'Songs are ingrained in our daily lives like nothing else'

Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin has been focusing on his songwriting since he left RTÉ. The results justify the wait, writes Pól Ó Muirí

Mention song in the Irish language and the image that springs to mind is of groups such as Altan. Other commercially successful artists crop up once in a while with innovative versions of modern classics; witness the Éist albums. Other artists are moulding the language to the soft sounds of their own lyrics and music, however. Tadhg Mac Dhonnagáin is one of their foremost.

Born in Co Mayo in 1961, Mac Dhonnagáin spent many years working for RTÉ on children's and arts programmes, most notably Cúrsaí Ealaíne, before leaving the station in 2000 to pursue a career as a freelance producer and scriptwriter. He recorded two albums, Solas Gorm (1988) and Raifteirí San Underground (1993), then stopped releasing material for adults.

He has now ended a hiatus of 11 years - broken only by an album for children, Futa Fata Féasóg (1997) - with Imíonn An tAm, a CD of selected songs. For Mac Dhonnagáin it's a comeback project, a new beginning. "I've come to realise that making music makes me happy. I'm going to continue to record and perform as long as I can."

Country-and-western, folk and contemporary influences all vie for the ear's attention in his work. He lists Lucinda Williams, Randy Newman, Lyle Lovett and Ry Cooder as inspirations while also finding a place in his canon for the Irish singers Sonny Condell and Thom Moore. "I heard \ band Midnight Well at the Ballisodare Folk Festival, in Sligo, in the mid-1970s. The album they made back then still sounds really fresh."

"Roots" is the description he is most comfortable with. "My songs are generally written on acoustic guitar. The melodies aren't particularly traditional, though I think traditional music has had a certain influence. I used to play the guitar a lot in trad sessions in my early 20s, and I think the way I string chords together owes a certain amount to traditional music.

"If there is a connection with the tradition it's in the lyrics of the songs I've written in Irish. If you don't speak or understand Irish this connection would be lost on you. I see myself essentially as a contemporary songwriter."

The Irish language can be a lonely furrow to plough creatively, especially so when it comes to music. After all, bland cover versions are the order of the day. "Ethnic" does not have the mass-market appeal that record companies want. Are we in danger of losing our hearing, of becoming so undiscerning as to ignore accomplished and original musicians such as Mac Dhonnagáin?

"Pop is only one demographic, yet it does get the lion's share of attention. This is free-market economics at work. But as the media landscape fragments, the specialist areas are finding their own space. Raidió na Gaeltachta, which now has a worldwide reach via the Internet, has been hugely supportive of what I do. So has TG4, who supported the release of Imíonn An tAm.

"In terms of the dominance of pop I think that the age reach of boy-band corporate pop has expanded downwards: younger kids are being targeted. But in the teen area, judging from my eldest son's mates and his teenage cousins, there seems to be a huge interest re-emerging in actually playing music again, in learning an instrument and forming a band. I believe live music, in all its forms, is on the way back. So I would be optimistic about the future of creative musicianship in this country."

He is critical of the lack of support from the Arts Council and Aosdána for his endeavours and those of others. Neither organisation recognises songwriting as an art form. "It's unfair. I feel people like Sonny Condell, who have given their lives to songwriting and have produced work of artistic merit, should be recognised by Aosdána.

"The argument against seems to be that songwriting is a commercial enterprise. Some is, as indeed is some novel-writing, some fine art and so on.

"But songwriting as a professional career is extremely challenging for the long haul. What other writers don't have to contend with is the insidious ageism of the music scene. Music journalism is constantly seeking novelty.

"If you're a songwriter who has stuck to his guns and has no other source of income, it's a real struggle to continue. I've applied for Arts Council funding for my music with no success, as it falls between the two stools of art music and literature."

Raifteirí San Underground, for example, is a moving song of emigration that evokes the memory of the 19th- century Mayo poet Antoine Raifteirí. Raifteirí's ghost walks the streets of contemporary London in Mac Dhonnagáin's music; it is a wonderful artistic achievement that rivals contemporary poetry - in Irish and English - in its sentiment. There is something haunting about finding the London Underground and the Irish-language place names of Mayo standing together syllable to syllable. In short it's what Woody Guthrie sang about in Dust Bowl Ballads.

That's not to say Mac Dhonnagáin spends the night crying into his pint; he isn't afraid of a little mockery. Amhrán An Ghaeilgeora Mhóir, in the best country-and-western tradition, is a story of a man finding a woman only to lose her and the possibility of lifelong happiness because her command of Irish grammar is incomplete. (Don't ya'll just hate it when that happens?) And his interpretation of Aonach Amárach Blues is a pulsating tune far removed from, and more appealing than, the hymn-like version many students learn at summer college.

Mac Dhonnagáin's is a unique voice, and he intends to keep on singing. "I love the song as a form. I tried writing poetry in my early 20s, but it always felt to me to be elitist in some way. I love poetry myself, but I feel that the education system weighs people down with analytical baggage. Most people don't feel entitled to express an opinion on poetry, as it's presented to them as high culture.

"Song has escaped this fate. Songs are ingrained in our daily lives. People associate songs with memories, with relationships, with major life events, in a way that they don't associate poems or paintings. I remember years ago spotting a line from one of my songs quoted in a Valentine's Day message in The Irish Times. It was a little glimpse of immortality. A very little one, admittedly, but a glimpse all the same."

• Imíonn an tAm is available in shops or from  www.futafata.com