Séamus Begley

Track	Album
An Ciarraíoch Mallaithe	An Ciarraíoch Mallaithe
The Strathnairn	Meiṫeal
Seol Do Bho	Meiṫeal
Bruach Na Carraige Báine	Meiṫeal
Early Morning Rain	Ragairne
Polkas: There’s Worse Than That Around etc.	Ragairne
Bhán Óig	Éirí Go Lá
Cill Mhuire	Disgrace Notes
Bánchnoic Éireann Ó	Together / Le Cheile
Táimse Im Chodladh	The Bold Kerryman
Bonus Track
Oíche Chiúin	An Irish Christmas Soundscape

I have to start this piece with a confession – for a long time I had a strong prejudice against the accordion as a musical instrument. This probably had far less to do with its merits/demerits than with the fact that I heard it played badly far too often when growing up in the west of Ireland. Like the melodeon (which I still can take only in very small doses) it seemed to feature in every mediocre marching or ceili band or pub session that I encountered in those times. In more recent years, however, I have realised that in the hands of genuine virtuosos, such as Séamus Begley, Sharon Shannon, Joe Burke, Máirtín O’Connor and Flaco Jiménez, the instrument can be made to sound just as musically valid as any other. Even among this group, Begley stood out for the remarkable rhythmic precision and dexterity of his playing. What also made him even more distinctive was that, along with his remarkable skill as an instrumentalist, he was also a very fine singer. Indeed, his singing showed a remarkable sensitivity and delicacy which seemed somehow out of character with the rather gruff persona he projected in public. It also contrasted with the wildness of his accordion playing at times. These stylistic shifts gave his performances an element of surprise which greatly added to their effectiveness. Few artists could shift the balance as quickly as he did from light to shade or from exuberance to melancholy.

In many respects, Séamus Begley was born to be a musician. His father was a talented accordionist who also played the melodeon. His mother was a keen singer, while there were many musicians – of different types – in his wider family. It is possible that he owed something of the ‘sweet’ quality in his later singing to his mother’s fondness for singers like John McCormack. The family also owned a local dance hall in Muiríoch in County Kerry. It was there that Séamus and his brother Brendan honed their skills as musicians playing the polka and slides which were an integral part of the local dance scene. Playing for dancers also helped to give his playing the rhythmic drive and propulsion which subsequently characterised it. In 1969, he competed as an unaccompanied singer at the national music festival, Oireachtas na Gaeilge, held in Dublin. This performance brought his music to the attention of a broader audience than he had attracted up to that point.

In 1973, Riobard Mac Gióráin of the Irish traditional label, Gael Linn, invited Séamus to make an album with his sister Máire, an exceptionally talented artist in her own right. As with almost all of his subsequent recordings, his debut record, An Ciarraíoch Mallaithe, included a combination of songs (most of them sung as duets with Máire) and accordion tunes (on which Máire provided a relatively basic guitar accompaniment). From it, I have chosen the title track (which roughly translates as The Cursed Kerryman) for inclusion. It gives an early indication of the Begley siblings’ skills as interpreters of ballads. A translation of the song, which is well described on the From The Irish blog as “a vigorous ballad of seduction, deception and fraud”, can be found here. A later live solo performance of the song can be seen here. Although An Ciarraíoch Mallaithe is a good record, on Séamus’ part it was clearly the work of an artist still feeling his way towards discovering his individual voice.

He eventually achieved this creative breakthrough through another collaborative venture. the album Meiṫeal, which Begley recorded with the Australian-born guitarist, Steve Cooney, in 1996. The two men first met in 1984, when Cooney visited the Dingle area in County Kerry after finishing a tour with the Irish pop/rock/trad band, Stockton’s Wing. He had played electric bass and didgeridoo with the group. Before that he had played with rock and trad groups in Australia. These included the Captain Matchbox Whoopee Band and Redgum. His background in rock music – and his own broader interest in blues and reggae – meant that Cooney brought a very distinctive musical palette to his work with Begley from 1984 onwards. Initially at least, their work together centred on playing for dancers and this meant that rhythm/syncopation was key to their live performances. Cooney also brought a new unbridled energy and enthusiasm to the duo’s music, and this gave Begley’s own playing a new lease of life. As he later put it, how could he become jaded when he had “this tornado coming up behind him”.

The electricity of their live performances in Kerry drew the attention of other musicians to them. This eventually led to their appearing at Glastonbury in 1989 as the opening act for the Waterboys at the invitation of Mike Scott. Scott later described their style in starting a tune as “straight in man and the feet stomping, punk rock”. One of the attractions of their performances was the underlying tensions which existed between them, given the differences in their characters and temperaments. Begley’s own description of them as ‘hairy and squarey’ gives an indication of these clashes in their personalities. The closest analogy I can think of is if Merle Haggard and Gram Parsons had formed a band together. Musically, Begley and Cooney were an ideal fit, with their differing styles complimenting each other perfectly, and they rank among the very best duos ever to perform Irish traditional music.

As an album, Meiṫeal managed the difficult combination of both giving a jolt to the traditional music of west Kerry while remaining true to its core. In this regard, Begley’s position as a genuine folk musician, steeped from birth in the music of his local area, gave them a rock-solid core of authenticity. This solid base gave Cooney a license to experiment with the music. On Meiṫeal these innovations included the use of electric bass and didgeridoo, as well as the use of a reggae-type bassline on the set of slides, Kings Of Kerry. Indeed, from the first set of polkas which introduced the record, The Straithnairn (my first choice from the album), the dance tunes on it were played with a combination of blistering virtuosity and ferocity of attack that was rare in Irish music up to that point. Another of my selections, Seol Do Bho, was recorded in the duo’s natural habitat, the Border pub in Cluas in Kerry, with the set dancers, who were central to their work, clearly audible in the background.

