In a world filled with noise, chaos, and constant rush, one voice managed to calm millions of hearts and lift countless souls. That voice belongs to Enya, a woman whose music has been described as heavenly, mysterious, and timeless. Her songs, often filled with ethereal melodies and haunting harmonies, transport listeners into another world,  a place of peace, beauty, and emotional healing. Yet behind this magical sound lies a story of dedication, hard work, and a quiet strength that defines one of the most private and successful musicians in modern history.

Enya, born Eithne Pádraigín Ní Bhraonáin on May 17, 1961, in Gweedore, County Donegal, Ireland, never planned to become a global superstar. Unlike many pop artists who chase fame and attention, Enya always focused on creating art that speaks to the heart. Her journey is not about headlines, scandals, or world tours. It is a story about passion, belief, and the courage to stay true to oneself even when the world pushes in another direction.

M. Rayford, Helen . ENYA BIOGRAPHY : Echoes of Enchantment– The Voice of Serenity and the Woman Behind the Music (p. 5). (Function). Kindle Edition.

I announced my intention to explore Enya’s music way back in April 2025, but ran into a serious information shortage. The four biographies that exist today essentially repeat each other and range from a paltry 87 to 162 pages because “She rarely performed live, gave very few interviews, and lived a life of quiet seclusion” (Rayford). The archived website Enya Book of Days was more helpful, but I still felt that I was missing something. As I had plenty of other review options, I mapped out a plan for the rest of the year that excluded Enya in the hope that additional information might become available in the interim.

Having loose ends bugs me, so during one of my summer jaunts to Paris for a meeting with my director, I went back through my research on Enya to see if I missed something, and lo and behold, Enya herself provided a clue in a comment she made in one of her few interviews: “The sea has been in my heart since I was a little girl. I grew up in Gaoth Dobhair, an Irish-speaking parish on the Atlantic coast of County Donegal, in the northwest corner of Ireland. The area is known for its rugged cliffs and windswept beaches, and the sea’s moods and spirit still find their way into my music.”

I’d been hankering to visit the many places in Ireland I hadn’t seen, so I thought, “Why not book a trip to County Donegal? Maybe I can find some answers in Gweedore.” Even if I came up empty, Gweedore is considered a cradle of Irish culture and a hotbed of traditional Irish music, so I had nothing to lose. As soon as I arrived back in Cork, I opened my laptop and began checking out transportation and hotel options.

There was no problem on the lodging side, but getting there turned out to be far more difficult than I expected. County Donegal is way up north, perched next to the rest of Ulster (in Northern Ireland), and my transportation options were few and rather unpleasant. I could take a train to Dublin and catch a bus, take a train to Dublin and fly to Donegal, or I could take a bus from Cork. All of those options involved eight hours of travel time. Assuming there’s not a strike somewhere, I could fly to every country in Europe in half the time! The quickest way to get there was by car (five hours), but when I moved to Ireland, I had banished the idea of driving anywhere due to the left-side orientation and the daily reports of accident fatalities all over the country. I had no choice but to return Enya to the back burner for a second time.

Incredibly, the luck of the Irish came to the rescue a month or so later. My parents took Alicia and me out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, and sometime during the conversation, my father made a most unexpected offer. “Hey, ladies—we’re planning to drive up to County Donegal for a weekend visit, and you’re more than welcome to tag along. It’s a one-of-a-kind experience.” After I recovered from the shock, I said, “Oh, hell, yes!” Dad suggested that we set a date in mid-September when the number of tourists would dwindle and the weather would still be on the pleasant side.

So in the early morning of September 19, we piled into Dad’s Hyundai Tucson and headed for Gweedore/Gaoth Dobhair. I’ll spare you the details and summarize our itinerary as nature during daylight hours, pubs and music in the evening, and nightly strolls. Most importantly, the experience gave me a better understanding of Enya’s connection to her place of origin and a deeper appreciation of the emotional power behind her music.

