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December 3^rd,2009

He was a scruffy old dog, hair a mixture of salty black and pepper.  An ancient mariner.  He was walking, or, more accurately, being walked by a dainty man with a t-shirt which read: ‘do I look like I care?’ – as he past by, the reverse side read: ‘back off, it’s just botox’.  Apparently, a smile is not always a smile in California.  The dog had a definite, genuine beam on his face, as some dogs do – noboby would botox a dog, would they? Alright, I can think of a few also.   The dog smooched me with a watery grin as they drew alongside.  I threw a glance back a few moments after they passed by and his head was turned back, still staring me down - in a friendly kind of ‘don’t I know you’ sort of way.  Then he stopped, pulled his handler up short, and barked at me.  I looked behind expecting to see a stunning French poodle on high heels flashing lashes, but no, there was nothing of special interest there and, strange as it seemed, it looked like he wanted to talk to me.  Mr Botox snapped the lead and, still gazing at me, the dog reluctantly moved along.

The seafront at Santa Barbara was windswept but warm and sunny.  Lithe, blond, Californian girls, as if released from some artisan’s master cast just that morning, smooth and even, gaily played volleyball and ploughed the sand, fig-leaved and frisky  Naturally, I gave them only a fleeting glance.  Hey, I was distracted by the dog. 

All around me was busy with the wandering people, the sleep-beneath-the-stars beach people, most appeared to be male and bearded, but you can never tell for sure - free of taxes, yet fettered by their own rules, they practiced a religion of self-centered routines.  One stood there as if addressing a Congress which was unseen and intangible (what else is new, I hear you say!)…..I advise you, Sir, that the legislation you propose is flawed, tainted by self-interest and greed, and it will never be sanctioned by me nor imposed on the long-suffering citizens of this great nation…he was out of place, but not that out of synch with reality, and possibly as effective. 

One garrulous beacher, who had made an impressive sculpture of a seated Buddha-like gentleman out of sand, invited me to donate to his bucket; that is, if I felt inclined to ‘support the arts’.  I asked him was it Buddha – he squealed like a hyena, then braked hard on the laughter, his eyes traveling far away into a trance for a while.  Just as I was losing interest, he raised his finger to point to the middle distance, or out towards Hawaii, and wondrously announced: “maybe, indeed, an Italian Buddha – for it’s actually Marlon Brando”.  I chuckled: “obviously, after he gained all that weight in later years”.  Okay.  I dropped him two dollars.  Front row tickets.  Anyway, back to the dog.  Catching up, I noticed the handler up ahead trying to entice the old dog to cross the street.  He had stopped and was again looking my way.  Eerie.  As I got closer, he seemed fixed on me and welcomed my approach with a whiskery grin.  “Come on, Hal”, said his minder, “time to go”.  He ignored him and stood there wagging his tail, waiting for me.  He was obviously as friendly as a puppy, so I bent down, firstly letting him sniff my hand and then I scratched his ears.  “He is usually not that interested”, he said, “he must think he knows you”.  We both laughed and, reluctantly, he padded off, still grinning, still wagging his tail.  The dog, that is.

A mellow gust chased me up the hill.  A gang of rusty leaves on the footpath joined in for a while like a posse of dry rattling spiders.  Then both breeze and the fallen foliage lay back and let me be.  Lazily fidgeting, they whispered among themselves.  Unannounced, a low hanging branch tousled my hair, saying ‘how’s are things, stranger, welcome to the neighbourhood, and, em, get a haircut’.   

Slipping quietly into the aged mission above the town, I met an old padre.   He smelled of sweet cigars, rich coffee, and decades of peppery incense.  We chirped away in a tangle of Spanish and English, content with neither, as if either failed to adequately represent our weighty philosophical meanderings about life and music and Ireland and the mission and the fact that the flowers still bloomed here in December, flaunting their pretty skirts, tossing their perfume in your face, ladies of the night, of the day, and all four seasons.  I sang a Latin hymn to please him, a capella, off the cuff, awakening the luxuriant acoustics of these old dusty walls.  Having stolen their secrets and their peace, I brazenly bid farewell.

Later.  Leisurely.  Half-way down, on turning a street corner, I met a t-shirt and a dog.  On seeing me, the old dog gathered his old bones and jumped for joy.  This time, I couldn’t resist.  I gave him a big hug.  No, not the t-shirt! – the dog!  T-shirt looked too surprised to say anything- then again, it may have been the botox.

“He certainly likes you”, he eventually managed.

“We must have met in another life”, I joked. 

