think this is unusual for a member of the Irish diaspora. And yet I am ... music,
from The Irish Song Book to tiny pocketbooks of popular songs that I found in the
...
476 6485
Annalisa Kerrigan
IRELAND Timeless songs of the Emerald Isle
In researching the music that I have recorded on this album, I spent a lot of time listening to any recordings I could find that even vaguely referred to Irish music, in particular the most beautiful recordings of Mary O’Hara. I spent a lot of time travelling around Ireland, sitting in various dark and smoky pubs (smoky no longer after they passed the ban!) and listening to fantastic musicians playing everything from tin whistle to bodhran to accordion or piano, and once, in Galway, the spoons. There was a lot of time with my head in tomes and books of Irish music, from The Irish Song Book to tiny pocketbooks of popular songs that I found in the Trinity College Library shop, of all places. Most importantly of all, I asked my mother. I make no claim to be a traditional Irish singer, or a pure folk musician. I am aware of the sensitivities of such a claim, and I cast no false stake upon their ground. I am just a classically trained singer whose heart was following the beautiful melodies that found me through family and friends and wandering around the world. I have had such incredible joy recording this album – which was done mostly in one or two takes, on an absolutely minimally edited basis – and I thank Mary, Dean, Lynnelle, Marcus and Emily for their creativity and for going with the flow. All of the arrangements on this album were improvised in the studio. Noone had written music. For a classical musician, who spends her life studying fly specks on paper, this, in itself, is a miracle.
2
I also thank Mal Stanley, for his patience and courage. After throwing himself in, hook, line and sinker, and despite all our idiosyncracies, he managed to produce something magical from the bare sounds we created. I’m only sad that in an album such as this, we had to edit out both the laughter and the bad jokes. My Irish background is one of those removed kinds – my mother, Patricia Anne Teresa Hogan, and her parents all lived in England for the majority of their lives, except mum, who moved to Melbourne in 1969. But whenever I visit Ireland, especially the deep south around Caherdaniel and Killarney, I feel a connection to the ground. I don’t think this is unusual for a member of the Irish diaspora. And yet I am aware of the distance between me, daughter of Irish emigrants, and Ireland-born Irishmen and women, who know that I am not really Irish. And yet the music of Ireland, inherited by our diaspora, gives us a sense of belonging that I cannot describe in words. We also inherited a need to keep these ties and our ‘Irishness’ alive – this need was perhaps made stronger because our grandparents and greatgrandparents often had a difficult time in their adopted cultures, at least initially, and everyone likes to believe they belong somewhere. And so here it is – a recording by a descendant of Irishmen, born in Australia and educated in Italy... I pray you enjoy it as much as I loved singing in it. Annalisa Kerrigan
3
1
Star of the County Down Traditional. Harp arrangement by Emily Rosner. Fiddle arrangement by Marcus Holden.
2’00
2
The Cliffs of Dooneen Traditional. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany. Whistle arrangement by Lynnelle Moran.
4’14
3
Peggy Gordon Traditional. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany.
4’25
4
Ballinderry Traditional. Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas.
2’56
5
The Last Rose of Summer Traditional melody set by Sir John Stevenson. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany. Flute arrangement by Lynnelle Moran. Words by Thomas Moore.
4’19
6
The Old Turf Fire Traditional. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany. Flute arrangement by Lynnelle Moran.
1’37
7
Fhir an Bhata (The Boatman) Traditional lament. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany. Whistle arrangement by Lynnelle Moran.
4’50
8
Down by the Salley Gardens Traditional melody, Gort na Saileán. Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas. Words by William Butler Yeats.
3’09
9
The Snowy-Breasted Pearl Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas.
4’19
The Leprechaun Traditional. Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas.
1’01
0
!
Carrigdhoun Traditional lament, ‘The Lament of the Irish Maiden’. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany. Words by Denny Lane.
4’03
@
A Pretty Maid Milking Her Cow Traditional, ‘The Song o’ Ruark’. Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas.
1’35
£
The Frog’s Wedding Traditional. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany.
2’01
$
The Little Red Lark Traditional air, An Fhuiseoigín Rua. Piano arrangement by Dean Sky-Lucas. Words by Alfred Perceval Graves.
3’26
%
Carrickfergus Traditional. Harp arrangement by Mary Doumany.
