Dark Enchantress, Laura Mulcahy entered the Student’s Union via saloon-style doors at the side of the joint. She looked around absorbing both the atmosphere and the intense conversations; the kind that are liberally punctuated by the F- F- F- of the educated elite.
Up with her to the bar to order a cherry coke and lime.
‘Are ya still at the singing?’ asked a fella, sucking down a pint at the counter.
‘I am,’ she answered.
The following is a synopsis of their subsequent conversation. A colloquy detailing her hopes, her dreams and how she continually strives to change the world with her music:
‘The lament or the ‘caoineadh’ is distinctly a female art, where the beloved is mourned and the tragedy rued with raw emotion and poetic recitation. With this exquisite piece, Laura Mulcahy takes on this sacred mantle and brings it from the past to the present day.
Singer songwriter and poet Laura Mulcahy has just released the track Cúmha í Ndiaidh Aisling Shéanta, probably one if the best uses of the Irish language we have heard in a long time.
This powerful tradition once focused mainly on a male subject but here Laura, unapologetically in her mother tongue, expresses the persistent grief and hopelessness left in the wake of hundreds of murdered women in Ireland over three decades. With her inimitable voice she conjures a dreamtime, a moment of respite, an angelic vision of freedom and solace only for it to evaporate with the morning dew. Eamonn deBarra beautifully echoes the melody, lending solemnity and time for reflection and remembrance. This song is a reminder that the final stage of grief will never be reached. We can never accept this.’
Produced by long term collaborator Wayne P. Sheehy (Ocean Studios Ireland), Laura Mulcahybrings you ‘Cúmha í Ndiaidh Aisling Shéanta.’
Cúmha I Ndíaidh Aisling Shéanta
A chroí
Mar atá sé briste,
Ag siúl an
Domhain i mbrón
Ar ais go dtí an chré sinn
Is suaimhneas inár nanam dóchais.
Uair amháin
Bhí aisling,
Aingeal álainn
Ag snámh
Faoin spéir, gan chúram ina ceann
Lán saoirse óna cnámha
Lán saoirse óna cnámha…
Agus sheinn sí
Fonn binn
San úllórd draoíchta –
Fonn bródúil.
Chraith an drúcht
Óna sciatháin,
‘gus gach duine sa tír
Throimaigh a súile.
Faraor tá sé
In am dúiseacht,
Ní thagann
Aisling fíor,
Titeann úll
De chrann an úaignis
Agus itheann
Na péisteanna é.