Tabharthas was one of the lovely, loamy Irish words I learned from Manchán Magan’s brilliant book, Thirty Two Words for Field. The word has several meanings, including gift, tribute, and bequest. Magan died this week, leaving a gap in the energy field of Irish land-rooted, indigenous spirituality. His loss will echo across the world. His life was a full-blooded tribute to his Irish heritage, lineage, land, and culture.
By coincidence (or perhaps not), I was listening to the new recording from Cormac Begley and Liam O’Connor, titled “Into The Loam.” The phrase ‘drawing from the well’ often comes up in discussions of traditional music, but Begley and O’Connor seem to have found one of those mythical places to play and film some of their new music.
This selection is called Bogadh Faoi Shusa. It struck me that it would make a good lament for Magan’s passing, especially the second part where the melody winds down. He would have appreciated the location, a cave of sorts, half underground and half overground, with nearby running water. He was on the verge of much wider recognition for his culture-changing work. If you have not read, seen, or heard him, seek out his work. A number of his films were made for TG4, Ireland’s Irish-speaking TV channel, and may be found on the TG4 Player.
On a visit to Ireland earlier this year, I visited my old childhood summer home-away-from-home in Oughterard, Co. Galway. On an evening walk down the Pier Road, I came upon this sign. This was one of the inspirations for the title of this blog, although I had utterly forgotten the connection. This old road sign points towards Lemonfield, where I had a formative experience listening to two local fiddle players, Matt and Pete Conneely, with my friend John Clancy. You can find that story here, in one of the most widely read posts, “The Power of the Pattern”(in 2 parts), from 2010.
Many of the older posts from my original blog have not been referenced or reprised in the WordPress version, which I started in 2020. It’s about time I cross-posted some of those earlier pieces. All of my recent posts have been published on both sites. I maintain the original Blogger site because I want to keep track of my “readership,” which has now exceeded 120,000. Not bad for a part-time, unpromoted publishing effort focused on Irish music and arts, dating back to 2008, when blogs, depending on your perspective, were either still a big thing or already passé.
One goal was to create a space for informed and insightful writing about Irish culture and arts with a focus on traditional music from an immigrant perspective. The music served as a primary cultural lifeline back to Ireland after I emigrated to the United States in the 1980s. I wanted to share my passion and inspire others to acquire an interest in the country’s music and arts.
Initially, I wanted to have more than my voice on the site. I had hoped to persuade musicians to write about music-making, insights into the creative process, or aspects of performance or stage-craft. That dream remained unrealized. Musicians, I came to understand, place more value on playing and performing over sitting down to write, and who can blame them? However, my posts contain links to other writers, many of whom are more polished than I, providing additional resources to contextualize my commentary and address the Node mandate in the title.
Writing about music is an odd preoccupation. Listening is always required to get into music, but sometimes the right words can change perceptions of new or old music. I’ve benefited from that exchange more than a few times myself, and I aspire to offer the same opportunity to my readers.
I was fortunate to have a bi-cultural, urban and rural upbringing in Ireland before the effects of television, telephones, and technology began to erode our traditional culture. Radio was the dominant technology, and thanks to Ciarán Mac Mathúna, Séamus Ennis, Seán Ó Riada, and others, I heard some of the best traditional players and singers on RTE Radio. I reveled in the trad and folk revival of the 1960s, tuning in to the Clancy Brothers, the Johnstons, the Dubliners, and the Chieftains. Then, my tastes were further expanded (maybe even exploded) by Planxty, featuring Donal Lunny, Christy Moore, Andy Irvine, and the late Liam O’Flynn—the Holy Trinity Plus One of Irish music.
In California, my writing practice was revived by the encouragement and persistence of Catherine Barry and Elgy Gillespie, who were editing the Irish Herald, a monthly newspaperin San Francisco, until the early 2000s. I had three very prolific years with the Herald, covering CD and concert reviews, as well as interviews with visiting musicians. For example, I was fortunate to talk with Maria and Simon O’Dwyer of Coirn na hÉireann (Horns of Ancient Ireland) on their first trip to San Francisco. Their revival work on early Irish instruments was featured in John Creedon’s excellent 2024 documentary, Creedon’s Musical Atlas of Ireland. I saw and wrote about Tony Mac Mahon playing two extraordinary concerts with the Kronos Quartet in 2002 and 2003.
