Listening to The Chieftains

 

 

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Please tell me you know who they are. That’s right the oldest, wittiest most authentic and yet most inclusive of Irish music bands. I get on my jags with music. Sometimes it’s Mexican or Russian or French chansons. I’ll play the same CD over and over again in the car. Sometimes it’s Mozart or Chopin. I drive around in that bubble of music. I’m the same at home. I played a tango CD for weeks in my kitchen as I made coffee or chopped veggies, my feet gliding around my happy little kitchen as I dreamed of vacations in Argentina. Hey, why stop at a vacation. Surely I could stay for months, years…….all on the strength of that music. Then, all of a sudden I was tired of it and my flights of fancy went out of the window. One music is always welcome though, that of the Chieftains. Why I wonder? I suppose it’s part of my heritage. Why does that sound corny? For all my linguistic enthusiasms, running around the globe, dreaming about tangos, somebody “belonging to me” came from Skibereen and ,starving, set off out of that famine ridden island so that I and some others behind me could dance around the kitchen in Montreal. Dance to what? To the Chieftains — or cry to their heartbreakers. Ah, music, play on, play on, with that drum and those pipes and the tireless fiddles. Play on!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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