Thanks to four DNA testers, who have West Cork O’NEILL connections, we have now confirmed (or genetically proven prefer) the outline story for the origins of some of the O’NEILLs in West Cork. The latest piece of the puzzle landed the day before St Patrick’s Day. All four have taken the male DNA test known as ‘Big Y’.

‘Big Y’ is a male line DNA test provided by FamilyTreeDNA (FTDNA) and is currently the most detailed test of its kind. For the last 500 years or so, this essentially ties all unbroken male lines to family names. All four O’NEILL testers show that their male lines are genetically connected and unbroken.

The most recent result is important for a number of reasons. Firstly, it identifies a single C16th male (MRCA: Most Recent Common Ancestor) who was the father of two sons, whose lineages became O’MAHONY and O’NEILL. This confirms the detailed genetic work done by the O’NEILL project at FTDNA and matches the various annals of Irish history that document the split into both family names known today.

Two additional testers surnamed MAHONEY and MAHANEY connect with the four O’NEILLs at this historical period, estimated to be around 1550 from DNA alone. (Please refer to my previous articles regarding the deeper historical connection.) The tested MAHONEY traces his origins to Maryland in the US at about 1760.

As previously reported, a letter written by a member of the O’NEILL family from Knocks, outlined the basic story of a young boy arriving in West Cork following the Siege of Limerick (1690) and settling in Garranes and Ballinard. While it has been a challenge to match all the detail from the letter, it has been possible using standard atDNA tests to connect O’NEILLs from Knocks with those from Derrimilleen, Reenroe & Cashelisky, and to some overseas branches.

The young lad, Sean O’NEILL, married and was reported to have had five sons. These children were likely born in the 1720-1730 period. This is now confirmed by the Y-DNA tree. All four O’NEILL testers with West Cork origins connect at a single male MRCA, estimated from just DNA alone, to about 1650. This is likely to be Sean or his father. The testers then split into two pairs.

The two testers from Derrimilleen and Knocks share the same natural genetic mutation. The two other testers, who’s surnamed became O’NEIL (with one ’l,’ due to emigration to the UK and US) share an additional natural genetic mutation downstream of this, which supports their family narrative. The latter pair share origins from a man born around 1720 who settled in Drimoleague, before his descendants moved and settled at Cashelisky adjacent to their cousins at Reenroe. This indicates that their ancestor was most likely a son of Sean. The other pair are known to descend from the man known as Felim or Filem Mor (‘Big Felix’) of Ballinard.

A genetic framework now exists for anyone wishing to investigate their West Cork male lines (O’NEILL or O’MAHONY) to check whether they tie in or not using Y-DNA, specifically the Big Y test. Normal customer atDNA tests (as provided by FTDNA, Ancestry and MyHeritage, and so on) can help tie lineages together in the post-1800 period.

I am grateful, through my previous articles, that O’NEILL descendants have shared their family stories. They remain of interest but ideally would be supported by both atDNA and Y-DNA tests at some time in the future. Hopefully, the success of this project will encourage others to DNA test.

One of the main features of ‘collecting’ O’NEILL lineages in West Cork is that most seem to have a Felix in them. My current total is around 40 people of that name. Most of these lineages cannot be connected on paper to the main framework and it is noted that three of Seans sons are yet to be accounted for, so highly suggestive many O’NEILLs in the region may actually be genetically part of the same family. Of course, there will also be those families of the name that have different origins (not from Sean) but may find themselves connecting a little further back.

As a final comment, I would like to mention the ‘rule of three’. For both of the established O’NEILL branches, and the pair of MAHONEYs, there are currently only two tests for each. Once a third tester on any of the branches comes in then the Y-DNA project will provide even more detailed mapping downstream of the already established ancestors. This opens up more rigorous genetic support for any paper trail undergoing research.

If anyone wishes advice on how best to join the project(s) and test for their genetic origins, please contact me.

Questions for future articles can be emailed to DNAmatchingprojects@gmail.com. Private client services available. Follow the West Cork DNA blog on Facebook ‘My Irish Genealogy and DNA’.

An archaeological survey at Cape Evans, Antartica, has uncovered a ski pole belonging to explorer and Courtmacsherry native Patrick Keohane. As reported in The Explorer Newsletter, the remarkable discovery was made by archaeologist Emma St Pierre. The ski pole has Keohane’s hand-carved initials on them.

Born at Barry’s Point just south of the village of Courtmacsherry, Patrick Keohane was a Petty Officer on Scott’s Antarctic ‘Terra Nova’ expedition between 1910 and 1913.

St Pierre told The Explorer that “Finding this ski pole was the highlight of my season on the ice. It is rare to uncover an item that can be directly linked to an individual, so this felt incredibly special. To find it amongst all the bamboo scattered around the site was a real moment. Thinking that this pole may have been used during Scott’s journey to the Pole is both exciting and deeply meaningful.”

Keohane was one of 15 men chosen to set out with Scott from their Cape Evans base on the 900-mile journey to the South Pole.

Keohane initially assisted with the ponies before moving into the man hauling sled teams once the ponies had been put down. Although disappointed to be turned back 350 miles short of the Pole, this decision ultimately saved his life, as the small polar party that continued sadly never returned. Keohane later joined the search party that found the bodies of Scott, Dr Edward Wilson and Lieutenant Henry Bowers in their tent.

Keohane’s ski pole has been stabilised for interim storage and will be scheduled for conservation work in the upcoming season.