I wrote regularly for Irish Music Magazine for over ten years, conducting interviews with musicians and writing reviews of performances and recordings. Some of these have been reproduced or referenced on the blog, but I plan to “digitize” a few more in a selective fashion. And, as if that was not enough, when I resumed my sidebar writing activities, it intersected with the stratospheric trajectory of Martin Hayes’ career. I was fortunate to see him play live in San Francisco, Berkeley, and Sebastopol many times. My first piece on Hayes in the Irish Herald in September 2000 was titled Zen and the Art of Fiddle Playing. I heard him play at the San Francisco Celtic Music Festival each spring for ten years from 1991.
I have written about Hayes several times, and it has always been a rewarding experience. The first blog essay, titled “Hayes and Cahill: Recalibrating the Tradition,” was published in October 2008. I include it here since the post went up before the counter was initiated, and many readers may never have had the opportunity to read it. It is one of my favorites with extended quotes from an interview with the two masters conducted at the legendary Freight (formerly known as The Freight and Salvage) in Berkeley.
Hayes and Cahill graced the stage and enthralled audiences many times at the Freight, sometimes in their pluperfect partnership, other times with larger musical groupings. There was a riveting evening with The Gloaming in 2014. Another unforgettable performance I titled Quadruple Delights in 2018, showcased the Blue Room CD and Hayes’ quartet.
A good part of my continuing education in traditional music came from some of the well-known figures I have mentioned and a slew of lesser-known musicians who schooled me in the music. In fact, it is the countless hosts of musicians who play and perform for little or no reward that keep the music alive. Irish roots music is in fine shape, and each new generation of players seems to be more talented and innovative than their forebears.
These time-machine reposts will be continued in the future with other widely read posts on Susan McKeown, Paddy O’Brien, John Doyle, the Black Brothers, the late Mick Fitzgerald, Brendan Begley, Christy Moore, and others.
Dublin can be heaven if you are seeking cultural stimulation, and the Hodges Figgis’ bookshop is a good place to look. In June, I was fortunate to be there for the book launch of Camarade by my friend, Theo Dorgan. The audience was studded with poets, writers, scholars, musicians, and sundry cognoscenti: I was perhaps the most anonymous attendee. I sat next to a distinguished-looking gentleman with a lilting Northern accent. We chatted amiably, but initially I did not catch his name.
Imagine my astonishment, then, when I realized I was talking with Fintan Vallely, Ireland’s preeminent expert on Irish traditional music and a highly accomplished flute player. He has been writing, speaking, teaching, and advocating for traditional music for over fifty years. I have a decent collection of his writing, suitably curated in the title photograph. I have relied upon his books and articles as sources of sound information (especially the series of Companion Guides), stimulation, and writing inspiration.
His newest book, Beating Time: The Story of the Irish Bodhrán, explores the history of Ireland’s favored percussion instrument. The frame drum is not nearly as old as many people think. Vallely dates its high-profile arrival in Irish music to 1959, when it featured in the music for Sive, John B. Keane’s play, at the Abbey Theater. Sean O’Riada was the Abbey’s music director, and he was drawn to the drum’s possibilities. He made room for a bodhran player, Peadar Mercier, when he created a new ensemble, “ceili” band, Ceoltóirí Chualann (“The Band that Changed the Course of Irish Music”) in 1961.
The new book features vivid portraits by Jacques Piraprez Nutan and James Fraher and an extraordinary array of archival material, photos, and illustrations. Vallely establishes the tambourine as the origin of the drum. There is little evidence that it was present or necessary historically in the deeply melodic traditions of Irish music, Vallely asserts. However, improvised drums were fashioned from frames used for winnowing and sifting, particularly by Wrenboys on St. Stephen’s Day.
His book is suffused with organic intelligence. There are no artificial ingredients. Every chapter is rigorously researched, carefully arranged and annotated, and beautifully presented. The writing smoothly weaves dazzling details into the larger narrative. He is a Master collaborator. Each edition of the Companion guides involves contributions from dozens of musicians and music scholars. He is generous in his credits and acknowledgements and wears his erudition lightly.
Nicholas Carolan, former Director of the Irish Traditional Music Archive, introduced Vallely’s book at the Willie Clancy Summer School this July. He said Vallely had tirelessly researched the bodhran for many years and drew from a great range of recently digitized information. “He’s produced here both a definitive history of the Irish drum, and also an exemplar, a template for writing the social and musical history of other instruments of Irish traditional music.” On that last point, the concertina would be an excellent topic.
My favorite among Vallely’s works is Blooming Meadows, The World of Irish Traditional Musicians, a book of 30 interviews and portraits of Irish musicians published in 1998. Co-written with Charlie Piggott and featuring Nutan’s photographs and a “borrowed’ bar stool, the book is a treasure of lore and legends. The timely book offered a wealth of stories on long-established musicians, including Joe Burke, Ann Conroy, Paddy Canny, Joe Cooley, Lucy Farr, and Ben Lennon. It features many others who were on the cusp of greater recognition: Martin Hayes, Sharon Shannon, Liz Carroll, and Brendan Begley, among others. The format of short essays paired with a good image was one inspiration for my blog when I started it in 2008.
