Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland is a three-part television series on RTÉ One presented by veteran broadcaster John Creedon. Directed by Deirdre Ní Mhathúna, the series investigates the diverse musical heritage of Ireland. Creedon explores how music has shaped the identity of Ireland, from ancient times to the modern era. He travels across the country, uncovering the stories behind various genres of Irish music and their impact on Irish culture. 

Regular listeners to RTÉ radio will be familiar with Creedon’s warm, inclusive congeniality and television viewers will know his other previous series in a similar mode, Creedon’s Atlas of Ireland (2019–2022). This latest Musical Atlas seems to be among the closest to the presenter’s heart, given the material covered. Creedon’s genial, engaging manner carries the material throughout and, though he covers quite complex and serious ideas, the overall result is light touch, never overly immersed in any one segment. 

Interviews with musicians are a key anchor for the various parts, but the show’s production values extend to much more than merely talking heads. The producers make maximum use of the visual and aural potential. Drone footage provides sweeping views of majestic Irish landscapes and seascapes. Additionally, a rich array of still and moving images, drawn from various archives, give further depth. Because of the emphasis on entertainment, and realising the impossibility of the task, a clever and effective device places relevant songs and pieces of music softly underneath the interviews, giving a multi-sensory experience that significantly enhances and augments the discussion and viewer enjoyment. 

The three parts separate roughly into 1. Roots, origins and ideas about them; 2. Nation, song and emotion; and 3. Diaspora, change and the future. 

Produced by RTÉ’s Cork studios, ‘súil eile fós’, so to speak, the approach, as might be expected, leans towards the south, but not in a way that detracts from the overall project.

Horns, harps and sean-nós
The series opens in Galway, where Simon O’Dwyer of Ancient Music Ireland, a musician and researcher of ancient mouth-blown instruments, has assembled a group to play six horns in unison in the city, a world premiere event. Casual commentary from onlookers mixes easily with the basic facts around early Irish horns provided by O’Dwyer. As well as the horns, O’Dwyer describes a set of six woodwind instruments found in a bog in Wicklow in 2003. Unlike the horns, the Wicklow pipes are melody instruments, showing that melodic music goes back at least to the end of the Neolithic period, much earlier than the theories of Pythagoras. Archaeologist Billy Mag Fhloinn provides further information about horns and how they were made and played, pointing out intriguingly that the sound emanating from such instruments is identical to that produced originally, tantalisingly providing the only real if intangible link between modern day listeners and early audiences. 

Simon O’Dwyer and Ancient Music Ireland performing in Galway City for Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland. (Photo: RTÉ)

Inevitably, the harp has to be tackled, and Siobhán Armstrong’s lively commentary on the early harp is a highlight. Bringing Creedon into a softly lit room at the National Museum of Ireland, and the presence of an early seventeenth-century instrument, Armstrong describes the ultraviolet imaging process that allowed researchers to reveal details about the construction of its component parts, including even the paintwork that decorated it. Asked about the difference between a ‘harpist’ and a ‘harper’, she designates the players harpers and herself a ‘harpist’, humbly claiming, ‘I wouldn’t be fit to tie their shoelaces!’ But the best connection to the series emerges at the end when we see another harp inscribed with the name of a harper, Giolla Phádraig Mac Críodáin, clearly a Gaelic realisation of Creedon’s own surname. Creedon asks if the harp is a Celtic one, and Armstrong demurs, exclaiming, ‘Celtic is quite a big word!’ She settles instead for the term Irish.  

The showcase of Iarla Ó Lionáird’s long career as a singer gives authority to his useful summary of sean-nós song, focusing on the Freeman Collection of songs and his great-aunt Bess Cronin, which draws on the striking photographs of George Pickow. The recording of the lament for a dead child sung by Kitty Gallagher (only recently deceased at the age of 102) illustrates the melismatic ornamentation characteristic of sean-nós, with a snatch of Sarah Ghriallais’ distinctive ‘Amhrán Mhaighinse’ added for good measure, though not remarked upon. Other archive film footage features, with some slight errors in the captions. Two Clare girls from Liscannor are attributed to Inis Mór, Árann, and another girl, feeding chickens and singing ‘Sail Óg Rua’, is linked to Cork, when it is certain, given her song, that she is a Connaught singer. These small slips notwithstanding, the segment is a strong one. 

