Horslips
The Táin

"Táin" (to be written with the accent on the "a") is Gaelic and means "theft", "raid". And every self-respecting Irishman usually uses this term in reference to the so-called "Táin Bó Cúailnge" (literally: "the cattle raid of Cooley"), which belongs to the popular imagination of Ireland at least as much as the national shamrock or the cult of Saint Patrick; indeed, it is one of the most famous and celebrated sagas of pre-Christian Celtic literature, not an epic poem (as it has been mistakenly referred to), but the legendary tale, mostly written in prose, of the war waged against Ulster by Medb, the greedy and cruel queen of Connacht (a western county of the present Republic of Ireland), and her husband Ailill. Tradition holds that the reason for the bitter strife was an extraordinarily robust bull named Dunn, owned by a farmer from Ulster, which the queen intended to steal from her rival "cousins," inflicting on them a symbolic defeat, even before a military one (the bull is an archetypal symbol of strength, power, and dominion). In its unstoppable and threatening march, the invading army took advantage of a deadly epidemic that spread among the Ulster soldiers, probably the result of a divine curse, and gained ground without encountering any resistance. The only one to oppose, standing as a defensive bulwark for his homeland, was a solitary hero, the barely seventeen-year-old Cúchulainn, who defeated the champions of Connacht one by one in duels, thus saving the fate of Ulster (although unable to prevent Queen Medb from capturing the much-desired bull, the dear price of victory).

A motive of mythical ancestry symbolically reused by Irish nationalist patriotism of every era, especially after the outbreak of urban anti-British guerrilla warfare in the cities of Northern Ireland. But few know that the "Táin" was also, in 1973, the ideal inspiring reference for a superb, unmatchable page of Celtic Folk-Rock with a conceptual background, an absolute masterpiece by a little-known and unparalleled Irish band, an expression of strongly politicized, militant poetics, dense with abundant extra-musical implications. It's no coincidence that the Horslips (name derived from the Apocalypse) were, in those dramatic years for Ireland, openly boycotted by the British and American record markets, because they were suspected - though without confirmation - of financially supporting the most extremist and murderous faction of the IRA. The English criticism was fierce, snubbing the group's yet brilliant proposal by labeling it as "another, pedestrian imitation of Jethro Tull" (somewhat on the model of the "second phase" Steeleye Span), primarily citing the use of the flute as a pretext, which, however, does not entirely characterize the varied and changeable sound of the Horslips.

This band can instead boast a not very long but very significant, brilliant career in a kind of electrified Folk; not without, at times, blood-red veins of furious guitar Hard Rock, which more attentive listeners will find reminiscent of something by Gentle Giant (particularly the debut Gentle Giant). The albums by the Horslips are excellent, especially those from the early period, often dedicated to the typically progressive philosophy of the "concept": albums pervaded and made magical by complex sonic alchemies, refined yet magnificently passionate, with evocative compositions that have composite architecture and often dark, mysterious atmospheres, typically "nordic". It is astonishing their profound, philologically impeccable, almost anachronistic familiarity with rhythmic patterns entirely unknown to Rock and instead belonging to the centuries-old Irish tradition: there is frequent use of the 9/8 time characteristic of forms of popular dance like the "jig" or the "reel". Bold contaminations, not appreciated by purists of the most canonical "traditional", and the overlaying of multiple different timbral layers contribute to the definition of a highly original sound, despite the obligatory but not too ostentatious debts to contemporary English Prog: Johnny Fean's wild guitar, a young man dazzled by Hendrix and Clapton like other compatriots, is something all Rock lovers of those years should try, between virtuosity and unusual, difficult, and unconventional lines, somewhat in the style of the great Gary Moore with Skid Row. On flute and keyboards is Jim Lockhart, the lyricist; on bass is Barry Devlin, who before undertaking (almost by chance) a career in music had studied at the seminary; the Englishman Charles O'Connor (originally from Middlesbrough) handles the violin and mandolin, creating splendid inlays ideal for the most composed, reflective moments; behind the drums sits the agile Eamon Carr.

In "The Táin" (Horslips' second effort) the speeches of the individual protagonists of the saga are reworked, with taste and always present nationalist spirit: dreamy and profound glimpses of humanity, free thoughts and various sensations of uncertain, suffering, hesitant heroes, perpetually torn by doubt and (strange to say for heroes) by fear and remorse; they are figures who stand thoughtful and solitary between manors and battlefields, subject to the tumultuous fluctuations of the soul and the demonic temptations of eroticism (the same Cúchulainn, to whom the majority of the lyrics are dedicated, had initially aided the enemies' actions, neglecting his duty as a frontier guard as he was fatally attracted to a girl with whom he ran off to seclude...). Worthily accompanying the finest, sublime poetry of the lyrics is a musical blend of rare beauty and intensity, unfolding between extended gallops and brief instrumental interludes, gloomy and sad moments of "pause" and frenzied dances to the sound of the violin. Above all else stands the long, ghostly ballad "Faster Than The Hound": hypnotic rhythm and listener in a trance, for almost six breath-taking minutes, for its intensity and interpretive rigor.

I forgo the analysis of each piece in respect of the album's conceptual structure, and sincerely invite all of you to rediscover this so inappropriately forgotten group. Five stars for a rarity like few others, a milestone in contemporary Irish music.

You won't just listen to music: between the grooves of this record rests the cultural heritage of a nation.