5’29
^
Galway Bay Dr Arthur Colahan. Harp arrangement Emily Rosner. Fiddle arrangement by Marcus Holden.
2’01
Total Playing Time Annalisa Kerrigan vocals Mary Doumany harp 2, 3, 5-7, !, £, % Emily Rosner harp 1, ^ Dean Sky-Lucas piano 4, 8-0, @, $ Lynnelle Moran Baroque flute, tin whistle 2, 5, 6, 7 Marcus Holden fiddle 1, ^ Dedicated to our beloved Professor Antonio Moretti-Pananti danzante in un cielo terso – dancing in a limpid sky (from a poem by Claudia Moretti-Pananti) and to John Dingle both of whom gave so much to so many.
4
5
53’02
1
‘That’s the gem of Ireland’s crown, Young Rosie McCann From the banks of the Bann – She’s the star of the County Down.’
Star of the County Down I first heard this song when I was a young girl, sung by John McCormack.
At the Harvest Fair She’ll be surely there So I’ll dress in my Sunday clothes, With my shoes shone bright And my hat cut right On the heart of the nut-brown rose.
Near to Banbridge Town On the County Down On a morning in July, Down a Boreen Green Came a sweet colleen And she smiled as she passed me by.
No pipe I’ll smoke, No horse I’ll yoke, Though my plough with rust turn brown, Till a smiling bride – By my own fireside – Sits the star of the County Down.
Oh, she looked so neat From her two bare feet To the sheen of her nut-brown hair, Such a coaxing elf – I’d shake myself To make sure I was really there.
Oh, from Bantry Bay Up to Derry Quay And from Galway to Dublin Town, No maid I’ve seen Like the brown colleen That I met in the County Down.
Oh, from Bantry Bay Up to Derry Quay And from Galway to Dublin Town No maid I’ve seen Like the brown colleen That I met in the County Down
2
As she onward sped I scratched my head And I gazed with a feeling rare, There I said, said I, To a passer-by: ‘Who’s the maid with the nut-brown hair?’
The Cliffs of Dooneen Interestingly enough, while Dooneen is in County Cork, Kilkee and Kilrush are in County Clare. I wonder if the Cliffs of Dooneen refer to Doonaha, but having never been to Doonaha, I’m not sure, although I cannot find anyone who can verify that Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen from
Oh, he smiled at me, And he said, said he, 6
And to all the fine people I’m leaving behind, To the streams and the meadows where late I have been And the high rocky slopes of the cliffs of Dooneen.
Doonaha either. But this overall feeling of leaving a much-loved country, on a very personal level, is exactly how I feel whenever I have to leave my favourite walk in the world, the cliffs above the Old Abbey at Derrynane, Kerry.
3
You may travel far, far from your own native home, Far away o’er the mountains, far away o’er the foam, But of all the fine places that I’ve ever seen, Well there’s none can compare with the cliffs of Dooneen.
Peggy Gordon Peggy Gordon is actually a traditional Scottish song that was adopted by the Irish folk world after Luke Kelly’s legendary recording with The Dubliners. O Peggy Gordon, you are my darling, Come sit you down upon my knee And tell to me the very reason Why I am slighted so by thee.
Take a view o’er the mountains, fine sights you’ll see there, You’ll see the high rocky mountains on the west coast of Clare, And the towns of Kilkee and Kilrush can be seen From the high rocky slopes of the cliffs of Dooneen.
I wish I was in some lonesome valley Where womankind cannot be found, Where little birds sing upon branches And every moment, a different sound. I’m so in love that I can’t deny it; My heart lies smothered in your breast. But it’s not for you to let the world know it; A troubled mind can know no rest.
It’s a nice place to be on a fine summer’s day, And to see the wild flowers that ne’er do decay, And the hare and the pheasant are plain to be seen Making homes for their young, round the cliffs of Dooneen.
I put my head to a cask of brandy, It was my fancy, I do declare, For when I’m drinking, I’m always thinking And wishing Peggy Gordon was here.
Fare thee well, to Dooneen, fare thee well for a while,
7
4
Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves over the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
’Twas happy to be in Little Ram’s Island But now ‘tis sad, as sad can be, For the ship that sailed with Phelimy Hyland Is sunk forever beneath the sea.
