Artist Hozier performs at the Mann Center in Philadelphia on Sept. 29, 2023. Credit: Steven M. Falk | The Philadelphia Inquirer(via TNS)
Songs I Wish I Wrote is a monthly column that assembles old and new songs for Ohio State’s music lovers.
For many college students, St. Patrick’s Day translates to an excuse for a rampant night brimming with drinks, debauchery and flashes of green.
There’s no shame in celebrating the holiday with reckless revelry, but as the descendant of a long line of Irish folk, I propose setting aside some time to commemorate Irish culture. Moreover, I’m also directly descended from music nerds, and I’ve learned that music is one of the most accessible means to learn about other cultures.
Below is a playlist solely comprised of Irish artists, from acclaimed legends to lesser-known innovators to today’s rising stars, to turn up this St. Patrick’s Day.
“Whiskey in the Jar” by Thin Lizzy
Though innumerable elements of Irish culture have been lost to tumultuous history, “Whiskey in the Jar” — a ditty about a betrayed highwayman — has withstood the test of time. According to a March 2015 article by prominent pop culture website The A.V. Club, some folklorists believe the song’s basic story dates back to 1650.
Myriad artists, from Irish-folk band The Dubliners to American heavy-metal band Metallica, have released their own interpretations of the folkloric piece. But Dublin-based, hard-rock band Thin Lizzy’s spirited rendition beams with irresistible vibrance.
With a gravelly, vigorous voice destined for rock, lead singer Phil Lynott pulls listeners right into the exhilarating action of wielding a “pistol” and “rapier” at the unmistakably Irish “Cork and Kerry mountains,” all while his bandmates provide pulsating energy via fast-paced instrumentals.
This version’s allure lies in its seamless blend of the modern and traditional; notably, Lynott incorporates lilting, nonsensical singing prevalent in Irish folk tunes into the song’s invigorating chorus — “Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da.”
Reverberating with lively rock ’n’ roll zeal, this song is both an invitation to get up and dance — and maybe drink some “whiskey in the jar-o” — as well as a robust adaptation of a story deeply steeped in Irish folklore.
“When You Sleep” by My Bloody Valentine
Characterized by an overwhelmingly loud, fuzzy concoction of distorted guitars, heavy feedback and barely distinguishable lyrics, the “shoegaze” alternative rock subgenre is perhaps the most otherworldly of them all, and the Dublin-based, Irish-English band My Bloody Valentine was critical to its development.
Beginning with a ruthlessly loud, hypnotic drone, “When You Sleep” — a song from the band’s definitive album “Loveless” — is an entrancing introduction to those unfamiliar with this innovative Irish band. Layered tracks of lyrics encapsulating the muddled, overwhelming feelings of romance are buried beneath the hazy whir of sound: the heady uncertainty of “what’s real” when gazing at a lover to the explosive, discordant crash of being taken down when they “walk away.”
“I Love You” by Fontaines D.C.
Driven by somberly fierce instrumentals and lead singer-songwriter Grian Chatten’s unmistakable accent, Dublin-formed, post-punk group Fontaines D.C.’s “I Love You” is a weighty love song for and in criticism of Ireland, despite its deceptively straightforward title.
There is blazing love and goodwill in Chatten’s biting lyrics, which state that “if [he] must have a future, [he wants] it with [Ireland].” There is likewise a frustrated desperation to be heard and believed in his repetition of “I love you” to his beloved yet troubled homeland.
It’s this ceaseless love for Ireland — the love that will endure “’til the grass around [his] gravestone is deceased” — that spurs Chatten’s eloquent, sharp criticisms of the country. He strikingly deems greedy leaders “sharks with children’s bones stuck in their jaws” who carelessly “walk by” significant issues, even illuminating the country’s high suicide rate by proclaiming that “now the flowers read like broadsheets, every young man wants to die.”
One of Chatten’s most scathing criticisms is reserved for the infamously hypocritical Catholic Church. His comparison of loving Ireland “like a penny loves the pocket of a priest” drips with bitter, pure irony.
“Famine” by Sinead O’Connor
Sinead O’Connor is one of Ireland’s most fearless and significant artists; consequently, she wastes no time “[talking] about Ireland” on “Famine,” which functions as a history lesson about the withstanding trauma resulting from England’s historic oppression of Ireland.
Featuring eerie wolf howls and a mesmerizing beat, the song addresses some of Ireland’s most prominent social struggles, such as rampant addiction and child abuse. She poignantly grieves the stolen innocence of whom she believes to be “the most childlike, trusting people in the universe”— the Irish.
O’Connor is lovingly sympathetic in calling out these problems, seeing “the Irish as a race like a child that got itself bashed in the face.” Still, she suggests acknowledging Ireland’s brutal history is essential to moving forward as a country — “if there ever is gonna be healing, there has to be remembering, and then grieving.”
