The Songs That Remember
A reflection on a concert by The High Kings and the emotional weight of the songs they chose—“Chasing Rainbows,” “1845,” “Grace,” and “Ride On”—as metaphors for Ireland’s grief, pride, and perseverance. A night that began in memory and ended in song.
The High Kings didn't just perform.
They reminded.
Song by song, they unpacked history—not with lectures, but with lyrics.
Four in particular stood out.
"Chasing Rainbows" captured the lightness—the reckless joy of nights that turn into mornings. Pub names and pint flows. The glimmer of Dublin’s laughter.
Then "1845" brought the contrast. The ache. A ballad for The Great Hunger, not just in history, but in spirit. Hunger for food, freedom, dignity. The song didn’t dramatize—it witnessed.
And when they sang "Grace"—you could feel every held breath in the room. A love song. A goodbye. A rebel’s final moment before the firing squad in 1916. Ireland’s cost of liberty distilled in a final embrace.
Then came "Ride On"—a haunting, wandering anthem. Longing and loss without direction, but full of emotion. A reminder that some Irish songs never land because they aren’t meant to. They're meant to echo.
The band paused, and one of them said it outright:
As Irish musicians, they carry the responsibility to remember, to pass on, to keep singing about the struggle to freedom.
And they did.
Finbar wasn't there. His mother had just passed away. His absence was felt. But somehow, even that deepened the meaning of the night.
And all I could think of was a pint.
A pint poured right.
Darkness at the base. Hope rising. Wholeness at the end.
Ireland itself.
Because like the black body of the Guinness beneath a creamy head—there’s struggle, pain, and perseverance… and then, reward. Not in spite of the wait, but because of it.
That’s the Irish story.
So yes, the musicians carry it.
But so does Guinness.
And so do we.
To remember.
To repeat.
To raise a glass not just to the present moment, but to all the moments that brought us here.
But let’s not forget—grief isn’t the whole story. Not for the Irish. Not for the music.
Because the night didn’t end in sorrow.
It ended in joy.
It ended in a stomp and a clap, in hundreds of voices belting out:
“No, nay, never — no nay never no more…”
“Will I play the wild rover — no never, no more!”
That chorus didn’t just close the show.
It claimed the night.
The High Kings in Concert. Saturday, July 5, 2025. "The Wild Rover" at the South Shore Music Circus in Cohasset, Massachusetts
Joy as resistance.
Memory as anthem.
A room full of people—Irish by blood or spirit—beating time into the floorboards.
It sings.
—Mike
