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[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]