EAMON de Valera would probably find much to applaud in the Irish music scene in 2004. Not so much as a soundtrack for dancing at the crossroads, of course, but rather the way in which self-sufficiency has become a badge of honour, writes Jim Carroll.

Self-sufficiency, de Valera quickly decided when he came face-to-face with the nation's economic woes in the 1930s, was the only way forward. Self- sufficiency, Irish musicians of every hue are finding out, can also be a virtue when it comes to the business of selling records.

By concentrating on the domestic market and cutting their cloth to suit, many Irish acts are matching their ambitions for the very first time by actually selling enough records to get by. Every Friday morning, the new charts roll out new proofs of this pudding. Acts who were previously confined to warming barstools are now new entries at the sharp end of the charts. Bands dismissed once, twice or even three times as also-rans are having the last laugh. New- school singer- songwriters, a scene which will be shown with time to be the most musically unhealthy phenomenon of all, are having to employ bean-counters to fill out their VAT returns.

Of course, there are many different degrees of self- sufficiency on show here. Some acts are merely proving that you don't have to be in hock to major labels to get by; others are showing that you don't have to dress like Westlife, look like Ronan Keating or dance like Joe Dolan to make your living from music.

However, there's another side to this self-sufficiency lark which has all kinds of ramifications, but has received little comment. For the first time in a very long time, a huge number of Irish acts are just not bothered about selling records anywhere else. Forget the maxim that "if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere" and say hello to the dubious belief that "if you can make it here, you don't have to make it anywhere else".

Of course, there are exceptions (and I'm sure I will be duly reminded of many more), but not every act has any interest in or desire to match Damien Rice, Snow Patrol or The Thrills in American tours and spirit- sapping promotional slogs. Some already had a taste of what was involved and didn't like the hard work that came with getting on a plane or boat to go sell records somewhere else.

Sure, artists think it's a good idea, but when push comes to shove and it's their turn to jump, it's easier to do another Irish tour, play a few aul' ironic cover versions on Ray D'Arcy's radio show, and sell some more records to the natives. At least they will always be able to make it back to their favourite tavern before closing time.

Let's be clear, though, about one thing. It's not about a lack

of ambition, but rather a different set of ambitions. The bar has been lowered so that expectations now are nearly always met. The days of tramping around England in the back of a van have been replaced for many with a bootload of gold and silver Irish discs. There's no need for showcases in London in front of bored, disinterested A&R men when you can sell out Whelan's, The Village or Vicar St.

Many of you will quote Van Morrison here and ask what's wrong with this picture. Short- term, nothing at all. Long-term, however, this scenario is not so healthy. Not only is the Irish market too small to constantly support Stepford Wife singer- songwriters, but the lack of an international dimension and challenge brings increased insularity and artistic complacency. Worse, it means international markets are no longer pushed about finding out about Irish acts beyond the big tickets like Rice.

Our government has as good

as said that it doesn't recognise the export potential of the Irish music scene, but local acts shouldn't contribute to this situation by passivity and in- action. After all, self-sufficiency was never supposed to be about taking the easy way out.