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Colm O'Brien - The Long Note Man
Discerning Toronto radio listeners know that the choice 8 o'clock Sunday evening spot is CKLN FM 88.1. That's the home of The Long Note, Colm O'Brien's inventive hour of music in the Celtic tradition. Now in its 22nd year, The Long Note is a rare bird indeed, a programme that answers only to the host's sense of musical integrity and has ploughed a sometimes lonely furrow since its inception in 1986.Colm O'Brien, the host and creator of The Long Note, manages to be both highly social and very private. What follows, will lift the veil a bit --- but only a bit.
Early Days
I first met Colm 45 years ago in a lecture hall on the old Earlsfort Terrace university campus, just off St. Stephen's Green in Dublin. As we were both first-year students with a History major in common, it would be uplifting to say that a passion for historical exposition was what brought us together. But alas, it would not be true. Instead, the magnet was a current copy of the New Musical Express, a weekly publication that provided an up-to-date chronicle of the latest comings and goings on the Hit Parade. Colm was a Buddy Holly and Elvis Presley man whereas my partisan commitment was to Cliff Richard and the Shadows. As relative fortunes ebbed and flowed, there was much grist for the mill.
Of course, Colm's story goes back further than October, 1962. He was born in County Cavan on March 24th, 1944, the first of seven children for Andy and Mollie O'Brien (nee Donohoe). For his first eight years, the family lived with his maternal grandmother in Edenticlare, about three miles outside Cavan town. After they moved to Crubany in 1952, Colm often spent weekends back with his grandmother. There was an exchange of value between the generations. Her eyesight was failing so he read to her from the local newspaper, The Anglo-Celt. In return, she introduced him to the delights of listening to the radio.
Colm's father was a teacher, the principal of the local national school and active in both the GAA and politics. His mother also had a GAA pedigree, having played camogie for the county team. They shared a love of the theatre, a passion manifested in a lifelong involvement with the local dramatic society and the Cavan Drama Festival.
The Ireland into which Colm was born was a very different place from today's Celtic Tiger. Still overwhelmingly rural, it was an economically stringent society beset by wartime travel restrictions and generally limited prospects. On the positive side though, Cavan football was in its heyday with two All-Ireland titles under the county's belt and three more to come over the next several years. Times have indeed changed!
National school was followed by St. Patrick's College and then on to University College Dublin in 1962. Graduating with a B.A. in 1965, Colm stayed on for another year to add teaching qualifications via a Higher Diploma (or H. Dip. as it was colloquially known). From there, he headed to Toronto in July, 1966, joining me on Kendal Avenue.
It was not an upmarket digs, comprising no more than a single second-floor room and kitchen plus the right to share a bathroom with the house's other tenants. Winter heating arrangements had an element of flexibility. Perhaps the landlord believed the relevant laws were advisory in nature or perhaps he just felt we needed to be toughened up. No matter, there was someplace to sleep, it was dry and we had a portable stereo with a dodgy connection in one speaker.
Toronto was a different place in 1966. While there was an active Irish community, there was no Setanta Sport to bring in telecasts of the Sunday games during the GAA season and no regular radio programming targeted to the expatriate Irish. The late Ray Sonin's weekly Calling All Britons on CFRB did provide the odd Irish reference and the latest English soccer results, so dedicated followers of Manchester United could keep in touch. And we felt truly spoiled when the CBC picked-up the live telecast of the World Cup final. But other than that, isolation from roots was a real thing.
Still, Toronto had an awful lot going for it. Compared to Ireland, jobs were plentiful, wages and salaries were high and taxes were low. And people were friendly and polite. Granted, winter was a different beast from what one had grown up with, but there was invariably a real summer to compensate. All told, it was a good deal.
For Colm, the first job at Crown Life was a temporary distraction from his teaching vocation, but after the first year he switched back. He also married Betty Hyland, from Cavan, on July 1st, 1967 and moved out of Kendal Avenue. Over the next decade, they had two daughters, both of whom were born in Ireland. The eldest, Emer, arrived during an attempted relocation back home in the early 70s. But underlying economic conditions in Ireland were still poor, so the now expanded family returned to Toronto in the late summer of 1974. Then Betty went home expressly for Maeve's birth in 1977.
Impresario
During the period back in Ireland in the early 70s, Colm came into contact with the rapidly evolving Irish music scene. Bands like Thin Lizzy, Horslips and Planxty were introducing a new sound, injecting a distinctly Irish musical sensibility to rock and folk. Colm became a big fan.
