TO ADAPT a famous aphorism of the (very) late Miss Jane Austen, it seems to be a truth universally acknowledged that Arklow is a
disaster zone, writes PETER THOMPSON When I announced my intention of moving to this south Wicklow town, having been badly mauled by the Celtic Tiger in 2000 when the rent on my Dublin apartment was doubled (what a very long time ago that was), an old friend of mine, a salesman who had been down every boreen in Ireland, remarked in warning: “Arklow, Peter! In some places in this country people are just crackers, but in Arklow, they’re cream crackers!” A few years later, deep in psychotherapy, I found that my therapist seemed to regard it as a precondition of recovering my mental health that I get out of the place, and in fact he probably still does. The reasons for this jaundiced view of the metropolis of the Avoca are, unfortunately, plentiful. The town, promised a sewerage system in 1988, still hasn’t got one. What it does have is an appalling drug abuse problem and high unemployment. Because of the tribal brutalities of our PR voting system, Arklow has never had its own TD to fight its corner in the places that matter. But if you live in Arklow, as I continue to do, you come to recognise that there is a tremendous spirit here, a sense of community which, in my view, is rich in potential. And one of the chief expressions of this spirit is the Arklow Music Festival. This year’s event, which begins next Friday, celebrates 40 years of very real achievement by ordinary townspeople who give up countless hours of their own time year after year to make it happen. Over the years the music festival has played host to many outstanding musicians and singers, including Ronan Tynan and Patricia Cahill, the Guinness and Goethe Institute choirs,Our Lady’s Choral Society and many leading Irish classical musicians. It has expanded over the years to its present level of 6,000 competitors, who come from all over Ireland, many of them doing “dummy runs” for the Feis Ceoil at Easter, making the Arklow Music Festival the second largest of its kind in Ireland, after the Feis.
The resulting album of sacred and folk songs, complete with a photograph of the Arklow lads in sailor suits taken c. 1965, is a snapshot of a more innocent age. The boys’ voices have an unpolished clarity that is utterly charming. The CD is for sale from various local outlets for €10, with proceeds going to charity.