Last Night’s Fun

Well, after a day and a half in Ireland we’ve already had some great adventures. After arriving at Shannon and driving up to our rental near Doolin we picked up our dear friend Jack Lindberg in town and headed to McGann’s Pub and had a pint and a meal and listened to a fine banjo player with a few friends. Next day we drove into Ennistymon and thence to meet a new friend named Dave Levine an ex pat who is a fine flute and concertina player. We met him at Kilshanny House pub and played some tunes and had some excellent Guinness poured by the proprietor Aidan.

As we were leaving David came back in to tell us that there was a Thursday night session in Miltown Malbay at Cleary’s Pub known by the locals as The Blondes. Being of brave heart we went in the door with our instruments and received a greeting from the proprietor Bridie of ” Oh Jesus , what are you? On explaining that we were told there was a session she replied “we have our own musicians”. Our blank looks got the bestter of her and we were told to put our gear over next to the kitchen.  Undaunted we ordered 5 pints and about that time the local musicians started coming in and graciously made room for us. It turned out that Jack had met Jessie the banjo player some years back. Jack couldn’t remember at first but Jessie has a fine memory and eventually they established the connection. The pub is a classic local hang out, but unique in that there re older folks; women in their Sunday dresses and gents in their nice clothes lined up along the wall on built in benches with tiny tables, all there to listen AND join in. Several of them such as Con and his wife and another well known gent all sang songs old style, unaccompanied. Great stuff, great feeling and I’d say about 40 people all wedged into a space the size of an average house living room. The feeling regarding our being there felt a bit tight until John turned around and asked me if I’d sing a song. The way he asked was this way. As his eyes looked at my guitar first, he rolled his gaze up to my eyes and said, “so you got a song in dat ting?” The gauntlet was thrown. The only song that came to mind was Peggy Gordon, which I nervously started.  By the middle of the first verse half the room was singing along. I had goose bumps along with the sweat and the song was well received.

After that things loosened up an we were deemed fine lads. We were asked to do some more songs which  we did and by the end of the evening Bridie had poured us extra pints and wanted us to stick around for another. We had to drive a few miles up the coast so declined. “Where are you driving to?” she asked, and we told her – 12 miles up the coast. “Jesus and God Almighty, you’re not going tonight are ye?!”. But the feeling of being welcome to return was apparent and we felt that we had made friends. I can’t express how warm and open the folks here become once you get to know them a bit. (Rick)

Lauragh, co Kerry

We left Co Clare and drove down to Lauragh, co Kerry, pausing on the way in Killarny to look around an Irish music shop, where Jack, Don and I bought travel whistles…Sheila O’Sullivan, the lovely lady who owns the property we’re renting here suggested a bar in Tousist for dinner, so we drove over there and found a lovely fishing village with a pub. Ordered pints of Murpheys and salmon and chips, which was all beyond delicious, then asked the landlady if we could play a few tunes. She consented, so we did our thing, and soon the place was hopping. Free pints followed, and when Jack asked if we could come back tomorrow, she said ‘Come back any night. come back every night!’ Good times!

A mighty session

Last night we headed to Kenmare in search of a session. After several tries we spotted a fellow sitting in the window with a fiddle case. It turned out that John was waiting for a ride to Kilgarvan, where there was a nice session with several very good players. It being Kerry, there was a nice mix of polkas and slides in amongst the reels and jigs. Brilliant playing from Eamon on box and John on a lovely David Boyle banjo, with Noreen and Dick on fiddles, folks we heard last night at Lake House. Paddy showed up later with another box, and there was a fellow from Brittany on guitar. with the addition of Morgan on fiddle, Rick on guitar, James on whistle and Don on mandolin and Anne on flute, Lisa on bodhrán, it was a mighty session. There was a lovely old man at the bar with a whiskey and a Guinness in front of him and two teeth in his head,  Mike, an enthusiastic listener, who graced us with a song, The Queen of Society, which has, unknown to him, a video on YouTube. Just search for Kilgarvan! Fair play! (James)

