Celtic Thunder's George Donaldson Spins Splendid Solo Story-Songs in The White Rose

Nearly three years ago, I became acquainted with Celtic Thunder, the PBS sensation consisting of several Irish singers and one burly bald Scotsman. The latter is George Donaldson, the oldest member of the group and the one with the most exceptional gift for conveying the heart of a story-song and connecting with an audience. I admire all of the lads of Celtic Thunder for different reasons, but George is the one who seems most in line with the folksy singer-songwriter style I esteem above all others. Hence, I was very excited to learn earlier this year that he would be releasing a solo album. Now that I’ve had some time to live with it, here are my impressions.

A Song for Harry Chapin - If I were to describe George Donaldson’s musical style in one word, I would call him a balladeer. I’ve heard few singers who can so skillfully draw the story out of a song, causing us to notice every detail and feel every emotion. Jim Croce was one such singer-songwriter; Harry Chapin was another. Knowing that George was blessed with the soul of a storyteller, I was eager to hear him sing his own words, and writing this tribute to one of his personal heroes and a giant of the genre feels like a most appropriate way to begin his own very story-filled album. His skillful turns of phrase are a delight but not a surprise.

I love the tenderness of this five-and-a-half-minute-long ode. Essentially broken into thirds, the first is a mellow, acoustic guitar-driven exploration of his own experience with Chapin’s music. During the middle of the song, the tempo increases and bass becomes prominent as he gives us a brief biographical sketch, discussing Chapin’s roots and his unique style. Finally, the end returns to the pace of the beginning, adding in a few minor chords that might have felt right at home in Cat’s in the Cradle as George sadly sings about Chapin’s death but notes his legacy. While I like the first portion best, as it feels most deeply personal, his passion is apparent throughout the track, which is my favorite of his original songs on this album. “He opened up my eyes to a new style of song, like a book or like a movie – and it lasted just as long. I followed every word he’d say; his songs blew my mind away. The world should hear his name and share his love.”

Beeswing - Running through much of Celtic music is the theme of wandering, and while more often than not the man is the one who doesn’t want to be tied down, in the case of this Richard Thompson ballad, the woman is the rover and the speaker is the poor sap who can’t hold on to the one he loves. Set in the late 1960s, the gypsy-flavored song has a very distinct rhythm accentuated by percussive guitar strums that give way to wind-like bursts of strings. The two instruments seem to exemplify the two points of view, with him wanting stability and her demanding freedom. A toe tapper enhanced in its last minute and a half by the yearning vocals of Erin Boyle and the Brendan Monaghan’s poignant pipes. “They say her rose is faded now, rough weather and hard booze. Well, maybe that’s the price you pay for the chains that you refuse.”

Glasgow - Another deep tradition in Celtic music is the hometown tribute. Fellow Celtic Thunder member Ryan Kelly included his own aching ode, The Village That They Call the Moy, on his debut solo album, so I’m pleased to see that George has done the same, particularly since so many of his posts have mentioned his devotion to Jinty’s, his favorite pub, where he has performed his music many times. He mentions its proprietor and regular visitors in his album acknowledgments, but actually hearing the name incorporated into a song is a kick. While he mentions his homesickness while he is on the road, the song’s overall tone is joyous pride. He loves Glasgow and wants to share its wonders with the world. Peppier than most songs of its type, this piano-driven ballad is another one brimming with affection. “With a heart that beats from deep within, so old but ever young, with a finger ever on the pulse, Glasgow, you’re my mother; I’m proud to be your son.”

On a Bus to St. Cloud - So many of the songs on this album are deeply rooted in a particular place. In the case of this melancholy Gretchen Peters song, it’s St. Cloud, Minnesota, though wrapped up in the song is the sensation of movement, of drifting along aimlessly. At one point, the song takes the speaker to New Orleans. The faint bagpipes in the background complement the legato piano and eerily beautiful images, creating an overall sensation of loss and confusion. “And you chase me like a shadow, and you haunt me like a ghost, and I hate you some, and I love you some, but I miss you most.”

