Singer keeps faith with a sense of tradition

Cara Dillon is older and wiser since her Warners record deal. October Winds, her most personal song yet, just came naturally, she tells Tony Clayton-Lea

She doesn't look as if she's strong enough to withstand a force five wind, but looks and frame can be deceiving, for Cara Dillon - born 30 years ago in Dungiven, Co Derry - has bested the might of the music industry. Stubborn? You could say that.

At the age of 14, Dillon won the All-Ireland Singing Trophy; several years later, it was a hop, skip and a jump to the UK and the folk "super group" Equation, which signed to big shot record label, Warners. Within 12 months, Dillon and original Equation member Sam Lakeman left the band and signed a separate deal with a Warners offshoot label that, theoretically, afforded them major record company backing without the Faustian-pact interference. Dillon and Lakeman (now a married couple) spent six years at Warners, the end result of which was, effectively, nothing. No albums released, no gigs performed. Talk about being trapped - how come she and Sam didn't jump ship at some point?

"There always seemed to be the promise of something better," says the ultra-petite Dillon, who returns to Ireland this month for an appearance at the inaugural World Fleadh, a seven-day Irish music festival in Ballybunion, Co Kerry. "A lot happened, and it wasn't like we were twiddling our thumbs. We met wonderful producers and songwriters, were flown over to San Francisco, where we recorded an album that no one was happy with - it was put away and forgotten about. It wasn't all bad, though, because we learned from our experiences. For instance, it made us focus more on what we wanted. It gave us confidence, too; Sam learned to become a great producer and engineer - years of sitting behind people in flashy studios paid off! For me, it was seeing how the system works, learning how to smell the bullshit, coming to terms with what was and wasn't real. I suppose coming from the background we come from - good, solid folk - we put our trust in people. That can be a bit dangerous, and I think that's where we fell short."

The "sheep to wolves" syndrome? "Aye, you end up becoming totally trusting. Did I learn to compromise? Oh, yes, but I also knew I was never going to be the type of person who would give anyone the hit single." When the couple finally left Warners, they decided that whatever happened next would be on their terms. "We had compromised too much," admits Dillon, "and you don't get anywhere by doing a lot of that because it hampers your creativity. If you know what you want to do and if you like what you do, then someone in that big wide world out there is also going to like it - you're going to connect with them."

That connection came when they signed to Rough Trade (then and now one of the most hip indie/rock labels in Europe; over the past 20 years, the label has been instrumental in shaping the careers of bands from The Smiths to The Strokes). At Warners, reveals Dillon, they were always trying to stress their roots, yet "that was the side of the music they were trying to suppress". At Rough Trade, she says, they were allowed to do what came naturally. The result to date, over three albums (the latest of which is After the Morning), is a concise body of work that sounds contemporary yet is invested with an unshakeable sense of tradition.

"Blending the tradition with the new is always something I'm going to be doing," says Dillon. "I'm from that area; I've been saturated with that sense of inclusiveness since I was knee-high. There is such a wealth of material to draw from, anyway, and it would be too easy to give up on that. That was another big problem with Warners - they kept telling me through the six years that I still sounded like an Irish traditional singer. I said I couldn't help it, that I didn't know how to do anything else."

Tragedy is part and parcel of the Irish song tradition, but for a while it seemed as if Cara Dillon would be untouched by grief. "I'm a very happy person, thank God; I've had a lot of good luck, I have a loving family, and Sam and I get on great." Yet After the Morning contains Dillon's most personal song to date - October Winds, which is about her father, who died as Cara was writing tracks for the record.

It's the first time that she has bared her soul in a song, Dillon admits. "Usually, songwriting is an excuse to have a bit of fun and cover up stuff and just write whatever comes into your head. With October Winds, however, the words came very naturally. People have said to me that October Winds is their favourite song on the album, and they asked how I was ever going to perform it live - surely it was going to be too difficult? For me, though, the most difficult part was when the words came through - there was something in the memory of it that made me realise how terrible it was when my dad died, how ill he was and how he suffered. It was like going through a stage of grief, therapy if you like. I'm lucky that I'm able to use music like that, but I had never fully realised it before."

The family connection is strong still. Although she and Sam live in the Somerset farmers' town of Froom (something of an artist's enclave, according to Dillon), she visits home on a regular basis. "Whenever we're not on tour, I come back. I don't feel distanced at all from what I do; in fact, I regard myself as having two homes - Dungiven and Froom. And the mammy makes the scones."

How does Dungiven view her success - do the townsfolk regard her as selling out in any way, I wonder? The girl made good from the well of local tradition? Most times when she goes home, she emphasises, she meets up with people - teachers, historians, singers - who were instrumental in shaping her as a performer and asks them the same question. Their response is wholly positive, it seems.

"They're proud that I'm travelling with these local songs - songs such as The Winding River Roe, which is about Dungiven - all over the world. The haunting melodies of Dungiven are songs of the people for the people. It doesn't matter what country you're in. I'm so proud of the songs and where I come from, too. A good way of describing the songs is that they're precious gems looking for the right setting - and the music is the ring. The moment the setting starts to interfere with the stones, then the music is wrong."

The past five years has seen Dillon's profile rise; the major record label years are long behind her, as is the fear of hitting the big time too soon, too hard. She says she's in it for the long run, and that the very thought of enjoying a one-hit-wonder is "silly".

Inevitably, what with her father passing away, she deems family to be the most important thing in her life. "Sam and I are from strong, tight families, and no matter what is going on we always find time to come home and see people. You need that. It's important not to lose touch. But music, too, is not just something I do - it's a whole way of life for me. It's everything, not just a few gigs. Everything else fits into place."

So she doesn't have stars in her eyes just yet? "There's no point in going beyond where you come from. I don't think I'll ever feel like that. I'm from Dungiven, am I not?"

Cara Dillon performs at the World Fleadh, Ballybunion, Co Kerry, which takes place from August 14-20. Other acts include Gipsy Kings, The Waterboys, Capercaillie, The Michael McGoldrick Band, Solas, Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin & Orchestra, Iarla Ó Lionáird, Zoe Conway, John Spillane, Cora & Breda Smyth, and the Kilfenora and Tulla Céilí Bands