Woke up today and it’s a rain day. It hasn’t stopped all day so we’re sitting in and practicing tunes and trying to stay warm. I’m going to drive up the hill to the little store and see about scoring some coal so we can get it warm in here.
Morgan and I got up the hill to O’Shea’s store and met the proprietress who was a very nice woman. We bought a large bag of scrap wood for 4 euro and a bag of Polish coal for 8.80 euro as well as a few edible items we needed and then decided to go down to the bay and stopped in at O’Sullivan’s to see if we could grab a bottle of whiskey at James’ request. We weren’t sure if what they offered would work for James, so didn’t get a bottle. I was driving around a turn quite carefully and we almost hit a very large truck, looked like a garbage truck or something on that order, and he wouldn’t give an inch. I had to back up and keep backing up until we found a spot barely wide enough to pull up against the bank and he edged around us and avoided scraping us by mere inches. Bejesus that was close and bloody scary. Got back to the cottage and banked a good fire and finally drove the chill out of the place. We drove hot blooded Don out of the room as well, but the rest of us were warm at least. We played some new tunes and we’re getting some new sets together and are now getting dinner made. We’re having a lot of fun.

After dinner we got our instruments in the car and went to see if we could find a session in Kenmare. We only found one possibility at a pub called Crowley’s, but continued around the town and saw a fellow reading a paper in a shop window. We saw his fiddle case next to him and Morgan went in to ask him about a session. I followed in and saw a banjo case leaning up against the wall. He showed us his banjo, a David Boyle made in Ireland, a very nice instrument. He told us that the only real session was up in Kilgarvan a village we’d been through a couple of days back, and that if we wanted to head up there we’d be welcome. We thanked him and discussed it with James and Don and decided to go. We actually beat John the banjo/ fiddle player to Reilley’s ( we weren’t too obvious in our enthusiasm ) and soon a number of players showed up. A great group of folks and some fine players with great tunes and good spirits. It was what we’d been looking for since we’d come over and it felt so good. We were high on playing. There were John on banjo, Eamon on box, Pauly on box, with Ann on flute, Noreen on fiddle, Lisa on bodhran, Morgan, James, Don and myself. There was another guitarist from Brittany as well, nice guy and a good player. I had a funny discussion with Ann and Lisa and mentioned the Lake House session and how it was a bit slow for us. They asked who was there and when I mentioned there were four box players they laughed and said no wonder!! We received some sincere compliments on our playing, and we gave many as well. Mike Doyle sang a couple of great songs as well. Fair play Mike. What a night! (Rick)

Visit With A Pipe Maker and Boul Biddy’s

We worked on some new sets and then went to visit a pipe maker by the name of John Butler. John hails originally from Dublin area and now lives on Achill Island. His work shop is in an old school building and when we arrived the wind was blowing hard and it was threatening rain. He’s only been making pipes on his own for a couple of years, had helped another pipe maker at one point build some practice sets, but on his own just a few sets. His skills are evident, his work very clean and well executed. He’d been a designer of medical equipment but was made redundant by the economic times. He’s played pipes since he was sixteen and I’m guessing he’s in his late 30s. He showed us his personal set of Willy Rowesome pipes made in 1924. They’re beautiful things with full regulators and a sound that is sweet and pure. John gave James some advice on his pipes, offered some suggestions and I think James will have him build a new bellows for him.

We got back home and Morgan made a great pasta dinner and we headed into Westport to meet Maria at Hoban’s Pub. When we arrived it was apparent we were going to have to get some pints to catch up with Maria. She did get hold of her friend Padraig who came and chatted for a little while. Maria told us that he loves banjo and had a couple. Once he determined that we were OK ( he asked us several times are you going to play some tunes? ) he said he’d get his banjos. Don was quite pleased at the prospect of having one to play. Padraig gives one case to Don and when he opens it we’re VERY interested. It’s a Clifford Essex Paragon, one of the best English banjos made, bloody beautiful and awesome sounding.

We played for awhile and Padraig suggested strongly that we might want to take it down to Biddy’s a very cool, narrow little pub that was just roaring. Dan and Johnny were leading with the owner’s daughter Jennie on box and young Nigel on flute. They welcomed us into the circle and it took off from there. Some lads show up one in a wig and red dress who’s going to be married and then it really got wild. It got so loud I finally put my guitar away and played drum. Don was the life of the party. He played some blues and some jazz with Dan, A mighty session and great fun.

Westport Rocks and Bould Biddy’s Is Our Axis

So we rise the next day at 11:00, this is getting to be a habit what with real musicians hours, and give Padraig a text and he says to meet him in Westport for coffee. He’d like us to meet his wife Els. This is one of the true differences between Ireland and the States. We meet a man through shared interest, that being music, and we like one another. The door to friendship is opened up and that’s it. We’ve all made friends in the States of course but the feeling of connection feels more cautious and hesitant there than here. The Irish are so hospitable. It’s uncanny.

