It’s late night on Monday 13 April, I’m in bed and instead of sleeping I’m scrolling on my phone. A Donegal Facebook page posts that Moya Brennan has died. As we all know, it’s hard to trust what we read on social media and my first instinct is that this can’t be true.
I start to think about how people are so embedded in the anatomy of a place that it seems like they’ll go on forever. Moya was one of those people. Affectionately referred to as the First Lady of Celtic Music, Moya with her band Clannad merged the old and the new, concocting a unique sound, bringing traditional music into the modern day. Moya’s music sounded like North West Donegal, the soundscapes she created lit up the imagination and placed you in the landscapes of Gweedore and Gola Island.
The social media feed fills rapidly with more verified sources, confirming Moya’s death and I’m rattled by it. Amy’s asleep next to me, I think about waking her up but instead I sit up in bed thinking about how, to me, Moya was always mysterious and magical, yet open and approachable. U2 put it in better words with their tribute: “She walked through this world like an angel, and now she’s back with her own kind.”
I wrote about Moya in June 2025:
It’s the 8th of March 2006 and I’ve just managed to sneak my way into Clannad’s soundcheck in the Millennium Forum in Derry. At the time, I had this idea called ‘A Lyrical Gallery’, an exhibition of handwritten lyrics by Irish songwriters. By gaining access to the soundcheck, I was going to ask living legend Moya Brennan if she could scribble down the lyrics to the hit song ‘In a Lifetime’ which Clannad had recorded with Bono in 1985. Unfortunately, I was too late, the band had already made their way back to the hotel.
As I turn to walk out, a voice comes from the stage, “Can I help you?” I thought I had been busted, but the voice belonged to Paddy McPoland, Clannad’s tour manager, and his offer of help was a genuine one. When I explained what I was doing he said he’d do his best to get me a lyric sheet from Moya. I scribbled my address down and unfairly I didn’t have much faith in ever hearing anything about it again.
Two weeks later, a letter arrives at my parent’s house, the return address on the back caused some excitement. Inside was a signed handwritten lyric sheet of ‘In a Lifetime’ along with a lovely letter from Moya wishing me luck with the project.
Reading that back I’m thinking about how Moya didn’t have to do this. It was a random request and she could have just as easily not bothered. The kindness she possessed is typical of the people of North West Donegal, there’s always time to do something for others.
I was lucky enough to later experience this kindness on a number of other occasions. I was invited a few times to play at Club Beo, the monthly night of music Moya set up in Leo’s Tavern. The night was always a healthy mix of established artists and those just starting out, Moya giving young artists a platform. In fact, it was the very platform she started on, the pub owned and run by her father Leo when Moya was beginning her music career.
“You’ve got a lovely voice,” she said to me as I stepped off stage in Leo’s back in 2017. “You’re not so bad yourself,” was my response, too nervous to be sincere, too Irish to just accept the compliment.
I’m told it’s Moya’s wish that the Club Beo nights go on without her. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of great nights in Leo’s in the future, but there will be a certain magic missing. Crolly, Gweedore, and days on Magherclogher beach will also be a bit less magical now that Moya’s gone.
As Father Brian Ó Fearraigh who celebrated Moya’s funeral mass said: “through her voice and her gift in playing the harp, Moya carried the rugged beauty, and that quiet strength, ancient timeless mysteries and the rich soul of Donegal to audiences right across the world.”
We’ll never see her kind again.
Moya Brennan, photo by Stuart Bailie. Instagram: @stu_bailie
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