MUSIC TALKS | CELTIC TRAD
Let the Music Do the Talking
When it comes to engaging with old friends or new, there’s nothing that beats playing Trad together
People all over the world have got the bug, and Celtic Traditional Music is the best drug going: It’s all for free, you never run out, and you connect with friends and strangers instantly.
Whether your tunes are from Brittany, Scotland, Ireland, or other Celtic traditions, it’s all Trad, and you will recognize it. Here in Ireland, you will find sessions a-plenty. The biggest one I was ever in was over one hundred musicians. It truly is ‘the more, the merrier!’ here.
Anyone can join a Trad Session. There are no microphones, so it’s a toss-up which is the ‘background’ ambience — the tunes, or the hubbub of glasses, plates, chatter, and laughter.
Even if your instrument is a lightweight tin whistle or simply your voice, a welcome, a stool, and a tuning note will be there for you. All you have to do is sit, and if you hear a tune that you know, join in!
After a few sets, you may well be asked to start a set of your own. “Um, let’s think, do you have The Boy in the Gap, The Hag at the Spinning Wheel, and an Fhuis Fliuch?” you might enquire.
“Work away!” you will be told, and when you get near the end of the first tune, the other players might taper off, lean in to catch the start of your next tune, then pick it up and run with it.
Don’t be surprised if your third tune is not the end of the set! It may well be associated to another tune in the minds of your fellows, and then another, and another.
Trad music is traditionally learned by ear, so don’t be scared to try joining a tune that is familiar but that you do not have under your fingers yet. The music is a conversation, and you are fully expected to feel free to engage in it!
Bum note? You play, you learn. Different version? Never mind. Check it out afterward if you like. We musicians love nothing better to talk about than tunes.
Not for us, the polite and vacant chit-chat of strangers. No. Our talk is typically, “I love that tune, have you a name for it?” or
“I never heard that one. Great tune, where did you get it?”
“I got it from the playing of Dick Mack,” might be the reply, which may lengthen into a longer tale.
Or, “What class of a tune is that?” (A reel, a jig, a polka, a hornpipe, a slide, a double jig, a slip jig, a strathspey, a slow air or a ‘dunno’ are typical answers.) “What key is that?” (D, G, ‘Modulated’), or a lively list of all the different names there do be for the same popular tune, are also frequent flyers.
All the above take precedence over a forgettable “Where are you from, and what do you do?” If you are a bit shy, like me, you will be relieved to know that you will not be the center of attention nor expected to present your character or credentials to a bunch of strangers. Sit back and relax, it’s all about the craic.
Irish music is for dancing, so if you are playing in a session, be prepared for the spontaneous steps of dancing to erupt and the smiles that blossom on everyone’s face — including yours!
If you are playing in an Irish bar, a couple of pints and a meal might well appear before you before the night is out. Do not offend by offering to pay for them! All you need to do is enjoy the Irish welcome.
Traveling by bus one time, on the way home from a weekend in Cork, I happened to find myself with hours to wait in a tiny one-pub town in Kerry. I hauled my bag and my pipes case into the (empty) pub, ordered a pint and a packet of crisps, and sat down near the fire.
“What have you in the case?” the barman asked.
“Pipes,” says I.
“A woman piper, can you play?”
So challenged, I responded by opening the case, strapping the pipes on, and tuning up my drones.
Before my first tune ended, the door had opened twice, and a fiddler and a box player were there, awaiting pints.
Two became five became twenty, till it seemed the entire pub was bursting with music and dancing.
Two-hours-for-the-bus missed the bus, and became a mega session instead. I made tons of friends, was plied with drink and food, and was put up for the night.
The next day, the landlord wouldn’t hear a nay and ran me home an hour away in his car. He offered me a regular gig, but sadly I couldn’t commit.
That day though, sits bright in my heart and memory.
Let’s play!