"Luke Kelly was Ireland’s best-known folk singer — he was also a lifelong socialist."

"Remembering Luke Kelly."

(this is a reprint, but a worthwhile one)

Granted, I mention Luke Kelly fairly often here at this pro bono publication. Pedantry suits me, and I'm grimly determined that readers know who he was and what he stood for.

Luke Kelly truly was a troubadour of the downtrodden.

THE BEER BEAT: A pint of bitter, please, because it's The Dubliners at the The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club, 1977.

Luke Kelly's last performance, 1983.

Entirely coincidental to the yearly arrival of St. Patrick's Day, the missus has been watching an Irish television series called "Striking Out."

Set in Dublin and Wicklow, it's a soap-opera about lawyers and their role in a political scandal connected to the real-world Irish property bust ten years ago, and the reason I bring it up is apart from the performers' accents, scenic drone panoramas of the local landscape and occasional pint of Guinness, there is little to set this drama apart from one situated in London, New York City or Shanghai.

I'm not necessarily objecting to any of this. After all, modernity. While my memories of Ireland 34 years ago are missing mobile phones, specialty coffee carry-out cups and nattily attired Eurofessionals, it is unreasonable to expect the planet to stop spinning while we revert to rural thatched Irish stereotypes of the sort embraced by people who don't actually live there, celebrating their St. Patrick's Days with green beer and car bombs.

Or by me, while reading this excellent account of Luke Kelly's political grounding and its musical context. This hero of mine died 35 years ago, and his country has changed quite a lot since then.

What hasn't changed is the power of ideas, or the way music can express them -- and I submit to you that this is why Luke still matters.

Ireland’s Red Troubadour, by Ronan Burtenshaw (Jacobin)

Luke Kelly was Ireland’s best-known folk singer — he was also a lifelong socialist.

... In this earliest phase of his musical development, he saw his socialism and his growing love for folk music to be inextricably linked. “The music of the left-wing,” he thought, “was romantic and rejuvenating.” As his talent grew Luke took to spending his weekend touring Irish pubs with the Connolly Association selling its newspaper The Irish Democrat. As one of its leading members Sean Redmond would recall to Des Geraghty, “the drill was quite simple. He would go up to the stage or music stand, sing a few songs, then announce that he was here selling the Connolly Association’s newspaper and he expected everyone to buy one.”

But by 1962 the paths of politics and music were beginning to diverge. Seeing great potential in his intellect and application, George Thompson arranged for Luke Kelly to go to university in Prague to further his political development. Availing of this opportunity would almost certainly have meant giving up his musical career—so a choice had to be made. Although still committed to socialist politics, Luke had by this time caught the folk music bug. He turned down the chance to study in Prague and packed his bags for a trip elsewhere, returning to his native Dublin as it was beginning to sway with the winds of the 1960s.

Rhiannon Giddens: "The musician reveals all about her mission to put the black back into bluegrass – and Shakespeare."

It's completely embarrassing to admit that up until now, I've know nothing about Rhiannon Giddens and her music. At the same time, it's just another crucial reminder that the opportunity to learn is ever-present, even if we abstain from it or miss the chance the first time around.

'White people are so fragile, bless 'em' … meet Rhiannon Giddens, banjo warrior, by Emma John (The Guardian)

She pours fire and fury into powerful songs that target everything from police shootings to slavery. The musician reveals all about her mission to put the black back into bluegrass – and Shakespeare

‘We’re all racist to some degree,” says Rhiannon Giddens. “Just like we’re all privileged to some degree. I have privilege in my system because I’m light-skinned. I hear people say, ‘I didn’t have it easy growing up either.’ But when did it become a competition?”

As someone on a mission to bridge such divides, Giddens thinks about this stuff a lot. The Grammy-winning singer and songwriter was born to a white father and a black mother in Greensboro, North Carolina, in the late 1970s. Her parents married only three years after the landmark Loving v Virginia decision, which reversed the anti-miscegenation laws that had made interracial marriage illegal. Their union was still shocking enough that her father was disinherited.

While much has changed in the 40 years that Giddens has been alive, her latest album, Freedom Highway, is a powerful testament to the inequality and injustice that remain. It opens with At the Purchaser’s Option, a devastating track inspired by an 1830s advert for a female slave whose nine-month-old baby could also be included in the sale. “It was kind of a statement to put that one first,” says Giddens. “If you can get past that, you’ll probably survive the rest ...”

"Luke Kelly was Ireland’s best-known folk singer — he was also a lifelong socialist."

"Remembering Luke Kelly."

Granted, I mention Luke Kelly fairly often here at this pro bono publication. Pedantry suits me, and I'm grimly determined that readers know who he was and what he stood for.

Luke Kelly truly was a troubadour of the downtrodden.

THE BEER BEAT: A pint of bitter, please, because it's The Dubliners at the The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club, 1977.

Luke Kelly's last performance, 1983.

Entirely coincidental to the yearly arrival of St. Patrick's Day, the missus has been watching an Irish television series called "Striking Out."

Set in Dublin and Wicklow, it's a soap-opera about lawyers and their role in a political scandal connected to the real-world Irish property bust ten years ago, and the reason I bring it up is apart from the performers' accents, scenic drone panoramas of the local landscape and occasional pint of Guinness, there is little to set this drama apart from one situated in London, New York City or Shanghai.