Thinking about it, that musky smell reminded me of my great-aunt Catherine….and those eyes…….?

November 5^th, 2009. Do the cancan while you can!

Paris is in mourning.  People throng the streets dressed in black.  Not even varying shades of black – just the one sunlight damping shade of sober black.  I arrived in town last week and, several times during the first day, I decided I now also suffer from colour blindness (to accompany my habitual bouts of dementia - you will say – yes I heard you, nothing wrong with my hearing! yet!), but then I see a tall smiling lady lazing along in a custard coloured poncho.  She stands out from the crowd like Red Riding Hood at a lesbian parade.  She either has to be from out of town or mentally impaired.  I cannot decide which.  I expect the fashion police to swoop at any moment and swiftly whisk her away to the Bastille nouveau where the ghosts of Yves Saint Laurent and Coco Chanel take turns into haunting you into the religion of BLACK.  If you want to die in style, then go to Paris; if you want to be mourned by the mobs on the street, then have them drag your hearse down the Champs Élysées; if you love black wool, cotton, silk, leather, fur, recycled paper, nylon, plastic or used coca cola cans cut up and shaped into jackets, leggings, jeggings, pants, shants, treggings, shirts, or even night caps, then Paris is the place for you. 

I know you think I’m joking, but believe me, I was performing at a terribly posh soirée there and the place is gone bonkers on black!  I quietly include a picture here, which had to be shot secretly at night because my coat was sort of gray/grey and my scarf had colours involved, other than black! 

What surprises me is that I was there just six months ago and everything was still in colour.  (Although, I admit that, at the time, there were a lot of Americans in town and they like to splash out a bit, especially after visiting the Louvre and being rainbowed within an inch of their lives in that vast imposing exhausting corridor of maniacal hangings of absolute genius in stunningly beautiful shades of every brilliant tint in the famous artists’ impressive and collective tool box).  After that, I can understand people (high on Chardonnay) sneaking back to their hotel rooms and playing with their crayons, drawing blue daisy patterns on their jeans and defacing their favourite low-cut blouse with a collection of red hearts and yellow petals.  Not so the Parisians.  Ever since french fries were banned in Montana, the Parisians have not been the same.  Ever since Carla Bruni grew taller than the French President Sarkosy and his nose grew longer than hers, things have been out of kilter, and, like all grievances in nature, it will erupt somewhere.  It could have manifested itself as a boil on Mona Lisa’s chin, but instead it took revenge by robbing the legendary couturiers of both hue and spectrum.  You could say they have lost their marbles.

Nevertheless, it is still a wonderful city full of life and friendly interesting people and their patisseries are beyond compare.  Even in these troubled economic times, I recklessly splurged on a pink raspberry-flavoured macaroon.  Duly sated, I sang the Pater Noster at Mass in Notre Dame Cathedral and it is an experience without equal.  Built in 1163, it oozes history.  Mind you, the chappy in charge of the incense burner during Mass nearly asphyxiated us all, such was his enthusiasm for smoke. No ordinary incense, of course, as I could detect a distinct hint of Christian Dior (on the other hand, that may have been coming from the organist’s handbag), and, as the Bishop slipped out the side door for a cigarette during the sermon, I caught a glimpse of a hermes cashmere scarf around his neck – black of course – but such is the chic of these people.  Anyway, enough is enough, give the French back their crayons – otherwise, we Irish will sell them green and then you will be sorry!

OCTOBER 2009

My thanks to all of you who sent notes of sympathy to me on the death of my mother Julia on the 24th of September. I appreciate also the donations that were made to the Kinsale Community Hospital where she spent most of her last four years - it truly was a home away from home for her where she enjoyed meeting old friends and where she made many new friends.  She enjoyed the beautiful gardens there and benefited from a superb level of medical care which she needed during her final years. Happily, she was reasonably well up to about six months ago and, although we knew she was weakening, we were still able to chat away with her and enjoy her company as always. She always enjoyed music and singing and had a beautifully sweet voice herself, and those of you who attended any of my concerts at the Cork Opera House in recent years would have seen there, basking in the attention she received from everybody and having a great time chatting and being made a fuss of, and singing along to the songs she knew and loved. We will miss her very much, but we give thanks for the 96 years she spent on this earth and the many blessings that came through her during her lifetime. Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam

My mother was buried in Kinsale on my birthday, September 26th, which involved a little 'synchronicity' as Charlie Johnson would say, in that she gave birth to me in that same Kinsale Community Hospital 52 years earlier. Such is the circle of life. I did not get a chance to thank the many people who sent birthday greetings and gifts in September. Obviously, my mother's condition was deteriorating and we were by her side. Nevertheless, I appreciate your good wishes as always, which came from all over the world (including Chris Lawley in Australia who never forgets!) and a special word to Susan Swinehart who co-ordinated a gift from the many friends associated with the finbarwright-ufo website. I wish you all health and happiness and continued joy in your lives!