A visit to County Donegal is a time traveler’s delight. The glaciers of the Pleistocene carved out an artistic masterpiece of various shapes, textures and colors, creating a landscape of endless fascination in the loughs (lakes), rivers, cliffs, beaches, hills and valleys. I can’t count how many times I emerged from a vale or a copse and gasped in delight in response to a picture-perfect bit of scenery. Though Coloradans and Californians in the audience may giggle when I reveal that the tallest mountain sports a modest height of 2,464 ft, the surrounding flat terrain and color contrast from the blanket bog make Errigal seem much larger and quite dramatic. On the way up, we stopped at Kilclooney More to see the Neolithic tombs, and visited castles in Gweedor built by the old clans in the 15th and 19th centuries. In the present day, County Donegal remains lightly populated (the largest city has a population of around 20,000), giving visitors and residents plenty of room to roam. The landscape ranges from pastoral to dramatic, and it’s too bad that we have downgraded the term “awesome” to everyday slang, because I was both awed and moved by this beautiful piece of tranquility in the far north of Ireland.

Following Enya’s lead, we spent a good chunk of our time in Gleedore and on the coastline. The district stretches to the shore, but you don’t have to head to the beautiful beaches to feel the oceanic influence. Much of Gleedore is surrounded by the Poisoned Glen (which is not in the least bit poisonous), a valley bounded by green hills through which ocean breezes and gales make their way. The Crolly River flows through Gleedore, and combined with the omnipresent presence of the Atlantic and nearby lakes, spending time in Gleedore can restore bodily health, clear your head of distractions and inspire creativity. As noted in an article from MIBlueDaily, “Being around water engages all five of our senses and is a three-dimensional, all-encompassing experience for the mind and the body.”

Now try to imagine the effect of that contemplative environment on a young, introspective girl born into a large musical family, a girl who at the age of five could listen to a song once and play the melody on piano before she received musical training, who loved the myths and legends of the Celtic culture and was enchanted by the rhythm and music embedded in the Irish language. Add to that a burning desire to create her own music, explore new possibilities in sound, and expand her art beyond the boundaries of Irish folk without losing her deep connection with her origins. “She dreamed of creating sounds that felt like dreams, where voices could become instruments and harmonies could paint pictures.” (Rayford)

Enya was destined and determined to live a life centered on the creation of music and was fortunate to engage with people who recognized her unique talents and fully supported her wish to make her dream come true.

*****

The foundations of Enya’s music were established in her childhood. Enya learned the basics of the piano from her mother, who taught music at the local primary school and also led a church choir partially populated by Enya and her siblings. At the age of eleven, she developed an interest in classical music while attending a convent boarding school, and after graduation, spent a year in college expanding her knowledge of the classics. Music became the center of her existence during this period, and she spent much of her time “often sitting alone for hours, exploring notes and creating small melodies of her own. She found peace in those quiet moments. While other children might play outside, she preferred the comfort of the piano and the world of sound it opened up to her.” (Rayford)

After a brief stint with her siblings in the Irish folk band Clannad, Enya left the band with the intention of creating the kind of music she had envisioned. Nicky Ryan, who had worked with Clannad as producer and engineer, recognized Enya’s unique talents and suggested that she work with him and his lyricist wife Roma as a solo artist. Convinced that the Ryans shared her desire to break with tradition and form new pathways in music, Enya moved into their home in Dublin, where the trio built a small recording studio and began experimenting with recording techniques, with a heavy emphasis on vocal layering, multitrack recording, and the use of various electronic instruments. They continued to experiment for two years, painstakingly working to perfect the complex sounds they had imagined. Their first big break came when the BBC asked them to create the soundtrack for The Celts, a series covering the history of the Celtic people. The composition was entirely Enya’s, but the Ryans’ contributions were equally important.

The soundtrack album (showcased as her debut album Enya) was moderately successful, but it was not a game-changer. However, the album caught the ear of Rob Dickins, head honcho at Warner Music U.K., who “loved it so much that I played it every night before I went to bed.” Dickins was so determined to sign Enya that he agreed to terms normally reserved for artists with a lengthy track record of commercial success: he gave Enya complete artistic control of her music with no requirement to record and release albums according to a schedule.

For Enya, this was a gift beyond measure. She was not interested in fame for its own sake. What mattered was the chance to create without limits. Together with Nicky Ryan as producer and Roma Ryan as lyricist, she began working on the new album in their Aigle Studio in Killiney, Dublin. The project would take months of careful work,  long days of recording, listening, and layering,  but the result would be nothing short of magical.