It was this passion that first accidentally cast him in the role of concert impresario. Then living in Toronto, Mick Casey had been a school mate of the Bothy Band's Matt Molloy, so when the band's planned North American tour ran into promotional difficulties, Mick was asked to help. Introduced by a mutual friend, Mick and Colm came together and set about arranging a Toronto gig. And so it came to pass that, in September 1976, the Bothy Band made their Toronto debut in the old ballroom at the top of the King Edward hotel. With almost 800 paying customers showing up to enjoy both the music and the ballroom's fading splendour, the Casey & O'Brien promotional partnership was launched.
Lots of other acts followed, including Paul Brady & Andy Irvine, Christy Moore, Mary Black, De Danann, Arcady, the Fureys and Niall Toibin. For Colm and Mick, it was very much a process of learning as they went along --- while still doing their normal day jobs! Venues had to be booked, sound equipment had to be rented and advertising had to be devised and placed. In addition, some acts required extra handling, including visas, hotels and chauffeuring.
When Mick went back to Ireland, Colm carried on for a while before finally bringing the curtain down with Andy Irvine's solo performance at The Rivoli on Queen Street West in 1991.
Radio Host
This passion for the new Irish music scene also led to The Long Note. Launched in conjunction with Mick in 1986, the programme was intended to provide a showcase for the kind of acts that they enjoyed presenting. And like the promotional venture, there was a substantial element of chance involved in its creation.
Attending a Thin Lizzy concert in 1977, Colm struck up a casual acquaintance with a young man named David Bernard. Some years later, they ran across each other again --- unsurprisingly, in a record store --- and David mentioned that he was now programming director for CKLN. One thing led to another and The Long Note was born.
From the beginning, it was very much a do-it-yourself venture. CKLN's studio facilities were basic and the show went out live, devoid of any technical support. Put simply, if the soundboard or microphone misbehaved while on air, you found a way to improvise. If you didn't, dead air was the result.
Of course, there were compensations. When things worked, as they usually did, there was the satisfaction of having created and delivered a show. And an audience developed, some of whom were sufficiently pleased to make the extra effort of telling him so. On top of that, he was his own master with complete control over the playlist.
While there's no such thing as a typical edition of The Long Note, regular voices heard include Tommy Makem, the Dubliners, Liam Clancy, the Chieftains, Van Morrison and many more, some well known and others much less so. From time to time, there'll be an in-studio guest such as singer/songwriter Michael Cavan or historian/flute-player David A. Wilson. All in all, an eclectic mix in the best Celtic tradition.
Collector
In my experience, Colm's most prominent characteristic is dedication to family. Next comes his collecting of recorded music and associated paraphernalia. At heart, he remains an album man, a captive of the days of tactile vinyl and colourful sleeves. Although he had owned a few records in Ireland, the collection started from scratch on Kendal Avenue and grew (and grew) from there, some of it going back and forth across the Atlantic during the early 70s.
When the compact disc first became popular, I thought he might find the wrench too great. But he made the transition, appreciating the sound enhancement and liner note details that came with some of the more imaginative releases. Still, a goodly part of him misses the smell and feel of the old albums and, so far anyway, the world of downloading is a bridge or two too far.
As for associated paraphernalia, he is a sheet music collector of the first order. If there's a rare piece, chances are he has, or has had, a copy. Reviewing the collection in depth is like taking an illustrated tour of 20th century popular music titles. The musical genres covered run the full gamut from pre-war standards to country to rock n' roll to folk. Obscurity is no barrier to representation in the collection. I mean, who else would have a copy of the 1972 sheet for Bobby Goldsboro's A Poem For My Little Lady? Or Glen Campbell's 1971 sheet for Oklahoma Sunday Morning?
The Future
Although The Long Note passed the thousand programme milestone in 2006, there's still lots of fuel in the tank. Among the programme ideas still to come is an hour dedicated to different versions of Danny Boy. While quality is a prerequisite, the emphasis will also be on variety, as evidenced by the fact that one of the contenders for that show is Conway Twitty's raucous (Radio Eireann called it scandalous) interpretation from 1959.
When Colm eventually retires from his fulltime job teaching ESL at George Brown College, he clearly won't be short of things to do. Now if only he had some ideas for turning around the fortunes of Cavan's football team!
Author
A native of Dublin, Pat Murphy has lived in Toronto since 1965. His historical writing has appeared in History Ireland, Breifne and Templar History and his music writing has appeared in Blue Suede News. He presents the month-end edition of The Long Note on CKLN.