Cantata in Doublespeak

This is a strange album that not only ping-pongs language, Gaelic and English, but whose poetic protagonists Medhbdh and Ailill refer to an ancient Irish tale of a violent dispute between a warrior queen and her husband while taking us into modern times and its ills: vodka martinis, crystal meth, oxycontin, methadone and credit card debt, Dow Jones, and GPS. Irish poet Paul Muldoon is responsible for this macaronic salmagundi that crosses eras, language, idioms, and bad puns, as with names, such as Fergus O'Blique and Peter O'Paque. The title of the poem is Olagón, meaning a cry of frustrated and exasperated agony [AAAARG! in the comics page], and the numerous non sequiturs and side references to historical people and symbols embody a breakdown, both economic and spiritual. The music by composer Dan Trueman, who plays here his Norwegian Hardanger fiddle, also is a burlesque mixture — folk, carnival, medieval, avant-garde, sweet ballads and violent dissonance and just intonation — performed by the sextet of Eighth Blackbird [flutes, clarinets, violin/viola, cello, percussion, and keyboards]. One section is skin to the chordal harmonies of Terry Riley's Requiem for Adam and the drum kit and vocals suggest popular and rock. The chief vocalist-reciter is Iarla Ó Lionáird. The two-disc work thus is a self-referential, ludicrous, dramatic piece of word-play and various musical styles. It certainly is memorable as a concept, and I can easily imagine this poem, this cantata, as a multi-media stage performance, which could enhance its appreciation, short of being Irish.

As others have written, this is a macronic poem (Irish & English), written by Paul Muldoon, about the downfall of a well-known Irish "power couple" --- best know via the Tain. (Cattle Raid of Cooley), but set within the demise of the Celtic Tiger. The poem is wonderfully funny, bizarre, sad and sometimes profound. It is set to expressive, sometimes wild, sometimes beautiful, sometimes dissonant, sometimes medieval, but always fun to listen-to, music by Dan Trueman & Iarla Ó Lionáird, played by the wonderful Eighth Blackbird. Iarla sings the parts of Queen Mebh, King Aillil, the narrator and also an exquisite dialog from the 6th or 7th century between Mabhan (a monk - or some say druid), and his brother King Guaire. As always, Iarla's singing is extraordinary. Every word crystal-clear and expressive. And so many stylistic twists, from highly ornamented sean-nos to bawdy, to bar-room Irish and more. There are other singers as well: Iarla's brothers, revered sean-nos singer, Treasa Ní Mhiolláin and two of her students, and the early music group Gallicantus.I found myself effortlessly singing along and memorizing the poem as I listened to it multiple times. To me, that is a sign of well-written music and poetry.I was lucky to be able to see Olagón live at Princeton University, and wished that I'd been able to stay down there and see it again the next night. It was brilliantly staged, with lots of expressive movement.In addition to the artistry, Olagón is a commentary on the times we live in, and the human condition.

Dan Truman, Iarla Ó Lionáird, and eighth blackbird have crafted a stirring performance piece that brings together dark, humane, and humorous poetry, timeless Celtic folk-story telling, an extra-ordinary voice, masterful composition and pacing, and the sextet's signature excellent and emotive execution. We don't come across such originality often, so when we do we should seize it, embed ourselves in it, listen over and over to pick up the humor of the phrases, to hear the ensemble perform as a human body as it transitions from manic hyper-stress to a sedated depression (listen at the four-minute mark in Queen Bee for the pacing of the bass drum and you'll understand how clever this project is), and to listen for the flow of motifs that programatically guide the listener through ... what is in essence ... using the tools of poetry in musical expression.Not far from Goebbels and Muller's "The Man in the Elevator," Tom Waits' "The Black Rider", or Stu's "Passing Strange" in its structure, Olagon borrows Celtic heroes Queen Medhbh and King Aillil to tell a modern story of dysfunction, treachery, and love. And if the genre fluidity of Nico Muhly's "Seeing is Believing" suits you, then you will be equally carried along with this - again extraordinary - contribution to western music, poetry, and performance.My God, what a piece of work it is.