M. Rayford, Helen . ENYA BIOGRAPHY : Echoes of Enchantment– The Voice of Serenity and the Woman Behind the Music (p. 36). (Function). Kindle Edition.

With Dickins’ full support, Enya and the Ryans took full advantage of their artistic freedom. In an interview for the Australia-based Sonics, The Music Magazine, Nicky and Enya talked about the bumpy road that led to Watermark:

Watermark was recorded completely in demo form in Nicky’s studio, so when they went into a London studio to master it, the entire performance had to be repeated. They were using two 32-track Mitsubishis but would often use up to 200 tracks with a lot of bouncing.

Nicky: “Doing all these vocals overdubs we’d lost a lot of quality on the demos so we had to re-record. Of course, we could bounce endlessly with digital and keep the quality but we did lose warmth in the bottom end. So, next time, we hope to use a combination of analogue and digital.”

Enya: “But digital is great for recording vocals.”

How does it feel to do 200 voice overdubs?

Enya “We’ve been working in this way for so long. It took a long time to develop because in the beginning it didn’t work very well. It’s just a matter of trial and error and . . . persisting.”

How do you know when to stop?

Nicky: “It’s difficult sometimes but . . . just when it feels right.”

Enya: “Sometimes we might have recorded 90 vocal takes and we can hear that it’s not working and so we have to be very brave and wipe them, even if it’s taken days of work.”

In the end, their grueling efforts were amply rewarded. “The release of Watermark in 1988 was not just another album; it was the beginning of a global phenomenon. It changed how people listened to music, how they felt sound, and how emotion could flow through melody. For Enya, Watermark was both a dream realized and a new beginning,  the sound that carried her from the small studio in Dublin to the hearts of millions across the world.” (Rayford)

*****

All music by Enya and arranged by Enya and Nicky Ryan; all lyrics by Roma Ryan; all vocals, keyboards, synthesizers and piano credited to Enya.

Side One

“Watermark”: Until the release of Amarantine in 2005, Enya always opened her albums with the title track to establish the overriding theme. “Just like a watermark on paper, music leaves a permanent impression, even if it’s subtle. The album was built around this idea of sound that moves like water, soft but powerful, quiet but lasting. The opening track, ‘Watermark,’ was an instrumental piece that set the tone . . . It felt like an invitation into another world, one where time slowed and the heart could breathe.” (Rayford)

The composition employs a technique known as rubato, which is quite rare in rock music and virtually unheard of in the metronomic genres popular today, but is quite common in jazz and classical music. A basic definition of the term can be found on Learn Jazz Standards: “Tempo rubato comes from the Italian word for ‘stolen time.’ It is a technique that allows musicians to push and pull the timing of notes. This ‘robbed time’ adds a certain humanity and expressiveness to musical performances, contrasting with playing strictly in time, which can sound mechanical.” If that definition doesn’t work for you, I suggest you listen to any of the albums Frank Sinatra recorded with Nelson Riddle and pay close attention to Sinatra’s phrasing. Ol’ Blue Eyes was a master of stolen time.

As there are no drums or beats to guide you through this instrumental and the left-hand piano intro employs rubato, you may have a hard time identifying where rubato makes an appearance. If you have a metronome handy, set the time signature to 3/4 and the tempo at 70 bpm and listen for the notes that don’t match the clicks. If you don’t have a metronome (personally, I can’t stand them), wait until Enya plays the third note of the melody with the right hand and start counting 1-2-3 in your head, while doing your best to avoid going off-rhythm when Enya plays a note with greater intensity or slows down. Once you’ve improved your awareness of the rubato, forget all about it and just listen to the natural, intuitive flow of the notes and the emotions you experience.

Following the opening interlude, the composition follows an A-A-B-A-A pattern with the A sections in the key of F major (with a chord pattern of containing F, Am, Bb and Eb) and the B sections employing the complementary key of D minor (with a more complex chord pattern of Dm-Am-Eb-Db-C). A synth wash enters on the aforementioned third note and continues throughout the song, with subtle changes in texture and volume. Toward the end of the second A pattern, a chorus of layered voices enters the scene, continuing through the B pattern to strengthen the emotional power of that passage. Though the song clocks in at a mere two minutes and twenty-six seconds, its beautiful melody and sensitive arrangement pack plenty of emotional power, and I can never make it through without shedding a tear. My fellow crybabies may react similarly, but most listeners will likely find the song soothing—and there’s science to back up that claim. In a 2025 article titled “The Most Soothing Music Ever Recorded: A Surprising Health Benefit” by Dr Gavril Hercz, “Watermark” earned the #4 spot on the list of pieces guaranteed to lower the fight-or-flight urge triggered by excess cortisol. 