We go into Westport to do some gift shopping and I find a few things for Ally and girls. James tells me that we’re meeting Padriag at Molloy’s and to meet them there when I finish up my shopping. I walk down to Molloy’s and find the door locked, walk around the side looks closed, scratch my head, try the door again and decide to continue shopping. I’m a bit miffed, but decide to let it go and sit down and read in a coffee shop. I come back out on the street and finally see James and Morgan. They ask me where I’ve been and I tell them I tried the door and it was locked. They look askance. I tell them I pulled the door, turned the knob and James observes that the door opens with a push. Christ! I’m and idiot.

So off to Padraig’s ( pronounced Poorick ) and Els’ where they give Don and I tea and digestives. Padraig shows us some memorabilia of his famous uncle Barney McKenna. I have to admit I’d neglected following Barney and he’s one of the seminal figures in the modern revival of traditional music. James comes over after taking Morgan to Gary’s for bow talk. We all pile into their car with their dog Tessa in our laps and head into the country for a pleasant walk through an oak grove and along a lovely river. Then back to Westport where we’re dropped off at our car and we get ingredients for dinner. Gary and Morgan arrive jut in time for dinner and then off to session. We head up to McGing’s and have a pint and walk down to Bould Biddy’s and things are just starting. A very different feeling than last night though. A different clientele, more settled and when we start playing it begins to feel closer to Cleary’s than anything else. People standing and listening break into song and everyone shushes the crowd silent for a respectful listen. Well we’re rolling along and Padraig the box player who apparently is a fine musician and also a fine drinker is soon leaning into me while talking to some mates, and I’m having to lean into him to avoid being pushed from my stool. I’m twisted around trying to play and it’s like stepping into Ciaran Carson’s Last Night’s Fun. Music, pints, fighting for a perch to play on…..great stuff!

Maggie sings a couple of songs and then after a good many pints belts out an absolutely filthy song that has us all rolling. We’ve got it recorded and I hope it sounds good when I go through and listen to it all.

Don’s got everyone eating out of his hand playing the Paragon and singing blues and old swing. We do Galway Girl which Don seems convinced is a bad choice and the whole pub is singing it in the first couple of measures. We’ve lost any sense of time and hear that Bri­d the owner wants to go home she finally turns off the lights while John is piping the last tune. I grab Maggie and tell her Morgan has a great joke about Limerick’s that she’ll love. As Morgan tells it he delivers the joke which she howls over then grabs his arm pulls it into her breasts, won’t let go and starts chanting one filthy Limerick after another into his ear. Brid insisted on giving me a Mayo hat, and four cigarette lighters for all of us and pays for the last pints as well. As I’m on my way out the door a young man puts out his hand to shake it. I put down my case and as he grasps my hand he tells me he’s been listening to Dan and Johnny for years and it was the first time he’d heard them have to really push to keep up and with a group of Americans, “good on ya” he said. I thanked him sincerely. We had lots of positives from everyone who approached us. From the woman who thought that Raglan Road should be unaccompanied only to effusively praise James’ rendition

 

In Summary and a Farewell to Ireland

This will be a summation of our last two days. We’re all rather wistful knowing that our time is coming to an end. After last night we were a bit shagged and I’m beginning to feel all the playing and late nights catching up with me. On the other hand time is short so we’re bloody well going to take every experience we can home with us. No regrets. Sunday is sessions starting in the afternoon. Padraig warns us that the better session will be at The Cobbler’s and we should start at McGing’s but get down to the other around 8:15. With that in mind we decide to spend the morning and early afternoon driving past Cottage Grove where we went with Padraig and Els, and continue out to Leannan which is arguably a fjord, but regardless is a very beautiful spot.

