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Gamle gubber og Mickey Mousers

From: UD 7/96
By: Vegard Enlid

The Dubliners har, etter over 30 �r i gamet, blitt selve symbolet p� irsk folkemusikk. De tror det er melodiene i den irske musikken som appellerer til folk, og de har ogs� meninger om den politiske situasjonen p� den gr�nne �ya.


The Dubliners best�r av gamle menn. Mer enn ett intervju om dagen tar p�. P1 har gjort unna sitt, og gutta er slitne. Men banjospiller Barney McKenna, medlem helt fra starten for over 30 �r siden, gir oss likevel audiens. 10 minutter maks, sier manageren, bekymret for at krefter og hum�r skal ta slutt f�r konserten i det hele tatt har begynt.

Mangler skjegg

� Hvor lenge har dere tenkt � holde p� med dette her?

� Vi vet ikke! I alle fall ett �r til. Det er definitivt. Antakelig vil vi holde p� til vi d�r. Ikke sant, karer!, roper McKenna til de andre gubbene. De mumler samtykkende i skjegget fra sitt tilhold i sofakroken.

Ronnie Drew, �Founding Father� av The Dubliners sammen med McKenna og avd�de Luke Kelly, gikk solo sommeren 1995. Flere band enn The Dubliners har lagt inn �rene n�r sentrale medlemmer har forlatt bandet.

� Vi tenkte overhodet ikke p� � gi oss. Det er klart det blir litt rart n�r Ronnie, som har v�rt med i bandet s� lenge, gir seg. Men Ronnie har g�tt solo f�r, han. Det skal ikke forundre meg om han kommer tilbake om et par �r. Dessuten har vi f�tt en glimrende erstatter i Paddy Reilly. Han er en etablert artist i Irland, og har allerede tilf�rt bandet mye.

� Men hvor er skjegget hans?

� Han blir mobbet litt for akkurat d�t. Han har aldri hatt skjegg f�r, men det er ikke umulig at vi presser ham til � anlegge ansiktsh�r. Tiden vil vise om han bryter sammen snart!, humrer McKenna.

Melodisk styrke

Irsk folkemusikk finner et stadig st�rre publikum, s�rlig blant unge musikklyttere.

� Interessen for musikken g�r litt opp og ned. Den irske folkemusikken levde jo ganske isolert p� den lille �ya v�r helt til utp� 70-tallet. Samtidig hadde den ekte folkemusikken vanskelige vilk�r i Irland. Irland er et religi�st land, og folkemusikken ble sett p� som syndig. N�r den n� er popul�r igjen, tror jeg det skyldes den melodiske styrken i irsk musikk. �Den gr�nne b�lgen� har ogs� hjulpet andre lands musikere til � finne fram til sitt eget lands folkemusikk, tror McKenna, som fortsetter:

� Jeg liker folkemusikk som tar opp i seg ytterligheter. De svarte i New Orleans hadde jo et skille mellom blues, den triste ytterligheten, og swing/dixieland, som uttrykte gleden. Det er et hovedtrekk ogs� i v�r musikk. Vi har �reels� og �jigs� som er glad dansemusikk, og de �triste� folkeballadene.

McKenna tror ikke n�dvendigvis det er noen �konflikt� mellom popmusikk og folkemusikk:

� Popmusikken dreier seg stort sett om �love�. Det gj�r for all del folkemusikken ogs�, men forteller samtidig om �the walk of life and the people who walk the land�. Dagens unge har et mer avslappet forhold til folkemusikken. De kan g� p� disco den ene kvelden, og p� Dubliners-konsert den neste.


Irland b�r forenes

Den politiske situasjonen i Irland er veldig spent for tida. Hvordan stiller et band som The Dubliners seg til situasjonen?