Given the crumbling world order and the frightening prospect of war and more wars, Enya’s music reminds us of the beauty human beings can create when they’re not fighting with one another, and serves as a healing experience that can help us through these difficult times.

Special bonus! I was delightfully surprised to discover that the official video contains several shots of Gweedore, so enjoy the scenery!

“Cursum Perficio”: The Latin title might suggest that a Gregorian chant is on its way, but as it turns out, the song was not inspired by ancient Catholic traditions, but by a documentary depicting the life of one Norma Jean Baker, aka Marilyn Monroe. The motto “Cursum Perficio” was engraved on four tiles on the doorstep of Marilyn’s home in Brentwood and commonly interpreted as “My Journey Ends Here,” which fit in nicely with the narrative surrounding her early demise.

As it turns out, the interpretation was as wrong as wrong can be, and Marilyn had nothing to do with the placement of the tiles. Recent revelations from the Monroe Preservation Group connect the tiles to the architect who built the house long before Marilyn bought it—a fellow by the name of Harbin Hunter. “Most fans know about the tiles at the front door of the house. Four tiles laid in cement show a crest with three running dogs and three Viking war horns with the words ‘Cursum Perficio.’ The source of the tiles was previously unknown. They are, in fact, the Hunter family crest and motto. Rather than the macabre ‘My journey ends here,’ translation, the Hunter family’s ‘Cursum Perficio’ motto means, ‘I will persevere.'” The motto also translates to “I complete the course” or “I will stay the course,” both of which express perseverance.

“I will persevere” sounds a lot more like Enya than “my journey ends here,” which would have been a silly thing to say so early in her career. Oddly enough, Roma wrote the lyrics believing that “my journey ends here” was the correct translation, but somehow the lyrics tilt in the direction of the true meaning. Those lyrics only consist of a few lines, many of which are repeated several times:

• Cursum Perficio: “I will persevere.”
• Verbum sapienti eo plus cupiunt: “Word to the wise.” (Enya inserts the syllable “sat” between the first two words)
• Quo plus habent, eo plus cupiunt: “The more they have, the more they desire.”
• Post nubila, Phoebus: “After the clouds, Phoebus.”
• Aeternum: “Eternity.”

Phoebus is an epithet for Apollo in his role as the god of the sun and light, so I interpret those short phrases as a credo regarding life’s journey: perseverance is a necessity in a world full of people motivated by greed, but the darkness will evolve into light for all eternity as long as we believe in ourselves.

The choice to deliver the song in a dead language highlights Enya’s belief that the sound of the lyrics must sync with the music: “And when we came to ‘Cursum Perficio’, we wanted to leave the voices bold and up-front, as in a choral piece. We knew we couldn’t really adapt the Gaelic or the English, and we knew it would work well with the Latin. Actually, we really don’t mind what language it’s in, as long as it complements the music.”

The arrangement and Enya’s vocals are much more assertive than “Watermark,” befitting the perseverance theme. The composition consists of two distinct parts. The first is in the key of C minor (the “Cursum Perficio” lines), featuring booming piano, synth bass, and vocal flashes. In contrast, the second involves a key change to E minor, a quicker tempo, vocal harmonies, and a more orchestral sound. Though I doubt that “Cursum Perficio” will lower your blood pressure, I find it a compelling piece of music.

“On Your Shore”: Though Enya and Nicky did not intend for this piece to employ traditional song structure, stuff happens. “With ‘On Your Shore,’ we did loads of vocal experiments, but they just didn’t suit with the track. So we had to say, ‘well this piece of music wants to be one lead vocal with a synthesiser’. That’s it. We’re not afraid to have a very complicated piece and then something really simple. One of the album’s most attractive qualities is that you don’t try to make every sound huge; you allow some small, frail, even ordinary sounds to stand alone in big spaces.”

