For many Americans, March 17 is the day to cut loose and LARP Flogging Mollyâs sloppy anthem âDrunken Lullabiesâ while chugging green beer and pretending to jig. If youâd rather protect your liver and dignity from the wrath of St. Patrick, Iâd like to suggest pouring yourself a quiet pint and listening to Clannad.
Formed in County Donegal in the early â70s, Clannad is Moya, CiarĂĄn, and PĂłl Brennan and their uncles Noel Duggan and the late PĂĄdraig Duggan. Youâre probably familiar with the Brennansâ younger sister, Enya, who left the family band in her 20s to pursue a wildly successful solo career (sheâs sold an estimated 80 million records worldwide). Clannadâs members grew up in one of Irelandâs Gaeltacht regions, where the predominant language is still Irish. This bilingual upbringing is reflected in the groupâs traditional folk music, which weaves together English and Irish lyrics.
Though Clannad is best known for spacy new age compositions that resemble Enyaâs 1988 breakthrough âOrinoco Flowâ more than any traditional Irish music, the moments when they emphasize their Gaeltacht roots are the brightest spots of the bandâs catalog. Their 1973 self-titled debut gently folds together harp, acoustic guitars, piano, mandolin, upright bass, tin whistle, and Moyaâs guiding lilt. Itâs rooted in the old style, but tracks like âSiĂșbhĂĄn NĂ Dhuibhirâ show that even Clannad wasnât impervious to the percussive, jazzy influence of the â70s (plus, their cover of âMorning Dewâ sounds like Joni Mitchell fronting Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young).
The album also includes the bewitching bonus track âAn Bealach Seo âtĂĄ Romham,â which finds Clannad doing what Clannad does best: putting traditional music in modern arrangements without losing the mystical quality that sounds like itâs echoing from the fabled realm of TĂr na nĂg. Moya plucks the harp and sings in Irish about âthe journey to the graveâ while her brothers and uncles harmonize, their feet stomping out rhythms as they strum guitar, upright bass, and mandolin. Tin whistle pierces through the folky melody like the piping-hot shriek of a boiling kettle, and the baroque sound of a feverish harpsichord joins the fray.
Their 1975 follow-up, Clannad 2, settles into haunting ballads with unexpected twists, like the bizarre electric guitar solo in the middle of âDhĂ©anainn SĂșgradh.â Just so things donât get too modern, itâs joined by a dueling flute, all while Moyaâs still in the back playing the harp. Itâs completely weird, but exactly why Clannadâs music still sounds so innovative todayâthey took these ancient sounds from their home on the northwest coast of Ireland and handed the metaphorical druid an electric guitar.
1976âs DĂșlamĂĄn is Clannadâs best record, named for the chanted opening track thatâs a rendition of an Irish folk song about seaweed (which used to be gathered and eaten, particularly during famine). This oceanic influence threads throughout the album: Its cover is a photo of a beach at low tide, with a candelabra-topped table surrounded by kelp sitting in the foreground. The band stands off in the distance, watching the scene from afar. âTwo Sistersâ repurposes the old Irish murder ballad about two sisters in love with the same man, until the younger woman meets a salty fate: âAs they were a-walking by the foamy brim/The eldest pushed the youngest in.â Moya sings the brutal story with dark Irish wit against instrumental accompaniment thatâs unnervingly cheerful.
Clannad found commercial success in 1982 with âTheme from Harryâs Game,â which was literally the theme from a British TV show called Harryâs Game. Itâs the sonic equivalent of too much dry ice, and represents the bandâs permanent foray into easy-listening, synthesizer-heavy Celtic pop thatâs at times pretty cheesy (see Bonoâs cameo on 1985âs âIn a Lifetime,â yikes). But it worked for them: 1983âs Magical Ring went gold, and was followed by more industry achievementsâmore popular records, more TV and movie soundtracks, and a Grammy.
Though theyâre now considered trailblazers of the new age genre, Clannadâs greatest accomplishment mightâve been forging the river that separated traditional Ireland from popular culture during those early years.