Iarla Ó Lionáird and John Creedon (Photo: RTÉ)

Moving swiftly on, Martin Hayes, Mary Bergin, Sharon Shannon, and Tommy Hayes are tasked with explaining traditional music: the dynamics and importance of the session as a learning and experiential space, and the basic rhythmic structures of the various tune types, in what seemed quite a compressed section. Traditional music enthusiasts could be forgiven, perhaps, for feeling that the series skimped a bit on this important element in the body of music in Ireland, but it must be remembered that the series reflects the focus and enthusiasms of its presenter, whose main area of interest is not Irish traditional music in its discrete forms. Neansaí Ní Choistealbha’s Musical Atlas, for example, would be a very different series. Absent too in the series are any references to jazz or contemporary classical music, which only highlights the need for a platform for these genres.

The episode ends with an interview with Mike Scott of Waterboys fame, exploring his attraction to Ireland and its music. The term Celtic surfaces here again. This time, there is no holding back, as Scott waxes lyrical about the effect of the atmosphere and landscape of Ireland and its culture on his music. An affectionate vignette on the work of Conamara troubadour Tomás Mac Eoin and his contribution to the Waterboys’ ‘The Stolen Child’ drives home the point, as does the disclosure that Scott’s mother, Anne, an admirer of Yeats’ work, was his first introduction to the poet.

Anthems, archive footage and Riverdance
Part two begins in Dublin and focuses from the start on the idea of nation, with historian Liz Gillis outlining the background to the ballad ‘The Foggy Dew’, sung by Katie Theasby. Anthems and various songs that functioned over time in this capacity provide the focus. It emerges that Kearney and Keaveney’s ‘Amhrán na bhFiann’ had a chequered path to assuming national anthem status, chosen arbitrarily by a minister under pressure from an opposition colleague in the heat of the moment.  

A major section is devoted to Bobby Sands’ well-known ballad ‘Back Home in Derry’, focusing on the period of the H-Block hunger strikes and how Sands managed to smuggle his writing out of the prison. A three-way conversation with Creedon, Colm Scullion (Sands’ cell mate) and Christy Moore revisits the harrowing story of the dirty protest and Sands’ stalwart refusal to yield. Archive footage of British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher’s hand-washing assertion that nobody had made representations to her on behalf of the prisoners’ demand for political status added a chilling and compelling edge. Moore’s use of a Gordon Lightfoot tune from ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald’ for Sands’ lyrics are also discussed in relation to processes of borrowing, changing and adapting the characteristics of folk song. I could not help thinking back to the days of Section 31, when it would have been impossible to broadcast this material. Moore’s performance of the song, specially recorded for the series, is a tour de force. 

From the H-Blocks and Sands, the narrative moves to a consideration of Seán Ó Riada’s Mise Éire, going to Cúil Aodha in Cork. Peadar Ó Riada details his father’s compositional approach to the orchestrated melody that underpins the piece, and how he drew from the local song tradition for inspiration. Interview footage of Seán himself, explaining his love for 12-note modern music and traditional music, features here, brilliantly supported by Sarah and Rita Keane singing ‘A Stór mo Chroí’ in the background. Peadar’s account of his father’s death is an especially poignant moment, after which his claim that music provides a root that can help realise and develop a unique Irish identity seems entirely apposite. 

An interview with Bill Whelan about Riverdance airs the composer’s belief that new forms prevent the music from stagnating and becoming locked in the past, a matter that some might dispute. In the context of the Japanese journalist who asked him at a press conference in Japan, ‘What influence did Ó Riada sa Gaiety have on the development of traditional Irish music?’ Whelan reports how deeply impressed he was by the seriousness and sophistication of the question. Assessing Ó Riada as someone who had brought respect to what had been previously kitchen music, he also comments on how he perceived that some Japanese people found their own music to be inaccessible and remote from them, while being impressed that Irish music was changing, dynamic and in tune with a modern ethos. 

Subsequently, in a lightening of the tone, Creedon engages with music students at Cork School of Music, now part of Munster Technological University, in composing a trial national anthem using AI. The discussion centres on how, despite the possibilities of the artificial intelligence, human intervention is still needed to avoid major blunders. They tinker away at the tune and the lyrics until they have an acceptable product and then perform it. Despite its machine origin, the performance was a credit to the young musicians, with the vocalist, Ria, standing out especially. 