Ballinderry This was published in Nancy Calthorpe’s collections; she notes that Edward Bunting got the song from Doctor Crawford in 1808. The name Ballinderry comes from the Irish Baile an Doire or ‘Town of the Oak Wood’. It is in Londonderry, not far from Belfast. Little Ram’s Island, with its beautiful mix of mature trees, is about a mile off-shore from Sandy Bay on Lough Neagh, and can still be visited by boat.
’Tis oh but I wear the weeping willow And wonder alone by lonesome billow And cry to him over the cruel sea: ‘Ah Phelimy Hyland, come back to me.’ Ochone, ochone, Ochone, ochone!
5
’Twas pretty to be in Ballinderry, ’Twas pretty to be in Arghalee, But prettier to be in Little Ram’s Island Sitting under an ivy tree.
The Last Rose of Summer J.E. Cirlot’s A Dictionary of Symbols mentions that a ‘single rose is, in essence, a symbol of completion, of consummate achievement and perfection.’
’Twas often I roamed in Little Ram’s Island, Side by side with Phelimy Hyland. Often he’d court me and I’d be coy Tho’ at heart I loved him, my handsome boy.
I learnt this song from my mother Pat, who still sings it about the house.
‘I’m going,’ he sighed, ‘from Ballinderry Out and across the stormy sea. So if in your heart you love me, Mary, Open your arms at last to me!’
’Tis the last rose of Summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone. No flower of her kindred, No rosebud is nigh To reflect back her blushes Or give sigh for sigh.
I opened my arms, how well he knew me, Opened my arms and took him to me; There in the gloom of the groaning mast We kissed our first and we kissed our last!
I’ll not leave thee, thou lone one, To pine on the stem: Since the lovely are sleeping, Go sleep thou with them.
Ochone, ochone, Ochone, ochone!
8
6
But I’m sure I wouldn’t exchange with him my little marble hall. I have got a little house and a tidy bit o’ land – You would never see a better on this side of Knocknachran! I’ve no piano in the corner and no pictures on the wall But I’m somehow quite contented in my little marble hall.
The Old Turf Fire I love it when you’ve been to Ireland and you come home by train and plane and boat and taxi and end up opening your suitcase, thousands of kilometres away, and get a wonderful waft of peat smoke that’s clinging to your clothes. This song indicates the beautiful nature of this Irish woman, content to live her life and understanding that there are things far more important than grand houses and a grand way of living. I wish the world were more like that today.
Oh, the old turf fire and the house swept clean, There is no-one half as happy as myself and Paddy Keane, With the baby in the cradle you could hear her mammy say, ‘Wouldn’t you go to sleep, Alanna, till I wet your daddy’s tae.’
Oh, the old turf fire and the house swept clean, There is no-one half as happy as myself and Paddy Keane, With the baby in the cradle you could hear her mammy say, ‘Wouldn’t you go to sleep, Alanna, till I wet your daddy’s tae.’ Oh, the man that I work for is a richer man than me But somehow in this world, faith, we never can agree. He has big towering mansions and castles overall 9
7
Fhir an Bhata (The Boatman)
8
In Irish Gaelic, the title translates as ‘The Man with a Walking Stick’, and in Scottish Gaelic, ‘The Boatman’. This traditional melody is claimed by both sides of the Irish Sea, but I found a version in a library in Pittlochrie dedicated to the coronation of Queen Victoria, and that is the earliest print version I have been able to find. Either way, it crosses the water very well. And I imagine the girl who lost her love is still waiting there on the cliff.
Man of the boat and no one else A hundred thousand welcomes everywhere you go
A fhir a bháta is na horó eile Mo shoraidh slan lait gach ait dtéid tú
Theid mé suas ar an chnoc is airde Feach a bhfeic mé an fear a bháta An dtig tú anocht nó an dtig tú amarach? Muna dtig tú idir is trua atá mé
I went up to the highest hill to see if I could see the man of the boat Will you come tonight or come tomorrow? If you do not come between, it’s sad I’ll be
Tá mo chroíse briste bruite Is tric na deoir a’ruith o mo shuíle An dtig tú inniú nó am bidh me suillean? No an druid mé an doras le osna tuirseach?
My heart is bruised and broken and tears flow from my eyes Will you come today or will I expect you? Or will I close the door with a tired sigh?
