Iarla Ó Lionáird would prefer not be categorised, and his new album follows an ambitious arc that challenges musical identity. But there’s no doubt he is one of our most distinctive voices
DISTINCTIVE VOICES are always a welcome arrival, regardless of the orbits they choose, and Iarla Ó Lionáird’s is one that ventures far beyond the boundaries of any one genre: a defiantly unclassifiable sound.
He’s a child of traditional music, born and bred in Cúil Aodha, in the belly of the Cork Gaeltacht, with Seán Ó Riada a neighbour and indisputable early influence. His grand aunt, the traditional singer Bess Cronin, had forged a reputation for rich interpretation before him, paving the way for the young Ó Lionáird to still audiences with his plaintive, textured voice at Mass, and later, in parlours, front rooms, snugs, town halls and concert halls.
The mood of Ó Lionáird's third solo album, Foxlight,is one of buoyant lightness, with shards of darkness slicing through it. His last album, Invisible Fields, was released in 2005. Lengthy gestation, resulting in the release of work that is fully realised, is a hallmark of Ó Lionáird's recorded output. Living outside Inistiogue in Kilkenny, he's sanguine about the ways in which life inevitably influences his music, his singing and his writing in ways which he might not have bargained on before. Ó Lionáird has three children, so it's unsurprising that fatherhood has impinged on his perspective, and this is palpable in his songwriting.
“Really, my kids are the future. I’m not,” Ó Lionáird muses, having come to an understanding with himself about the relationship between art and mortality. “I’m living my present in service to their future, in a way. Despite the fact that you go through life doing your own thing, and it all appears to be about yourself, when you have kids, it isn’t like that any more. You have a lot less time to think about yourself. And so, [his song] Daybreak is about the fact that it’s all about them.
“And that they will be there, and I won’t, but that’s okay. The thought that you wouldn’t be there any more could be very upsetting to a person, but I found the solution in thinking about them. The equation had a solution and it didn’t trouble me any more. Once I acquiesced to the notion that ‘is sibh a bheidh ann’ [‘that you will remain’], that’s cool, you know. So fatherhood has had an immersive effect on my preoccupations as I write, as it would do with anyone, I’m sure. I’m no different.”
Foxlightfollows an ambitious arc through traditional songs such as Fáinne Geal An Laeand The Goat Song, with a beautiful reading of O'Carolan's Eleanor Plunkett,and a kaleidoscopic range of original material, written by Ó Lionáird. His producer, Leo Abrahams, brings cool, clean lines to the arrangements, having worked previously with Brian Eno, David Byrne, Gavin Bryars and Nick Cave, among others.
It's a collection that refuses to be corralled, weaving the mood music of the title track with the transcendence of Lámh Le Lámhand the mournful resignation of Stay. Abrahams' influence can be characterised as "the light at the end of each phrase", he says.
Although Ó Lionáird has never rejected his sean-nós roots, he has long vacated the space where “traditional singer” might have defined him. For him, making music is less about playing to the strictures of any musical genre than it is about stretching his abilities as a singer and a songwriter with something to say.
“The idea of writing songs was something I always wanted to do,” he says, “but I inherited this identity as an interpreter of old songs, and it seemed that it wasn’t really encouraged to mix those two identities. In media terms, I’m always seeing that binary: ‘Iarla Ó Lionáird’ and ‘sean-nós singer’. It disappoints me a little that there isn’t sufficient oxygen in the media to fully explore the complex identities of artists. When I set out to do an album, I aim to create things that didn’t exist before, from nothing. Even with Foxlight, I didn’t record the traditional songs until the end, because I was synthesising what I was doing. Everything is new, everything is different, everything is generative of the things that come after, and linked to the thing that went before.”
The truth is, it’s the individual sonic qualities of Iarla Ó Lionáird’s voice that define him. That voice, with all its midnight depth and soaring breadth, transcends anything that might box or classify him as one thing or another.
“I came to the conclusion a few years ago that what really is my identity is the sound I make rather than any notion of me being a culture bearer,” he says, with a certain relief at the simplicity of the supposition. “Whatever I got in Cúil Aodha, I’ve carried with me, and I’ve married that with a deep need to explore my own musical voice, paint using my own colours. There’s no way back from that really.”
Such clarity is at the heart of Ó Lionáird’s collaborations with The Gloaming (Martin Hayes, Dennis Cahill, Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh and Thomas Bartlett), whose debut tour last summer attracted record audiences and rave reviews in equal measure. The band will reunite early this year in New York, with a March concert mooted for Dublin and, after that, an album is promised. Through these disparate activities, Ó Lionáird hopes that “the plasma of the band can be contained and maintained”. Alongside that, he’s also currently revving up to record a new album with fiddler Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, and another with Steve Cooney. Ó Lionáird’s previous work with the Afro Celts signposted a way which was never going to be predictable.
Foxlightis shot through with light that ricochets in many directions. From the childlike innocence of The Goat Songto the luminous Daybreak, with its plangent vocals from Norwegian chanter Sara Marielle Gaup, the shapes Ó Lionáird's voice makes are suggestive rather than directive, conjuring subtle moods that float to the surface almost imperceptibly.
"Emotion is a thought process," he offers, explaining his approach to this latest studio outing. "It's vastly more powerful than any other form of thinking, and any other form of experience. What's great about making records is that you have the privilege of exploring that form of thinking: thinking using emotion. In Foxlight,I wanted to do that, and how I do it is through the sound of my voice."
Foxlighthas its fair share of shade, too. Ó Lionáird has never shirked the shadows. Much of what distinguishes his music is in how he's put a finger on life's more obscured experiences: the light and shadow of birth, the ageing experience and the anticipation of death. Ultimately, Iarla Ó Lionáird sees his latest foray into the studio as just another step in a circuitous journey, whose destination remains unknown.
“One thing I’ve learned is that there is no possible end,” he says. “Your relationship to your own sound is like the rotation of the Earth. It goes on. It can’t stop. You just have to be awake to it. When I started out as a singer, I wasn’t. I was only awake to the experience and the ecstasy of singing out, whereas there are many other ecstasies: the ecstasy of singing, to be quietly in the presence of what you want to say. Thankfully, with Leo Abrahams’s stewardship, I was given the time to really find all the narratives of the sound that my voice can possibly make.”
Foxlightis now out on Real World Records
On the record
Key works by Iarla Ó Lionáird
Invisible Fields(RealWorld Records)
I Could Read The Sky(Real World Records)
Grá Agus Básby Donnacha Dennehy
And brace yourself for new albums this year from Ó Lionáird with, Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, Steve Cooney and The Gloaming.