The White Rose - This title track, written by George, is yet another tribute, this time to Sophie Scholl, a 21-year-old college student of deep faith and firm principles who, for eight months, joined her brother Hans and friend Christoph Probst, among others, in a leaflet campaign encouraging passive resistance to Hitler and the Nazi regime. I’m ashamed to say that I had never heard of this courageous young woman or the covert club of which she was a part, but the heroism its members displayed has been publically acknowledged, and one German magazine even ranked Scholl the greatest woman of the 20th century. Facing the lyrics in the liner booklet is a photograph of the three friends in 1942; she in the middle, a flower in front of her, gazes steadily ahead as if bracing for the trouble to come.

The song has a perilous edge to it, having a bit of a galloping sound as if to indicate pursuit. The guitar, piano and strings come together to create an aura of danger as George sharply recounts the terror of that time. The slightly minor tone adds to the sense of tragedy, yet there is also a flicker of triumph in his delivery as he sings of Sophie’s belief, asserted just moments before their execution by guillotine, that their resistance would inspire others. A worthy subject of the title song. “Even though we know our cause is righteous and the price of failure brings the highest cost, if a thousand were to wake and take our actions, then our lives will never truly have been lost.”

Burlington - George breaks his pattern here by having two original songs in a row. I’m assuming that this one is autobiographical; he’s certainly had his share of travel nightmare stories, and it seems he has a special affection for Canada, so I can easily imagine him expressing a desire to be playing a favorite venue near Toronto instead of being stuck in a Detroit airport. This song seems to fit in with the likes of Paul Simon’s Homeward Bound and Bob Seger’s Turn the Page in expressing the malaise of a traveling musician, yet there is definite affection for an appreciative audience. The Dan Fogelberg line from Same Old Lang Syne contrasting the heavenly audience with the pernicious nature of tour travel springs to mind right away. Boyle resurfaces here to add her vocals, while Plunkett McGartland’s fiddling provides a bittersweet undercurrent. “I should be playing on the stage at 9 or 10 o’clock with the thunder passing overhead as the plane begins to dock. I’m thinking to myself, ‘It won’t be long till we’re away,’ but the plane got redirected; now it’s gone out to L.A.”

Safe in the Harbour - The first song I heard George sing was Johnny Duhan’s The Voyage, which uses sailing as a metaphor for marriage. It felt very fitting, then, to find a song so rich in nautical imagery here, particularly since it was penned by Eric Bogle, the poet behind Green Fields of France, one of Celtic Thunder’s most hauntingly harmonious ensemble ballads. This is the first song on the album not to be tethered to a particular place, and at first glance, especially at the verses, it seems less a ballad than a general reflection upon the nature of dreamers as opposed to materialists. Read at that level, the artistry of the words is enough to make it one of the most potent songs of its type that I have heard – and as a dreamer myself, I’ve sought out and heard many.

However, it turns out that this song, too, is a tribute. In this case, it’s more about capturing the general spirit of the man who died, allowing listeners to feel a kinship with him before they realize he is being memorialized. This young man was Canadian singer-songwriter and maritime enthusiast Stan Rogers, who died at the age of 33 in a horrific fire aboard Air Canada Flight 797 in Cincinnati. Hence, the tenderness in George’s voice in this direct address that ripples over the gentle guitar and piano like morning breeze upon a calm sea speaks directly to the loss of this gifted musician with so much more to offer. Nonetheless, the listener can take the “you” to heart as an invitation to follow in his idealistic footsteps. My favorite cover on the album. “So when storm clouds come sailing across your blue ocean, hold fast to your dreaming for all that you’re worth, for as long as there’s dreamers, there will always be sailors, bringing back their bright treasures from corners of Earth.”