A statue of Keohane erected between Broad and Blind Strand in Courtmacsherry, shows him looking across the water at the place of his birth.

West Cork seems to have its own ‘musical ecosystem’. Musicians playing in each others’ – often intersecting – bands. Gigs aplenty. In most genres under the (not very present) sun: Blues, trad, rock, world music, jazz, country, post-punk, alternative, classical. And yes, reggae. Music with a strongly accented sub-beat, originating in Jamaica, that evolved in the late 1960s. Most notably played by two bands in West Cork that partly overlap: Mango Moon and the West Cork Dub Collective.

Mango Moon started with a casual conversation in 2021, as Caz Jeffreys said to Kate Liddell, “Wouldn’t it be cool to have a reggae club in Ballydehob? Next I got five of us together for a reggae jam.” Soon afterwards, Mango Moon’s original line-up featuring Caz (vocals, electric guitar), Kate (trumpet, fiddle, vocals), Jane Goss (sax, vocals), Greg Woods (bass), Patrick Healy (rhythm guitar), Ben Crockett (drums) expanded as with the Mexican percussionist, Armando Ramirez, joined them.

According to Caz, “My initial idea was to create a kind of club in the basement of Oasis Arts Café in Ballydehob, also for other musicians, but, within weeks, we were invited to play a gig. And lead guitarist Rik Appleby came on board. We became a band very quickly, were building up more songs, gigging. Until Greg, our bass player, fell sick. Sadly, he passed away in early 2024. For a while, I didn’t know if I wanted to carry on but eventually we continued as a seven-piece. Rik transitioned to bass. And since February this year we’re on our third drummer, the brilliant Steven O’Connell.” Apart from reggae – “our backbone” – the band plays ska (a forerunner of reggae) and dub.

In the beginning, Caz Jeffreys supplied all the original material. “Roughly 50 per cent is still mine, the rest are covers. Jane has also written songs while she and Kate often write their own parts so we’re increasingly co-creating.” A party piece is the instrumental Swing Easy, recorded in the 1960s by the Skatalites, a band consisting of the musicians behind many of Jamaica’s hit records. “Swing Easy gets everyone going,” says Caz. “Some people keep dancing all night. It’s so great to connect with the audience in this way. And, the same people come back time and again. It’s like a community.” A word that is frequently used to describe Mango Moon’s musicians’ external activities. Some have MAs in community music (or music theory). Jane Goss conducts community choirs in Dunmanway and Castletownbere. Caz Jeffreys used to lead numerous community choirs (not to mention community bands, even a community musical) but is now creating music installations for community involvement and has set up Creative Voice Projects for fairly experienced female singers. “We don’t just learn great songs and complicated harmonies but also look into what has held us back from doing what we want to do or feeling confident about performing. These are eye-opening and moving conversations, which are now inspiring newly written songs.” Meanwhile, Kate Liddell has embarked on a solo performance project involving a loop pedal, vocals, and multiple instruments.

Last summer Patrick Healy, Rik Appleby, Armando Ramirez and then-drummer Fergal Lee set up the West Cork Dub Collective while continuing to play with Mango Moon. They rehearsed twice. “We chose rhythms from 70s and 80s classic dub tunes alongside chords and a bass line. That’s always our springboard.” So far, they have been doing gigs every four weeks, currently  in Ár n-Áit in Skibbereen on the first Saturday of the month. And every performance is different. The main ingredient, apart from those chords, rhythms, bass lines, is slightly mysterious: dub. 

“Dub started back in Jamaica when reggae was evolving,” shares Rik. “The music producers would record reggae singers and create their own mix based on that recording. And then another version, as they removed a lot of vocals while adding loads of effects. The end result was an instrumental that focused on the rhythm section. A production idea that turned into a style.”

“It was the art of using the studio and/or the mixing console as an instrument,” adds Patrick. “As part of the band. It’s about space and the creative manipulation of sound. Dub is certainly heavier than reggae, with prominent bass and drums while echoes and extra reverb are thrown in. We are also creating those effects, live.”

 Different guest musicians are invited for each Dub Collective gig. So whereas the musical points of departure are always the same, improvisation is the norm so the outcome cannot be predicted. It could be a danceable, vibrating wall of sound dominated by heavy guitar sounds or something entirely different involving a lyrical silver flute, baritone sax, vocals. 

Rik says the band are “working on some recordings from our October gig when the Grammy-Award winning guitarist Niwel Tsumbu, Congolese-born and Ireland-based, was playing with us, as well as Julia Cross on flute and vocals. The sound just took off into areas that were completely unplanned and exploratory and new. Nobody had any idea what was going to happen and it went to really interesting places.”

Their dedication to reggae goes far, has deep roots, and started early. “In Donegal we have the annual community-based Mary from Dungloe International Arts Festival,” says Patrick. “When I was five, my parents brought me along to listen to the Century Steel Band, an Irish reggae-outfit. My dad mentioned to me recently, “It’s no wonder you love reggae so much because you were dancing away when that band was playing.”

Rio’s grandmother lived in a flat in Hackney. “When I was very young, some Rastas lived next door to her. You could hear their reggae through the walls, especially the bass and drums. My nan called it jungle music but as a child I found it deliciously exotic. In my late teens I realised it was something that I could play quite easily as I had a feel for it. I would listen to the sound systems in London. Really heavy dub and very heavy bass. The effect is physical; almost like a physical meditation. You can feel your body vibrating in sync with the music.”

“Maybe reggae is so attractive because it can slow things down,” says Patrick. “Pace the breathing. In our busy, hectic world that steadiness is really appealing.”

