Michael Gorman
The Sligo Champion
Topic TSCD525D; 150 minutes; 2001
Likely to warm previously
undiscovered heart cockles, The Sligo Champion is unquestionably one of
the most important releases of Irish traditional music to have appeared in the
last decade and adds another significant chapter to the history of the North
Connaught region’s music. While much previous attention has been paid to
Michael Coleman and James Morrison (though Paddy Killoran still awaits similiar
coverage), only recently have archivists turned to these musicians’ successors,
most notably in the recordings of John Vesey, compiled on the double CD set, Sligo
Fiddler which appeared in 1998. 
In a sense, it is
ironic that Vesey’s album should appear before this collection of Gorman’s
music, since John was one of Michael’s pupils, but this partly reflects the
peculiarities of the latter’s career. Arguably, and albeit for a brief period,
Michael Gorman was one of traditional music’s few superstars of the post-War
decades, but his history has almost disappeared from the record books.
Searching the literature provides few references and those who did make note of
Michael Gorman, such as The Companion to Irish Music and The Rough
Guide to Irish Music (for which I am culpable), subsume his own career
within larger entries on his musical partner, Margaret Barry.
Furthermore, any
contemporary assessment of Gorman as a musician has been hindered by the
paucity of available recordings. The original vinyl albums released by labels
such as Folkways, Emerald and Riverside never saw the light of day as compact
discs. So, prior to the release of The Sligo Champion, and a few
appearances on compilations, the only recorded evidence resided in Peter
Kennedy’s Folktrax cassettes and the 1994 Topic CD, Her Mantle So Green.
The latter relied heavily upon Topic’s original intention of releasing two
8" LPs, separately devoted to Margaret and Michael. This never happened
and the sessions first appeared on a combined 10" and, subsequently, a
12" LP before emerging on the 1994 CD. Even then, despite the addition of
two extra tracks (one solo and one with Willie Clancy), Michael appears on a
mere six of the album’s sixteen cuts.
The Sligo Champion makes no attempt to redress the balance
regarding the unavailability of Michael Gorman’s commercial recordings. Rather,
its intentions are substantially more ambitious and draw upon the strengths of
its compiler, Reg Hall, both the acknowledged expert on Irish music in London
and a man with a by no means secondary interest in the music of Sligo. Gorman
died in 1970, his mooted autobiography unwritten, but now Hall has taken up the
cudgels on his late friend’s behalf for The Sligo Champion breaks new
ground in being, to quote the liner, ‘A Musical Biography of Michael Gorman
(1895-1970) by Reg Hall’.
This biography consists
of a 54-page booklet covering Michael Gorman’s family background, upbringing,
musical development and repertory, and his life in Ireland both pre- and
post-emigration to Britain. Monochrome illustrations show Gorman at various
stages in his life, but the real colour is provided by the sheer detail of
Hall’s text. The introductory overview of his subject might seem cursory on
first reading, not least regarding some of the more personal details of
Gorman’s history. These include his desertion of his wife and only child (also
called Michael) over an inheritance, then setting up home in London with a
widow from Tubbercurry (a liaison seen as scandalous back home in Sligo), the
actual nature of his relationship with Margaret Barry (described here as
‘musical and personal’) or the circumstances surrounding his death (‘the result
of a domestic accident’). However, this section is but scene setting for the
extraordinarily detailed account of his musical development which follows.
Reg writes of Gorman
that ‘His musical roots in Ireland can be identified back to the artisan
musicians in the immediate aftermath of the famine, and he was an active
musician from about 1906 until 1970.’ To prove his point he heads deep into
historical territory, tracing in fascinating detail the experiences which
shaped Michael’s development as both a fiddler and flute player, the origins of
the local repertoire and Gorman’s own compositional skills (The Mountain
Road being his best-known tune). Reg’s vision never loses sight of the
context, incorporating coverage of national and local changes into his text,
while being fully prepared to sharpen his critical pen for the likes of The
Gaelic League and its attempts to enforce its own repertory.
