 They say there is music in everyone, and in everything. And it’s no truer of any place than it is of here, a place where you can’t help but sing. Inspired by inspiration itself, in the form of ocean-swept views and enough breathing room to let it all out. Here, music is just a part of the natural landscape, rolling out like a fog over harbours, inlets, coves, and bays.
Unapologetically, it leaves no soul untouched or unaffected.
From lively jigs and reels creating human metronomes of clapping hands and stomping feet, to old Irish laments that creep into your subconscious, often unannounced. It’s what continues to live in you and in your memory of the place. Verses of love and hardship and better times, passed down from generation to generation. And infectious rhythms of fiddle, accordion, and bodhran drum. The kind that reign supreme throughout spontaneous kitchen parties and long-running folk festivals alike, held in special honour of blueberries, squid and mussel beds, and sometimes just for sunny days, all year long.
Songs that float, ever so melodically, down a street called George – a street entirely dedicated to the art of nightlife. Where music and revelry fill the air seven nights a week. A place lined cheek to jowl with bars and clubs, each one full to the brim.
These are those songs. The very same songs you’ll find yourself singing, without warning, far from these shores, long after you’ve been. |
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