|
Scotland
might have one 'quiet man of folk', which is how Ian Macintosh is
often known - but it probably has another one as well. This candidate,
though, is no Scot for all that he's lived in the country for over
30 years. Because he's Kevin Mitchell and, as he'll tell you, blue
eyes twinkling, he's a "Derryman through and through and always will
be".
Kevin settled in Glasgow in 1969. His
wife Ellen is Scots and they now have grandchildren, "which means
I now have more family here than in Ireland, where I've only a brother
left". He's part of an old pattern of Irish singers basing themselves
in Scotland, like today's Colin MacAllister and Brian Ó hEadhra,
to name just two. The difference is that he's been around a lot
longer than most.
"Coming here as a Derryman was a bit
unusual. Derry has no normal Glasgow connections, that's a Donegal
thing. Anyway, I got to know Glasgow first mainly through music,
met The Clutha, Adam McNaughtan, Norman Buchan and so on, had a
great time. The link is still there with Norman because I sing with
one of his ex-pupils, Ann Neilson. I even got an invitation to go
up to the first-ever Blairgowrie Festival. Mind you, Scotland wasn't
all music; there was a paid job here for me too. I was in industrial
painting, working high up. I'm with the same firm yet, though I'm
more earth-bound nowadays".
He found a different music scene to
that of Derry. "Ireland's 'ballad boom' was on", he recalls, "though
my first involvement hadn't been with folk, far less traditional.
Our school encouraged singing at the Derry Feis, but it was art
songs mostly. Luckily, I got to know a great singer called Seán
Gallagher, a real character. He'd been interned in 1957 and ended
up in Crumlin Road jail along with Paddy Tunney, so there must have
been a power of music in that jail! Seán was fluent in Irish
and taught me a load of songs. He was determined to keep traditional
song alive at the Feis, and he did. I remember my first effort at
competitive singing; it was a complete disaster. My party piece
'Ar Maidin Dé Máirt' went fine but the follow up was
just terrible - and they told me so!"
Since then he's immersed himself in
Scottish songs, although finding that many of them may not be as
Scottish as they initially seem. He's fascinated by the musical
relationships between his old and his adopted country. "It's not
always easy to separate Scottish and Irish music", he explains.
"It's even harder with Scottish and Ulster music. I'm sure Ulster
has been very heavily influenced by Scotland. There's a song I like,
"A Wee Drop of Whiskey", that I got from Paddy Toorisk of Ballybofey,
who got it from his father. It's called Irish, but there's so much
dialect in that it has to be Scots. There's another one, "The Mountain
Streams Where the Moorcock Crow". Paddy Tunney argued this was Irish,
but to me it's obviously got Scottish roots".
Given Glasgow's reputation, a perhaps
surprising experience he's had of the city is that there has been
less Irish song around than he might have thought - until lately
that is. "There was once an Irish club, a commercial venture, but
it shut. What you have, I think, is various Donegal associations
like for the Rosses or Gweedore, rather than mixed gatherings of
Irish people. It's sad, and I wonder if the lack of performing or
cultural venues has had an effect. Actually, though, Irish singing
is suddenly doing a lot better. I judged the ballads at Feis Ghlaschú
this year and I was really pleased to hear so many good traditional
singers, young and old. I say 'suddenly' but, of course, it's not.
It's down to a lot of work by Comhaltas Ceoltóirí
Éireann and others".
Pretty clearly, this is a man whose
passion is singing. "It has to be", he quips, "I can't get a note
even from a tin whistle". That being so, it's a pity there's a cloud
on his horizon. Quite a large one actually: the general status of
traditional singing, in Scotland and beyond, troubles him.
"I think singers are having a hard
time. In Ireland, we have very few folk clubs. Clubs have always
given more encouragement to singing. Scotland is maybe better, but
there's still this bias towards instrument playing. Singers need
a hearing when they've spent a long time perfecting their style.
There are places which are good for them, of course, like Feis Bharraigh
(I like Barra altogether, like the way people there still call Ireland
their 'motherland'!). Fortunately, England is good. They have many
more folk clubs and these usually give singers pride of place. I
know, I do a lot of the festivals and so on down south. Irish singers
will tell you that those English events are very important for them."
"In Ireland", he continues, "singers
are banding together in just singing sessions, away from the non-stop
music, if you like. I don't think that's the answer though, it's
synthetic. It won't do much for them or for the tradition. I know
they've tried it in places like Mullaghbawn, but I've heard they're
losing the audiences. I sympathise though, we've got to keep singers
singing somehow."
He admits the causes of all this are
complicated. "Maybe it's the over-emphasis on 'Celtic' music, which
many people think means 'very fast tunes'. Now don't get me wrong,
I love the tunes, naturally I do, but they've got to be part of
the whole picture. An ideal session for me would be songs, tunes
and dance - why not? I'm critical of some recording companies. They'll
produce mixed song/instrumental albums, but often the songs are
very light. Companies seem to think audiences don't want anything
difficult. If people hear only light songs, it's not surprising
they're not used to anything more challenging."
He worries over what he sees happening
to the rising generation of musicians. "Great players, of course,
but that's all some of them want to do - play. They don't
seem to know the tradition, the 'rule' that you give people space,
that you put down your instrument and listen to an unaccompanied
song, maybe. Many youngsters, I'd say, don't have any real understanding
or respect for the singing. Not just youngsters either. Still, I'm
not downhearted. Here in Glasgow, Colin MacAllister and Owen Kelly
of Comhaltas are running regular mixed-age workshops on Irish song.
At these - they're packed out, by the way - youngsters learn what
the tradition means, including respect for other performers and
different musical styles. That's a good way forward, I believe."
Arguably, audiences would appreciate
singers better if they heard this particular one more often, even
on CD or tape. Kevin has made just two recordings, his most recent
one being 'I Sang That Sweet Refrain' on Greentrax. Kevin can regularly
be heard as part of Stramash, of course, but is notoriously difficult
to get into a recording studio. "Well, I don't like them", he mutters,
"they un-nerve me. All the life's gone from them; you sing loud
or soft, nothing comes back. It doesn't feel like communicating
with people, which is what singing means to me. That said, Ellen
and I have recently begun a new recording with Rod Stradling down
in Stroud. It's been more informal and I've even quite enjoyed it".
It's good that he did. No doubt we'll
enjoy the fruits of it too. The soft-spoken Bogsider has given Scotland
much, just as it has given him much - as his old mentor Seán
Gallagher used to say to him "mo cheol thú, a Chaoimhín!
- good on you, Kevin!".
STEVE McGRAIL
|
