Riverdance still gives me a spring in my step

SOMETHING was afoot. The British tabloid showbiz reporters were showing untypical, alarmingly positive interest in the interval act of the Eurovision Song Contest, staged at the Point Depot in 1994.

This bunch of cynics were used to the usual centrepiece schlock, almost invariably an extended advertisement by the local tourist board, but having seen the dress rehearsal they became aware they were watching one of the most original and impactful seven minutes of dance music and song they had ever witnessed.

So when Michael Flatley burst onto the stage like Usain Bolt breaking the 100metre record, he was unleashing on the public the phenomenon that is Riverdance.

Last Wednesday, I sat and watched Riverdance for the 15th time in the company of the composer Bill Whelan, with whom I have been friends for over 30 years. I’ve seen Riverdance with him in Dublin, London, Boston, New York and LA and it never fails to elicit a sense of pride in being his friend.

In a dark world where perjury goes unchallenged, where the health service is in rag order, where people are suffering the effects of a dire shortfall in housing, and a large part of the workforce has to endure the crippling corrosion of long distance commuting, Riverdance is like a beacon of light, a ray of hope in the bleakness of a cloud of fascism that seems to be slowly gaining traction in this island of Snakes and Squalor.

Riverdance began when Moya Doherty, now chairperson of the RTÉ Authority, had a meeting with Bill Whelan to commission him to write something that would incorporate the dancing talent of Michael Flatley and Jean Butler, who had already danced together in Bill’s piece called The Spirit Of Mayo.

John McColgan came on board as producer and the seven-minute interval piece was expanded to a fulllength show.

After tapping up a few investors, this holy trinity daringly pushed the button that set in motion the most successful dance show in the history of Irish dance.

As usual, where there is a hit there is a writ, and the writ in Riverdance that almost scuppered it all occurred when Flatley was fired in London, just hours prior to opening.

I joked at the time that Flatley was aon, dó, trí ,ceathar, cúig, sé shocked, but as we know, Flatley, by sheer dint of will, went on to create his own successful shows, Feet Of Flames and Lord Of The Dance which are much gaudier and chintzier than Riverdance, which from day one had an intrinsic dignity.

One of the remarkable things about Riverdance is that it seems to stir up a pure chauvinism, an almost excessive reaction regardless of nationality.

This mood is egalitarian, created by different kinds of music. There are lots of martial drums, primal rhythms which stir the blood and awaken a sense of national pride and an almost visceral response to the different rhythms of the world, including Latin, Russian, American and, primarily, Irish rhythms.

The remarkable thing about Bill Whelan’s music is that he captures these different genres with absolute authenticity and, in particular, creates a fresh interpretation of Irish traditional music, which is no mean feat.

NEVER leaving things to chance, Bill still drops in on the show at frequent intervals to make sure that the quality is maintained, but his intrusions are free of hysteria, and in his personal life he is modest, good-humoured and uniquely talented.

Next year is the 25th anniversary of Riverdance.

In that time the show has been seen by millions upon millions. As well as entertaining the masses, it has created an opportunity for young Irish people to be part of a showbiz phenomonen.

The show has been a springboard to careers in showbiz and so many marriages have happened between dancers, musicians and singers, that their combined families would now populate a small town.