Halifax Town -This traditional-sounding original lament commemorates the Battle of Culloden, the 1745 conclusion of the Jacobite Rising that pitted Scots, mostly highlanders, against the reigning British monarchy. Over a low drone of bagpipes augmented by lively whistles, George sings in the voice of a man who survived the battle but lost his family and is now forced to abandon his homeland for the Canadian city of Halifax. The tone isn’t quite as caustic as what we hear in George’s cover of disenfranchised factory workers’ anthem Yesterday’s Men, but he gives off a mingled sense of anger and grief. “And they forced us with famine and torture to run, to leave our own country and never return. They denied us our culture, our language, our dress; they’ve taken the land where our ancestors rest.”

Hierarchy Blues - Once again we have two George originals in a row. The snarling indignation of Yesterday’s Men roars back here, as do the pipes from the last track. This is a rant against materialism, complacency and, most of all, unearned senses of superiority. It serves as a warning against lording one’s fortunes over others, detailing the pitiful phenomenon of a soul deteriorating as more wealth is accumulated. A searing social statement. “That daily life we deem as normal could make another man a king. The more that we believe we own, the more we’re losing everything.”

Grace - My second-favorite of the covers on this album, Grace is the final song to pay tribute to a revered historical figure who died an early death. This one, written by Frank and Sean O’Meara, takes the perspective of Joseph Mary Plunkett, a 28-year-old Irish freedom fighter who was executed for his hand in the 1916 Easter Rising, but not before being allowed to marry his fiancée, artist Grace Gifford, hours beforehand. The gentle tone reminds me of the Irish Rovers’ Sam Hall; this man is about to be killed, but he doesn’t waste his last breaths spewing venom. In this song, he speaks directly to his new bride and soon-to-be widow, and the affection in George’s voice is palpable. The melancholy of the delicately plucked melody is augmented by the presence of the wistful fiddle. A truly tragic love story made all the more poignant by the symbolically loaded name of the addressee. “Oh, Grace, just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger. They’ll take me out at dawn, and I will die. With all my love, I place this wedding ring upon your finger. There won’t be time to share our love, for we must say goodbye.”

Let the Tears Flow - George wrote the final song on the album as well, and it makes an excellent bookend to the first track. While the album starts off with an acknowledgment of a musician who inspired him, this track seems to pass the baton to the listeners, encouraging them to become storytellers in their own right. Backed by understated piano with occasional harp by Joanna Bryne and vocals by Boyle, it softly but firmly urges anyone with a tale to tell to do so, undaunted by any obstacles that might lie in their path. As listening to this album gives me a great itch to sit down with a pencil and a piano or guitar and do some songsmithing of my own, I suspect the fine craftsmanship of these songs will be enough to stir many into poetic musings, rendering such an overt admonition unnecessary, but it certainly emphasizes the communal nature of folk music and brings the album full circle. “Find a start and find a middle. Let your courage find an end. Write your story clear and true. Let the ocean read the words you send.”

George’s album is available from CD Baby, and you can also find discussions of some of its contents on his website, George-Donaldson.com. From the intricate lyrics to the heartfelt vocals and the pensive expression gazing out from the photographic portraits included in the liner booklet, George presents himself exceptionally well here, and I hope that The White Rose will be only the first of many albums for this talented tale-weaver.

Don't Suffer Through the Shoddy Sarah and the Squirrel

Last month, I celebrated Squirrel Appreciation Day for the first time by reviewing as many squirrel-related products as I could find. I also found myself at the website of my local library putting more squirrel books on hold, and I ventured over to Netflix to see if I might stumble upon anything there. I came up with one title: Sarah and the Squirrel. I’d never heard of it, but I figured it was worth giving it a whirl. Next time, I might have to think about being a little more discriminating.

The Holocaust has been the subject of many powerful movies, particularly Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful, and I’ve sometimes had the impression that it’s hard to mess up a movie that delves into such compelling subject matter. Boy, was I wrong.

In this hour-long movie from the early 1980s, Sarah is a young girl when her family goes into hiding in the woods to escape the Nazis. They live in an underground shelter and urge Sarah to keep quiet and not to let anyone see her. But they let her go out in the woods on berry-collecting missions, and on one such occasion, the rest of her family gets rounded up. She tearfully watches as they’re carted away, then struggles to survive on her own.