Thug mé gaol duit is chan fhéad mé ‘athrú, Cha gaol bliana is cha gaol ráithe Ach gaol ó thoiseacht nuair bha mé ‘mo pháiste Is nach seasc a choiche mé gus cloigh’ an bás mé.
I gave you love, I could not deny it I yearned for you for a year and a season since ever I was a child Now I’ll stay a virgin until I die
Down by the Salley Gardens
9
This was first known as a traditional Irish melody An Traigh Mughdhorna or ‘The Maids of Mourne’. Yeats wrote that it is ‘an attempt to reconstruct an old song from three lines imperfectly remembered by an old peasant woman in the village of Ballysodare, Sligo, who often sings them to herself’.
Made famous by John McCormack, this song was translated by Dr George Petrie from the Irish song, Parla an Bhrollaigh Bháin. In these modern times, the words to this song might seem out of date to some. The depiction of a submissive wife, ‘artless as a child’, should not be encouraged in any way.
Herbert Hughes set the music to the air ‘The Maids of the Mourne Shore’ in 1909. The word ‘salley’ comes from the word saileach, or ‘willow’. Salley Gardens – gardens of willows that were used for basket making and thatch roofing – were once quite common throughout Ireland.
I believe, though, that the words, and the melody, also depict a man who is utterly in love with this woman, and equally submissive, given his soft and gentle observations of her, and his genuine grief at her loss. The disease she died from we could surmise to be tuberculosis, a condition that I was treated for, in Melbourne, at the age of 21.
Down by the Salley Gardens My love and I did meet. She passed the Salley Gardens With little snow white feet. She bid me take love easy, As the leaves grow on the tree, But I being young and foolish With her would not agree.
Oh, she is not like the rose, That proud in beauty glows, And boasted that she’s so wondrous fair. But she is like the violet blue: Ever modest, ever true, From her leafy bower perfuming the still night air. Oh, she’s gentle, loving, mild, She’s artless as a child, Her clustering tresses softly flowing down. I’ll love thee ever more, Sweet Cailleen og asthore, My true love, my snowy-breasted Pearl.
In a field down by the river, My love and I did stand. And on my leaning shoulder She laid her snow white hand. She bid me take life easy, As the grass grows on the weirs, But I was young and foolish – And now am full of tears. 10
The Snowy-Breasted Pearl
11
If I sigh, a sudden fear Comes o’er her, and a tear Stands quivering within her downcast eyes. When I smile, those orbs of azure Gleam forth with love and pleasure Like sudden glory bursting through a clouded sky. Oh, I claim her for my bride; She trembles at my side, And gently lifts her eyes with looks so tender. I’ll love thee, only thee, My Cailleen og machree, My true love, my snowy-breasted Pearl.
0
The Leprechaun Now I know, logically speaking, leprechauns don’t exist. But there is a very large part of me that thinks they might really be there, hanging around with the fairies at the bottom of the garden. At least, I’d like to think they do, don’t you? In a shady nook one moonlight night A leprechaun I spied With scarlet cap and coat of green, A cruiskeen by his side. ’Twas tic tic tac his hammer went Upon a weeny shoe. And I laughed to think of a purse of gold But the fairy was laughing too!
Such was she, but oh, a change, How mournful and how strange, On my loved one, my snowy loved one came: Paler still her pale cheek grew, And her eyes of azure hue Seemed lighted with a flame, a fatal wasting flame. Oh, we laid her in her grave Where the willows sadly wave And the hollow winds are sighing a plaintive wail… I’m alone, alone, alone. So wearily I moan For my lost love, my snowy-breasted Pearl.
With tiptoe step and beating heart Quite softly I drew nigh, There was mischief in his merry face, A twinkle in his eye. He hammered and sang with tiny voice And drank his mountain dew And I laughed to think he was caught at last, But the fairy was laughing too. As quick as thought, I seized the elf, ‘Your fairy purse!’ I cried. ‘The purse,’ he said, ‘is in her hand, That lady by your side!’ I turned to look – the elf was off, Then what was I to do? Oh, I laughed to think what a fool I’d been And the fairy was laughing too! 12
!
The moaning blast is sweeping past Through many a leafless tree, But I’m alone, for he is gone, My hawk has flown ochone mo chroidhe.
