John Creedon occupies a unique place in Irish broadcasting as RTÉ’s cheery out-of-town uncle – a Corkman with a line in naff jumpers but whose weekday Radio One slot features some of the best music on the airwaves. He is also prepared to do something comparatively unusual in Irish broadcasting: use the sleepy milieu of Sunday evening television to deliver a grand thesis on what it is to be Irish in the world today.That’s the premise, more or less, of John Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland (RTÉ One, 6.30pm) – which the broadcaster rather grandly describes as a “journey to explore how music shapes the identity of Ireland and delves into the profound impact music has on Irish culture”. This sounds pretentious and episode one of three does occasionally get high on its own vapours.The crucial grounding factor is Creedon himself, who is a font of shaggy, amiable charm. It helps enormously that he feels so strongly about the series and its thesis. The argument is that the music of our distant ancestors encapsulated the three primal elements of the human experience – Suantraí (The Lullaby), Geantraí (Joy) and Goltraí (Lament). These are wise words and many of us will have experienced all of those as a dramatic onslaught of pure emotion, especially if Maniac 2000 has just come on the radio. Creedon must also be commended for stating his grand idea plainly at the outset (a rarity in Irish broadcasting) and then providing concrete examples. He talks to Sibéal Ní Chasaide and Maighread Ní Dhomhnaill, whose beautiful harmonies are balm to the soul. Then he explores the explosive excitement of a heaving mosh pit via Dublin trad-metal headbangers The Scratch. Finally, the concept of the Goltraí as brought to life with an interview with singer Róis, whose unusual sartorial choice of a funeral veil across the face is never acknowledged, much less explained. It presumably has something to do with the artist’s interest in traditional keening music – but a bit more detail would have been useful. (Róis has previously told The Irish Times she does not like to be recognised, is very introverted and prefers to remain anonymous.)Creedon is of the view that we have lost our connection to the ancient wonders of music – though I’m not so sure. The claim that the joy of music has been forgotten is surely a stretch in an era when people are prepared to fork out hundreds of euro to see their favourite artists on the stage. There is also some purple writing – we’re into the realm of over-heated Leaving Cert essays when Creedon claims that, in the always-on 21st century, people “scroll past sorrow and swipe away the silence”. Topping it all off is a moment of pure Alan Partridge cringe when Creedon walks through a woods as a strategically-placed harpist comes into view over his shoulder. It’s so naff you can’t help wonder whether it isn’t on purpose: a laugh sprinkled into the portentousness.For all these quibbles, however, Creedon is an engaging figure who is willing to take a risk by stepping outside the cosy world of Irish regional television and attempting something ambitious. What a treat to encounter an Irish documentary that has big ideas and, in order to get its argument across, is prepared to crank everything up to 11.