Stare down at the Irish pub in Paris.

Summary

A cultural clash occurred at the Green Linnet Irish pub in Paris between rugby fans and session musicians over table space during a rugby match, highlighting the etiquette and inclusivity of Irish music sessions.

Abstract

At the Green Linnet pub in Paris, a conflict arose between rugby fans and Irish session musicians on a Saturday night. The musicians, who traditionally use the tables under the television for their bi-weekly sessions, found resistance from the rugby fans who refused to vacate the space to allow the music to commence after the match. This incident was unusual, as the locals typically accommodate the musical tradition without issue. The pub's sessions are known for their openness, welcoming musicians of all levels, and even including children, contrasting with some sessions in Oregon which can be more exclusive. The article emphasizes the importance of respect and politeness within the session culture, which is nurtured by inviting newcomers and young players to lead sets.

Opinions

The author expresses surprise at the rugby fans' stubborn resistance to share space with the musicians, which is an uncommon occurrence.
There is a subtle critique of the rugby fans for their lack of awareness and consideration for the local pub culture.
The author admires the grace and acceptance shown by the French patrons and the bartender in the face of the sports fans' unwillingness to move.
The author has a favorable view of the openness of the Paris session, contrasting it with the more closed sessions in Portland, Oregon.
The author values the inclusive nature of the Paris session, which allows beginners and intermediate players to lead sets and encourages the participation of children.
There is a clear preference for sessions that are welcoming and serve to foster the growth of musicianship over those that are exclusive and potentially elitist.

Don’t tell me the French are rude.

Two cultures went to war Saturday night at the Green Linnet in the heart of Paris. Thankfully, no shots were fired. A table of tourists watched the rugby world cup match on the television overhead while the Irish session musicians milled around at the bar, waiting politely for the rugby fans to clear out so the music could begin.

It wasn’t a question of noise. It was a question of table real estate. It is traditional, twice a week, for the drinkers at the tables under the television to make way for the (also drinking) musicians. The television stays on. That’s just what is done, and normally, the non-musician drinkers move aside.

But not last night. Last night the rugby fans were doggoned if they were going to allow a bunch of fiddlers to challenge their right to finish the match. (Which of course they could have done, as everybody else did, by sitting on barstools or standing around with beers in hand.)

And that was that. In two years, I have not seen that kind of stubborn resistance. And so I have also not seen the grace with which my French friends simply let it happen. Even the bartender could not budge this clueless mass of sports fans.

See those folks down at the end? Under the books? Not musicians. See the guy with the flute at the right-hand margin of the photo? Musician AND rugby fan. Worlds collide — usually happily.

There is an etiquette to Irish sessions. Each session is different, but wandering musicians know what questions to ask, either outright or by observing. Is there a session leader? How do the tune sets get started? Who can join in? Is there a core circle? When do you get to be considered a regular? And what is the universe of tunes and songs that this particular session inhabits? (In a predominantly Irish session, can the random strathspey slip through the door?)

The sessions in my Oregon home town are open until they are not — that is, until the public session splits into the public face and then the private, ‘house’ session by invitation. That is the passive-aggressive way to manage a session, I have to admit. There are generally no named leaders — just folk who host, or know the bar owners, or maintain the email lists.

Backyard session in Oregon.

In Portland, up the road, many of the public sessions are closed (not open to newcomers). I find this sad and discouraging. It is probably done to nurture a high level of musicianship, but I think there are better ways to do that — like allowing high level musicians to begin many of the sets.

I have no objection to ‘slow sessions’ — sessions designed to bring along beginners. That’s how it’s done, and they are a huge service to the worldwide fellowship of Irish players.

My Paris session is wide open and the musicianship is admirable. Also, beginners and intermediate players are welcome to begin sets. Songs are included, both accompanied and a capella, and always cheered. New tunes and songs are heard all the way through, and applauded. Because the French don’t believe that watching adults drink alcohol in public will irreparably damage children, young players sometimes sit at the table with the older ones. Someone invites them to start a set — and that is how the session culture is nurtured.

Rugby fans, come on. Be polite. Be respectful. Get a clue. You can watch the match. We all do. Just — give us the tables. Come on.