West Cork Dub Collective plays Ár n-Áit in Skibbereen on March 7.

DMac Burns and Mango Moon play Connolly’s of Leap on March 16.

Caz Jeffreys runs Creative Voice Projects in the Ludgate Hub (Skibbereen) and at Civic Trust House (Cork).

Mamacha (with Kate Liddell and Armando Ramirez) plays Levis Corner House on April 12. 

Patrick Healy puts his music on Bandcamp as Emerald Lion (a collaboration with Mark Dorrian).

Rik Appleby releases reggae and dub productions on Bandcamp as Lionheart Recordings.

Light, daylight, shadow; the richness of the hues, the softness of the shades. What, I often wonder, are we missing when we switch on an electric light, a screen? The microtones, the half-lights, what DaVinci called ‘earth light,’ the mysterious quality of sunlight falling upon a living thing, animating it, responding to its living pores, its pigmentation, the iridescence leant to it by its cells. Or the light of dawn streaming through frosted glass like silver filigreed with gold, imbuing everything it touches, like King Midas, with a mysterious golden hue. And then even the shadows come alive, their edges as soft as DaVinci’s sfumato, the smokey way he drew.

Electric light cuts, makes the shadows sharp, evens out the room.

Sunlight folds in like a sigh, rolls shadows out like living things, softens space.

I’m not a Luddite, I am not pining for a time before electricity. But as a painter, I’m now feeling a difference between the lights on in the studio and the natural grace of the skylight, between the electric bulb on in the bathroom in the morning, and the predawn glow filtering through the frosted glass.

There is poetry in fluctuation, in there being nothing else on but the play of the sun with the atmosphere, the dance of the light with the clouds. I am thinking now of Monet’s waterlilies in Musee de l’Orangerie, the magnificent semi-circular paintings only lit by skylights. You sit and watch as the light swells and fades and swells again, the colours in the paintings constantly changing, brightening and darkening like embers in a fire.

Sunlight is grace.

The nadir of our visual culture’s love affair with conceptualism is, for me, Martin Creed’s ‘Work No. 227 The Lights Going On and Off’ (2000). The ‘work’ consists of two electric lights going on and off every five seconds in a room. The regularity, the coldness, the poverty of vision and experience. The irony, of course, that there is no light in this ‘work,’ only darkness, emptiness, sterility. A statement? Please spare me such statements, I’m looking for transformation.

The opposite end of the scale, for me, is Odd Nerdrum’s painting, ‘Dawn,’ from 1989. Like in some surreal ballet, the four, near-identical seated figures have their faces raised to the sky, their mouths open, eyes closed, in a blind love song to the sun, which is breasting the mountains behind. They are at one with the mountain-scape, their bodies aglow with a sunlit radiance (a stage trick, as the dawn is behind them, not in front).  The richness of this painting is something to behold, a testament to the truism that there are no new subjects, only fresh expressions of them.

Another, perhaps more iconic example, is Vermeer’s ‘Woman Holding a Balance’ from 1662. Light pours in from a high window, delicately catching the gold of the balance, the paleness of the woman’s hand, her face and gown. This is why the world loves Vermeer: because he connects natural light to the figure in perfect, ordinary harmony, because he transforms oil into light. We feel the stillness of the moment, the silence of the transformation, and are more at peace for it.

I am writing this on a laptop, the screen radiating out at me. It is not, I know, good for the eyes, but I am grateful for it, writing is an addiction. At the same time I cannot help thinking of my childhood spent in an old farm house in the Australian bush. No computers or iPhones, of course, and for years we had no television. No screens at all. We rose with the dawn. At night we lit a fire, read books. You could hear the frogs croaking in the nearby dam, the wind rustling the trees, the wooden walls creaking. Outside the stars shone with a rare, diamond-studded brilliance. The cosmos was so vast, so mysterious, an intoxication of fire-laced distances beyond human measure.

Street lights cut out the beauty of the night sky.

But where would we be without street light? Our civilisation is founded on this electric pulse, this illumination, this connectivity of information and purpose. Somehow it keeps all the raw wildness at bay. For we are only one power outage away from the Middle Ages. This is our conundrum, a measure of our fragility. 

How did I even begin thinking about this? For several years I have been imagining scenes in the 16th century studio of Pieter Bruegel, for a novel. Painters at that time were wholly dependent on natural light, could only really work in the spring and summer. Perhaps they could draw in the colder months, by the light of oil lamps and candelabra, but such light was hardly sufficient for painting. The studio was set up in such a way as to make the most of north-facing windows, north-facing, as it offered the most stable, unchanging illumination throughout the day.

Life had a different rhythm, a slower, softer vibration.

I am not pining for a time before electricity. I am a grumpy mess without a hot shower. But we have the luxury of choosing: to at times, turn things off, tune our eyes to the shadows, to a softer vibration, to a silence that truly connects.

Ella Mc Swiney says the new single ‘Misty Ireland’ from West Cork band The Shruggs is a raw and thoughtful composition.

From Bandon, The Shruggs, aka duo Kees Hendrickx and James Downing, compose songs both with roots of folk and the bright colours of pop. The band are highly acclaimed for their harmonising and uplighting melodies, pointed by Hot Press Magazine as “rising acts to keep an eye on”.