I'm not necessarily objecting to any of this. After all, modernity. While my memories of Ireland 30 years ago are missing mobile phones, specialty coffee carry-out cups and nattily attired Eurofessionals, it is unreasonable to expect the planet to stop spinning while we revert to rural thatched Irish stereotypes of the sort embraced by people who don't actually live there, celebrating their St. Patrick's Days with green beer and car bombs.

Or by me, while reading this excellent account of Luke Kelly's political grounding and its musical context. This hero of mine died 34 years ago, and his country has changed quite a lot since then.

What hasn't changed is the power of ideas, or the way music can express them -- and I submit to you that this is why Luke still matters.

Ireland’s Red Troubadour, by Ronan Burtenshaw (Jacobin)

Luke Kelly was Ireland’s best-known folk singer — he was also a lifelong socialist.

... In this earliest phase of his musical development, he saw his socialism and his growing love for folk music to be inextricably linked. “The music of the left-wing,” he thought, “was romantic and rejuvenating.” As his talent grew Luke took to spending his weekend touring Irish pubs with the Connolly Association selling its newspaper The Irish Democrat. As one of its leading members Sean Redmond would recall to Des Geraghty, “the drill was quite simple. He would go up to the stage or music stand, sing a few songs, then announce that he was here selling the Connolly Association’s newspaper and he expected everyone to buy one.”

But by 1962 the paths of politics and music were beginning to diverge. Seeing great potential in his intellect and application, George Thompson arranged for Luke Kelly to go to university in Prague to further his political development. Availing of this opportunity would almost certainly have meant giving up his musical career—so a choice had to be made. Although still committed to socialist politics, Luke had by this time caught the folk music bug. He turned down the chance to study in Prague and packed his bags for a trip elsewhere, returning to his native Dublin as it was beginning to sway with the winds of the 1960s.

Video documentary: The Dubliners -- Live in Germany, circa 1995.

Five Beards on the Road (2005; re-released in 2007 as On The Road - Live In Germany) -- originally filmed for release in Germany in 1995.

---

Between this discovery ...

THE BEER BEAT: A pint of bitter, please, because it's The Dubliners at the The Wheeltappers and Shunters Social Club, 1977.

... and this lamentable news item ...

R.I.P. Eamonn Campbell, Irish musical legend, 1946-2017.

... I've been cast into another Dubliners vortex, something that happens once a year like clockwork, and sometimes more often.

There were eleven primary members of The Dubliners over a period of 50 years (1962- 2012), with various other musicians plugging holes when necessary.

When this documentary was filmed circa 1994, three decades into their run, founding members Luke Kelly and Ciarán Bourke were long dead, though Sean Cannon and Eamonn Campbell were excellent players, too, and in my estimation, this period probably was the peak of the post-Kelly period.

The film itself is part travelogue, part concert. It's a German production and takes place almost entirely in Germany, testifying to the popularity of the band in northern Europe and Scandinavia. From the 1980s forward, while The Dubliners remained beloved in the group's native Ireland, tours of Europe were an annual ritual.

Ronnie Drew mentions this in the documentary, noting that The Dubliners were the first Irish "folk" band (not all of its members agree with the use of the term) to gain a following in places like Germany.

There are many good insights here, as well as songs both well known and obscure. If you are a fan of music in the universal sense, it's a good way to use two hours of your day.

Dylan: "Right from the start, my songs were divisive for some reason."

Forget the specific contexts of music and songwriting. Dylan's speech provides considerable insight into the creative process as it pertains to just about any endeavor. It's a long but worthwhile read.

Transcript of Bob Dylan's MusiCares Person of Year speech, by Randall Roberts (LA Times Pop & Hiss blog)

Bob Dylan was honored by MusiCares, the charity organization that aids musicians in need, at the Los Angeles Convention Center on Friday night. After performances by artists including Tom Jones, Sheryl Crow, Neil Young, Beck, Jackson Browne and others, Dylan himself took a rare opportunity in the spotlight to deliver a 30-plus-minute acceptance speech.

Expansive, funny and insightful, Dylan didn't pull any punches, calling out songwriters who had criticized his work while indicting Nashville and commercial country music.

R.I.P. Pete Seeger: "I will tell you of a hero, who's now dead and gone."

"For Mr. Seeger, folk music and a sense of community were inseparable, and where he saw a community, he saw the possibility of political action."

Substitute the words "better beer" for "folk music," and you'll understand by regret at not being able to play a musical instrument. But you use whatever tools are at your disposal, and for Pete Seeger, they were songs.

Pete Seeger, Songwriter and Champion of Folk Music, Dies at 94, by Jon Pareles (New York Times)

Pete Seeger, the singer, folk-song collector and songwriter who spearheaded an American folk revival and spent a long career championing folk music as both a vital heritage and a catalyst for social change, died Monday. He was 94 and lived in Beacon, N.Y.

His death was confirmed by his grandson, Kitama Cahill Jackson, who said he died of natural causes at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

Mr. Seeger’s career carried him from singing at labor rallies to the Top 10 to college auditoriums to folk festivals, and from a conviction for contempt of Congress (after defying the House Un-American Activities Committee in the 1950s) to performing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial at an inaugural concert for Barack Obama.

For Mr. Seeger, folk music and a sense of community were inseparable, and where he saw a community, he saw the possibility of political action.