When are you going to publish the third album?

This week we've finished recording. We now have to do mastering, I do not know whether we are here or in the United States, and in September we intend to do the presentation. We will play at the inn of the White Horse of Pamplona on June 14.

What is the Hoey & The Mussels group like?

We are four: two Irish, myself and singer Colm Candon, and two others from Villava, drums Javier Egiluz and bass Patxi Antón. We make a mix of rock and folk. We include acoustic guitars, and from time to time tools like mandoline and wrench stylem, but in the background we are a rock group. Sometimes they tell us that our music is like country. Colm makes the words, all in English. It's pretty poetic and it has its philosophical point. It's not easy to understand. Colm does an incredible job, but then people don't know what we're saying, and that cuts communication in part.

What does music bring you?

I like to make music with the group in the little spare time I have left. Then there are concerts, records… but what I want is to join the group, play and create. When I came here, we made another group. Three Irish, one from Wales and one from here, who was a plumber: We call it Four Guiris and a Plumber. They were very different times as far as the environment is concerned. Then people would go to the concerts and there was a nice atmosphere. We, for example, do not know why, made a very good relationship with the people of Leitza. Now all of that is very difficult, because the areas that are well prepared for the direct start are very rare. Beyond the large halls there are very few places on purpose. The atmosphere has also fallen noticeably in these years: few people go to concerts and people go out differently. When I came, in the old part of Pamplona there were always crews of friends, any working day. Now it's a desert. The weekend, on the other hand, everything is massive. The habit of being on the street is being lost.

You are Dublin.

Dublin, son of the capital. In Ireland there are the Dublins on the one hand and the others on the other.

What is the difference between them?

There is a big difference, especially from the point of view of those who are not from capital. They say it with a little contempt. I don't know why. I see nothing particular about my attitude. The melody does, but Belfast, Derry and other regions also have their own sound. In the same city of Dublin there is another profound distinction. The Liffey River draws an invisible border between the northern and southern working-class neighborhoods. However, if it is deepened, it is immediately observed that there is everything on both sides. This distinction makes jokes frequent: “What is a Northern Dublin called that lives in a nice two-story house? Thief.” I'm from the south, but at the same time I'm from a working-class neighborhood. The place where I was born was a small town, now the city has eaten. My father belonged to a hamlet in the area. The centre of Dublin was evacuated 40-50 years ago because of its state of neglect and decay. To do so, they took the poor and marginalized people out of the area and dispersed them in new neighborhoods. They did so in a very clumsy way.

How did he come to Euskal Herria?

When I was about 20 years old, I was working in a children's clothing factory. So I met a group here who had gone to learn English. The ones from Pamplona, the ones from Zarautz… The Basques. We were in pubs, we became friends, I liked it and then I came here.

With them?

With one of them.

Having said that, it seems as if you had resolved it from one day to the next...

And so it did. To understand this, we have to know that there is a tradition of emigration in Ireland. We don't think twice. Emigration is deeply rooted. Here no, in other times yes, but now here no. Hunger in Ireland spread from 1845 to 1849, resulting in the death of one million people, among 8 million inhabitants, and the expulsion of another 1.5 million. It was nothing but misery and people had to make a living. This has not been resolved and has intensified with the current economic crisis. They say that today 1,000 people are leaving Ireland every week. Australia and Canada are now the destinations for many of these migrants. But people in general have the habit of leaving, whether for a year or for a short time. In our tribe we were twelve, and in Ireland there were only two. One to Greece, one to Germany, two to the United States, Australia…

Therefore, when he told me that he was sick and wanted to return to the Basque Country, I told him straight away “I’m going with you” and we came.

How did they receive him at home?

OK. There was no party, but there was no problem either. A friend of my father told me he was going to be back in three weeks. But not three weeks, I was three years away from Ireland. I didn't have a definite plan. I arrived and stopped.

How did he take Euskal Herria from a first coup?

Flipé. Imagine: At the age of 21, the end of the summer, the sun, parties everywhere… My friend was from Zarautz and the beach… Terrible! After a while, I also saw dark areas.

Which ones?

A little claustrophobic. This is very small.

Place or society?

Both.

