An account of Séamus Mac Murchadha an Irish raparee hanged on st Patricks day 1750.

Amárach Lá Fhéile Phádraig

I Am The Foyle final version full score

From 'The Battle of Clontarf' On the morning of the battle -good Friday 1014, April 23- Brian Ború and his son Murchadh are visited by harbingers' of doom who tell them of their impending deaths. Brian learns that he, his son, and his grandson will all be slain that day in the battle.

Brians Grief

'And there arose also the satyrs, and the idiots, and the maniacs of the valleys, and the witches, and the goblins, and the ancient birds, and the destroying demons, and the feeble demonic phantom host; and they were screaming and comparing the valour and combat of both parties.'

Deep End of the Ford give their hair-raisingly avant-garde interpretation of the epic description of the Battle of Clontarf in the medieval Gaelic manuscript, Cogadh Gael re Gallaibh.

"Epic, supernatural, fantastic, surreal, vivid, avant-garde" For more info and tracks from DEEP END OF THE FORD go to www.lorcanmacmathuna.com/antain 

Origional composition by Eoghan Neff. Based onthe original composition; Abbey, by Eoghan Neff




The battle of Clontarf by Deep End of the Ford

The opening Paragraphs of Book I of Paradise Lost by John Milton, sets the scene for the great conflict that ruptures the heavens and earth.  The poet invokes the oratorical gifts of the muse "Sing heavenly muse" to reveal to him the complexity of the great epic. The muse then delivers the overview of the great rift in heaven and its consequences.

Paradise Lost Book 1 - Sing Heavenly Muse

Aililiú na Gamhna - "calling home the calves"Traditional Irish song celebrating the summer . By Northern Lights arrangement by lorcán Mac Mathúna from teh album 'Dubh agus geal, darkness and Light - Loric coloquies'

Aililiú na gamhna

Easter Week 1014, Dublin. As Brian Boru gathered his forces to subdue the rebelling Leinster men, Sitrygg the Viking king of Dublin sent emissaries to his Norse allies from as far as Orkney and France, to come to Dublin on Good Friday to engage Brian in battle.

The Muster - from the album "The Arrows that Murder Sleep"

Oro Se Do Bheatha Bhaile Main

Patrick Pearse's poem of the grief of a mother of a dead child. "My grief on death, it has blackened my heart"
Music composed by Lorcán Mac Mathúna. sung by Íde Nic Mhathúna

Bean Sleibhe Ag Caoineadh A Mhac

Recorded live at Musictown2017 during The Book of the Dead at The Chester Beatty Library. Written by Francis Ledwidge, music composed by Lorcán Mac Mathúna and Eamonn Galldubh.  Performed by Lorcán, Éamonn, and Martin Tourish

Book Of The Dead (Live at the Chester Beatty Library)

The Dead Kings

Aililiú Einín (Laoi na Seilge) is a song from the madness of Sweeney. Sweeney after being cursed by the cleric, Ronan, thinks he is a bird and travels the country roosting in trees for years and living the life of a woodlandlooney. Lynchechaun hunts him down and sings this song to him trying to coax him from his roost in the branches.

Aililiú Éinín - with reverb

According to Njal's Saga, on the morning of the Battle of Clontarf, a Caithness man, named Dörruðr (Daurrud), watched the "choosers of the slain" - the Valkyries - as they worked on a grisly loom, on which they controlled the fates of the armies in far off Ireland.

The following recording is from Lorcán Mac Mathúna's "Clontarf the accounts of Njal and Brian" A cycle based on the medieval Gaelic and Norse accounts of the battle in which he used Njal's Saga and the Cogadh Gael re Gallaibh to compose a number of songs about the famous battle of Clontarf which occurred in 1014 AD

From Njal's Saga 
"On Good-Friday that event happened in Caithness that a man whose name was Daurrud went out.

He saw folk riding twelve together to a bower, and there they were all lost to his sight.

He went to that bower and looked in through a window slit that was in it, and saw that there were women inside, and they had set up a loom.

Men's heads were the weights, but men's entrails were the warp and weft, a sword was the shuttle, and the reels were arrows. They sang these songs, and he learnt them by heart:

"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom

'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
'Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.

"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.