It turns out that across the street from the little over priced cafe that charged the four of us E19 for tea and scones ( tourist prices are beginning to go into effect ) there’s a little gift shop that James and I go over to. Doesn’t look like much at first but James spots a sweater for Zeke and as I look it appears that it’s a nice shop. I find the perfect sweater for Dad and a pendant for myself and as we go to pay James asks if she gives discounts for musicians. As it often happens in Ireland that starts a whole discussion on music, what we do, where we’ve played a discussion about how she prefers the Westport music scene over Galway City which she considers caters too much to Americans, no offense! She’s charming and knocks E10 off my bill. I go back across the street and sit with the guys and remembered that I’d like to find something else for Mom. She sees that I’m back and I tell her the quest. She helps me find a nice silver brooch with a red garnet and after telling her the inflated prices across the street knocks some off the bill to make up for the overcharge at the cafe. What a nice woman. We drive back but take the route that goes back into the hills to Louisburgh. Padraig was telling us the day before that back in the famine some starving residents of Louisburgh had walked in horrid weather past a lake and over a pass to plead with the land lord of that area for help. He kept them waiting while he finished lunch with guests and then pretty much told them to bugger off. Most of them died walking back to their village. There’s a monument to them off the road. A sad, sad story. There were other land lords who were real human beings and did all they could to help. What I didn’t understand was that during the famine Ireland was exporting food through the entire time! Musn’t let famine and starvation get in the way of profits. Heartless bastards!

We got back from the trip and Morgan cooked up a delicious stir fry. He’s a great improvisational cook. We headed into Westport and McGing’s and there was John with his buddy Pat on bouzouki. We kidded Pat about wanting to play and he told us we’d have to pay and dug for the small change we had. He laughed and told us to sit down. John had brought his low pipes in C so we all tuned down a full step. Gary Leahy was waiting for us and we talked him into getting his fiddle out of the car. He’s far better than he gives himself credit for. The couple whom we rented Jim’s Place from Michael and Maura were there as was the McGing’s the original owners of the pub. They heard us at Biddy’s the night before and liked James’ Raglan Road. Maggie our Limerick expert was there as well. The session was great and we didn’t leave for the Cobbler. It felt right to end up where we started in Westport. The session was mellow the group of folks were really encouraging. A local named Seamus who writes these great humorous rhymes recites twice for us. I have them both on the recorder and can’t wait to find them. We closed McGing’s bid goodnight to Maria, we’re all going to miss her, we bid goodnight and farewell to Brendan AKA known as Noddy goodnight as well. He was serving our first night there and so the circle was complete. Aetna who is a real hand full was pretty sloshed and kept chatting us up and wouldn’t leave us. She danced in front of our car and when she finally stepped away we got away.

All of us were sad to know that was the last night for us to play with all of our new friends. We have offers of places to stay when we get back that way. What we can leave with is knowing that we as outsiders were accepted for our ability to play a music that we didn’t grow up with. Our efforts were appreciated and encouraged. The Irish people we met to a person are the most sociable, kind and at times brutally and hysterically honest. You can’t take yourself too seriously because they’ll sense it and take the piss out of you in short order. We humans are all quite laughable anyway and no one appreciates that more than the Irish. I’m fairly certain these traits were honed through the centuries of occupation, oppression, starvation and all the other hardships and indignities of a tough life. I love these people and identify with them easily. We’re in the plane heading home now. Speaking for myself I can state that part of me resides back in Ireland. I’m going to have to return to share it with my new found friends and places.

Here’s Paul Bordiss who sang “Health to the Company”.

Great Craic in Sligo Town

Easter Sunday, April 20

We met Seamus in the small town of Ballisodare near 10:00 pm. Tunes don’t get going until late in the evening and that’s everywhere in Ireland. The fun starts late and ends late. Once you’re in the flow it feels no different than starting at 6:00 or 8:00, it’s just the way of it. We followed him and his girlfriend into Sligo and parked. As soon as we got out of the cars Seamus says that he wants to apologize for this pub, that it’s not always the best musical venue and the patrons aren’t always the best listeners, so he’s just warning us up front. We assured him that the whole experience is what we’re after and we can take it in stride; not to worry. So we walked around the corner and across the street to a roaring little pub, Foley’s, and crowded into a corner. This for me is the quintessential local Irish pub. It feels welcoming, a little dog eared, and friendly. This is where people meet and share stories and song, banter, joke and tell tall stories. Seamus introduced us to his mate Dave who plays guitar and we settled in, bought a round of pints and took stock of the scene. As we were unpacking instruments I looked over to see Seamus’ other musical partner Rodney. It turns out that Rodney plays concertina and bouzouki, his concertina was the first one I’ve seen pulled out at a session this trip and we were glad he did. He plays it beautifully and there was hardly a tune that was started that he couldn’t play and play it nicely. He’s a very solid player. If I got off track because of the noise I’d come back to Rodney. He kindly called out the keys on anything he thought we might not know. He’s also a very fine singer and delivered Paddy’s Lamentation with real pathos while accompanying himself on concertina. I love the song and he leaned over to tell me “no offense”. I told him none taken, that I loved the song.

