Kay Mc Carthy - Once Upon a Time in Ireland

She has become the ambassador of Irish folk in Italy, with her soft, melancholy-steeped ballads and her infectious dances. She is petite and energetic, determined and witty. A concentrate of Irish grit and Italian exuberance. For many years now, Kay McCarthy has been spreading the musical tradition of the Emerald Isle across our country. And amid the notes, she never fails to remind us how painful Ireland's story is, a land fought over by two peoples and for years oppressed by British rule. Politics and folk thus intertwine in a varied repertoire that never loses sight of the legendary and mythical dimension so deeply woven into Irish culture.

Her artistic background is studded with successes, from the packed performances of the 70s at the legendary Folkstudio in Rome to the recording of her first album, Róisín Dubh (1978), for Fonit Cetra.

Then came the triumphant 1982 tour with the Chieftains and the making of a second work, Stormy Lullaby (1983), for RCA International.

Brief pauses alternate with periods of great activity and artistic fervour. Appearances at festivals, showcases and tours broaden the expressive horizon of her music, as documented on the CD Arís (1995), released by Rome's Helikonia.

After publishing her "night ballads" for the weekly magazine "Avvenimenti" (Níl Sé 'na Lá, 1999), Kay recorded an album for her own label, Helikonia, featuring some of the highlights of her repertoire. Fadò Fadò – the album's title – brings together fifteen previously unreleased tracks on CD, songs performed until then only in her spellbinding live shows.

"The record," McCarthy explains, "was only meant to be a demo. But then Helikonia and I thought it would be a shame to leave those songs in a drawer." Good thing they did. "Fadò Fadò" (Gaelic for "once upon a time") is in fact a precious synthesis of the Irish vocalist's repertoire, one that effortlessly blends traditional folk with contemporary sounds.

Kay McCarthy, with her clear, powerful voice, sings of her Ireland: the Ireland of suffering under the English yoke, of the conflict between Catholics and Protestants, but also of legends and tales handed down from generation to generation. Thus "Fàitscéal Féileacàin" is a metaphor for life, symbolised by the flight of a butterfly that lasts no longer than a single day; "Siùl a Ghra" is a lament accompanying the end of Celtic aristocracy in Ireland; "Fill, a Rùn, O!" is a mother's plea to her son, who is about to abandon the Catholic faith to don Protestant clerical robes.

There's no shortage of joyful, highly entertaining pieces either, such as "The Sailors' Hornpipe", a ballad of Scottish origin telling of knowing glances and budding romances. There's also room for an ecological ballad, "Séan O'Duibhir", named after a nobleman who lived in the second half of the seventeenth century and left Ireland embittered by the devastation of the forests carried out by the English.

Kay McCarthy also pokes fun at war: "I wanted to include 'Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye!' on the record, the Yankee anthem from the Civil War, because it has such biting lyrics. It's about a woman welcoming home her man, blind and missing his arms and legs after the war, greeting him in a mocking tone: 'Hey Johnny, I hardly knew ye...' It's a song that still feels relevant today, in an age of conflict and suffering."

Fadò Fadò, then, adds a new, thrilling chapter to the story of this indomitable Irishwoman in Italy, shaped by Rome's Folkstudio and years of musical exploration, after winning several competitions back home. A career built far from easy trends, alongside a band of outstanding technical calibre.

With Am (2000), McCarthy leans further into the melodic side of her work (the title track), and crafts a refined adaptation of Piero Ricciardi's poem "I Giorni del Silenzio" ("Laethanta Na Ciuine"). Overall, twelve more evocative tracks confirm her as one of the leading figures of the Gaelic tradition in Europe.

In 2004, Kay McCarthy returned with Rianta, an album born from her collaboration with guitarist Luigi Pignatiello, already at her side on Am, and with pianist Ugo Dorato. Alongside traditional songs ("Mo Ghile Mear", "An Druimeann Donn Dilis"), there are also new pieces such as "The Captain's Wife" and "Nòralaì", which reflect a slow process of hybridisation between Celtic folk heritage and Mediterranean traditions, while "Gentle Little Lady", co-written with Carlo Stoppoloni, ventures almost into operatic territory.

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