Otherworldly sounds from the underground

The Mitchelstown Caves proved the spookily perfect venue for a special gig this weekend featuring Lisa Hannigan, Duke Special and Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, writes TONY-CLAYTON-LEA

ROCK MUSIC IN a cave? But of course. The Celtic Tenors performed in the Mitchelstown Caves in 2000, and 10 years before that, RTÉ’s Bibi Baskin presided over an outside (surely underground?) broadcast, but until a few days ago, anything that hinted at left-of-centre music didn’t get a look-in or a helping hand down the caves’ 88 concrete steps. However, thanks to John English, Mitchelstown caves’ overseer, and Mary Hickson, chief executive of the Cork Opera House, the spectral, unique-to- Ireland space now has the potential for new sonic hijinks with the weekend’s performances by Lisa Hannigan, Duke Special, James Vincent McMorrow and Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh having gone off with chilly panache.

Discovered inadvertently on May 3rd 1833 by labourer Michael Condon (who, as he quarried limestone, dropped a crowbar into a crevice, only to discover a vast subterranean space), the caves became an instant attraction for curious sightseers. There have been guided tours ever since, says John English, whose father married a direct descendant of the Condon family, and who diligently carries on the duties of keeper of the caves.

In 1965, John’s father embarked on the lengthy process of putting steps in, in order to make it safer for the increasing number of visitors (“he mixed the concrete outside and then brought it down in buckets. He wired it for electricity, too”). Seven years later, the caves became the first in Ireland to be especially developed for the public. Ninety per cent of visitors, says John, are from schools and colleges (“children and students love it”), while the remainder comprises passing-through tourists unfamiliar, perhaps, with geological terms such as ‘Quaternary Period’ and ‘Precambrian Aeon’.

“We were never good at marketing here. We’re happy the way we’re going,” says English. Fair enough comment, but as you wander through the caves, which are unfussily presented (there are no fancy laser, light or sound systems here), the possibilities for some kind of engagement with commerce, however cautious, seem worthwhile. As John tells it, there two miles of tunnel networks, and nine caverns that aren’t open to the public – the biggest of which is three times larger than the Tír na nÓg cavern, which is where the weekend’s concerts took place. “It takes about two hours to get into the big one,” says John, shining a lamplight in its general direction. “Some parts you can walk in, others you have to crawl – and there’s a lake in there, too.”

The first thing that strikes you as you mindfully make your way down the steps, along head- height tunnels and then into the Tír na nÓg cavern, is how otherworldly and, well, alive it is. Initially, the year-round 12-degree temperature is welcoming, but after two hours of sitting down, the coolness seeps into the bones. Thank goodness there are people on a naturally raised level, playing music that deserves applause. Anything to keep the circulation flowing.

The music on Friday evening was mostly wonderful, if surprisingly self-serving. Duke Special, wearing a miner’s lamp (suits you, sir) previewed a batch of excellent new songs that have been inspired by American photographers Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946) and Paul Strand (1890-1976), each of whom were instrumental in establishing pictorial photography as a recognised art form.

Odd as two left feet, but (as always) compellingly so, Duke Special handed over to fiddler Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh, who comes across more Sigur Rós than Seamus Ennis. In other words, his drone-based style of playing (which is clearly influenced by the uilleann pipes) is an acquired taste. I’ll pass on

Ó Raghallaigh’s overlong performance for the moment (although we await his forthcoming collaborative project with Martin Hayes and Iarla Ó Lionáird, aka The Gloaming, with interest), and relay instead three overheard comments: “He needs to go to Dingle for a wet weekend”, “hard to sit through”, and “sadistic”.

What’s the opposite of sadistic? Whatever words you want to select from your thesaurus, you can bet that Lisa Hannigan fits at least one of them. Like Duke Special’s and Ó Raghallaigh’s performances, Hannigan’s short set was equally self-indulgent, as out of six she played only one familiar song (Lille from her debut album Sea Sew). The difference was material, delivery and context, each of which dovetailed perfectly, resulting in something special. Each musician, incidentally, was obviously taken with playing in such an exceptionally alien-like environment.

The person who came up with the original idea was Cork Opera House’s Mary Hickson, who, inspired by a prior visit with

Ó Raghallaigh as much as by having organised a previous collaboration between the fiddle player and Icelandic female post.rock group Amiina, had a strong sense of the caves’ spatial significance. “A few months later, I asked John would he support an application to the Arts Council for this. We got the award, and here we are.”

Future possibilities will most definitely exclude Saturday Night@The Caves-type concerts (shudder at the thought). Despite being on the receiving end of many requests for concerts, John English is adamant that any manner of regular events “would take away the magic”. Mary Hickson, meanwhile, is thinking of other suitable music names to suggest to John. She has a gleam in her eyes that looks suspiciously like the shifting shapes of the Aurora Borealis. Watch this wondrous space. And watch your step, too.