Carrigdhoun This song tells the story of a woman who lost her loved one during the flight of Sarsfield’s ‘Wild Geese’, who, after defeat at the Battle of the Boyne, chose to leave Ireland as exiles and fight in France. Sean O’Failain wrote: ‘The wild geese come in their thousands with the October moon. They blacken the sky and they cry the coming of Autumn... About the estuary of the Shannon, and all up the river into Limerick, they must have whizzed and moaned, that winter of 1691, when Ginkel offered the terms that ended the Jacobite War, and started bitter quarrels among the tired and tattered Irish. The flying Irish...looked up at the skies, and took the name, The Wild Geese. It was the end of a period. It was all but the end of a race.’
Soft April showers and bright May flowers Will bring the summer back again, But will they bring me back the hours I spent with my brave Donal then? It’s but a chance, he’s gone to France To wear the Fleur-de-Lis, But I’ll follow you, my Donal Dhu For still I’m true to you mo croidhe.
(a sthór mo croidhe = my heart's darling; ochone mo croidhe = alas, my heart)
@
A Pretty Maid Milking Her Cow
The heath was green on Carrigdhoun, Bright shone the sun over Ardnalee, The dark green trees bent trembling down To kiss the slumbering Own na buidhe. That happy day – was but last May – ’Tis like a dream to me, When Donal swore, aye, o’er and o’er, ‘We’d part no more a sthór mo croidhe... ’
This song appears in Thomas Moore’s Irish Melodies, published by Boosey and Co in 1895. Moore took a large number of traditional melodies and set English words to them. These words are a somewhat loose translation of the original song, Cailin deas ag crute na mBo (or Cailleen dhas cruthen namoe), ‘A pretty girl milking a cow’, and are attributed to Thomas Moore as well.
On Carrigdhoun, the heath is brown, The clouds are dark over Ardnalee, And many a stream comes rushing down To swell the angry Own na buidhe.
It was on a fine summer’s morning, The birds sweetly tuned on each bough, And as I walked out for my pleasure I saw a maid milking her cow. 13
out the traditional penultimate verse, which I found rather horrid.
Her voice, so enchanting, melodious, Left me quite unable to go; My heart it was loaded with sorrow For cailleen dhas cruthen namoe.
There was a frog lived in the well, ‘Haigh ho!’ said Roly There was a frog lived in the well, And a merry mouse in the Dell. With me Roly Poly Cabbage and Spinach and Haigh! For Anthony Roly!”
Then to her I made my advances: ‘Good morrow, most beautiful maid, ‘Your beauty my heart so entrances.’ ‘Pray Sir, do not banter,’ she said. ‘I’m not such a rare precious jewel That I should enamour you so, I am but a poor little milk girl,’ Says cailleen dhas cruthen namoe.
Said the frog, ‘I must go court, With my bayonet and my sword.’ ‘Where will the wedding be?’ ‘At the butt of an ivy tree.’
‘The Indies afford no such jewels, So bright and transparently clear. Ah, do not add flame to my fuel, Consent but to love me, my dear!’
‘Now we’re all in very good cheer, If we had some music here!’ In came the bumble bee, Clapped a bagpipe on his knee.
‘Ah, had I the lamp of Aladdin Or the wealth of the African shore, I would rather be poor in a cottage With cailleen dhas cruthen namoe.’
£
‘Now we’re all in very good cheer, If we had some dancing here!’
The Frog’s Wedding
In came the butterfly, Swore she’d dance until she’d die.
I first heard this sung by the incandescent Mary O’Hara. There are many different legends connected to this song; some say it was about a Catholic man – the frog – who got caught trying to marry a Protestant lass – the butterfly – and they were caught by the Guards. He escaped only to be drowned in a river. Like Mary O’Hara, I chose to leave
Then commenced a terrible din, The cat and her kittens came tumbling in. Frog jumped up with a terrible fright, And doffed his hat and said, ‘Good night!’ As the Frog was crossing the stream, A big duck came and gobobbled him up.
14
$
The Little Red Lark
%
Carrickfergus Carrickfergus was known as Carraig Fhearghais, or ‘Rock of Fergus’, home of a 12th-century castle on the Belfast Lough. It is a haunting place of great historical importance for the country, being the site of such battles as the Battle of Carrickfergus during the Nine Years War.