I hope to get back into the full swing of the entertainment world as soon as possible. The Irish Tenors have released a new Christmas album which some of you are enjoying already, hopefully!! We begin our Christmas tour at the end of November and I hope to have some solo concerts in place for Ireland in February 2010 if the country is still solvent!!! - more info as it unfolds. Finally, I have my very own page on Facebook which should free up the lines of communication between us all - it can be accessed through the front page of this website. You have to become a member of Facebook, I think, but it is easy to do and should be good fun for all!

p.s. I was mentioned in the same breath as Elvis Presley in the Sunday Times yesterday, October 11th, which cannot be a bad thing! Evidently, the wax sculpture of Elvis in the Dublin Wax Museum looks more like me than it does Elvis! All the usual acerbic & sarcastic comments can be posted on Facebook!! I can handle it. Keep smiling through it all!

March 2009

DEALING WITH STRESS IN UNSETTLING TIMES

Music therapy is widely accepted as an effective tool in improving mental health, with evidence to show that music can help to stimulate natural 'feel good' chemicals (endorphins).

With this in mind, a new CD was launched by Mental Health Ireland, featuring the voice and music of renowned tenor, Finbar Wright.The launch took place at 'An Evening with Mr Wright' - during a solo concert performed at the National Concert Hall on Monday, 23rd February 2009.

The CD, and an accompanying shamrock badge, are part of a mental health promotion campaign by Mental Health Ireland to mark St Patrick's Day this year. The CD has been produced with Finbar providing sound, straightforward advice and information on the importance of maintaining good mental health through, for example, ways to deal effectively with stress and anxiety. The CD also features Finbar's distinctive singing voice interspersed with music to help soothe, relax and aid meditation.

This high quality CD couldn't come at a better time, given the fact that the country's economic decline is affecting so many individuals and families. It is inevitable that this is having repercussions in the area of mental health in Ireland, with a sharp increase in helpline calls from those experiencing anxieties about their future.

The CD is aimed at all age groups of the general population. It will prove invaluable in highlighting the steps everyone can take to help themselves and those who may become affected from time to time by stress, insomnia, fatigue or irritability. Highlighting the point that we all must take care of our mental health, Finbar's message is this: "If you are to have any kind of fruitful life, it isn't wealth and success that matter - happiness is the important thing."

Priced at just €5.00, the CD and shamrock badge are available throughout Pettitt/Supervalu supermarkets in Wexford, Enniscorthy, Gorey, Arklow and Athy, numerous outlets nationwide and from local mental health associations throughout the country up until 17 March. Alternatively, a copy/copies can be ordered directly from Mental Health Ireland by sending your request along with a cheque/postal order for €5.00 per CD (with Shamrock Badge) to Mental Health Ireland, Mensana House, 6, Adelaide St., Dun Laoghaire, Co. Dublin. Cheques should be made payable to Mental Health Ireland.

Whether as a source of information or enjoyment for a person or as a St. Patrick's Day gift to a loved one, Mental Health Ireland believes that Finbar Wright's core message on mental health needs to be heard.

Also where a sprig of shamrock may or may not be readily available, Mental Health Ireland is encouraging the people of Ireland to wear the St. Patrick's Day badge available with the CD, to proudly acknowledge our national day of celebration.

Mental Health Ireland

December 2008

In honour and in the name of all of my musical friends around the world, I have made a charitable donation to both 'Bóthar' and 'The Irish Life-Boats' this Christmas. It is just a simple gesture of thanks to all of you for your support throughout the year and I hope it will bring the blessing of peace and happiness to you and your families at this time. We cannot single-handedly solve all of the distress and suffering in the world, but collectively we can make a big difference and the work that both of these organisations do is truly impressive. I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Healthy & Prosperous New Year!!

Feliz Navidad a todos mis amigos Españoles por todo el mundo, especialmente en España y también en la América del Sur - que El Niño Jesús os llene de su paz y  de su amor!