Enya chose to sing in English, a decision I found somewhat surprising given the song’s roots. “It’s about a beach at home and it’s really close to me. Beside it there’s the graveyard where my grandparents are. When the first people lived in Gweedore, there was a sort of shelter for the fishermen,” she says. “The church was down there but here was a tragedy. The sea came in when there was a sermon going on and everybody was wiped out. There are a lot of stories like that, where we would start to talk about them and a song would evolve.”

Roma’s lyrics employ personification to reflect Enya’s deep attachment to her place of origin, so the “you” in the song could be her grandparents or Gweedore itself. Enya sings those lyrics in a soft, reflective tone, allowing the comforting presence of home to touch her heart:

Strange how my heart beats to find myself upon your shore.
Strange how I still feel my loss of comfort gone before.

Cool waves wash over and drift away with dreams of youth,
So time is stolen, I cannot hold you long enough . . .

Soft blue horizons reach far into my childhood days
As you are rising to bring me my forgotten ways.

Strange how I falter to find I’m standing in deep water.
Strange how my heart beats to find I’m standing on your shore.

The song opens with a dreamy synthesizer presenting the main motif in E major with a chord pattern of E-B/D#-C#m7/E/A/F#m/B/E that continues through the verses. The bridge presents a complementary key change to C#minor with a brief and gentle touch of layered vocals. After Enya sings of reconnection in a new verse (“Soft blue horizons reach far into my childhood days/As you are rising, to bring me my forgotten ways”), Neil Buckley offers up a clarinet solo that bears some resemblance to Acker Bilk’s “Strangers on the Shore.” The song ends with a repeat of the “deep water” verse, rounding out this exceptionally beautiful composition.

When I listen to this song, I find myself wishing that I had a place of origin I could return to and reconnect with the “true me,” but that place no longer exists, and I’ve learned to accept my life as a vagabond in voluntary exile.

“Storms in Africa”: The instrumentation for this intensely rhythmic piece includes the following: the appegiator function on a Roland Juno 60 analog synthesizer, rototoms and African drums played by Chris Hughes, handclaps courtesy of Nicky Ryan, and, most importantly, Enya’s voice. While I suppose they could have used a non-human instrument to play the na-na-na-na fills, the human instrument works better with the song’s flow.

Enya sang the lyrics of the original version in her native Gaelic. An English version was added to the 1989 and 1991 re-releases under the title “Storms in Africa Part II,” with a few revisions to the arrangement—-opening blast of rain thunder, vocal harmonies, more frequent use of the rototoms, and a stronger lyrical narrative.  I appreciate the updated lyrics, but I think the original has a stronger flow and the Gaelic lyrics do a better job of conveying emotion—especially on the 2009 remaster with its stronger bottom.

I’ll let you decide which version you prefer, but either way, “Storms in Africa” is an enchanting piece of music.

“Exile”: This piece was originally designed as a wordless vocal until Rob Dickins suggested to Roma that lyrics written in the style of Wilfred Owen would suit the music. The notes to the song on Enya Blues tell us that Roma “tried to write the piece in that kind of style” while remaining true to the melancholy in the music. “Exile, in this song, is the separation from one whom you love and is more than merely a physical experience. Yet in the loneliness of this song, there is hope and determination.” By happenstance, the lyrics also reflect the feelings of those who became part of the Irish diaspora, especially those who did not want to leave the country but had little choice during famines and economic downturns. The “loneliness of this song” is intensified by the use of the C#minor key in the verses, while “hope and determination” involves an uplifting turn to C#major in the chorus. Over a steady synth background, Enya delivers a vocal that is sensitive to those mood changes, expressing fragility in the opening verses and confidence in the first rendering of the chorus.

Verses:

Cold as the northern wind
In December morning,
Cold is the cry that rings
From this far distant shore

Winter has come to land
Too close beside me
How can I chase away
All these fears deep inside?

Chorus:

I’ll wait the signs to come
I’ll find a way
I will wait the time to come
I’ll find a way home

In the following verse, Enya retains a touch of the confidence expressed in the chorus while also using her voice to convey a certain sadness regarding the wait. Will the time ever come? Will I ever find a way home?