The Cork band has received much praise, their music described as “Rhythmically pleasing, with Fleet Foxes-like harmonies that are pitch-perfect” by Remy’s Music and Film Blog; Nialler9 says “There’s an undoubted gift for strong melody present” and Dave Simpson from PureMzine review mentions how “The exuberance of the execution will surely put a smile on even the sternest of faces.”

Their latest release ‘Misty Ireland’ is no different. Written in the perspective of an Irish emigrant, the singer is once again in the emerald isle, admiring the county’s beauty and uniqueness perhaps for the last time. 

The single is one of the band’s rawest songs, its thoughtful lyrics guide the listener through the singer’s nostalgia, while the sailing instruments enhance its honest tone, as if the emigrant himself is heading towards his home land. Collaborated with The Cornwall Chorus, their united harmonies makes the music swell, deepening its reminiscent atmosphere. 

Dedicated to those who are homesick for Ireland, the song is a love letter to the isle and shows how many Irish from the past, present, and future have beloved memories of this small, beautiful, misty island. 

The Cork band came together in 2014. Independent, The Shruggs have a collection of covers and songs of their own, with their biggest hit ‘West Cork’ reaching more than 40,000 views on YouTube. 

Often collaborating with local and international artists, The Shruggs create songs with catchy lyrics, loyal use of acoustic instruments, and an upbeat yet steady energy that makes it impossible not to tap your foot along too. Their most popular songs range from their recent ‘Last Call’, the humourful ‘Potholes’, cheerful ‘The Ooh Song’, and viral ‘West Cork’. 

‘Misty Ireland’ was released on February 4 and can be listened to on Spotify, YouTube, and supported through Bandcamp. 

A series of art fundraising workshops are helping to raise funds for a Bantry community centre writes Ella Mc Swiney

Donation-based art classes delivered by local artist Constance McKenna and running over a six week period at Gortalassa Old School House will help raise funds for the centre, which has become a valuable part of the local community. The classes are centred around the arts and crafts of weaving, coiled baskets; and cubism, where participants will get the opportunity to paint a fruit tile and explore cubism’s key role in art history. 

Gortalassa Old School House, also known as GOSH, has a history of its own. The two-room building started out as a national school in the 70s. Following the school’s closure it was turned into a mass centre but this also closed, resulting in the heritage building falling into disrepair. Fortunately, a small but determined group of local volunteers decided to bring the building back to life and today it is a thriving community centre reimagined as Gortalassa Old School House. Located on the north side of The Sheep’s Head Way, GOSH has become a beacon for people dealing with isolation in a rural area, facilitating lifelong friendships and strengthening a sense of pride in the community.  

Run by a driven local committee, GOSH is open on Wednesdays for its weekly social gathering, community library, and countless different activities that take place throughout the year, with craft and art sessions, exercise classes, and information talks being just a few.

The community centre has charitable status, relying on grants and fundraising events to help maintain the building. When grants aren’t enough to cover renovation, the events have come to the rescue for its upkeep, raising enough money for the instalment of a fully accessible toilet, the replacement of a flat roof, and the addition of an outdoor shed, among many other renovation jobs.

The centre also supports charities when it can through fundraisers such as craft fairs, coffee mornings, plays, concerts and more. 

GOSH urges people in the locality to attend fundraising events and to join the committee, as the centre is able to function only because of its dedicated team of volunteers and donations. To lend a hand or give a fiver would truly make difference for a lively centre that combats rural isolation, offers free vital information, a space for creativity, a sense of community, and where friendships have and continue to grow.

To book the cubism workshop contact @constancemckennaarttherapist on Instagram. Donations are encouraged for the ongoing maintenance of Gortalassa Old School House.

A beautiful wine moment, around a bottle of red Burgundy, inspired a birthday cycling trip with my sister. 

The route, from The Lonely Planet Guide to Cycling in France, was chosen based on easy terrain, the odd hill just to give us a bit of a challenge, and, crucially, wonderful scenery, pristine, ancient villages, with the promise of excellent food and wine at the end of each journey. The route took us through sleepy Burgundian villages, from the timber-framed houses of Auxerre to the wine heartland of Chablis, the untouched mediaeval village of Noyers sur Serein, and finished in the hilltop jewel of Vezelay. 

The train from Paris to the pretty town of Auxerre, on the banks of the Yonne river, took about two hours. We had organised to pick up our bikes from La Maison du Vélo, a unique bike shop in an old water pumping station, bikes piled against ancient pumps and machinery. Laurent, the owner, recommended a restaurant, La Petite Beursaude, for our dinner that evening. Here, we had our first taste of Burgundy’s legendary food and wine. A glass of Cremant to start, the Burgundian rival to Champagne, followed by asparagus, duck and cheese, and a gorgeous Pinot Noir, the main red grape of Burgundy.

April is a perfect time to visit as the fragrance of the blossoms is everywhere, and the weather is beautiful, without being too hot. We had our coffee and croissants on the wisteria-draped terrace at the Hotel des Marachaux, before starting the first leg of our trip. The minor roads we travelled on were quiet, smooth and fairly straight, with very little traffic.

The scenery between Auxerre and Chablis was beautiful, gentle and peaceful. Tiny quiet villages with barely a soul afoot, seemingly unchanged for centuries. The road wound gently up rolling hills until we were looking down over the patchwork that is the Chablis wine region. We found a yard with a ‘degustation’ (tasting) sign, and carefully, with much detailed analysis, chose a bottle with a lunchtime picnic in mind. A well-stocked shop with cheese, charcuterie and bread provided the rest. We couldn’t pass Marguerite de Chablis wine bar, lured by glasses clinking on the sunny banks of the Serein river. A few kilometres later, we stopped for our picnic at a sun-dappled spot by the river, leaving only a short ride to our destination of Noyers sur Serein.

