Marco? Polo!: Loreena McKennitt and "Beneath a Phrygian Sky"

One of the most impressive men I've ever met was a diminutive 90-something-year-old journalist named Gary MacEoin. An Irishman with still more than a hint of his accent, he was a towering figure in social justice reporting, particularly in Latin America, and in covering the Catholic Church during Vatican II. He spoke a number of languages, was extensively traveled, and in his 90s he still had his wit, his intellect and a dry sense of humor. I remember that he was preparing, even in his 90s, of traveling to Samarkand. "Do you know where that is?" he asked me. I replied that I thought Samarkand was in Uzbekistan. I asked him why he wanted to go there. He replied that as a young boy, he read about Marco Polo's travels upon the Silk Road. Something about Polo's description of Samarkand fascinated him, and he put that city on his bucket list. Unfortunately, Gary took a fall while visiting family and a couple of weeks later, while recuperating, suffered cardiac arrest and died before he was able to realize his dream.

That story comes back to me now because our artist for today, Loreena McKennitt, also is fascinated by the Silk Road and especially the culture and music that traveled there. McKennitt, a Canadian known for her soprano voice, is a composer, harpist, accordionist and pianist who writes and performs world music with Celtic and Middle Eastern themes. She released her first album in 1985, and since then has gone on to release nine studio albums and five live albums which have sold 14 million copies worldwide. Her songs have also been featured in television and movies. Beneath a Phrygian Sky is from her 2006 album An Ancient Muse, in which she explores Celtic and Arabic musical elements as she imagines a journey along the Silk Road. In fact, I relate to this song now because in her notes about the song, she mentions visiting Ephesus in Turkey, a biblical city (Paul's letters to the Ephesians), and one whose stately ruins I have also walked. She relates of being swept away, and wondering what the stones could tell her about commerce and culture past. She also wonders if we will ever learn from our history, and quotes Edmund Burke: All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." And I'm brought back to my late friend Gary MacEoin, a good man who did a lot, and was still planning things to do up until the day he died.