Edel Coffey: Documenting and remembering the voices and artists of Ireland
Edel Coffey. Photo: Ray Ryan
Last weekend, I went along to see the writer Colm Tóibín give his first lecture as Ireland’s laureate for Irish fiction. Lecture is probably the wrong word, as ‘lecture’ sounds so deeply punitive and boring and unenjoyable, whereas anyone who has heard Colm Tóibín talk in any capacity will know that he is one of the most entertaining speakers you will ever listen to. The talk was entitled, , and saw Tóibín relay all sorts of hilarious stories from his life as a lover of music, from childhood right through to adulthood. He spoke about his first time witnessing great Irish singers such as Maighréad and Tríona Ni Dhomhnaill and Iarla Ó Lionárd. And then, those extraordinary singers quietly appeared on the stage and if we hadn’t understood from Tóibín’s words just how special they were, we realised it as soon as they started singing.
Tóibín’s talk was interspersed with stories, not just of music, but of Irishness at different times in his life, the decorum involved in a sing-song or trad session, our heritage, and the type of people we are, from the islanders to the difference between Dubliners and the rest of the country. Being from Enniscorthy, Tóibín often fell between two stools in that Dubliners identified him as an outsider, while the rest of the country mistook him for a Dubliner (a terrible burden).
