The quest for a synthesis of tradition and modernity, of the best of what's old with a taste of what's new, continues apace - and not just in RTÉ's efforts to fit someone into Gaybo's slot on Mondays and Tuesdays.
Adrian Smyth's documentary, Strawboys (RTÉ Radio 1, Wednesday), was an intriguing variation on the question. The programme explained and commented on an apparently reviving tradition and gave us a surprising flavour of how it is practised today. The strawboys are local lads with funny, face-concealing hats who turn up at someone's home and stage a hooley to mark a marriage, a birth or other happy transition. As we heard, it's a very ancient tradition indeed, laden with symbols of community, fertility etc.
The programme's anthropological talking head was fascinating, explaining mumming practices that sounded full of mystery and magic. And then there was the "actuality" of a gang of Sligo strawboys in action, sounding like nothing more or less than the fellas from the Macra getting together to sing Saw Doctors' songs.
Initially, there was a dissonance between the weighty significance that the commentary laid on the tradition - both as an expression of communal values and an invocation of quasi-pagan forces - and this pure messin' we were hearing from "de leds". But that dissonance was to a purpose, because as the programme went on it became possible for the listener to reconcile the mystery and the Macra. As the strawboys sang silly numbers and recited doggerel verse about their hopes for the young marrieds they were visiting, it wasn't hard to imagine that their forebears in previous generations produced equally sweet and lightweight sessions (though in darker days they apparently gave people a bit more of a fright).
In other words, their session began to take on some of the magic of the commentary, and the commentary was illuminated by the reality of their session. The fact that the tradition continues to exist, as a nominally anonymous expression of a community's goodwill beyond the limits of a wedding guest list, is great news too - especially in an era when it's possible to doubt the existence of rural communities at all, let alone their goodwill.
I must admit I'm not so comfortable with other efforts to make the wisdom of the ancients accessible to a mass audience. The fascination of In Touch With Una Power, which can be heard late on weekend evenings on Dublin's 98FM, is - as far as I'm concerned - principally a grim one.
Power is a radio psychic, dispensing largely good news to countless callers with the help of her cards and an extraordinarily simple numerology system, which is based on adding up the digits in a birthday (month and day only, no year) to gain an insight into the caller's character. She is also, in best late-night tradition, a good, sympathetic listener, capable of drawing out people's own impressions - be it of whether they should marry or where they might have left those earrings. But mixed in with her counsel is this extraordinary notion that her cards, unseen and untouched by the caller, might be offering extra information.
One man, who is being pestered for money by the older children of his first marriage, is supportively told that those children "are interfering in a relationship with a partner who - I'm looking at the cards - loves you very much . . . . The situation to me - in the cards - looks very serious."
A nurse's aide who wants to step up a grade is told that one of his cards "guarantees a place in nursing. . . . though you may have to go to England to get it."
A woman who has been poorly is assured: "Your cards show you've made a complete recovery."
Power can be extraordinary specific. Someone looking for romance is promised a blonde - "but she's got an awful temper . . ."
Listeners are not usually indulged for long after she's dispensed her advice, so we get little chance to hear about contradictions. "That's great news, Una," is the most popular reply. Last Sunday Una was joined for a little while by a feng shui practitioner - not the first or last time the Chinese art of arranging stuff will make an appearance on the airwaves this year. The fact that feng shui is based, so far as I can gather, on an astrological system that's entirely different from Power's own numerology doesn't seem to faze anyone. When it comes to superstition, mix and match seems to be the order of the day.
One other ancient tradition was revived in their conversation, when the feng shui woman sought support for her art from NASA scientists - a line I haven't heard in years. At NASA, seemingly, they always put a plant (usually a feng shui-friendly peace lily) in a spaceship after it returns to earth, thus re-balancing the craft's energy. Which I'm sure is how the NASA scientists describe it. Considering the problems feng shui seems to have with 20th-century plumbing - toilets risk flushing away your wealth or relationships, seemingly - this synthesis of tradition and modernity was touching.