And what was the learning of Euskera?

I started studying less than a year late. That's the most important thing I've done here, besides meeting my wife and having children, of course. I studied at AEK, "sect," ha, ha. I remember the poster of the campaign that AEK did one year: the door of a hamlet, semi-open, seen from inside the house, you saw the world opening across the door. Something like this has been for me to learn Basque: to meet a lot of people, to make friends, to integrate… But for that you have to open the door, as in that poster.

Now you're the professor. You teach English. Has your profession always been here?

Yes, unless I worked a summer making shirts for the football club Barcelona in a factory here. The hardest thing was to put Goikoetxea's name on the back, as it was very long. I also do translations, but above all I teach classes. So far I have worked in academies and in the last ten years in the CNAI (public self-teaching centre). We've recently opened our own academy.

In recent times, English is a controversial topic in teaching in Navarra. What do you think of this?

It's not controversial in itself, but it's controversial. If we want to promote the teaching of English decisively, we need rigorous and elaborate planning, and there is no such thing. Here the priority is political interests and the attempt to go against the Basque people. They want to show that they are doing a lot, but the means must be put in place to do so. Then you also see that on the street people are in favor of languages. The worst thing is to tell society that it has to choose between English and Euskera.

And what about adults? Many people are ashamed that their English is bad and they don't want to speak.

Yes, that's right, but it's changing. There's a lot of lack of trust. It is curious, but I at least notice that in Gipuzkoa it is better in English. Maybe because they're near the sea. I don't know why, but I have that impression.

It can be said that there is a certain mystical connection between Ireland and the Basque Country. Do you feel it too?

Yes, mostly seen from here. However, there is more communication with Northern Ireland, with Belfast than with Dublin or with the South, for all that has happened: national struggle, language situation… When I was young, when I had just come, I had a friend who was from England and from the Welsh family. I was sick of all people coming to me because I was Irish and I didn't listen to him. Then he began to say that he was Welsh and they received him much better.

Is there any similarity in the way of being?

When I understand that people here are closed, cold, they are always in a group… I think that’s not true. I've seen a different mood, but for that you also have to work communication. A recent genetic study reveals that the real original Irish have as their ancestors the Basques who have left here. Genetically, there's something there.

The truth is that you can be from here because of your appearance.

A test was done on an Irish television: They went to Bermeo, where they recorded the images, the atmosphere of the bars, the people singing… They returned to Ireland and showed those images to some Irish knots from the heart of Ireland. When they saw them, they began to say, "Wow! That's like my cousin!" And that kind of thing. It's curious. The Irish are real Basques! Ha ha ha ha. The truth is that, in addition to the sociopolitical situation, there are other similarities: Ireland is traditional and Catholic, it is an important family like here, we are both party people… Now I have a hard time talking about it, because I have spent half a life here. Friends often come here. And they have the same feeling as I did at first: going out for a few drinks at two in the morning and going home at eight in the morning. You don't see that there. However, the biggest difference is time.

And how do you see the situation in Ireland today?

Very hard. I have my father and my whole family there. I have two siblings younger than me, the two have worked in construction and now they don't have a job. As here, there was a boom and then everything broke out.

And is the armed struggle overcome?

I do not live that directly in Dublin, but I do follow it closely, but not as in Northern Ireland. We saw it on television, and every now and then an artifact broke out in Dublin… it was a terrible struggle. My friends in Belfast and Derry say the wound is closing. There are two very different communities. The problem has to be solved, but it takes time.

How's Gaelic?

It is kept alive in a few places, in two or three places west and in a restricted area south. Listening on Dublin Street is not normal. It is now reinforced by the creation of a movement of momentum through education. And along with that, immigration has also influenced us: so that we don't get confused with immigrants, some of the locals go to these schools.

Are you going to Ireland often?

Twice a year, usually at Christmas and in summer, but now I live as in a virtual world: at home I listen to the radio of Ireland, I watch the local television, I read the local press, through Skype I talk every day with my father, through Facebook I talk frequently with my friends ... Now I almost don't know where I live.

Are you going there?

I don't see myself living there anymore, and it's been a lot of work for me to confess to myself. Nothing can be assured, but I think so.