"Now Warwinner walketh
To weave in her turn,
Now Swordswinger steppeth,
Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
When they speed the shuttle
How spearheads shall flash!
Shields crash, and helmgnawer
On harness bite hard!

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof
Woof erst for king youthful
Foredoomed as his own,
Forth now we will ride,
Then through the ranks rushing
Be busy where friends
Blows blithe give and take.

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof,
After that let us steadfastly
Stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful
Their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
Stood stout by the prince.

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers
To banners rush on,
Mind, maidens, we spare not
One life in the fray!
We corse-choosing sisters
Have charge of the slain.

"Now new-coming nations
That island shall rule,
Who on outlying headlands
Abode ere the fight;
I say that King mighty
To death now is done,
Now low before spearpoint
That Earl bows his head.

"Soon over all Ersemen
Sharp sorrow shall fall,
That woe to those warriors
Shall wane nevermore;
Our woof now is woven.
Now battlefield waste,
O'er land and o'er water
War tidings shall leap.

"Now surely 'tis gruesome
To gaze all around.
When bloodred through heaven
Drives cloudrack o'er head;
Air soon shall be deep hued
With dying men's blood
When this our spaedom
Comes speedy to pass.

"So cheerily chant we
Charms for the young king,
Come maidens lift loudly
His warwinning lay;
Let him who now listens
Learn well with his ears
And gladden brave swordsmen
With bursts of war's song.

"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."

Then they plucked down the woof and tore it asunder, and each kept what she had hold of.

Now Daurrud goes away from the slit, and home; but they got on their steeds and rode six to the south, and the other six to the north. A like event befell Brand Gneisti's son in the Faroe Isles."

Warp Of Fate  Darraðarljoð - The Battle Song of the Valkyries

According to Njal's Saga, on the morning of the Battle of Clontarf, a Caithness man, named Dörruðr (Daurrud), watched the "choosers of the slain" - the Valkyries - as they worked on a grisly loom, on which they controlled the fates of the armies in far off Ireland.

The following recording is from Lorcán Mac Mathúna's "Clontarf the accounts of Njal and Brian" A cycle based on the medieval Gaelic and Norse accounts of the battle in which he used Njal's Saga and the Cogadh Gael re Gallaibh to compose a number of songs about the famous battle of Clontarf which occurred in 1014 AD

From Njal's Saga
"On Good-Friday that event happened in Caithness that a man whose name was Daurrud went out.

He saw folk riding twelve together to a bower, and there they were all lost to his sight.

He went to that bower and looked in through a window slit that was in it, and saw that there were women inside, and they had set up a loom.

Men's heads were the weights, but men's entrails were the warp and weft, a sword was the shuttle, and the reels were arrows. They sang these songs, and he learnt them by heart:

"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom

'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding,
'Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corseblue.

"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.

"Now Warwinner walketh
To weave in her turn,
Now Swordswinger steppeth,
Now Swiftstroke, now Storm;
When they speed the shuttle
How spearheads shall flash!
Shields crash, and helmgnawer
On harness bite hard!

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof
Woof erst for king youthful
Foredoomed as his own,
Forth now we will ride,
Then through the ranks rushing
Be busy where friends
Blows blithe give and take.

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof,
After that let us steadfastly
Stand by the brave king;
Then men shall mark mournful
Their shields red with gore,
How Swordstroke and Spearthrust
Stood stout by the prince.

"Wind we, wind swiftly
Our warwinning woof.
When sword-bearing rovers
To banners rush on,
Mind, maidens, we spare not
One life in the fray!
We corse-choosing sisters
Have charge of the slain.

"Now new-coming nations
That island shall rule,
Who on outlying headlands
Abode ere the fight;
I say that King mighty
To death now is done,
Now low before spearpoint
That Earl bows his head.

"Soon over all Ersemen
Sharp sorrow shall fall,
That woe to those warriors
Shall wane nevermore;
Our woof now is woven.
Now battlefield waste,
O'er land and o'er water
War tidings shall leap.

"Now surely 'tis gruesome
To gaze all around.
When bloodred through heaven
Drives cloudrack o'er head;
Air soon shall be deep hued
With dying men's blood
When this our spaedom
Comes speedy to pass.