My light shall be the moon<
And my path – the ocean
My guide, the morning star
As I sail home to you

At this point, the multi-talented Irish musician Davy Spillane enters the scene, playing the verse melody on the low whistle and bringing tears to my eyes. Enya returns with another rendition of the chorus, and as the synth background increases in intensity, she delivers the closing verse with burgeoning confidence as Spillane supplies low whistle support:

Who then can warm my soul?
Who can quell my passion?
Out of these dreams above
I will sail home to you.

The universal appeal of this song can be traced to human psychology. In the article “The Psychology Behind Instilling a Sense of ‘Home,’” writer Lauren Suval explains the importance of home: “Home can be your childhood roots and the pizzeria around the corner. Home can be the house you grew up in and the familiar sights, sounds, tastes, and smells that are as familiar to you as the sun rising each day and setting each night. It can be the physical place you reside and the community it bestows . . . I think many of us have so many definitions of ‘home.’ A sense of home can surely manifest in a multitude of ways, but ultimately, I tend to think that humans naturally crave a sense of belonging, somewhere, somehow.”

And it’s up to residents to make immigrants feel at home instead of blaming them for all their troubles.

“Miss Clare Remembers”: With all the pauses and truncated lines in this solo piano piece, you might think, “Oh, this is that rubato thing!” And you would be right! And wrong!

The sheet music indicates “adagio” (slow tempo) with no mention of rubato, but that doesn’t mean the piece is rubato-less. Think of this piece as a mini-nocturne reminiscent of Chopin, who frequently employed rubato via a mix of odd time signatures in his nocturnes. The hiccups you hear in this piece arise from changing time signatures set to a pattern of three bars in 7/8, one bar in 6/8, and two bars in 4/8, followed by a lengthy segment involving a back-and-forth pattern of 7/8 and 4/8 with the 7/8 bars occasionally extended. Many of the 7/8 segments involve the left hand playing an arc-shaped pattern that gives the piece a sense of continuity.

Nocturnes are essentially compositions that evoke the reflective mood of nighttimes (nocturne = “of the night”). Though it might be convenient if our brains were wired to standard time signatures like 4/4 time, human beings are emotional creatures, and feelings are never set to a steady beat. The best way to listen to a nocturne is to forget about time signatures and just let the seemingly random notes seep into your soul. Enya is a superb pianist with an exceptional feel for the instrument, so if you have two minutes to spare, just sit back and enjoy the very short ride.

Side Two

“Orinoco Flow”: Last week I promised to review an artist who is the polar opposite of Deep Purple, but it turns out that Enya and Deep Purple do have something in common: the songs that became their signature songs were last-minute additions that only happened to reach the ears of the listening public because they found themselves one song short of a complete album—and both felt that those songs had no commercial value.

In the article, “Enya: Clannad’s Little Sister Sails Away,” Michael Azerrad explained the song’s unusual path to fame and fortune:

‘Orinoco Flow’ was born of their piecemeal method. One day Enya started playing a little tune and Ryan, a Phil Spector fan, had her play the chords in five different octaves. As Enya puts it, “this sound happened!” Then they went on to something else. While in a London studio re-recording Watermark, they needed one more track. They remembered that layered riff (the “sail away” section of ‘Orinoco Flow’) and built the rest of the song around it.

Music completed, it was time for Roma Ryan to conjure up some lyrical magic. From the Great Irish Songbook:

The idea for the song had its origin in the name of the recording location, Orinoco Studios. Roma Ryan was naturally playful—and curious. It didn’t take long for her to make the link to the Orinoco River, which flows through Venezuela and Colombia and is the fourth-largest river in the world. The ‘Orinoco Flow’ was a reference both to the power of the river, and to the creative process—and how it had all come together in spectacular style in the studio.

After they completed Watermark in April of 1988, Rob Dickins facilitated a discussion with the trio to determine which song would be the lead single. During the contract negotiation stage, both Ryan and Enya explained that they had no interest whatsoever in creating singles for the pop charts, but Mr. Dickins possessed a sixth sense when it came to the music market:

When the song was completed, Enya and her team weren’t sure if it should be released as a single. It was so different from what was on the radio in 1988,  no drums, no traditional structure, no catchy chorus in the usual sense. But Rob Dickins believed in it. He saw its potential and insisted it be released as the lead single. When “Orinoco Flow (Sail Away)” hit the airwaves, the world stopped to listen. (Rayford)

“Orinoco Flow” reached the Top 10 in seventeen countries, the Top 20 in two more, and #1 in five countries and the Eurochart Hot 100.

