year, the Irish Cultural Centre, based in Hammersmith London, celebrates its 30th anniversary with a year-long curated programme showcasing the richness and diversity of Irish arts and culture in London. The celebration’s centrepiece performance is the London Premiere of Ocean Child onSaturday 8th and Sunday 9th November. The powerful piece is inspired by the tragic sinking of the RMS Tayleur off Lambay Island on 21 January 1854. A genre-blending concert, it interlaces contemporary classical music, Irish traditional music and motifs, alongside poetic narrative from Oscar-nominated and BAFTA-winning Irish actor Stephen Rea.
Composed and written by Belfast-born cellist Neil Martin, one of Ireland’s most respected and versatile composers, Ocean Child is performed by the West Ocean String Quartet, an ensemble of acclaimed musicians whose backgrounds span theUlster Orchestra, RTÉ Concert Orchestra, and major international ensembles. The quartet will comprise violinists Aoife Ní Bhriain, Niamh Crowley, Kenneth Riceand Martin on cello. They will be joined by sisters, Louise Mulcahy (pipes), and Michelle Mulcahy (harp), who are widely celebrated for their exquisite musicianship and their deep-rooted connection to the tradition.
We sat down with Neil Martin to learn more about the project.
How does Ocean Child reframe a tragic story?
Neil Martin: For me, I knew nothing about the RMS Tayleurat all until Martin Hart, director of Tradfest in Dublin, suggested it as a possible subject for a new piece. As an act of remembrance, it was a complete voyage of discovery. I was amazed that not many people knew about the Tayleur and the terrible accident.
It was a White Star Line ship - some sixty or seventy years before the Titanic. We all know the magnitude of the Titanic disaster, yet few have heard of the Tayleur. That intrigued me, especially as both were White Star Line ships. I believe the inquest into the Tayleur was rushed, perhaps even covered up. When you dig into it, you find people who were implicated but managed to escape scrutiny unlike the 350 or so who perished. We don’t even know the exact number because records weren’t properly kept. So, to acknowledge it through words and music felt a meaningful way to share and remember its story.
What inspired you to give the sea a voice through sound and music?
Neil: We’re an island people here in Ireland, completely surrounded by the sea. It shapes how we live. When I think of Lambay Island, where the Tayleur went down, I can only imagine the severity of that storm in January 1854.
It’s not difficult to give the sea a voice. The sea can’t be tamed, it demands respect. The Tayleur was one of the earliest iron-hulled ships, and the compasses didn’t read properly because of that. The result was a monumental disaster. Nature is powerful; it can’t be ignored.
You’ve worked with Stephen Rea for many years. What is it like composing for his voice?
Neil: Stephen and I first collaborated in 1988 through Field Day Theatre Company, founded by Brian Friel and Stephen, alongside Seamus Deane, Seamus Heaney, Tom Paulin and Davy Hammond. I was 26 at the time, and to share a stage with those icons was transformative.
It opened my eyes to how the arts can comment on the world we live in. Since then, Stephen and I have collaborated regularly; on Heaney’s works, Derek Mahon’s poetry, Oscar Wilde, and Sam Shepard’s A Particle of Dread, which we took to New York. After 37 years, we know each other’s rhythm - we don’t need to explain much. Sharing a stage with Stephen is always a privilege.
How do you ensure the music complements and enhances the spoken text?
Neil: You have to trust your judgment. After years working at your craft, you develop instincts you can rely on. I always do my utmost to marry word and music so that the emotion of one supports the other.
I’ve always loved poetry and literature, so it’s an intuitive process now. I’m critical of my own work, I won’t let anything pass unless I truly believe it’s right.
Music plays a pivotal role in Irish culture, contributing to Ireland’s evolving identity.
Neil: Absolutely. Music, poetry, and literature are central to Irish identity. For centuries of colonisation, art offered a way out—a refuge from hardship. Storytelling, song, and music became tools of survival and expression.
I grew up playing both classical and traditional music and never saw them as opposites. They’ve always complemented each other. As a teenager I was playing avant-garde classical on the uilleann pipes and Irish tunes on the cello. There was never any awkwardness between them.
The sea is a recurring motif in Irish storytelling. What is it about the ocean that resonates so deeply?
Neil: We’ve always depended on the sea. During the famine, especially in Donegal, it was a saviour. The women fished close to shore while the men went out further. The sea provided life and that seeps into our songs, our stories, our culture.
We must respect the sea; it will reward us if we do. It’s part of our psyche as islanders.
Can you talk about the dynamics of the West Ocean String Quartet?
Neil: The Quartet began in 1999, an idea of Seamus Maguire’s - to merge the classical string quartet form with the spirit of Irish traditional music. I’ve written all the music for it since then.
Each member comes from a different background. Aoife Ní Bhriain, who’s playing in London, is remarkable; she moves effortlessly between classical and traditional worlds. Niamh Crowley, our second violinist, comes from a strong classical lineage and founded her own academy in Sligo. Ken Rice, our violist, plays with the Irish Chamber Orchestra but also has deep roots in jazz and popular music.
We’re diverse, but we complement each other beautifully. I always write to each player’s strengths, and that’s what gives our sound its character.
As a Belfast-born cellist, how has your background shaped you?
Neil: I was fortunate to grow up in a home filled with every kind of music - classical, jazz, film scores, traditional. My parents’ record collection was extraordinary. That variety taught me there are no borders in music. It’s why I can cross genres so comfortably now.
How do you hope Ocean Child will be received in London?
Neil: It’s a universal story; people leaving their homes in hope, only to meet tragedy. The passengers came from all four nations: Ireland, England, Scotland, and Wales. I’d like audiences to feel empathy with those people, to connect with that shared humanity.
Can you take us through your compositional process?
Neil: I began with research - books, newspaper reports, accounts of the disaster. Then came the key moment: being taken out by Ken Rice on his boat to Lambay Island, where the ship went down.
We hovered over the very spot. It was a calm October day, in stark contrast to that stormy January of 1854. That contrast - the serenity of the sea that day versus the chaos of the disaster - was profoundly moving and shaped the entire piece.
How did you approach the narrative aspect of Ocean Child?
Neil: It isn’t poetry as such as I built the text from historical sources. The story of the child survivor moved me deeply: a ten-month-old boy whose parents drowned. He was found alive, cared for in Dublin, then eventually reunited with his grandmother in England only to die a few months later.
For me, the boy treble who sings in Ocean Child represents that child’s spirit, his innocence and fragility. His voice floats across the ensemble like memory itself.
What was the first piece of theatre or music that had a major impact on you?
Neil: The Kyrie Eleison from Bach’s B Minor Mass. My father used to play it every Sunday morning, loud enough to fill the house. That music woke me as a child and still lives in me. I adore Bach and the Baroque era. It’s shaped everything I do.
What keeps you inspired?
Neil: My love of music. It’s impossible to imagine my life without it - composing, performing, listening. It’s the core of everything I am. I still make music every day, and I hope I always will.
And finally, what do you hope audiences take away from Ocean Child?
Neil: I hope they leave with empathy - with a sense of connection to those lost souls aboard the Tayleur, and with an appreciation for how art can help us remember, reflect, and feel. That’s what art does: it moves us. And in these difficult times, I think the world could use a little more of that.
Ocean Child performs its London premiere at the Irish Cultural Centre in Hammersmith as part of its 30th Anniversary celebrations on 8th and 9th November. Find out more and book tickets here: https://irishculturalcentre.co.uk/event/ocean-child-london-premiere/
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