Well, the election is over. We have a winner. And I’m not talking about George Bush – or John Kerry. I won’t say that the result is more important than that of the US Presidential race – though there were times during that campaign when you’d wonder would it make a blind bit of difference who’d end up in the White House. To see George Bush beaten? Highly desirable. To see Kerry win? Preferable to the snake, but that was about the extent of it.

While all of that high profile shouting was going on, emotions were running high at HP central. We had asked a cavalcade of Ireland’s best known musicians to submit their ballot papers, naming their own personal Top 10 Irish albums of all time. We got a great response, with 150 or so of our leading lights all pitching in to give us their individual – and sometimes collective – verdicts.
It was fascinating to watch the count develop. Our tallymen – talllypersons, just doesn’t sound right, OK? – were quick to identify the ten most likely to, but nails were still being bitten as the leading five swapped places until the final few votes were tabulated. Some artists – notably U2 – had their vote split too evenly across a large number of albums. Others benefited from the fact that they only had an album or two to choose from – thus guaranteeing that everyone was clear as to what their best record was.
I won’t spoil your pleasure by giving you the low-down on who prevailed here, and with what album. But what I can say is that the exercise confirmed the astonishing richness and diversity of the music that has been recorded by Ireland’s contemporary musicians over the past 40 years or so.

One of the most striking things about the poll is the extent of the crossover between folk music and rock’n’roll. It is a phenomenon that seems unique to Ireland. The presence of Planxty, Sean O Riada, Kila, Clannad and Martin Hayes and Denis Cahill, amongst others, in the top 100 alongside U2, Van Morrison, Damien Rice, My Bloody Valentine and Rollerskate Skinny reflects precisely what makes Ireland a special precinct where music is concerned.
There is a deep well of tradition and experience in Ireland on which all musicians can draw. This is one of our most powerful ways of telling stories. It is a medium too for dealing with our often tangled emotions – with matters of the spirit and the heart that are not amenable to purely rational analysis. You could say that music is in the ether here. People pick up instruments at an early age and learn them. Songs are passed down from parents to children. Singing and performing are encouraged and valued. It is one of the most attractive features of Irish life – and it goes on still.
As a result, we have made an impact on music globally that is totally disproportionate to the size of the country and its population. There is nothing new in this observation. But what is worth saying is that, all of the above notwithstanding, a musician’s life is often a tough one. You need passion, bottle and commitment to make a career in music work. Some of the most important records in the Top 100 sold jackshit when they were released. Loveless by My Bloody Valentine, Astral Weeks by Van Morrison, Heartworm by Whipping Boy, The Storm by Moving Hearts – these are just examples of records of great artistic and creative merit that left the musicians who made them penniless, more or less.
Even records that did sell, often only did so after a great struggle. Damien Rice spent two years in the wilderness in Paris before recording the fabulous O. The Frames went through hell in a handcart before they achieved any kind of financial buoyancy. The life of a musician – or of most musicians at any rate – is a brutal one that is perilously lacking in any kind of security.
Which is why the tax free status accorded to artists in Ireland is a genuinely good thing. There has been a bit of bitching about it recently, looking at the money that’s earned by the likes of U2. But fuck that carping – the effect of the artist’s exemption on the cultural life of the country has been a hugely positive one. Looking at the list of 100 albums – and on down through the next 100 that were voted for – it’s quite clear that this is something from which we all benefit.
To begin with it gives musicians a sense of belonging – a feeling that their work is recognised as having a special value. But it also means that the fact that they have had to struggle, often digging deep into their personal resources along the way, is recognised, if and when they do achieve a breakthrough that leads to windfall income from songwriting.

In terms of the respect in which musicians are held, the past fortnight saw a curious incident that also deserves mention. Christy Moore – whose work with Planxty features prominently in the Irish music roll of honour – was held for questioning under the Terrorism Act 2000 by UK immigration officials. He described the interrogation to which he was subjected as intimate, intrusive and tantamount to harassment. While no one can presume to be immune from questioning, you’d have to wonder: why was Christy Moore singled out? And did anyone really imagine that a singer of his public profile and eminence might be a security risk?
The answer has to be no. In which case you’d have to conclude that there was an element of vindictiveness involved. I mean, it’s not as if he’s bleedin’ Youssef Islam.