� Vi i Dubliners st�tter helt klart kampen for et forent Irland. Vi synger jo stolte oppr�rssanger som �Foggy Dew� om p�skeoppr�ret i 1916. Problemet med England er at de nekter � innse at de ikke er en stormakt lenger. Men imperiet er d�dt. Hele den irske �ya er en kulturell enhet, og b�r ogs� forenes politisk. Men dette betyr ikke n�dvendigvis at vi st�tter metodene partene tar i bruk. Det er mange �Mickey Mousers out there�, p� begge sider i konflikten, sier McKenna oppgitt.

� All we want is peace...

Vi g�r over til et hyggeligere tema. Skal vi tro McKenna, er det ikke siste gang bandet bes�ker Norge.

� Vi dr�mmer om � gjennomf�re en 3-ukers turn� langs norskekysten, sier han dr�mmende, f�r han gir oss en leksjon i norske kyststeder som ville ha gitt enhver geografil�rer v�te dr�mmer.

� Is that alright, boys? halvt sp�r og halvt fastsl�r gamle McKenna etter hele 20 minutters prat, og vi skj�nner nok en gang at de gamle er eldst...

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A long way from there to here

From: Hot Press no. 20, October 15th 1997
By: Colm O'Hare

With 35 years on the road behind them, THE DUBLINERS are the roots of Irish music. Interview: Colm O'Hare. The Rolling Stones aren't the only ones celebrating 35 years on the road this year. Those other hardy perennials, the Dubliners are also 35 years-a-greying - and with a new livealbum and a European tour in the offing, they're still showing no signs of slowing down. However, fiddle player and founder member John Sheahan reckons his rumbustious outfit have played far more gigs than Jagger's blues boys have.

"We still do about 130 shows a year," he states, "though we've slowed down slightly in recent years. We used to do 30 dates on the trot, without a break, but now it's down to about 18 at a time." As to their amazing longevity and stamina, Sheahan has his own theory: "We never got into pot or groupies or anything like that," he says. "Just plenty of serious drinking!" Along with the endless touring and equally vigorous cultivation of facial hair, the Dubliners have recorded and released dozens of singles and albums, making it onto Top Of The Pops on two occasions - albeit 20 years apart. Their latest album Alive Alive O, recorded on last year's hugely successful German tour, features a selection of songs and tunes from their entire career. For Sheahan, it was yet another opportunity to reminisce and look back on those early days. "There's no doubt that the '60's was a special decade for us", he says. "There was a whole new ballad scene, we were in the middle of it and there was a great air of excitement about the place. Our attitude was 'Here we are, take it or leave it'. The way we presented the music made it exciting. The guitars were the key to it, I think. Before that, Irish music had been played in celidh bands on accordions. Though he partakes of an occasional drop now, back then Sheahan was the only non-drinker among a bunch whose reputation for sinking pints was legendary. Was the drinking as wild as it was reputed to be at the time? "It was probably slightly exaggerated, but there was a fair share of it involved," he recalls. "The worst thing for me was trying to get them out of a pub and to the gig on time. Or even worse, getting them home after the gig. It was always 'Ah sure, we'll have another one'. "On one occasion I was getting frustrated - it was three in the morning with no sign of the boys moving out of the bar. I passed the barman a fiver to close the bar. But it stayed open. I was chatting to Ronnie the next day and I was complaining about the barman: 'I gave him a fiver to close the place and throw us out', I told him. He laughed and said: 'We paid him a tenner to keep it open.'." However, there was a lot of hard work involved too, and at one point the group was so popular that they'd perform several times in one day, as Sheahan recalls. "We used to do an early evening gig in the Royal Hotel in Howth on a Sunday and then head in for a midnight show in the Gafton Cinema. Theree was no bar but people would smuggle in carry-outs. I remember one night Luke Kelly was doing an unaccompanied version of 'Blackwaterside' and there was an almighty crash of bottles. He stopped singing and said: 'I've absolutely no time for anyone who can't hold their drink!' "Luke was always great for the one-liners. At one gig in Galway a bloke shouted up: 'Hey woolly head!' Luke glared back and said: 'At least mine is only woollen on the outside'." The biggest change the group has witnessed in recent years has been the departure of founder member Ronnie Drew and his replacement by balladeer Paddy Reilly. Though this came as something of a surprise to outsiders, the members of the Dubliners were well prepared for it. "He gave a warning about six months before he left. He was working on a solo album at the time anyway, so it didn't come as a great shock. My firts choice to replace him was Paddy Reilly. He'd filled in a couple of times over the years such as when Luke became ill." However, according to Sheahan, Reilly was apprehensive when first approached to fil Drew's shoes on a permanent basis. "He gave it a lot of consideration. He was a bit concerned about losing his own identity. So we came to a compromise. We don't do much work in the springtime so that leaves him free to do his own thing. But it's worked out well - he hadn't played much in Europe over the years, so it was a new experience for him." Sheahan feels that bringing new blood into the group usually gives a new lease of life, citing the addition of Eamonn Campbell in 1987 as an example: "It was his idea to do the song with the Pogues ('The Irish Rover') and introduced us to a much younger audience. I remember shortly after that, we were playing a venue in Sweden," continues Sheahan. "Downstairs there was a rock club where there was a line up of punks in leather jackets queuing up. One of them came upstairs to our gig and we said: 'The rock venue is downstairs'. 'But we're here to see the Dubliners', they replied." Sheahan, always known as the quiet man in the group, has had his own share of solo success. His fiddle tune 'The Marino Waltz' became popular after it was used in a Bord na Mona advert, and he's also played sessions for a variety of stars including Kate Bush. "She was recording her Hounds of Love album in Windmill Lane with Bill Whelan and I was asked to play on it," he recalls. "She was a lovely girl. At the time I was interested in origami - the Japanese art of paper folding - and I was messing around with it in the studio while waiting around. A few weeks later I got a parcel from her in the post. It was special origami paper from Japan where she was touring. She still sends me cards every Christmas."
The Dubliners 'Alive Alive O' (Live in Germany) is out now on Baycourt Records