Their brilliant dance music was, however, only one part of the duo’s armoury. The other key factor which set them apart was the brilliance of Séamus’ singing and Steve’s ability to provide him with the perfect musical accompaniment to show it in its best light. On Meiṫeal, this was best displayed in the duo’s beautiful version of Bruach Na Carraige Báine – a rough translation would be The Brink/The Edge of the White Rocks. There is a translation of the full song here. Séamus’ vocal beautifully captured the yearning/desolate quality of the song. The track also shows him to be a supreme interpreter of such melancholic ballads.

After the musical partnership between Séamus and Steve was finally dissolved in the late 1990s (when the latter moved to Donegal), Begley developed a new duo with a young guitarist, Jim Murray. Murray had studied with Cooney and perhaps in consequence he and Begley quickly developed an easy musical rapport. If their work together never quite matched the revolutionary/groundbreaking quality of the Begley-Cooney pairing it did, nonetheless, produce music of a consistently high quality. Their first album together, Ragairne, captured this chemistry well. It was first released in 2001. At this point, Séamus had also begun to extend the range of his singing beyond traditional folk tunes. My next pick, his finely judged cover of Gordon Lightfoot’s Early Morning Rain, is a good example of this. Although Lightfoot’s rendition remains my favourite one of the song, Séamus runs it pretty close. The track also features some lovely guitar picking by Murray.

By contrast, the set of polkas, There’s Worse Than That Around / Polka Níall / Asailín ag Seáinín, shows that Begley had lost none of his bite as an accordion player.

My last four selections are folk songs which Séamus recorded with various collaborators in the later part of his career. The keen sensitivity which he brought to his interpretation of such ballads is apparent in all of these. Bhán Óig, which he recorded with Jim Murray, is one of the finest love songs that he ever recorded. It also features some excellent understated guitar playing by Murray. The song is a variant version of the Scottish ballad, A Mhàiri Bhàn Og (a rough translation would be Mary, Young And Fair). Séamus’ vocal performance has a rare delicacy and this accentuates the beauty of its melody.

In “Careless Love”, the second volume of his brilliant biography of Elvis, Peter Guralnick refers to his singing as having displayed “a vulnerability [that was] culturally denied”. He also refers to the “innocent transparency” that characterised Elvis’ best vocal performances. In its very different way, Séamus’ singing has something of the same quality. Cill Mhuire, which he recorded with the English guitarist and multi-instrumentalist Tim Edey, is a good example of this – a translation of the song can be found here. The track also features a backing vocal by Séamus’ daughter Méabh who is a fine singer in her own right.

By contrast, Bánchnoic Éireann Ó is one of the great Irish emigrant songs. Its history is discussed here and the site also provides a translation. Séamus’ version, which was recorded with the fiddler Oisín Mac Diarmada and Méabh Begley, brings out the intense sense of loss which is key to the song. Here’s a superb later version of the song where Begley is backed by Steve Cooney.  

Táimse Im Chodladh (I Am Asleep) is a song closely associated with Seán Ó Riada. He recorded it with Ceoltóirí Chualann with the great Seán Ó Sé on lead vocal in 1963. A translation and an account of the history of the song can be found here.  It has a particularly beautiful melody to which Séamus’ version does full justice.

In his later years, before his death in 2023, Séamus Begley made regular trips to America and Australia, often playing with those young musicians who had been inspired by his own earlier work. These trips gave him the opportunity to see how much his music was appreciated both in Ireland itself and among Irish emigrant and international audiences. Indeed, had he only played the accordion, Séamus would rank high among the very best instrumentalists in the history of Irish traditional music. When one adds in his brilliant singing – and his passing on of a precious treasure of tunes and songs – it is clear that his contribution to the genre was immeasurable.

Bonus Track

Will conclude with Oíche Chiúin, the lovely Irish-language rendition of Silent Night by Séamus and Méabh.

Footnotes

There are two documentaries on Séamus which appeared on Irish television that are well worth watching:  the 2020 film in the Sé Mo Laoch (He is My Hero) series which is in Irish but has English subtitles; and the 2023 tribute, Séamus Begley – The Bold Kerryman.

Steve Cooney’s instrumental masterpiece, Ceol Ársa Cláirsí: Tunes of the Irish Harpers for Solo Guitar, first released in 2019, is also highly recommended.

Since his death, Séamus’ family has carried on his musical tradition, most notably perhaps through the superb accordion playing of his nephew, Cormac.

Séamus Begley with Steve Cooney in Daingean Uí Chúis, 1990

Steve Cooney and Séamus Begley play at Oireachtas in 1994

Séamus Begley & Steve Cooney, Ennis Trad Festival 2014

Séamus Begley (1949–2023)

Irish Times obituary
Irish Independent obituary
Journal of Music obituary

From West Kerry to Accordion King (District Magazine, 2024)

The Cursed Kerryman (From The Irish blog)

The Weaving (aka The Méabh Begley Trio)

Cormac Begley facebook

Andrew Shields is a freelance historian, who grew up in the West of Ireland and currently lives in Sydney, Australia. Along with an interest in history, politics and literature, his other principal occupations are listening to and reading about the music of Bob Dylan and, in more recent years, immersing himself in the often brilliant and unduly neglected music of Phil Ochs.

Andrew’s series of posts on Irish folk and traditional musicians on this site includes: Clancy Brothers, Willie Clancy, Sonny Condell, Dubliners, Johnny Duhan, Séamus Ennis, Joe Heaney, Seán Keane, Iarla Ó Lionáird, Seán Ó Riada, Planxty.

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