Her life in hiding gains a greater purpose when she sees some men trying to bring down the bridge over which a Nazi train rumbles, bringing supplies for their army. They fail, but she sees a chance for her to make a difference. If she loosens the stones one at a time, perhaps she will eventually undermine its stability, and boom! Nazi Bridge is Falling Down!

This semi-animated film is the brainchild of writer-director Yoram Gross, with dialogue by Elizabeth Kata. Mia Farrow, who provides an introduction and conclusion while wandering in the woods that supposedly housed Sarah, seems to suggest that this is a true story, but I can’t find anything elsewhere to corroborate that. So I’m thinking it’s just true in the context of the movie. Which isn’t saying much.

Assuming this didn’t actually happen, Sarah’s own personal resistance is pretty hard to believe. Not that she would attempt it, because it’s a brave, clever plan in theory, but in practice, I just can’t imagine how she could remove enough stones to make a difference while not arousing the suspicions of the soldiers on patrol on top of the bridge. Of course, the point of the movie seems to be that even though she somehow succeeded, the war raged on. So... Don’t try to make a difference, kids, ‘cause there’s really no point.

That’s the message I got from this movie, in the rare event that I even understood what was going on. The film is a bizarre blend of animation and actual footage somewhat akin to Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings. I found that weird and creepy, and this even more so. It flashes between real footage and animation so often that it’s totally disorienting.

Then there’s the sound quality, which is horrendous. The music meant to be representative of Sarah’s tranquil pre-war family life is so shrill that I muted it during the opening credits. Even worse is the dialogue, which almost all comes down to Sarah, who is voiced by Farrow. The trouble is that she whispers pretty much everything she says, so even with the volume way up, she’s very difficult to understand. Not that her dialogue is anything all that illuminating. Still, I found myself wishing that subtitles were an option.

And then there’s the title, the whole reason I ended up with this movie in the first place. The squirrel is barely in the movie. It does one interesting thing; otherwise, it just occasionally appears so that Sarah has someone to mumble to, though she also talks to rabbits, wolves and other animals.

I found the look of the film quite unattractive; the only portion whose animation I really enjoyed was a sequence involving all of the woodland creatures. I liked it because it reminded me of Bambi. But then it reminded me too much of Bambi, as the forest inexplicably burst into flames. And after what felt like about ten minutes, it finally became clear that it was all a nightmare, and on some level a metaphor for the war. So maybe there was some point to it, but they let it go on way too long.

Sarah and the Squirrel is a movie that I’m sure was made with good intentions. I imagine the thought was that this could introduce children to the horrors of the Holocaust without explicitly showing very much. But I can’t imagine many kids being able to sit through this trippy barrage of sounds and images, and I can’t imagine many adults putting up with it either. (My mom declared that it was like The Swans, a Hans Christian Andersen adaptation I abhor, only worse.  Read my review of that, and you'll see that's really saying something.) It’s a shame because it’s an interesting premise, and I’m sure that there could have been a way to do it well. But whatever that method was, Gross didn’t find it.

Let Us Never Forget

Oskar Schindler was a shrewd businessman. He was a womanizer and a Nazi. He was also a humanitarian. In Stephen Speilberg's amazing epic film, Schindler's List, the life of this unlikely hero is chronicled through a horrifying three-and-a-quarter-hour account of the Holocaust, in which six million Jews met their demise in the Nazi gas chambers.

The entire film is in black and white, except for a few key moments. This lends the movie a documentary feel and adds to the aura of desolation and horror that hangs over all of Europe. When color finally comes, it is first as a means of recognizing a child seen previously in the film during the storming of a ghetto. But moments before the conclusion of the film, it is a symbol of hope in the form of flames from the candles of the Sabbath ceremony performed by the rabbi in Schindler's factory.