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The Dubliners & Shane MacGowan at the Grand, Clapham

From: The Guardian February 16th 1993
By: Robin Denselow

THIS was a special event, and the mood matched the music - rousing, emotional and at times painfully sad. The Dubliners, the original roaring boys of the Irish folk scene in the sixties, had teamed up with the tottering figure who fused their gutsy, traditional style with punk in the mid-eighties - and produced some of the most memorable songs of that awkward decade.

 Shane MacGowan left the Pogues at a time when he was said to be drinking himself to death. Now, he was tempted back on stage to rediscover his roots, and it seemed that half of London's Irish community had packed the Grand to see what would happen.

 The first half consisted of a standard Dubliners set. Five bearded veterans stood in a row playing guitars, tin whistle, fiddle and banjo, tackling songs that can be heard in Irish bars any night of the week, but sounding instantly distinctive thanks to Ronnie Drew's gruff vocals, and the rapid fire banjo of Barney McKenna, who now looks like an unkempt, mischievous gnome. They started with Dominic Behan's McAlpine's Fusiliers, a bitter-sweet song about Irish migrant workers they first recorded 27 years ago, and followed with traditional ballads and reels that showed just how far they influenced the Pogues.

 MacGowan eventually came on in a suit, tousled hair and the makings of a Dubliners' beard, clutching a cigarette and a pint of Guinness. He looked terrible but sounded terrific, with a quite unexpected authority. When he roared into Ewan MacColl's Dirty Old Town (the Pogues' hit that the Dubliners first recorded back in the sixties) he still had a wild and gutsy soulful energy, even in his sorry, shaky state. The finale, of Irish Rover and the Wild Rover, with the Pogues' Spider Stacy joining in, was as fine a boozy sing-along as you could hope for - if it weren't for the sobering thought that MacGowan looked as if he couldn't survive too many nights like this.

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