The Hogans of Glenart

I have always had a very catholic taste in music. As a teenager when I got the house to myself, I was just as likely to play my father's Beethoven records as I was to play my brother's EPs of The Beatles. I was a teeny-bopper in the Beatles time and a big fan of the Rolling Stones. However, incongruously, I still had an equally soft spot for the Clancy Brothers, The Dubliners and I was even known to listen to The Pattersons and watch them in black and white on television, mainly because I thought one of the sisters was gorgeous.

In recent years, I realised that the story had come full circle. Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell had all at one time or another been firm favourites of mine -- now my son is listening to them and widening my repertoire by introducing me to the music of Josh Ritter, John Martyn and Nick Drake.

Without a note in my head (and very few in my pockets) I find it difficult to explain just what music does for me. Give me a snatch of Josef Locke or some other tenor and I am transported to a higher plane. What is it about Irish tenors? In the old days they came in single file -- the incomparable John McCormack was a fellow-townsman of mine as is Louis Browne but now it seems that tenors hunt in packs -- Three Tenors, Irish Tenors, Celtic Tenors -- take your pick.

Recently I found myself looking at a CD compilation of Irish tenors and being very tempted. I thought of songs such as "The Holy City", and "The Old Refrain" and soon I was dropping hints that I would quite like to own a copy. And then it dawned on me that this desire to hear the tenor voice was transporting me back to my childhood. The social highlight of our family year was the annual Christmas party which my aunt, Una Hogan, held each year in her house in Blackrock, Co.Dublin. Here was gathered a most eclectic collection of beings -- from T.V. actors to special branch men, from communists to politicians of the day, from trade unionists to college professors and lots of our own relations thrown in for good measure. At these parties those who could do a party piece, and in those days most people could, would be called upon to perform. Some wrote and performed parodies, others acted out cameo roles. A favourite of mine was the poetry recitation when the late Ruaidhri Roberts recited a favourite poem such as Vachel Lindsay's "Mumbo Jumbo King of the Congo" -- which went down so well with the crowd. However it was the tenors who usually stole the show. My mother's cousin, Dermot Browner, when home from America, could be depended upon for a few songs. When he wasn't home, his old 78s would sometimes be taken out and played. Another regular party guest was John McNally who was also a recorded tenor and could charm the socks off all present.

Sadly these parties ended over thirty five years ago when I was just fourteen. Yet whenever I hear some of the old repertoire of songs sung by the Irish tenors of today, I find myself a child again and it brings to mind all those wonderful private recitals we enjoyed way back then. The years are rolling on, accelerating at the rate of knots. I now realise that at the time I am recalling, my own late parents were then in their early fifties -- the same age as I am now - but to me they were so much older. Happily I will still listen to Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan or Joni Mitchell; the Beatles and The Rolling Stones can still give me palpitations but if I were taking my choice of music to a desert island, I think one of my choices would have to be something recorded by an Irish tenor.