Conor Walsh – Bars (video)


Posted April 10, 2019 in Music, Videos

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Conor was an avid fisherman and a lot of his music is inspired by the organic rhythms and textures that you find in nature. We spoke many times about collaborating on a video but it never happened. So getting the opportunity to finally create something with him posthumously was an incredibly therapeutic and humbling experience.

 

The video is a postcard from the rivers and banks where he fished; the spaces that he left behind. When sharing the idea with his mother Marie, I told her about some footage Colm Hogan (cinematographer) had filmed of swallow murmurations along the same river and how I intended to use that in the video. She told me that Conor’s friend Erin Fornoff wrote a poem for him titled Murmurations after he passed. It was a lovely coincidence. I think it’s fitting that the poem is included alongside the video…” Brendan Canty (director)

 

Additional credits: Shot by Colm Hogan + Roman Bugovski

 

Conor’s posthumous album The Lucid is out now.

 

Murmuration for Conor Walsh by Erin Fornoff

 

He traced the lines of familiar road, the half-thought

drive west through thick darkness,

a cascade of melody from the blue-lit radio

like some glorious exhale from the speakers.

 

It is a devotion pulling like a prayer. Alert now,

almost there, he braked to a stop as a stag stood

in his high beams on the two-lane.

 

Unstartled, it seemed to square itself

in the aquarium glare of the lights;

unapologetic, poised for flight,

poured with an unknowable kindness.

 

He turned his key halfway, like a decision.

It is bending to the task until the notes breathe.

It is standing before a powerful stillness

and listening.

 

He opened the door and stepped out

onto the yellow line.

 

The stag, a still monument, antlers branched

and soaring, did not blink its wet eye. Interrupted

in their crossings, they shared a caught sigh,

notes rising in low murmuration from the stereo.

 

He breathed. It is the choice to yoke yourself

to what you love. In the current-charged dark,

moving slow, he reached past the pinging of the door

and twisted the radio knob.

 

He turned that floating music up.

 

Cirillo’s

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