The appeal of the song is multifaceted. The pizzicato opening is definitely ear-catching and the prosody (the patterns of rhythm and sound in the lyrics) is exceptionally strong. A study of the song on Study Corgi notes that “the lyrical rhythm and the interesting melody remind one of the actual ways in which water flows, and some of the instrumentation even sounds like cascading water, especially the harp and keyboard.” The chords are simple (G-F-C in the verses and Cm-Bb-F in the interludes), keeping the focus on the rhythm and pleasant melodies. Fundamentally, the song makes you feel happy as it takes you on a worldwide journey to exotic locales, allowing you to take a break from your shitty job or problems in your marriage. Enya offered her take on the creation, unwittingly explaining why the song had such widespread appeal:

Enya: “Orinoco Flow, those, it started from the sound, from the pizzicato sound, and it was Nicky that said “This is great, let’s compose a piece of music with this sound.” So we put down a chord sequence, we built it up with the vocals, the hundreds of vocals sung in free time, and then we came to, the first section we had was the chorus, and it was “Sail away, sail away, sail away…” So the verse happened last. And when Roma was doing the lyrics, she thought the “sail away” was so positive that it would be nice to relate the whole song to someone sailing all over the world. So Nicky said, “That’s a great idea,” but he said the rhythm reminded him of a children’s skipping song, and he said to her, “It would be nice if each port or river or place had a rhythm in it, or else it rhymed.” So hence, the “Or-in-o-co Flow” or “From Bali to Cali, from Peru to Cebu.” Basically, we worked on it as a fun song. Roma made up a few places, like The Island of the Moon, and the Isles of Ebony. That’s her daughter, Ebony. So some of the places were made up, very romantic places.”
– Muchmusic TV Interview, 1988
enyabookofdays.com

Roma may have taken her playfulness a bit too far when she gave nods to Dickins and co-producer/engineer Ross Cullum in one of the later verses without telling them. When Dickins found out, he wanted to have the lines removed from the song, but he eventually chilled out and accepted the heartfelt tribute to his sixth sense.

“Evening Falls”:

Irish mythology is rife with all sorts of supernatural beings: fairies, leprechauns, shapeshifters, headless horsemen, and, of course, ghosts and spirits. According to W.B. Yeats, “Ghosts, or as they are called in Irish, Thevshi or Tash (taidhbhse, tais), live in a state intermediary between this life and the next. They are held there by some earthly longing or affection, or some duty unfulfilled, or anger against the living.” Personally, I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do admit that the mythology makes Halloween a lot of fun.

The lyrics for “Evening Falls” are “based on a ghost story that Roma had heard about a woman who had recurring dreams of a house in America, only to accidentally come across it years later in England. Upon entering the house, its inhabitants become frightened of the woman as they explain she had haunted the house each time she dreamed about it.” Enya had written a melody that Nicky felt was a good fit for the story, and Rona went to work on the lyrics.

The music is quite beautiful and oddly soothing, given the subject matter, and Enya’s vocal interpretation is both sensitive and sincere. That said, I have a hard time empathizing with the plight of a non-existent being, so I’ll leave it at that. Fuck me for not having a vivid imagination.

“River”: This brief instrumental intermission displays Enya’s command of electronic instruments. “Enya has this way of playing that makes a sound move. Like on ‘River’… there are five synths Midi’d but then she plays chords over these random arpeggiators with notes popping in and out where you don’t expect them. Somehow she makes that work.” All very well and good, but the composition isn’t particularly interesting and the electronic instruments aren’t especially exciting. It’s a pleasant break in the action and I wouldn’t mind hearing it when I’ve been put on hold by the doctor’s office or waiting for the dentist to appear, but that’s about it.

“The Longships”: In the liner notes, Rona speaks to the historical origins of the song: “The Longships, the famed warships of the Vikings. The Irish Annals tell us that the first Viking raid in Ireland was at a place called Rechru (Rathlin Island) in 795. By 841, Dublin (Duibh-Linn or black pool) was one of the first Viking settlements or Longphorts in Ireland.” The lyrics are largely wordless vocalizations with only a single phrase in Irish Gaelic (“Tá muid beo/Go deor na ndeor”), meaning “We are alive / To the last tear.” The intent of the composition was to create a soundscape that evokes images of Vikings crossing the sea to claim territory and maybe do a little raping and pillaging.