The town’s medieval gates provided a cinematic entrance to Noyers, as our bikes rattled on the cobblestones in the evening hush. As we fumbled in panniers for our phones to find our accommodation, a man pulled up and called our names. He had seen us ride past, like two coyboys thundering into a dusty wild west town, and thought, ah, these must be my two Irish women! 

Having settled us in with a crisp glass of white, he made a reservation for us at his friend’s restaurant, La Vielle Tour. Here, we ate more wonderful asparagus, lamb, cheese, and Gevrey Chambertin, a wonderful red wine, usually prohibitively expensive at home. 

Our accommodation at the 13th century Les Trois Tours was beautiful, with a wooden balcony overlooking the Serein river. The town itself looked almost unchanged since the Middle Ages, with cobbled streets and beautiful wood-panelled buildings. An art cooperative and café in the village was a wonderland of quirky pieces, vintage furniture, great coffee and home made cakes. We had a browse at the weekly market before heading off along the river towards our next stop, Vezelay. Our lunch stop was Le Pot d’Etain, with cheese, charcuterie and cool white Burgundy in a sunny courtyard. A short stop in buzzy Avallon, then the steep climb up to the beautiful village of Vezelay. 

As we took a rest halfway up this hill, along came our host wondering if we’d gotten lost, a familiar theme. We were staying in a one-room chambre d’hote, Le Porc Epic, above an art gallery. 

The owners booked us a restaurant, and left us sipping a glass of Chablis on the terrace overlooking the Morvan Valley and vineyards out to the horizon. 

La Terrasse restaurant was a few minutes’ walk away, right beside Vezelay’s famous Basilica. We dined on classics like Gougère and Boeuf Bourguignon, accompanied by Mercurey 1er Cru, taking a half bottle home with us to enjoy on our panoramic terrace. Vezelay is a beautiful town, perched high above rolling vineyards. Our last morning was spent wandering through its medieval streets, and visiting the stunning Basilica, and squeezing in a lunch of wine and paté. Our journey back to Paris was fairly convoluted, but that gave us time for a train picnic, of course with a nice red Burgundy, and maybe clearing the carriage with our very ripe cheese. 

Resources

• The Lonely Planet Cycling Guide to France

• maison-vélo.fr
(bike hire Auxerre)

• hotel-lesmarechaux.com (Auxerre)

• Les Trois Tours 
(Noyers sur Serein)

• le-porc-epic.com (Vezelay)

Moze Jacobs chats to Maria Doyle Kennedy (MDK) ahead of her gig at Levis’ Corner House in Ballydehob.

MDK plays Levis’ on Saturday, November 13, 8pm, not with a group of musicians, but with her husband Kieran, who is almost a band in himself. He plays (steel) guitar, piano, banjo, mandolin, looping pedals, sings backing vocals. He also produces, arranges, and composes most of the music for MDK. The duo played Levis’ last year, also in mid-December. In a glowing review of that gig Jason Ward wrote “Kennedy once said she wouldn’t miss acting but could not pass a day without singing. And when she starts, you realise why; because her songs and her voice come from her soul. This isn’t the fake soul of pained expressions on TV talent shows […] It is the soul of telling a story, of expressing an emotion and telling a truth.” 

Maria Doyle Kennedy was one of the breakout stars of The Commitments (1991), a film based on a Roddy Doyle novel, which tells the story of the rise and demise of a soul band in Dublin, comprised of friends, foes and strangers, 

Today the singer isn’t very keen to talk about The Commitments.

“No, I don’t have anything to say about that. I’d much rather focus on what we’re making now. It was released 34 years ago.” It’s not really necessary, either. The successful cult film, with a cast that included Colm Meaney, Glen Hansard and Andrea Corr, can be watched for free online while there are plenty of YouTube videos of Maria belting out ‘I never loved a man’ with the passion of a great soul singer. 

It is but one of her numerous manifestations. She sings in many different voices. Folky, ethereal, earthly, lyrical, poppy, hauntingly dark. The many praiseful reviews of her albums and performances reference the Icelandic post-rock band Sigur Ros, as well as Sandy Denny, the Cocteau Twins. She is described as “a powerful mixture between a folk siren and a punk-diva…one of the great voices of Ireland. The Celtic Patti Smith” (Basel Zeitung). And, “MDK is still one hell of a musical force to be reckoned with” (Irish Times). She, or rather ‘they’ have released 12 albums to date. And then there are the other roles she fulfills. Mother of four sons. Songwriter. Polymath. Actor in over 50 films and TV series. Video director/producer. Composer (together with Kieran). Artist.

‘Maria + Kieran Rehearsal’ (Mermaid Records, 2025) is their latest album to date, released November 17. The cover is adorned with (an artistic impression of) husband and wife. The album features rehearsal versions of existing songs in updated arrangements. The latter has happened before. On their Bandcamp page are two very different versions of a song called Mother. The first is on the album ‘Mütter’ (Mermaid Records, 2007) and the second on ‘Songs from the Kitchen Table’ (also on Mermaid Records, their own label), released January 1, 2020, just before Covid. 

“The Rehearsal album was unplanned,” says Maria. “We were practicing for the upcoming Irish tour and Kieran was recording without even telling me. Just for his own benefit. It was very relaxed.”

The result is surprisingly good. Especially as the songs were recorded in their kitchen.