November 26th,2008

I am deeply grateful for the thousands of messages of congratulations on the release of my new album and I am truly delighted that you are enjoying the choice of music. As so many of you have said, it was indeed designed to be light-hearted, romantic, and familiar for the most part.  So many stories have been sent to me about it that I could almost fill a book!! From the group of self-titled 'desperate housewives' in Los Angeles who persuaded an airline operative to bring copies from Ireland on the very day it was released to the message from a doctor in Glasgow who tells me that his patients are enjoying it in the waiting-room and feeling better before he even gets to them! I know the good people at the UFO group  and the many members there have been supporting the release above and beyond the call of duty and I have had complaints from every corner of Ireland that they cannot get it because it is sold out in the local record shops!! With such complaints I can cope very well and it heart-warming to know that it is being generously received. I met a young teacher in Dublin last week who laughingly told me that her Montessori group of kiddies are going crazy for 'Moralito' and she has nearly worn the CD out! The important fact is that people generally are enjoying it all and that is what entertainment and music is all about. I leave shortly for the United States to begin the Christmas Concert Tour in Columbus, Georgia; this is always an exciting sojourn through the vast and varied territory of this great country and the Christmas repertorio is always a joy to perform. Before that I travel to Paris for a short visit to perform at a private arts function.

For those who love poetry here is a little haiku:                        

                                                                                                              In the frosty air

                                                                                        A hidden breath is betrayed

                                                                                        Secrets have their keys

                                                                                                               (finbarwright/copyright/xxvi.xi.mmviii)  

August 18th 2008

Kitty Neeson (Mother of actor Liam) with friends at Finbar's recent concert in Ballymena, Northern Ireland

August 9th 2008

Delighted to see that my cousin from Donegal, Chloe Magee, is enjoying success at her first ever Olympics. She is representing Ireland in Badminton and we are proud to see her make her mark at such a young age. Here is a short report from rte/sport on her first game. We wish her every success and I know she has already made her family and all of Ireland proud by getting this far in the sport.

April 2008                                 

      I found a robin's nest today just beyond the orchard. Both father and mother spent the day ferrying bits of food back to at least three or four hungry nest-lings. The weather is cold so I helped them out by leaving some chick mash on top of a nearby fencing pole. They accepted the help enthusiastically and seemed to operate a sort of 'one for you, one for me' system, which seemed very reasonable in that they need to keep their strength up also. Without them there is no dinner. The weather in Ireland can be very unpredictable: you can have summer days in January and, on the other hand, just when you are getting your hopes up that Spring is surely in the air, you get a cold blast from the north at the start of what is now April and you are dodging showers of sleet and light snow. Nevertheless, the little robins seem to be well-protected and well-fed so, hopefully, they will survive their helpless phase. Anyone who works in the garden will know that the robin is a constant companion and usually brave enough to come up close and peck some goody from your freshly turned soil. They have a pleasant disposition and behave as if they had known you all their lives. Maybe they are the re-incarnation of beautiful people from the past- who knows? I sneaked up close to steal a picture of the nestlings just to show the miracle of nature at work!  The hair-do certainly looks promising. 

NOTES FROM THE ROAD

 Many thanks to all of you who attended my recent concert tour in Ireland. It was great fun and I certainly enjoyed meeting you all and especially listening to you sing along - you cannot believe how wonderful it sounds from the stage! A special word of thanks to all of you who travelled from far-away places like the USA, Canada, and, nearer home, from the UK, to be with us. I appreciate the support and your love for the music.

My next Irish date will be on February 1st at the Parish Church in Abbeyfeale, County Limerick.  We have been anxious to honour this date for quite some time and I am looking forward to it very much, as I have a lot of old friends in that area!  I will also be visiting Athlone on February 2nd, at the Dean Crowe Theatre - I have performed many times in the home town of Ireland's greatest tenor, John McCormack, but this will be my first visit to this lovely theatre. On February 3rd I will be in the Dunamaise Theatre in Portlaoise - I am no stranger to this venue in one of Ireland's thriving towns.

In the meantime, I will be kept busy with the USA tour which begins on December 1st in Milwaukee and ends in the Californian sunshine on December 19th. Lots of air-miles in between I'm afraid, as we visit everywhere from Washington State to Texas and, of course, Virginia (by the way, there is great new movie out on the life of Elizabeth 1 - Cate Blanchett is superb in the role!)and also New Brunswick,  New Jersey - always an enthusiastic reception there!

As you know, Wall Street keeps a close watch on all I am doing - click on the link and go to the last paragraph! (I may have to sing there again if the economy does not improve!)

http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=email_en&refer=home&sid=anPpji_PBsF8