Liam Neeson plays Oskar Schindler, a deeply conflicted man who must eventually decide whether to live as he has lived, seeking profit and going along with the cruelty of his political party, or risk everything to make a difference -- indeed, to save lives. His two best friends are the sadistic Ammon Goeth, a psychotic Nazi commandant played chillingly by Ralph Fiennes, and Itzhak Stern, his Jewish clerk, whose gentle wisdom and compassion shine brilliantly through Ben Kingsley's portrayal.

While the movie focuses on the ever-differing lives of Schindler and the commandant, it gives a horrifying account of what happened to the Jews after Hitler declared his plan for the purification of the Aryan race. The brutality and inhumanity which occurred during these years was such that a person watching this movie would be tempted to think that such a thing never could have happened, especially not in our civilized twentieth century. We must not succumb to that temptation. Six million Jews, not to mention several million other people who didn't fit the Nazi ideal, were systematically slaughtered in ghettos and death camps before the war ended in 1945.

Schindler's List depicts this mindless genocide in stark detail. This movie is not pleasant, and you should consider carefully whether your child can handle such graphic material; indeed, you may not be able to yourself. Prepare yourself, and prepare your child for the horror he or she is about to witness. I would not eagerly endorse this film for anyone under the age of thirteen, though I do think that younger children should be informed of what happened during the Holocaust. I just don't think they are ready to see it presented in such graphic detail.

Despite this film's bleak subject, it is not without hope. It provides a powerful testimony of the profound difference one person can make. Oskar Schindler bankrupted himself to save 1100 Jews. Over 6000 "Schindler Jews" are alive today. That is a powerful legacy. Let us never forget the horror of the Holocaust or the power of a person to bring a ray of hope into the darkest hours of human history. For "all that is necessary for evil to exist is that good men and women do nothing."

Love Conquers All

When I was a senior in high school, I recall many of my teachers referencing this movie and suggesting that all of us see it. The chaperones on my February trip to the Holocaust Memorial in Washington, D.C., were especially emphatic in their praise of this film. I am surprised, actually, that it took me this long to see it. But see it I finally did. Last weekend my mom decided that we should rent it, telling me that she had been wanting to see it for quite some time. I expected that we would be watching a subtitled version; much to my surprise, it was dubbed. But while others have noted that they soon got past the distraction of the subtitles, I soon got past the distraction of the lips not being entirely consistent with the sounds which they produced.

By the time we got to the video store, it was 11:00 p.m. I had been assuming all along that my 12-year-old brother would go elsewhere while we were watching the movie; now, given the time, I figured he would just go to bed. I honestly didn't think the film would hold any interest for him. I was wrong. The three of us stayed up until after 1:00 on a Saturday night to watch Life is Beautiful, and none of us had any trouble staying awake for the duration.

The movie stars Roberto Begnini as Guido, a vibrant, comical fellow who wins the heart of the audience from the beginning. An Italian Jew, Guido wishes to open a bookshop but is forced to begin his life in the new town he has come to as a waiter in the Grand Hotel under the employment of his Uncle Leo. In a memorable scene, he engages in a hobbit-esque riddle contest with Dr. Lessing, a German physician for whom solving riddles is an obsession. Remember this man, for he will reappear at a crucial point towards the end of the film. So intent is the good doctor on his riddles that he refuses to eat. When an unexpected -- and very rich -- customer arrives, Guido must rush to bring him a satisfactory dinner despite the fact that the kitchen has all but ceased operation for the night. His solution is simple but brilliant and sets the stage for his next trick.

The first hour of the movie is a light comedy concerned with Guido's pursuit of Dora (Nicoletta Braschi), a young schoolteacher who he keeps capriciously running into (quite literally) in a number of hilarious instances. Unfortunately, his "principessa" is soon to be married to a boorish upper-class fascist who is every bit as despicable as Rose's fiance in Titanic. Not only is she engaged, she is Catholic. But Guido manages to convince her of his piety by invoking Mary several times, each with immediate gratification. His wit, charm, and tenacity soon win her over, and he sweeps her away from her engagement party on a green Jewish horse (so marked by the fascists, hinting at the trouble soon to come).