This is a traditional Irish melody that has Gaelic wording, but I have chosen to sing it in English because that’s the version my mother taught me. O Swan of slenderness, Dove of tenderness, Jewel of joys, arise! The little red lark, Like a soaring spark, A song to his sunburst flies!
Carrickfergus became famous after Dominic Behan recorded it, and the words of the middle verse have been attributed to Peter O’Toole – or perhaps he just passed them on to Behan.
But till thou’rt risen, Earth is a prison, Full of my lonesome sighs; Then awake, and discover To thy fond lover The morn of thy matchless eyes!
I wish I was in Carrickfergus Only for nights in Ballygran, I would swim over the deepest ocean, The deepest ocean for my love to find. But the sea is wide and I can’t swim over And neither have I the wings to fly... If I could find me a handsome boatman To ferry me over to my love and die.
The dawn is dark to me, Hark, oh hark to me, Pulse of my heart, I pray; And out of thy hiding, With blushes gliding Dazzle me with thy day!
My childhood days bring sad reflections Of happy times spent so long ago. My boyhood friends and my own relations Have all passed on now, like the melting snow.
Ah, then once more to thee Flying I’ll pour to thee Passion so sweet and gay. The lark shall listen And dewdrops glisten, They’re laughing on every spray!
But I’ll spend my days in endless roaming: Soft is the grass, my bed is free! Ah, to be back now in Carrickfergus On that long road down to the sea. 15
^
And in Kilkenny, it is reported, Are marble stones there, as black as ink. With gold and silver I would support her, But I’ll sing no more till I get a drink.
Just to hear again the ripple of a trout stream, The women in the meadows making hay, And to sit beside the turf fire in the cabin, And watch the barefoot gossoons at their play.
For I’m drunk today, and I’m seldom sober: A handsome rover, from town to town. Ah, but I’m sick now, and my days are numbered, So come all ye young men, and lay me down.
For the breezes blowing o’er the seas from Ireland Are perfumed by the heather as they blow And the women in the uplands digging praties Speak a language that the strangers do not know.
Galway Bay
For the strangers came and tried to teach us their way; They scorned us just for being what we are. But they might as well go chasing after moonbeams Or light a penny candle from a star.
This song is a perfect example of the music of the Irish diaspora – the scattered descendants of Irishmen and women, who tend to know and love the more sentimental ‘non-folk’ songs like Galway Bay as well as more traditional music. The interesting thing is, when I sang this to a wonderful audience in County Meath, apparently (and I say this not in arrogance but more in perplexity) there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. So there you go...and if you’ve ever sat on Galway Bay, and watched the sun go down, perhaps you’ll understand why.
And if there is going to be a life hereafter, And somehow I am sure there’s going to be, I will ask God to let me make my heaven In that dear land across the Irish Sea.
If you ever go across the sea to Ireland, Then maybe at the closing of your day You will sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh And see the sun go down on Galway Bay.
16
17
Company (Despina in Così fan tutte) and Orchestra Victoria (Opera in the Market). She has toured with the elite chamber musicians Virtuosi Tasmania and with Aled Jones, performed as a guest of the Prime Minister of Singapore, sung the role of Eliza in a touring production of My Fair Lady, and appeared at the Melbourne International Festival as The Princess in Ravel’s L’Enfant et les Sortilèges. Other performances have included concerts at Parliament House in Canberra, the Victorian State Parliament and the Australian Export Awards, Opera in the Roses, Opera in the Vineyards and Opera in the Winery, and appearances on television program Good Morning Australia. In 2000 Annalisa was a finalist in the International Mozart Competition in Salzburg.
Annalisa Kerrigan Annalisa Kerrigan studied at the Victorian College of the Arts and the University of Melbourne before moving to Tuscany to work and study for six years. She has appeared in concert in countries across Europe and Asia, including Italy, France, the UK, Ireland and Singapore; in Australia, she appears regularly in opera and concert performances and has been a featured artist at many major community events including Channel 9’s Carols by Candlelight, the Tamworth Country Music Festival, the World Cup Rugby series and the Formula 1 Grand Prix. From tiny country towns like Kangaroo Valley and Colac Otway to the Sydney Opera House and the Sidney Myer Music Bowl in Melbourne; from the middle of Ponte Vecchio in her adopted hometown of Florence to the ancient Irish Castle Tullynally, Annalisa has charmed audiences with her sense of humour, her love of music and of people, and her radiant, pure voice, receiving standing ovations throughout the world.
