria.

Here's another track from [indistinct].

[Irish folk music playing]

[wind whistling]

[Katie] Music has brought me through kind of probably

the worst stages of my life, to be honest.

Whether it be listening to it or playing it or singing it out.

Um, without it, I don't think

I'd be here to be honest with you.

["Week After Easter"]

[music continues]

[indistinct] about two years ago.

And the nerves were there again.

Once I gave up drinking, I was thinking,

"I'll go to these little quiet sessions and I'll just do

my own thing and I'll go away home again," you know?

But I got a new whistle and, uh, I fell in love with

this whistle and I was like, "Well, I have to drive--

I have to test drive this whistle." So I was like, right.

Deep breath and sat there and played for 14 hours.

And I left that night.

I didn't even think about drink and it was such a buzz.

And I got into the car and I drove out of Milltown

with such a massive smile. I was like,

"It's all right. I can actually do this."

[Eoin] So many of us have been waiting for-- for so long

and we're delighted that Katie Theasby, her new album

I Remember You Singing is released, out, available.

[Eoin on the radio] And I'm delighted that she's here

in the studio here with me. How are you, Katie?

[Katie on the radio] Pure, delighted. Yeah.

[Eoin] After-- because it's been a few years in the process.

[Katie] It has-- it is such a relief to have it done.

[Eoin] You're putting your heart and soul into these songs.

It-- it-- that can be hard.

[Katie] When my dad died, I was actually in counseling

at the time because I found I wasn't crying and I wasn't--

I was just putting up a wall, you know?

And she said, "You know, just to mind yourself

because it might hit you like a train one day."

And she says, "Do-- do a few things that you--

that you feel might, you know, help you kinda grieve

a little bit and start that part of the process going."

And so I'd say for a few months,

I used to go out at lunchtime when I used to sit in the car.

You know, Paddy Keenan and The Piper he has a slow air.

It's called Johnny's-- "Johnny's Tune, For The Avalon."

And it is amazing.

It starts off-- it starts off on the low D whistle

and it's just really haunting and beautiful

and let's just think this is something else.

And then just when you think it can't get any better,

the pipes kick in and they just like flour you.

You know, that's when the tears come and do you know--

["I Remember You Singing This Song" by Katie Theasby]

It is Katie Theasby.

♪ I remember you singing this song Ma ♪

♪ I remember how you blushed when you smiled ♪

♪ Love has a way of never letting go ♪

♪ Silly teardrops, they're filling my eyes ♪

♪ I remember the day my mother passed on ♪

♪ My father had gone just a while ♪

♪ I sat in the church and I listened to one ♪

♪ From a distance I heard this old song ♪

♪ I wonder if he's teasing you now Ma ♪

♪ I wonder if he's holding... ♪

[Eoin] Our favorite songs are the sad songs.

It's in our, um, DNA.

We don't know why, but the sad music works for us.

People have-- people kinda study that stuff,

you know, the famine. It's only 150 years ago.

Like, you know, so.

Like, we don't even know why we're sad. [laughing]

♪ Sure I know, you're together somehow ♪

The wonderful Katie Theasby and that song

that I haven't stopped playing since it came out.

At the end of the day, music is what's it's

inside ya' and you want to put it out there.

And if it comforts somebody in some way,

that's what it's about.

[door creaks]

[clears throat]

[exhales]

[indistinct chatter]

["The Call and the Answer" by The Dubliners]

♪ You will call and I ran ♪

♪ Wild as the wind which rows across the moor ♪

♪ All we need is each other ♪

♪ With the eagles we will soar ♪

♪ You are the call I'm the answer ♪

♪ You are the wish and I am the way ♪

♪ You're the music, I the dancer ♪

♪ You are the night and I am the day ♪

♪ You are the night and I am the day ♪

♪ You will call and I ran ♪

♪ Wild as the wind which rows across the moor ♪

♪ All we need is each other ♪

♪ With the eagles we will soar ♪

♪ You are the call I'm the answer ♪

♪ You are the wish and I am the way ♪

♪ You're the music, I the dancer ♪

♪ You are the night and I am the day ♪

♪ You are the night and I am the day ♪

[indistinct]

[crowd applauding, cheering]

[indistinct chatter]

[Irish folk music playing]

[crowd applauding, cheering]

[Eoin] Yeah. It's time for me to head for the hills.

[Irish Celtic fiddle music playing]

Here's Adam Shapiro on the Fiddle.

He'll be playing tomorrow night with the rest of us.

Might see some of you there.

[indistinct] enjoy the show tonight. Bye-bye.

Oh, yeah. See you on Sunday morning

between eight and ten, early.

We'll be playing Katie's weekend anyway.

[music continues]

[music stops]