Perched high on a hill on the red side of the North Cork/East Kerry border, the village of Knocknagree is a suitably lofty peak for the cultural capital of Sliabh Luachra to rest. I whiled away a good few childhood hours gazing up at the place. On clear nights, I could see its streetlights shining from my bedroom window five miles downhill on the green and gold side of the tracks in Rathmore.
Not only were the shimmering lights visible but occasionally soundwaves from there would make it to my window too. By some miracle of science, the music at carnival time would echo all the way across the Blackwater Valley to reach my curious ears. Hearing music on the radio was one thing, but when it came from the hilltops on Summer nights it felt like a special kind of magic. That’s what piqued my curiosity. There was a hill to be climbed.
The source of the river
I did say streetlights but there aren't so much streets as one big village green or 'fairfield'. Before the advent of the modern cattle-mart it was the venue for one of the largest livestock fairs in Munster. Everywhere there were ghostly signs that the village's previous life was a bustling one. Word was that there were once seventeen public houses on the square. There are few left now but the one whose loss is most lamented is Dan O'Connell's. That was the source of the river of sound that flowed all the way to my door.
Sliabh Luachra's unique brand of traditional music was once described by its proprietor as a state of mind. He knew what he was talking about. It's a part of the world where the music is inextricably linked to the dance. The style of polka music that fuels the fire in the area has a particular tempo. The faster the rhythm, the better. Dan O' Connell was at his happiest when his floor was taking a pounding. I was lucky enough to witness the room spinning on such nights. It was my introduction to dance music, a baptism of fire.
This wonderful recording captures the pulsating atmosphere of those sessions perfectly. It opens with a cry of 'now boys!' before Tony McMahon and Noel Hill launch into the Humours of Castlefin. The pace is lightning fast from the off but the virtuoso skill of the players means there is no sacrificing of subtlety for speed.
The button accordion and concertina set off a journey into sound like two best friends skipping through the green on fair day. Theirs’ is a soulful conversation. It’s uplifting and infectious. The dancers hit the floor like thunder. There is palpable joy in the air. This is more than just a record. It’s a slice of life.