Annalisa’s debut album Waiting on an Angel, released on the ABC Classics label in 2005, went to number one on the classical charts and remained in the top ten for six weeks. Annalisa supports the work of the Australian Federation for the Peoples of Asia and the Pacific (www.afap.org), raising money to set up co-operative partnerships for women’s small businesses in AIDS-stricken areas of Africa, supporting HIV awareness, several schools, orphanages and business start ups. In Vietnam Annalisa helped AFAP’s dengue prevention project in areas where victims of Typhoon Durian in the Mekong Delta were left homeless, as well as helping to address HIV risk among youth in
Highlights have included engagements with the London City Orchestra under Richard Bonynge, the Melbourne, Tasmanian, Adelaide and West Australian Symphony Orchestras (Scotland the Brave), the RAAF Central and Command Bands, Melbourne’s Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (Irish Songs of Praise), the Melbourne Opera 18
diversity is displayed in her work with cellist Adi Sappir and percussionist Talia Browne in the Burgundy Brown trio, exploring a fusion of middle-eastern melodies, African drumming and intense vocal harmonies. Her improvisational skills have been taken to a new level with Sunwrae, a three to nine piece ensemble directed by Rae Howell, whose style can be described as cinematic orchestral, minimalist, jazz and modern chamber. Sunwrae have recently toured eastern Australia, and release their fourth album in 2008. Appearances at the Boîte in Melbourne, with Jade, Sunwrae and as part of the Jewish Music Festival, are testimony to her keen involvement with the world/folk scene.
Hanoi. She believes passionately in empowering women in third world countries to build their independence, their education and confidence in small business, allowing them to educate their families and build communities. www.annalisakerrigan.com
Mary Doumany Mary Doumany is a virtuoso harpist in her own right; she also composes and sings her own material. Her voice has an intimacy and fluidity that seem effortless and there is a unique freedom to her interpretations. She is one of a new breed of Australian crossgenre artists who incorporate influences from many styles and traditions to create their music. This is very much in evidence on her 2004 album of original solo harp works, entitled Elemental. She is passionate about exploring and demonstrating the versatility of the harp, and relishes the excitement and freedom of improvisation as an essential element of her work.
Solo engagements have included the Melbourne Philharmonic Orchestra’s Irish Songs of Praise. Emily is also a composer; an EP of her original harp music, Oscillator, is planned for 2008. Previous recordings include Red Cross Store with blues/country singer Lisa Miller, Autumn Never Fall with Sunwrae and Irish Songs of Praise with Annalisa Kerrigan and Marcus Holden.
www.marydoumany.com
Dean Sky-Lucas
Emily Rosner
Dean Sky-Lucas performs as soloist and chamber musician throughout Australia and abroad. He is widely known to Australian audiences through numerous national broadcasts on ABC Classic FM’s Sunday Live and Radio National, as well as frequent festival engagments,including the Melbourne, Adelaide
Emily Rosner began her studies in classical harp at the age of 12; her teachers have included Rosemary St John, Xanya Shepherd, Mary Doumany and jazz harpist Park Stickney. She has performed in many different styles; her love of the instrument’s individuality and 19
MARY DOUMANY ▼
and Brisbane International Festivals. During 2004, Dean performed the role of the singing pianist in ChamberMade opera’s Recital throughout its Melbourne season as well as on tour in Victoria and in the USA.
range of artists, orchestras, festivals and soundtracks. Whilst concert performance is a constant highlight, Lynnelle treasures the spontaneity of the tradition, savouring the moments of playing tunes with friends and family.
Dean was associate artist with the Australian National Academy of Music for four years. He has been the vocal coach and repetiteur to Australia’s most acclaimed opera singers including Rosamund Illing, Ghillian Sullivan, Roxanne Hislop, Suzanne Johnston and David Hobson. Since the founding of Victorian Opera in 2006 Dean has coached the Young Artists of the company; he also acted as the Principal Repetiteur for the 2007 season’s opening presentation of Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex and Les Noces.
