They love us, so why won't we love them in return?

Lorient Interceltic Festival is highlighting a one-sided relationship between the Irish and our fellow Celts, writes Jane Coyle…

Lorient Interceltic Festival is highlighting a one-sided relationship between the Irish and our fellow Celts, writes Jane Coyle

If proof were needed of the enduring love affair between the Bretons and the Irish, it could not have found a more emotional manifestation than in the closing moments of the headline concert of the first Saturday of the 34th Lorient Interceltic Festival.

There was a sense of homecoming about Liam O'Flynn's return to the festival with The Brendan Voyage, Shaun Davey's musical interpretation of St Brendan's sixth-century transatlantic odyssey, which the festival commissioned and premièred in 1980. Introduced as "one of the musical references of contemporary Celtic culture", it was also fondly referred to by Ouest France newspaper as the Interceltic's baby.

As the final notes died away the near-capacity audience in the town's splendid new 1,000-seat theatre refused to bid farewell to O'Flynn, calling him back for two encores. If that were not enough, a wave of the hand by the leader of the festival orchestra brought the 55 musicians to their feet for the final sequence, each clearly delighted to stand and play in tribute to the sturdy little uilleann pipes and a master piper. It was a gesture of respect that brought a smile of delight to the face of the famously sanguine O'Flynn and produced a roar of appreciation from the ecstatic audience.

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In Lorient, it seems, the Irish can do no wrong. Earlier that night the Grand Theatre audience had warmly applauded the mighty playing and good humour of Paddy Glackin and Mícheál Ó Domhnaill, whose selection of Bothy Band classics had paved the way for the arrival of O'Flynn. At the other end of the musical spectrum 10 young up-and-coming traditional soloists were gathered in the Palais des Congrès, striving to do justice to their billing as virtuosos of Ireland.

Jean-Pierre Pichard, the driving force behind this extraordinary annual gathering of Celts, remarks wryly that the love affair between the Irish and Bretons tends to be rather one sided. "The Irish love to be loved," he says. "They want us to listen to their music and revel in their songs, but they are not so keen to listen and love in return. They have made an enormous contribution to the festival over the years, no doubt about that. But it has tended to be one-way traffic. However, 2005 is to be the year of Ireland, so we'll see."

This year's featured nation is Acadia, the French speaking communities of north-eastern Canada, which are celebrating the 400th anniversary of their foundation on those remote, starkly beautiful shores as the first French colony in North America. It was the red, white and blue flag of these fervent francophones, historically resistant to the colonial influence of English, that fluttered proudly at the head of the enormous parade that wound its way through the naval town's streets on the first Sunday of the festival.

This year, as usual, the sun blazed down on the parade's 3,500 dancers and musicians, unseasonably costumed in the embroidered velvet dresses and breeches, plaid kilts, long flannel skirts and linen blouses of their native lands. It is equally a test of stamina for the 65,000 spectators, some perched high on telephone kiosks, telegraph poles and dustbins to get the best view of the spectacle.

The festival continues to thrill Pichard. Since 1970 his vision has turned a modest celebration of Celtic culture in a forgotten corner of France into an event that the business newspaper Les Echos called "the most important festival in France", operating on a budget of €4 million and attracting 600,000 visitors over 10 days.

For every decade of the past 34 years he has set targets, encouraging improved standards in Celtic music and fostering a more forward-looking attitude among his native people. It was far from easy, he recalls, when he was based in Paris and striving to make Breton music popular. "Everybody was laughing at me, this small Breton boy in the capital. I was invited onto the Association of French Festivals and I was the only traditional representative on it, among all these people from classical, jazz and lyrical backgrounds. Then I became president of the association, and they had to start taking notice of me."

In 1993 he persuaded Murphy's to put serious money into a St Patrick's Day spectacular in Paris, which in 2004 drew almost 50,000 spectators to the Stade de France. Next year he wants to spread the Lorient brand further afield; he is negotiating a St David's Day event at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff.

The Irish Ambassador to France, Pádraic MacKernan, made his first visit to Lorient at the weekend, to give official support for Ireland's place in the limelight next year. He also expressed his support for the establishment of Irish as an official EU language, declaring it sad to lose a language in a generation simply by being "too close to English, the dominant language of the economy".

In declaring his aims for the next decade, Pichard took the Irish example as his inspiration. "Between 2000 and 2010 I want to make Lorient the meeting place of all the Celtic creatives: musicians, writers, painters, politicians. Next year we will be inviting the prime ministers of Ireland, Scotland and Wales - and maybe Northern Ireland too.

"We need to start exporting our know-how and taking it around the world, like Ireland has done. Successive Irish governments have used the country's creative talent to give it an identity. In Ireland culture is supported and treated as something special. My aim is to make the Breton people more open minded and appreciative of other cultures. We must learn to love our own culture and respect others. The thing about the Irish is that they think their culture is the best in the world - but they don't tell anyone!"