Indeed, if there ever can be restorative forgiveness, “there has to be knowledge and understanding.”
“Butchered Tongue” by Hozier
Perhaps the most popular young Irish singer-songwriter today, Hozier — a moniker for Andrew Hozier-Byrne — has established himself as a profound artist with an exquisitely moving voice, mystically beautiful lyricism and a musical amalgamation of folk, pop, rock and the blues.
Not unlike O’Connor’s lamentation of England “giving [the Irish] money not to teach [their] children Irish” on “Famine,” Hozier spotlights Ireland’s stripped language and culture while stressing the preservation of what remains on “Butchered Tongue.”
Hozier illuminates how past massacres of Irish people still haunt the country, mourning that “the very bedrock” of his “home” is shattered with the brutal history of “ears chopped” and men “buried without scalp.” Even so, “a butchered tongue still [sings] here above ground.”
Though silenced and almost completely obliterated, the Irish language, a crucial cultural element, endures through artists such as Hozier.
“Ode to My Family” by The Cranberries
There is a palpable, comforting nostalgia in the gentle instrumentals and reflective lyrics of “Ode to My Family,” in which singer Dolores O’Riordan recounts precious family memories, such as her mother holding her and being “raised to see life as fun and take it if [she] can.”
The sweet Irish lilt in O’Riordan’s humble admission that “what [she’s] become wasn’t through [her] design” suggests a touching gratitude, as she takes time to beautifully honor her family through this song.
And, considering St. Patrick’s Day’s celebration of heritage, what better way to celebrate it? Regardless of one’s ancestry, the holiday presents a valuable opportunity to reflect on the people, places and things that have defined oneself.
“Twinkle” by Whipping Boy
While having a relatively low following — with under 15,000 monthly listeners on Spotify at the time of publication — disbanded post-punk group Whipping Boy boasts immense acclaim; in a 2020 article, The Irish Times ranked the Dublin-born band’s seminal album, “Heartworm,” as the fourth best Irish album of all time.
The praise for this likely unfamiliar band is not unjustified; upon pressing play, one is swept away by delayed and reverberated violins and hypnotic double-tracked guitar. “Twinkle” is this stunning album’s opener.
With a gruff and irresistibly sincere voice, singer Fearghal McKee details a collision of urgent love and exhausting lust, one’s dreams left for dead while “making out with every other.”
There’s an almost overwhelming push and pull between the necessity of this love — he even deems his lover “the air [he] [breathes]” — and his bitter suspicion that “[he] might be nothing to her.”
Still, against a euphoric whir of guitars and ruthlessly intense drums, McKee clings to this turbulent romance whether or not it will destroy him in the end, passionately repeating that his lover is “the only one for [him], now and always.”
This tune truly does possess some “twinkle,” as there is an indescribable beauty to its distinctive sound and fervor.
“Mysterious Ways” by U2
U2 is not only one of the most famous Irish bands ever but one of the most famous bands in the world. Though its popularity has endured over 40 years of musical evolution, I’d argue its boldest and most innovative album is 1991’s “Achtung Baby.”
Amid this treasure trove of songs featuring expansive instrumentals, stirring lyrics and commendable experimentation, “Mysterious Ways” shines with a seductively danceable aura. If one wants to let loose this St. Patrick’s Day, why not do so to great Irish music?
Bolstered by a funky rhythm and conga drums, guitarist the Edge’s distinctly distorted playing guides singer Bono’s esoteric lyricism. Awe-struck by ineffable attraction, he reveres a love interest’s mystical beauty, deeming her divinely powerful enough to “[turn] the tide” and “talk about the things you can’t explain.”
The repeated chorus — “It’s alright, it’s alright, alright, she moves in mysterious ways” — builds an explosive rhythm, emphasizing this romance’s enchanting nature. After a compelling musical interlude, Bono chronicles a surrender to this out-of-body attraction, and it is one of ecstasy; in his own words, “If you wanna kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel.”
“Irish Heartbeat” by Van Morrison and The Chieftains
The Chieftains hold a special, if niche, place in my heart. For me, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without my grandpa — an outwardly proud Irish descendant — playing a CD of the band’s Christmas album, “The Bells of Dublin.”
For St. Patrick’s Day, though, I recommend “Irish Heartbeat,” the title track from the group’s collaborative album with Northern Irish superstar Van Morrison.
In a world that’s “so cold,” Morrison gently urges listeners to “stay awhile with [their] own ones,” to find solace in (re)connecting to their culture or perhaps to simply be there for the people who are there for them. The song’s resolution, in which Morrison determines that he will go back to “talk awhile with [his] own ones,” especially radiates the peace embracing his Irish culture brings him.
With its endearing lyrics and traditional Irish instruments, this song certainly encapsulates the “Irish heartbeat” at its core. Listeners of any heritage should note Morrison’s kindhearted reflection that a stranger might be their “best friend” or even “brother.”