For those reading that don’t know the song it’s a Civil War era tune written from the viewpoint of an Irish immigrant who gets swept up into the American Civil War, and told to fight for Lincoln and loses a leg for his trouble. He’s longing to return home and has seen enough war and trouble. Rodney did it as well as I’ve ever heard it done. Dave plays fine guitar. He uses drop D tuning which is the other tuning aside from that which I play, DADGAD that’s used in Irish Trad. John Doyle excels at the drop D which only lowers the low E string to D. I like it fine but found the left hand stretches just too much. It made my hand hurt, but Dave uses it well. He also has a lot of fine songs that he sings very nicely and I enjoyed listening to. Now to Seamus. He is an outstanding flute and whistle player. His father is P.J. Hernon and uncle is Marcus. He plays with that big, bold sound that cuts across the session. He has a command that only comes with decades of playing. I don’t know Seamus’ age but I’m guessing mid 30’s and he told me he’s been playing this session since he was 15. There are many sessions he plays, but this particular one he’s attended all that time. He, Dave and Rodney played some mighty sets that spanned 6 or more tunes and Seamus played utterly relaxed without a sign of strain or need for breath. It was fun being part of it and looking at the faces of the patrons who were really engaged in the music; impressed that some Yanks were sitting in and keeping up. As the night gathered speed so did the session. I looked up to see a very young fellow sit behind James and Morgan holding a banjo. His name is Patrick and he’s 11 years old. Rodney asked him to start a tune and by God he played really well.

Here is a huge distinction between the USA and Ireland. Patrick is shouldered up with the rest of us, his drink of choice is lemonade and he’s absorbing the tunes and atmosphere and playing his instrument. I didn’t see his soul being stained, or his trying to sneak a drink or being anything other than an 11 year old boy who loves the music. It was touching to see. His parents were over in a corner listening, proud of their young boy, as they should be. There was also a young girl sitting in one corner, about the same age, who was really engaged in the music as well. He started quite a few tunes and was a patron favorite as well as with us. At one point a man I’ll name Michael (I think that was his name) led a song The Rattling Bog. It’s one of those songs where you keep adding the subject of the previous verse to the current one and it gets longer and longer. Michael was hilarious and enthusiastic and we were all laughing. We were out on the sidewalk having a break and Seamus asked what we were doing tomorrow. This is always a good sign, it could just as easily be, ” it was nice meeting you, have a fun rest of your vacation “. James mentioned that we were looking at a session at Carrick on Shannon at Liam Cryon’s and both Seamus and Rodney said , no, no, no you must come to our session tomorrow afternoon. Seamus said, ” look, I don’t want to say that you won’t have a good session there, there’s a fine box player, but the craic will be better here”.

Now a short exposition on CRAIC. Craic is one of those terms that has many meanings. It can mean great atmosphere, great music, great banter, great fun, great jokes, great interaction, but it alway implies great fun and feeling. Despite the warning the session was great, and Seamus told me it was because we were part of it and offered the patrons a very different experience, that they were so used to what the three of them usually offered. As we were leaving various patrons were clapping us on the shoulder and shaking our hands and saying, “See you tomorrow”, So we’re off to an early session with Seamus and the lads at a different pub at 5:00 (early) and then if we wish back to Foley’s for another. Here we go, hold onto your hats and button your coats; we’re off to more good craic!

I wrote this poem inspired by our night with Seamus and company.

SEAMUS

He leans into it, the Grenadilla cylinder perched on his shoulder

Like some sinuous note spouting black snake.

His eyebrows arched and fingers tap, tap, tapping

A musical sketch that cuts through the stout and conversations.

He glances at me with a roll of the eyes and tuck of chin

And sprays a flurry of dancing tones across the pub.

I follow them with my eyes and ears while my fingers on the strings

Do their best to place a frame around the picture he is drawing.

All of us add to it and soon there is a fine topography to view.

Here’s the village where the tune came to life

And the road it travelled from there to here.

The small stream and the bridge across it and the cross where it turned north.

And every pub and session it was shared in and

All the many, many hands that burnished it aglow.

Until it came to this place, this moment where we polish it anew.

Such it is, these tunes. They weave through the land and streams

Take flight with the birds; anoint the ears of all those that listen,

And we look at the map anew each time we play

Never following the road the same way twice.

Rick Rubin 2014