More orchestral music follows as conductor David Brophy at the head of the RTÉ Concert Orchestra breaks down the components of orchestration in the national anthem, showing how various instruments and arrangements combine to give the full orchestral sound majesty and panache, drum rolls, cellos, violins, and crashing cymbals included.

Creedon has his heart and brain analysed while listening to three different pieces of music, including Mise Éire, Dana singing ‘All Kinds of Everything’ (prompting Creedon into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles) and a piece of rock music. It emerges that his feelings of calm and relaxation were strongest when listening to Mise Éire, providing a strong clue as to the personal motivation and approach to the whole series. The final vignette where De Valera’s famous 1942 speech precedes President Michael D. Higgins giving a rousing call to the young to ‘make music and continue to dream’ closes the episode.

John Creedon (Photo: RTÉ)

Showbands, Horslips, the Pogues and the Kabin Crew
In part three, the sixties and their musical ferment occupy the first part of the programme. Jimmy Higgins, author of Are Ye The Band? A Memoir of the Showband Era, and a former band musician himself, gives an insider’s account of his own experiences of the time. The top twenty on Radio Luxembourg provided the repertoire for these young players and they stood up and moved about the stage, appearing more energetic than their seated predecessors. He also relates his father’s incredulity on discovering his son was earning £18 a week to his own £10. Higgins also explains the appeal of Country and Irish, mentioning Larry Cunningham’s hit ‘Lovely Leitrim’ and Big Tom’s ‘Gentle Mother’ as decisive moments in turning audiences toward country music, after which the tide gradually ebbed for the pop showbands. 

Another vignette discusses the rise of Horslips’ particular brand of music. Crucially these were not rural musicians but urban advertising executives who produced the music for a commercial themselves rather than hire a band. Thus Horslips was born, a unique development that drew on folk music and Irish mythology for inspiration, especially Thomas Kinsella’s translation of The Táin and Louis le Brocquy’s art. The band members’ memories of their glitzy costumes add a humorous personal touch to the story. 

The Pogues as seen through the experience of sometime member Cáit O’Riordan provide insight into the life of the Irish in Britain. O’Riordan details the casual racism she experienced in her youth, pointing out its role in her formation and in the creation of the sound made by the Pogues, where punk met Irish traditional music. A personal paean to Shane McGowan with ‘Rainy Night in Soho’ playing in the background accompanies the interview. Kevin Rowland’s experience mirrors that of O’Riordan. Focusing on the song ‘Come on Eileen’, Rowland explains how he learned that the song ‘Kevin Barry’ was ‘illegal’ as a child, the prohibition only increasing his fascination with it, leading him to incorporate its sound into his own original work. He explains how after having played it, BRMB, a commercial radio station, apologised to listeners potentially upset by it in the wake of the Hyde Park bombings. 

Not to end on a nostalgic note, Creedon returns to Cork for his final feature in this eclectic series, specifically to the Kabin Studio where young Corconians have been making music since 2012 and collaborating with others in Lisdoonvarna to produce viral Tik Tok hits under the watchful eye of Garry McCarthy and his team. The exuberance and self-confidence of these young musicians reminded me of Kneecap’s recent success. Truly infectious and inspiring, they laid out their plans for being the creatives of the future, with rap being a central element in their practice. Finally, Fintan O’Toole is faced with the somewhat overwhelming task of drawing the various threads explored in the series together and he succeeds well enough by reiterating the dynamic of tradition’s interplay with modernity, and conservatism with innovation. Andy Irvine singing ‘As I Roved Out’, coupled with Phil Lynott and Thin Lizzy’s ‘Whiskey in the Jar’, bookend the point well. 

The Kabin Crew in Cork (Photo: RTÉ)

Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland provides both entertainment and education. Its format works well and the various segments cohere, thanks to the presenter and the production and editorial teams. The long fifty-minute format may seem old-fashioned in an era of ever-briefer time slots, but each programme’s division into different sections succeeds in sustaining interest. Another presenter with different musical tastes would undoubtedly give a different picture, but praise goes to the whole crew who succeeded in including such a range of material, both visual and aural, much of it cleverly and seamlessly woven in without comment through the fabric of the major sections. 

The high production standards of Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland signal RTÉ’s continuing importance as a public service broadcaster, and its role in showcasing, promoting and developing music and the arts in Ireland.

Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland was broadcast on RTÉ One on 6–20 October 2024. To view the full series, visit www.rte.ie.

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