As one might expect,
however, the text springs fully into life in the account of Gorman’s time in
Britain. Reg has written so often about Irish music in London, but never with
such specificity about one particular musical subject and the results are
enthralling, spanning the entirety of Gorman’s musical experiences nor being
afraid to suggest that Michael was not a paragon as far as human interaction
was concerned, e.g.:
Michael, naturally shy, was usually
well-mannered, friendly and accommodating with fellow musicians, acknowledging
their positive values and remembering their favourite tunes to play when they
joined his company. He struck a posture of authority, which came not simply
from his own view of his ability but from the fact that he was older than
everyone else. However, if he sensed his authority as leader or teacher was being
challenged or if he felt that lesser or younger musicians were inappropriately
pushy, he could be awkward and cutting. As a consequence of speaking his mind,
there was a turn-over of musicians in the Bedford, some lasting no more than
one session or two, and Michael thus acquired the reputation of being
cantankerous.
Tellingly, Reg explains
that other such difficulties might have been related to opposing allegiances
during the Civil War, including his refusal to play with Paddy Killoran, or the
settling of old scores with musicians from his own area (from which he remained
ostracised thanks to his earlier relationship with the widow from Tubbercurry).
In contrast, Reg
recalls how much other musicians wanted to play with Gorman and learn from him,
or how he play hackneyed pieces such as It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,
while refusing to play others (such as The High Level hornpipe) because
he regarded them as tuneless. Similarly, the twin careers as pub musician and
show business professional are contrasted, emphasizing the sheer complexity of
Gorman’s life.
The two compact
discs-worth of recordings which accompany the written biography attempt to
place these complexities within a musical context. The earliest dates from
1927, a remastering of a 78 recorded by Gorman’s friend, the fiddler Tom
Gannon, the son of his most significant musical influence, Jamesy Gannon. The
remainder spans the period from 1951 to 1972 and almost entirely consists of
tunes from the Sligo repertory. Michael appears in a variety of guises: as solo
fiddler; in tandem with Margaret Barry; or with a variety of other musicians
(including Tommy Maguire, Jimmy Power, Willie Clancy and Mick Flynn). Sadly,
these predominantly private recordings do not include any samples of his flute
playing and the gap is filled by some 1970 recordings of his nephew, also
called Michael, who lived in both London and later Manchester. The other family
member present is his elder brother, Martin, who had moved over to London in
1955, and is here captured singing and step dancing. 
Despite the wealth of
this material (consisting of more than two and a half hours of music), there is
a sense in which the biographical focus of the package has lost its edge. The
recordings are ordered neither chronologically (as might be expected) nor with
any apparent thematic concern. So, for instance, a 1951 recording of Michael
and the flute-player Mick Flynn playing the jigs Tell Her I Am and The
Merry Old Woman is followed by a 1964 tape of Michael playing The Rights
of Man hornpipe solo which, in turn, is succeeded by Michael and Margaret
Barry on the reel Put the Cake in the Dresser from 1958.
Additionally, with the
exception of the song lyrics which are printed in full, notes on the tunes are
rudimentary. Typically, these consist of the personnel, recording details and
source, usually described as a particular person, ‘Sligo Repertory’ or a
particular collection, such as O’Neill’s Dance Music of Ireland.
However, some tunes are not sourced at all, such as Happy to Meet and
Sorry to Part (O’Neill 78) or The Broken Pledge (O’Neill 458).
Unhelpfully, there is no explanation as to whether the sources identified are
the exact fonts of Gorman’s learning or simply the researcher’s own
understanding.
Nevertheless, these
quibbles evaporate in the face of the barrage of superb music contained on
these two discs. Even if Margaret Barry was no more than at best a rudimentary
accompanist, the majesty of Gorman’s playing driven by consummate bowing
skills. Rhythm is ever the guiding factor, but Michael’s range of ornamentation
(sparkling triplets and a characteristic flick at the end of phrases) invested
his music with both sparkle and grace. Nor, tellingly, even in his own
compositions, did he ever see reason to tamper with the tradition he inherited
and its core values. Thus his music amply demonstrates the central tenet of Reg
Hall’s thesis that he offered an enduring link to the musicians of the
post-Famine era and will continue to do so thanks to this splendid package.
This review by Geoff Wallis originally appeared on the Musical Traditions site at www.mustrad.org.uk.
More details about the Topic label and its releases can be found at www.topicrecords.co.uk.