“At one end of the kitchen table is what we call Kieran’s office where he has his speakers and mixing desks. He works away down there all the time. Whereas I find it very difficult to record or write at home. My eyes just wander over to the laundry and I’m clocking up in my mind all these other jobs that I have to get to. Under lockdown, we recorded most of Fire on the Roof of Eden in the kitchen. There’s a lot going on in the background on that album. If you listen closely, you can hear a child come in and ask, What’s for dinner. Or a cat, a rumbling washing machine. Kieran doesn’t mind. He likes to be immersed in the sound of the family. It’s funny, we’ve each got different requirements for creativity.”

The Rehearsal Album is up on Bandcamp. On Maria’s Instagram there are little backstories for the individual songs. She wrote about ‘Comfort Song’: I was apart from Kieran and missing him. To calm down, I started to hum melodies to myself and tried to put into words what it was I was missing. I realised that a lot has to do with the sound that he makes. The constant hum of his presence and commentary on the day, his sighs and clicks, maybe stomping and laughing.”

The couple met in a nightclub. “It was very late at night. We talked at the bar but didn’t make any plans.”

“He’s very cute,” says Maria. “I had left the band I was singing in. Then Kieran got in touch and said, I have a band and I wonder if you would like to do some singing. I said, Do you want to send me the music? I didn’t find out until 10 years after we married that he didn’t have a particular demo that he was planning to make at that time. He just wanted to ask me out. So he got somebody to give him some money to record a demo, got people together and booked a studio. And that became The Black Velvet Band.” 

Their first solo release, ‘Charm’, was in 2001 and their next album will be released in 2026. It contains brand-new songs.

“Mostly recorded in Kilruddery House, where we were artists-in-residence,” shares Maria.

One of the songs, ‘Every Day, Every Night’, can be heard in a video on MDK’s Facebook page. Poignant lines are, ‘Love is coming/Grief is my partner, she’ll see it through to the end’.

“Singing this song was helpful and comforting,” says Maria. “In the past years, we lost people that were very close to us, including a friend I’d had since age 17. It kickstarted this whole album, trying to process the loss and grief. Music is an incredible treasure trove. That’s why I connected with it so deeply, like many people, from the time I was in my teens, looking for something to explain the raging madness that your mind and body has turned into while you don’t have the emotional language for the bigger feelings.”

When our children started to move out of home and begin their independent lives, we decided that the best Christmas present for all of us was an opportunity to spend time together. Better again if we got to learn something while we were at it, and of course picking a beautiful location was a vital part of the planning.  

On March 13, 2020, myself, himself, and our grown-up children walked around the beautiful Glebe Gardens in Baltimore, as Jean Perry encouraged us to pick up, and smell, handfuls of her ‘black gold’ – a crumbly, rich and highly-nutritious compost, ready for use after a year of maturing. This was our Christmas present that year to the family – a gardening course with Jean in her glorious garden. The timing was perfect. From that weekend on, we all spent more time than ever before in our gardens.

I’ve mentioned our boat trip on the Shannon before. That was also a Christmas present, and it was one of the best weekends away ever. We all had to learn how to manage the boat, with some definitely coming out as having more skill than others. Whether or not you’re a natural skipper, jumping off the boat and swimming in the beautiful waters of the Shannon is a magical experience, as is mooring up alongside the mythical Clonmacnoise. 

Whether it’s for adult children, your young family,  just you and your partner, or a friend or group of friends, gifting an experience for Christmas really lasts so much longer than the event itself. The time together is so valuable, and if you come away with a new skill, it can last a lifetime. 

I recently did a beginners’ sewing course at The Common Knowledge Centre in the middle of the Clare countryside. The accommodation is simple but comfortable and cosy, and the food is amazing. Breakfast, lunch and snacks are served each day, all eaten together at shared tables. They offer a range of courses and, while I was there, there was also a DIY course on which the attendees (mostly women incidentally) were learning how to use power tools and make and install a shelf. It was a gorgeous learning environment – convivial, supportive and fun.  

Many of us have been inspired by Manchán Magan, and other champions of our native language, to improve on our Leaving Cert Irish. Even if you are starting from scratch, there are many Irish courses, which are not academic, but focus on communication, music and culture. I found myself in a hall in Donegal this summer, dancing Baili Luimni and Tonnta Thoraigh, with the melodic sound of the Donegal Irish all around me. I realised how rarely I am in a room full of Irish speakers. It was completely natural for them to speak to me in Irish, and to be patient with my faltering reply. 

Diarmuid Lyng puts together weekends in different locations in Ireland, including Kilkenny and Cape Clear, where you can immerse yourself in the language, while having plenty of craic along the way. He also offers family-orientated events. 

There is a growing ecological and restoration movement, quietly and steadily spreading out around the country. Hometree, based in County Clare, is dedicated to establishing and conserving native Irish woodland. The Ardnaculla Summer School is a community and ecology festival, run every year in May, giving an immersive experience of landscape restoration and ecology, with walks,  talks, workshops, music and great food. Camping is available in Hometree’s beautiful HQ, a five-minute walk from Ennistymon.

What about gathering wild plants, leaves, and any other found items you fancy and making art with them in a nature reserve in the Wicklow hills? After an afternoon at Windrush Farm with Sophie and Lucy, you’ll come away with the ability to make Hapa-Zome (Japanese leaf dyeing) eco prints using natural materials, and have your own creations at home with you. 

Or learn woodturning in Galway with Ambrose and Bríd, or…You get the picture, the list is genuinely endless!

