DERVISH: WHIRL MUSIC

Hot Press has had the pleasure of Dervish's company in all manner of odd places: dingy jaunting car-clad hotels in Killarney, sweat-filled rooms tucked at the back of Wexford Street, and in true pied piper fashion, there's even been a trek to the far reaches of upstate New York, to the wonderfully-named Monticello.
Ensconced in a café in Killarney the morning after the opening gig of their first ever Irish tour, Cathy Jordan sums up the mayhem of their schedule with her customary efficiency.
"Would you believe that we had to book this week almost a year ago," she says, "because it's been so hectic. We had to book our holiday at home too because you could end up playing from one end of the year to the other without any breaks otherwise. And when we go back on the road (in England) next week, it's non-stop until September (apart from 6 days off)."
Like Anam, Dervish have recently taken on an administrator to ease the burden of responsibility for booking gigs, promotions and all the paraphernalia that goes with a working band on the road these days. Consequently, Brian McDonagh, former chief cook and bottlewasher, can finally take at least a mini step back from the minutiae of itineraries, hotel bookings, etc.
"We've got a wonderful guy called Felip Carbonell, from Palma, looking after all that now so it's taken a huge amount of pressure off," Cathy explains.
Dervish have let their travelling do more talking than most bands have, especially traditional bands. First off, they've been brave enough to record a live album (always an iffy undertaking), and then they've chosen the unlikeliest of locations, Palma, in which to record it. "We hadn't planned on doing that recording at all, you know," McDonagh explains, "but on the night we were playing there, the sound engineer just mentioned that he had the gear in the van if we wanted it so we decided to just try it out."
Probably one of the best live albums to emerge in any genre (not just trad) in the past 12 months, Live In Palma captures the sheer revelry of a Dervish night on the town, and with Cathy Jordan's, colourful introductions, there's plenty of opportunity for the couch potato to thrash away on the spoons in accompaniment.
The past 12 months have seen Dervish criss cross the Atlantic with a frequency that'd put even Kate Moss to the pin of her collar.
"We've been over and back to the States constantly since last January," Jordan remarks, "and every time we go, we have to do more than a couple of weeks, otherwise it just wouldn't pay us to travel.
The rigours of the road take less of a toll Stateside though, she reckons.
"I personally find America fairly easy-going," she says, "because you get into a bit of a routine. You get up in the morning and have breakfast. You get into the car and drive, stop for lunch and then drive again until you reach your hotel. Then it's the sound check and the gig, and then you just go to bed, get up in the morning and do it all over again. If it's organised properly it ticks over very nicely."
Shane Mitchell, Dervish's master accordionist chips in: "The American motivation rubs off on you as well! Last time we started off in The Bottom Line in New York and ended up in Santa Cruz in California. We're just so used to it now that it doesn't bother us any more."
Curiously enough, the standout gigs in the US aren't necessarily all down to audience reaction. Brian McDonagh remarks on the difference a good promoter makes.
"If you're met on your arrival and treated well, that means so much," he notes. "It's really strange too, because one day you're treated like a king and 100 miles down the road, nobody gives you any attention at all! Denver, Colorado is probably one of the most memorable places for us, because the promoter there, Pat McCullough, really knows what he's doing and we're always looked after."
"He sees the potential in the music," Cathy adds, "and he's totally focused on us for the gig. And that makes such a huge difference. If there were more people like him over there, Irish music would be ginormous."
The temptation to cruise on the coat-tails of the 17th of March is one that Dervish would rather not succumb to, largely because of the baggage it entails.
"We went out in March," Cathy explains, "and we decided that it was a mistake to strap ourselves to the shamrock because we're not the kind of band who come out on stage all dressed in green, singing 'Paddy's Green Shamrock Shore'. But because it's not only Paddy's Day, but Paddy's Month over there, there were a load of people coming to the gigs expecting that sort of thing, with neon shamrocks tattooed on their faces. It was a freakshow really. That old kitsch Irishness is nothing to do with what we do."
In fact, it's when the band are greeted plainly and simply as purveyors of 'world music' that they are best satisfied.
"That's why Denver's so good for us," Cathy continues. "Because they don't have any preconceptions about our music, they just treat us like any other 'world music' band.
The band have been more than happy to be part of a number of sponsored tours overseas too.
"We played with Martin Hayes and Seán Keane last November in the States," Shane recalls, "which was sponsored by the National Council for the Traditional Arts on the West Coast, and the whole thing was completely sold out. It was a great show overall, and we really enjoyed the chance to do it."
Cathy Jordan is as quick to embrace the opportunity of joint touring.
"Although those tours, where everybody travels in the one bus for a couple of weeks and really gets to know one another, are few and far between, when they do happen, they're great! It's great to meet other musicians and bounce off one another.
Dervish have been known to let the creative juices flow in the company of relative strangers too. 'Josephine's Waltz; featured on their last studio album arose out of a session with Vasen, a Swedish group of musicians who, they discovered, spoke their language.
"We were in Sweden for a month and we played six gigs with them," Cathy explains, "and the power of having 10 people on stage, playing music we'd written together was great. It's seldom it happens but when it does, it's marvellous."
"I remember doing a workshop with an accordion player from Madagascar," Shane adds, "and we managed to persuade Sligo Arts Festival to bring him over last year as a result!"
"It's a real privilege for us to meet and play with so many different musicians at all these festivals," Cathy emphasises. "Whether it's zydeco or bluegrass bands from Louisiana, or gospel choirs, bands from China and Indonesia, the music from around the world is just phenomenal. We're just lucky to play in festivals with all these people."
And what of their European experiences? Can they tell which country they're in by the way the audience reacts?
"Well, we know when we're in Belgium anyway," Cathy offers helpfully, "because the Belgians treat Irish music the way young Irish people treat rave! They go bananas. Can't get enough of it."
The Spaniards are partial to the odd reel too.
"When we played in Barcelona at a festival last year, we were on at 3.30 in the morning, playing to 14,000 people," Shane recalls, "and when we came off, nobody wanted to go home so they sat down on the ground with plastic bottles, and started this percussive thing on the street. It was magic, I tell you."
"Yeah, primal stuff," Cathy adds with a smile. "They have no inhibitions, they just party."
The band are finally beginning to enjoy the fruits of their labours too, with a number of them taking a lease in Furey's Pub in Sligo town, soon to be re-christened 'Sheila na Gig'. And it's here that they'll be found chasing tunes and sharing songs, whenever they get a chance.
Shane Mitchell can barely suppress a grin at the prospect.
"It's great to come home and to be able to look forward to a good session," he says. "That's what makes the travelling all the easier!" n