"So cheerily chant we
Charms for the young king,
Come maidens lift loudly
His warwinning lay;
Let him who now listens
Learn well with his ears
And gladden brave swordsmen
With bursts of war's song.

"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."

Then they plucked down the woof and tore it asunder, and each kept what she had hold of.

Now Daurrud goes away from the slit, and home; but they got on their steeds and rode six to the south, and the other six to the north. A like event befell Brand Gneisti's son in the Faroe Isles."

LANDR - Warp Of Fate

My father's dream

Movement 9 from the album An Táin, by Deep End of The Ford.

09-The cries of Sualtaim's head

In the final act of An Táin the Brown Bull and White Bull finally meet and gore and slay each other in a furious and frenzied, slaughter which shakes and tramples the entire country. The Brown bull  emerges the gore-spattered victor but his great fury proves too much and his heart cracks like a nut in his chest.

10-The rut and carnage

A Rí an Domhnaigh is a hymn written by the Kerry poet Eoghan Rua O Súilleabhán (1748-1784). In it he shows a touching trust in salvation as he endures the trials of life. The fiddle part was composed by me (Lorcán) and is played here by Maitiú Ó Casaide. 

A Rí an Domhnaigh

Dinnseanchas 7 Marches

Dinnseanchas 8 Cúcúín

Dinnseanchas 9 The Lark In The Morning

Séadnadh Mór (The Lion and Fox) is the poetry of a 16 C. Gaelic poet, Dadgh Dall O Huiggín made to a complex tune by Lorcán Mac Mathúna and Daire Bracken.

Seadnadh Mor

From the 2015 Epic Celtic album, The Arrows that Murder Sleep. Available at http://www.lorcanmacmathuna.com/shop/arrowsthatmurdersleep.html

The Arrows that Murder Sleep

The Arrows That Murder Sleep

Extract from the sorcerous distortions from the album An Táin. "If that be the distorted one" This song describes Cú Chullain's famous battle fury where his body distorts and he transforms into a hideous death dealing demon. Cú Chullain.s Riastradh was translated by Thomas Kinsella as the Warp-Spasm

Warpspasm

Seán Mac Murchadh Gléigeall

a song about ageing and the beauty of wisdom and serenity

Love And Passing Orkney

Silent Night in an uptempo style. In English and as Gaeilge

Silent Night Gospel version in Irish and English

Dappled Things

Sven in the rosegarden is Northern Lights' translation of the Swedish murder ballad, Sven i rosegard, It is on the album Dubh agus Geal - Darkness and Light

Sven in the rosegarden

An Droimeann Donn Dílis is an Irish allegorical lament for a lost homeland. Heartbreak and beauty combine in this wistful and powerful song recalling a love separated.

An Droimeann Donn Dílis

An Bhuatais (the boot) from the contemplative music project An Bhuatais and the Meanin of Life
Irish traditional singing and instrumental music on pipes, voice, accordion, and fiddle. Featuring Lorcán Mac Mathúna, Daire Bracken, Eamonn Galldubh, and Martin Tourish

An Bhuatais Sample

LORCÁN MAC MATHÚNA is an improvising singer and composer with a special interest in the nature of vocal music. His many projects investigate and elaborate on the improvising nature of the human voice in solo and collaborative settings. This includes A Cappella Sean-Nós singing, contemporary compositions of an improvised nature, music composition theory based on syllabic poetic metrics, and much more. 

His resume includes commissions such as: ‘Tásc is Tuairisc’ a descriptive depiction of the descent into madness and isolation which was co-written with Simon O Conor; and ‘An Táin from the Book of Leinster’ for the William Kennedy Piping Festival 2010; and 'From Derry to the Sea', a special commission by the city of Derry for the 2013 Fleadh, and The Battle of Clontarf in 2014.

An Táin was recorded in 2011 and released in 2012.

Lorcán has studied extended technique, phonetic polyrhythm and syncopation of select traditional vocal dance music, and has developed compositional and performance approaches from his observations. One of the results of this is a compositional project based on classical Celtic syllabic poetry, Preab Meadar, with traditional fiddler, Daire Ó Breacáin;

Lorcán Mac Mathúna

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