I come from a part of the world where, not so long ago, the storyteller was king. The area Sliabh Liachra straddles the Cork and Kerry border. Beneath the shadow of the Paps Mountains, the rambling house was like a pre-internet version of a television, nightclub, tea-shop and newsroom all rolled into one.
The extraordinary hospitality and rich conversation you’ll often still encounter in rural parts of the country are remnants of those places and that time.
Eamon Kelly was born into one such house in Gneeveguilla on the Kerry side of the border. After becoming a distinguished actor with the Gate and Abbey, he honed his skills as a storyteller and performed the traditional role of seanchaí to great acclaim.
In ancient Celtic culture, the history of the people was not written down but memorised in long lyric poems which were recited by bards, or fili. The role of the seanchaí echoed that tradition, while perhaps taking a little more liberty with the truth of the story.
Embellishment was a privilege they earned. It was a craft in many ways but particularly in the use of idiosyncratic styles of speech and gestures peculiar to the Irish folk tradition. Ultimately the place for the seanchaí to have the listener was in the palm of his hand.
My exposure to the world of Eamon Kelly lead me to this wonderful collection of traveller’s stories recited by Johnny ‘Pops’ Cassidy and recorded by Alen MacWeeney in 1967. Delightfully, three songs pepper the collection, but it is the charm and musicality of Johnny’s stories that steal the show.
Understanding the gist of what’s going on takes time. Lore has it that Johnny “got a box in the throttle” as a kid. The rattle in his voice adds another layer of drama to his rich and colourful musings.
Then there are the three songs sung by his daughter Kitty and son Andy. The sweetness of the version of the Dean Martin song is utterly disarming. It’s a universe away from the worldwide webs we entangle ourselves in now .