If you fancy somewhere more exotic, Dearbhla Glynn takes a group to incredibly stunning places in France and Majorca for a yoga retreat. Swimming,  walking and wonderful food are all part of the restorative process.

Of course, you could also join myself and Karen Austin in a beautiful 15th century villa in Tuscany for a week next May, exploring the food and wine of this magical region. If someone in your life, including yourself, would love to immerse themselves in the joy of Italy, this might be the Christmas present you’ve been looking for!

Contacts:

glebegardens@gmail.com

emeraldstar.ie

ourcommonknowledge.org

Donegal Gaeltacht Summer School – www.liofa.eu

diarmuidlyng.ie

hometree.ie/
ardnacullasummerschool

windrushfarm.ie

@dearbhlaglynn on Instagram dearbhlaglynn.com

lettercollum.ie or
fmharkin@gmail.com for details of Tuscany trip. 

Born, bred and living in Dingle, Pa Sheehy used to be the lead singer of ‘Walking on Cars’, a remarkable Indie pop band that rode a wave of success for over 10 years (between 2010 and 2020). 

His family wasn’t big into music but he was drawn to it from when he was a child. “I was always singing along with whatever was on the radio and in my teenage years, we started a little rock band in school. I didn’t play an instrument then, so during our first rehearsal there was the drummer, the bass player, and the guitar player, and they threw a lyric book at me. It was the first time I ever wrote a song. I was about 13.”

Fast forward nine years and Pa and four other people he had known since childhood and played with at local venues, “we were kind of the only musicians in our age group”, became very serious about forming a band. Together, they moved into a secluded house. Quite a radical step. All they did (it is said) was write songs. “A couple of friends staying in a little cottage with no huge pressure on us at all. We were on the dole, so we had a bit of freedom to make music and not worry about other things for a couple of years. We wrote some cool tunes. It was just an uncomplicated time in our lives without any expectations and we were living very simply.” One of their songs was ‘Speeding Cars’ and the band eventually called itself ‘Walking on Cars’. Nobody knows why, exactly. The drummer came up with it and it stuck. Maybe it was its very incongruity (who walks on cars?) that made the name memorable. 

The band’s self-released first single, ‘Catch Me If You Can’ (2012) was played on radio, attracted a fan base, and gained them national popularity. Three years later it was re-released by an official record label, Virgin EMI /RCA and appeared on their debut album, ‘Everything This Way’, which reached the top spot on the Irish Albums Chart in 2016 and stayed there for three weeks. Perhaps their best-known single was ‘Speeding Cars’ (2015). It gave them international recognition, has by now had over 52 million views on YouTube and been streamed 117 million times. More singles followed, tours of Europe, Australia. They played large venues and festivals, gave interviews, did radio, TV. Quite the career. 

Pa Sheehy thinks that part of their “expansion” may have been due to management. “To be fair, we had a brilliant UK-based manager. Actually, they were a duo and they orchestrated it really, really well. They had a lot of clout in the industry and, because of it, we started making bigger moves.” 

Walking on Cars also tried to break through in America. That didn’t go so well. “A friend of the managers was the A&R (Artists and Repertoire) at Capital Records in the US, a huge label. We were so excited, convinced this was our big chance. The entire band went out to America for two weeks to do a promo trip. And then we spent 10 out of the 14 days sitting by the pool in LA. Nice holiday, but nothing came of it. Before we had made it to America, our contact person was fired. So basically, the ship had sunk before we even got there. A classic record industry drama.” It was one of the signs that the tide was turning. “For a while, everything was wonderful but making our second album was a big hurdle,” shares Pa. “There was a new manager, our guitarist had left the band. We were dropped by the label. A lot of our time was wasted in meetings with lawyers about contracts and rights and the album wasn’t a commercial success compared to the first one. Then Covid hit. We went our separate ways.” 

Ever since, Pa has been pursuing his own career. To date, he has produced ten singles, three EPs and an album, ‘Maybe It Was All For This’ (2024). “Once the band finished, going solo felt like the natural next step. I knew I had creative energy and there were songs to come out of me.”

But things have changed. For the better, as far as his personal life is concerned. “A lot of Walking on Cars songs were based on sadness and break-ups. Now, I feel freer to be whatever and whoever I am. When this all started I wanted us to be the biggest band in the world. I thought we were the best. That there was no stopping us. It was a delusion, of course, but it gave us the energy to get as far as we did.” 

Does he still have ambitions of musical world domination? “I really don’t. I love the level I’m at. When I was in ‘Walking on Cars’ there were lots of times when I’d be noticed around the place. Lots of people wanted selfies. Now I’m happy flying under the radar. It’s like a sweet spot.”

I feel the enchantment of many; some I’ve managed to collect, others, I dream of doing so. A small Michael McSwiney lights my morning, its infinitesimal shifts between turquoise, silver and amber on a crumbling bed of tar, evoking a world. The etchings of Roman Sustov also hover in my vision: steam punk apparitions which conjure stories beyond words. I would love a Tom Climent: those searing crystalline peaks breathing a purity of colour, which surely refracts the colours of the artist’s soul. I could also live well with a work by Carol Hodder, whose Turneresque paintings bloom fire and light out of sumptuous impasto. They are the magicians who spark my own fire. None of it comes with ease: the artist must dig, must enter the flow, is not content until a certain feeling is recognised, a certain arrangement felt.