We rejoin Dora and Guido about five years later, now happily married with an adorable son, Joshua (Giorgio Cantarini). Guido finally has his bookstore, and the little family is thriving despite the increasing signs of prejudice against Jews. Guido side-steps the issue comically with his son, foreshadowing his tactics during the darker portion of the film. When Joshua asks why a certain store has a sign reading "No dogs or Jews," Guido replies that all store owners have signs like that. He goes on to describe an instance in which his Chinese friend with a pet kangaroo was denied entrance to a store because of such a sign (reading, of course, "no kangaroos or Chinese"). He promises Joshua that they will put one up as well, and the boy demands that spiders be the outlawed animals.

The day of Joshua's birthday arrives, and the family has a grand party planned for him. Dora's mother will be attending; she has been absent from her grandson's life up until this point. Before the party, Joshua puts up a valiant fight to avoid bathing before his party. His aversion to baths and showers will play an important role in a later scene which is both frightening and entertaining. The joyous day is cut short when Dora goes to pick up her mother and returns to find the house a shambles. Guido and Joshua have been taken.

At this point I urged Nathan to go to bed. I didn't think he would be able to handle the concentrations camp, particularly right before bed. He was setting himself up for horrible nightmares. But he insisted on staying. And so the movie transitioned as Dora, unable to convince the train station guard to release Guido, Joshua, and Uncle Leo, demands to board the train that is taking her family to the concentration camp. Joshua is pleased, because Guido has already told him that this abrupt journey is a surprise for his birthday. Upon arriving at the camp, Joshua expresses his distaste for the train ride; Guido agrees with his disappointment and promises that they will take a bus on the ride home.

Guido and Joshua are able to stay together, but Uncle Leo and Dora are taken to different parts of the camp. "They're on other teams," Guido explains. He tells his son that this is all a great big game and that the winner will receive a real tank. When they arrive in the barracks, he translates the rules of the camp for the company -- except that he doesn't know German, and he makes it up as he goes along, creating the rules of the game which Joshua must play. Whenever Joshua expresses doubt as to the way the game is going, Guido restores his faith, and he assures his son that the children who are telling him the truth about the camps are really just trying to throw him off and win the tank for themselves.

Despite the hard labor he must perform all day and the heavy foreboding that is weighing him down, Guido puts all his energy into protecting his son's innocence and keeping his faith alive. At the same time, he find ways to let his wife know that he is still alive and thinking about her. The manner in which he accomplishes these tasks is often just short of miraculous, and my brother noted that "he can't keep this up forever". If a date had been mentioned previously in the movie, I missed it; I had no idea how far along the war was. I told Nathan that maybe the camps were on the verge of being liberated. Relief flooded through me when this turned out to be the case.

But the horror was not over yet. The final hours before the liberation of the camp are the most terrifying yet, and circumstances are about to test how far a man's love for his family can go. I won't reveal the ending except to say that it is bittersweet. No movie about the Holocaust can end happily; far too many lives were ruined for that. But they can end hopefully, and this one does.

Life is Beautiful is a hilarious comedy, a riveting drama, a frightening look into one of the most horrifying events in history. But most of all, it is a love story. A story of a man's love for his wife, his love for his son, his love for life. A story of the power of love to triumph over the direst of circumstances. A story more than deserving of the praise which was heaped upon it.

I was shocked to discover that my mom had not known anything about the movie except its language of origin previous to watching it. She'd only heard that it was a wonderful film. The horrors of the camp hit her very hard. Nathan, meanwhile, was left feeling optimistic after the film's final resolution. Both agreed that it was a wonderful movie; I certainly concurred.

As for the contention that a comedy about the Holocaust makes light of the suffering there, I feel compelled to quote Hawkeye Pierce, M*A*S*H's famous comic. When asked how he could always be making jokes while spending his days amidst the bloody aftermath of battle, he replied, "It's the only way I can open my mouth without screaming." The Holocaust was a terrible chapter in world history. As such, it is the ideal backdrop for a film which attempts to prove that hope springs eternal and sometimes laughter really is the best medicine.