Marcus Holden
Marcus Holden began studying the violin at the age of eight, and was a member of the Canberra Youth Orchestra from the age of 11, culminating in a tour of Europe. In his late teens his interest in rock, jazz and blues was sparked by the newly amplified violin and his career as a soloist began. Moving to Sydney in 1979 to study jazz at the NSW Conservatorium of Music, Marcus quickly became the city’s premier fiddle session player, recording well over 400 award-winning records, films and jingles, working with such artists as Jimmy Barnes, Ross Wilson, Diesel, Marc Hunter, Ross Ryan, John Williamson, Richard Clapton and Daryl Braithwaite.
Dean lectured in psychology and physiology for musicians at the Melba Conservatorium over four years, and during 2006 he lectured in piano accompaniment at the University of Melbourne.
▲ EMILY ROSNER LYNNELLE MORAN ▼
With Ray Schloeffel, Pixie Jenkins and Andrew Clermont, Marcus formed the Fiddlers Festival; under his guidance the Fiddlers Feast, as the group is now known, has become the most widely recognised fiddle band in Australia. Several tours to Japan and Europe, as well as high profile appearances back home, have inspired a new generation of fiddlers and groups – the Hawkesbury National Fiddle Festival, Southern Cross Fiddlers, the Golden Fiddle Awards (www.goldenfiddleawards.org.au) –
▲ DEAN SKY-LUCAS
20
MARCUS HOLDEN ▼
Lynnelle Moran Lynnelle Moran was born in Dublin and raised in Australia. The youngest of a large Irish family, she has been surrounded by the songs of Ireland since childhood and she has carried a love and understanding of traditional Irish music into adulthood. Lynnelle has performed professionally for several years, performing and recording on flutes and tin whistle for a diverse 21
dedicated to the promotion of the fiddle, as an alternative to the classical stream of tuition and performance. More recently, Marcus has returned to orchestral performance as a soloist in Scotland the Brave, appearing with the Auckland and Toronto Philharmonic Orchestras, and the West Australian, Melbourne, Tasmanian and Adelaide Symphony Orchestras.
With my heart-felt thanks to all who have helped on the journey: The Moretti-Pananti family – Antonio, Halina and Claudia, who will always be in my heart; my own crazy, fantastic, and incredible Eng family; John Dingle, William May, Malcolm Cooke, Mary O’Hara, John, Marcia and Sara Wertheimer, Moira, Christopher and Jessica Fortune Ryan, Angela and Jason Wasley, Joe Cropp, Rocco Tullio, Aengus Dewar, Joshua Brohier, Lindsay Saddington, Mal Stanley, Linda Britten, Susan Gordon Brown, David Kram, Mossie Scanlon; Mass Tommy Hija and my PD family, who have made struggle a joy; Reggie and Chloe Stewart and their beautiful family; Grandma Hogan, Anthony Polshinger; Nellie and Anita Castan – sometimes kind words are everything; Irene Hendel, for introducing me to our beloved Bill; Jeff Weaver, Soon Lee Lee, the Ludwigs and the Thewes family; Dianne Drew and the Tamworth AFAP Committee; and most of all, to the most wonderful musicians who worked on this recording with me – how fortunate I am to have such friends – Dean SkyLucas, Mary Doumany, Lynnelle Moran, Emily Rosner and Marcus Holden. Thank you. – Annalisa Kerrigan
Marcus is also a composer, producer, recording engineer, and operator of Bloody Dog Studios, where he produces much of his own recent work including the Fiddlers Feast CDs. www.fiddlersfestival.com
Executive Producers Robert Patterson, Martin Buzacott Recording Producer Annalisa Kerrigan Recording Engineer, Editor and Mastering Malcolm Stanley Editorial and Production Manager Hilary Shrubb Publications Editor Natalie Shea Booklet Design Imagecorp Pty Ltd Photography (Annalisa Kerrigan) Susan GordonBrown www.susangordonbrown.com.au Dresses Linda Britten Annotations Annalisa Kerrigan
ABC Classics thanks Alexandra Alewood and Melissa Kennedy. 2008 Australian Broadcasting Corporation. © 2008 Australian Broadcasting Corporation. Distributed in Australia and New Zealand by Universal Music Group, under exclusive licence. Made in Australia. All rights of the owner of copyright reserved. Any copying, renting, lending, diffusion, public performance or broadcast of this record without the authority of the copyright owner is prohibited.
Recorded September 2006 and February–March 2007 in the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s Southbank Studios, Melbourne.
22