Inchoate and inexplicable is the world of art; a language of substances and non-verbal nuances, which draw us without us knowing why. The artist plays a chord upon the hinterland, between what is known and unknown. One chord beckons another, the artist drawn and enchanted, curious and enlivened. What is this form, this colour, this feeling?

When it comes to figuration, one enters a stage, where the actors are all frozen mid flight. The best of the New Masters conjure their figures with as much bravura, presence and subtlety as the old, painting archetypes, respelling ancient stories, providing continuity in the Grand Tradition. Jannik Hosel from Germany, the Italians: Arrivabene, Sicoldr, Samori; Kaja Norum in Norway, Ireland’s own Molly Judd. They are but a few who come to mind, and each of them brilliant in their way. They call to the conjurer in me, to the story teller, a very different persona to the intuitive forger of colour-scapes.

We are all feeling our way, and autumn is a good time to trust in our own instincts, to turn off the screens, to awaken to our own inner world. There is an occasional tapping on the roof of my new studio, an inquisitive bird, I imagine, pecking at the roof tiles. I’ve heard them in the trees, pecking at wood, no doubt looking for insects. It is a reminder to tap, with whatever tools we have, on the roof of our consciousness, with curiosity and openness. Perhaps a window will open? Or an echo will inspire?

Words can be slow to come, and that is fine. The works of so many painters drift over me, each of them focused, each of them possessed with the courage to evoke the mystery. All I can do today is let them drift. My new studio awaits, and I wonder what might be conjured in that space? Thoughts of the new studio beckon memories of another, the student studio at the Nerdrum School in Norway, where I studied for two months in 2017. Below are diary entries from August 15 and 16 of that year:

“‘Tis a cold and stormy night by the north sea. I can feel the walls shaking in the wind. Masterpieces lurk in the darkness below, oblivious to the storm. How quickly they have become objects to navigate on the way to elsewhere.”

“The morning after the storm the skies are washed clear as a white milky blue. The grasses are heavy with the remnants of frost and the rocks sit like seals which have basked in the sun, the moon, the waves and the ice for millennia. Roedvik Gaard is the name of this place, fingers of stone trailing into the sea, knuckles of sandstone and marble littering the shore. And further back a tower, tucked into the trees. There a dreamer wanders, from canvas to canvas, from shadow to shadow, from light to light.”

The dreamer, in that case, was the master, Odd Nerdrum, who has inspired and guided many of the figurative painters mentioned above. But it is also, by extension, every artist and every person who dreams and creates, in whatever space they can carve out. So, to the breaches, to the roof tops: it is time to tap like the bird, to listen, to tap again.

This year marks the 10th anniversary of the eagerly-anticipated Leap Scarecrow Festival, which will run from October 20 to November 1. Renowned for its one-of-a-kind scarecrow competition, this annual event will be bigger and better than ever before this year to celebrate its milestone birthday.

Attracting visitors annually from far and wide who come to enjoy the weekend of Halloween-themed fun and creativity, Leap Scarecrow Festival has evolved from humble origins, first started by Rita Ryan in 2015, to one of the most popular attractions in Cork County during the Halloween break.

“Every year we have grown and learned from the previous year, making every subsequent year better than the last,” shares festival committee member, Deirdre.

“Initially we just thought it might be nice to have a festival of fun for Halloween, in our quiet little village of Leap, and hoped that maybe a few people from the surrounding areas might find it amusing and come join us,” says Deirdre. “Coming into 2025 we can look back in wonder at how the festival has grown legs, how people travel from all over the country to see Leap for Halloween.”

The scarecrow displays, ranging from hilarious to horrifying, give a spooky spirit to this otherwise quaint village and the 2025 scarecrow competition promises to be the most exciting and ‘spooktacular’ yet. “We encourage all to get involved. Making a scarecrow is a lot easier than you think!”

Along with the scarecrows there are plenty of family-friendly events to enjoy, from parades, puppet shows and storytelling to fun activities.

This year the Church of Ireland on Leap’s Main Street will host two music gigs. The legendary Seán Keane, with support from Skibbereen’s Aoibhe Daly, will perform on Thursday, October 23, and West Cork’s very own LOWmountain, the alt-folk trio of Alan Daniel Tobin, Niall O’Driscoll and Deirdre Hayes Archibold, supported by Leap’s own Ukulele group, will play on Friday, October 24.

Behind-the-scene preparations for the festival begin early, with planning by the committee starting in March and meetings held regularly throughout the year. Volunteers are always welcome. “We are very lucky to have support from the parish in Leap every year and we really appreciate it,” says Deirdre. “As this year is such a huge year for us, we would really love to see more competition entries.  All proceeds raised as usual will go towards local charities.”

Committee member Toddy Hogan reflects on the sense of belonging the festival fosters: “When I moved to Leap 18 months ago, it was a great opportunity to get involved as a volunteer and help out, as well as getting to know people in the community.”

For Deirdre some of the standout moments over the years include the old hag with the fag, as it was so intricately made and also the festival’s first stand-up coffin, which doubled as a cool photo booth. Last year the camouflaged moving scarecrow in a hedge offered a fun scare to all who passed by.

The combination of fun and supernatural creativity makes the Leap Scarecrow Festival an otherworldly event that everyone should experience. Don’t miss out!

Anyone interested in getting involved in this year’s festival can email leapvillagefestivals@gmail.com or make contact through social media – Facebook (Leap Scarecrow Festival) and Instagram (leap.scarecrowfestival).

For the full festival schedule go to www.leapscarecrowfestival.com.