The song opens in low volume, with Enya’s multiple vocals steadily rising to reflect the sounds of a longship approaching the shore. The rhythm successfully evokes images of oarsmen pulling their load in tandem, their timing set to the big sound of a synth drum. The angelic voices of multiple Enyas likely serve as inspiration for the crew, letting them know that their goddesses are watching over them. Enya even manages to throw in a few grunts along the way in her deepest voice to add a touch of masculinity to the mix. The song is in the key of F major, featuring clever sequencing of the F-C-Dm-Gm-Bb chord set and smooth transitions from the synthesizer. While I know that the Vikings were set on conquest, I find the music quite beautiful and strangely calming.

“Na Laetha Geal M’oige”: Nicky Ryan made an interesting comment about Enya’s music that applies to this song. “We’ve found that when people don’t know what Enya is singing (the Gaelic lyrics), they tend to listen to it as an instrumental. But it’s amazing how often they get the meaning of the song right, because they get the feeling of the words from the vocal.”

I hope that observation is true because Enya’s choice to sing in her native language is driven by the music. “It’s really dictated from the melody,” she says. “In reference to ‘Na Laetha Geal M’Oige’, for example, it would be difficult to sing that in any other language, because of the particular Gaelic phrasing it has.” The title translates to “The Brighter Days of My Youth,” signaling a reflective mood as Enya looks back on those days of innocence. Given that context, it’s more than appropriate for her to sing this song in her native tongue. What I hear in her voice when she sings in Gaelic is exquisite tenderness and a deep respect for the music in the language.

I have a long way to go before I can understand, speak or translate Gaelic and its many dialects, so I’ll let the artist explain the essence of the song: “I think we had decided we’d like to work on an Irish song, and it was in the vein of traditional Irish music. Well, it’s basically written in a lament form. It’s “ochón ‘s ochón ó,” which is “crying,” and it’s really crying on the loss of my youth, and it’s gone forever, and it’s basically talking about the happy memories I had of my childhood.” The music is set to a key of B flat with complementary chords rounding out the composition. The synthesizer surrounds you like a warm pillow, providing a perfect backdrop for Enya’s warm and tender vocals. The Irishness and sense of melancholy of the song are heightened by the appearance of Davy Spillane on the uilleann pipes, the national bagpipes of Ireland.

This is one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever heard, but I will let you make your own assessment.

*****

Both Enya and Nicky Ryan rejected the “New Age” label attached to her music, and justifiably so. Woman’s World got it right: “Enya is the rare musician who’s essentially a genre unto herself.” As Nicky explained to the Los Angeles Times, “Enya plays a whole lot of instruments, not just keyboards. Her melodies are strong, and she sings a lot. So I can’t see a comparison.” Watermark is an album featuring a musician with a broad knowledge of many forms of music, and she combined those influences to create a work of astonishing originality.

The initial critical reaction to Watermark was mixed, but there was one review in particular that I would cite as proof positive of the album’s greatness. The self-styled “Dean of American Rock Critics” attached a “Must to Avoid” label to his insulting review and dared to question Enya’s artistic integrity: “A new name with a pedigree—she brought her family’s upmarket Irish folk concept Clannad into the synthesizer age before leaving to pursue her own economic interests. Whilst humanizing technology, perpetrating banal verse in three languages (I’m guessing about the Gaelic after reading the English and figuring out the Latin), and mentioning Africa, the Orinoco, and other deep dark faraway places, her top-10 CD makes hay of pop’s old reliable women-are-angels scam.”

I always take Robert Christgau’s narrow-minded views with a grain of salt, but I do find him helpful in one respect: when he pans an album I’m thinking of reviewing, I immediately give it a spot on the schedule; when he raves about an album, I approach it with due skepticism. As far as I know, I’ve only been in full agreement with Christgau once (the New York Dolls’ debut album), and I’d like to keep it that way. His silly D+ rating of Watermark is the best possible recommendation I can give in support of Watermark.

Next week I will begin my exploration of a band tragically ignored by American record buyers. See ya then!