His other works in my collection are Tuned Out, a comprehensive and authoritative (like all Vallely’s writing) exploration drawn from interviews with musicians of how Irish traditional music fell out of favor with many Northern Protestants, regrettable collateral damage in the political polarization wrought by The Troubles. Sing Up is a humorous, clever collection of Irish comic and satirical songs. It’s got a whole section called Goatery and Percussion with songs about the bodhran.
Arguing at the Crossroads goes back to 1997 with ten essays on a changing Ireland. Vallely’s essay surveyed the state of Irish music at that point (post-Riverdance) and found it in rude health. The Local Accent, Selected Proceedings from BLAS also dates from 1997, and includes his provocative essay, The Migrant, the Tourist, the Voyeur, the Leprechaun. Vallely edited Crosbhealach An Cheoil (The Crossroads Conference, 1996) with Hammy Hamilton, Eithne Vallely & Liz Doherty.
Vallely is a walking/talking encyclopedia of Irish traditional music. In our brief conversation at the book launch, he summarized the key points of his bodhran research, mentioned his studies of The Princess Grace Song-Sheet Collection in Monaco (an astounding piece of catalogue work), and described the evolution of the Third Companion Guide into recordings on CD and DVD. He also gave me a copy of his 2021 CD, Merrijig Creek, an enchanting album of his compositions and arrangements with a powerhouse set of musical partners: his sister, Sheena, on flute, Caoimhin Vallely, their cousin, on piano, Liz Doherty and Gerry O’Connor on fiddles, Daithi Sproule on guitar, and Brian Morrissey on, you guessed it, the bodhran.
Vallely is an ubiquitous presence in the Irish music literature. I like to think of him as a key “influencer” before it was a popular or profitable role. Beating Time has everything you would want to know about the bodhran (including brass tacks) and much more that you may find intriguing and enlightening.
Links and additional sources:
All of Vallely’s prodigious work, books, recordings, articles, and other musical projects can be found at his website imusic.ie:
Irish arts suffered a tremendous loss this month with the untimely death of Sean Rocks, the voice of arts coverage on Irish radio for 20 years. Here are two short clips from his RTE programme, Arena:
First, an interview with Fintan Vallely about Beating Time.
This post is a repeat from June, 2023, which mysteriously disappeared. Better late than never…
Today marks the end of our first week in Auckland and we have explored the city and attended two fine footballing contests. New Zealand thoroughly deserved their victory in the opening game. They pressed Norway with passion and consistency from the get-go. Their self-belief grew as the game went on. And their efforts paid off early in the second half with a power play down the right side of the Norwegian defense that produced a smash and grab goal. The home fans were solidly supportive, urging the team on. Later in the second half the home team could have put the icing on it with a penalty kick but it smashed off the cross bar. It was the first ever win for a New Zealand team in the World Cup and the country has rightly gone a bit nuts.
The game between Vietnam and the United States was a rare instance where both teams implemented their game plans perfectly. The U.S. dominated possession and were aerially and physically superior. But Vietnam executed their damage limitation plan brilliantly and consistently. They defended doggedly and vigorously (too vigorously according to some U.S. fans) and were still running and working hard right to the end. Their goalkeeper saved a penalty from Alex Morgan and bravely recovered some of her misplays. The gaps between top teams and others may be more narrow in this competition.
Sophia Smith earned the MVP award for her two goals. The first was a team beauty. Horan’s searching pass from midfield was tenderly touched by Morgan into the channel where Smith was charging in to score. Her second goal had to survive a VAR review. In my opinion, Lindsay Horan was equally worthy of the award. She was utterly imposing in midfield, inspiring, controlling and harassing her opponents. She had a few chances that she fluffed but finally got her reward in the second half with the third goal, decisively struck. Julie Ertz returned to the team with a powerhouse display alongside Naomi Girma. All the U.S. vital bench players got a workout. Midfield creativity and improvisation went up a couple of notches when Rose Lavelle entered. Megan Rapinoe appeared and while her touch was uncharacteristically sluggish she put precise corners and free kicks into the danger zone.
Management of the games and the fans have been exemplary. Entries and exits from Eden Park have been smooth. Every ticket includes free public transportation to and from the games. Even the weather has cooperated. The rain forecast for the opening game held off until after the match.
Auckland, a cornucopia of diversity
Auckland is not a homogenous city. There is a wide range of people, cultures and food. We see significant numbers of people who appear to be Chinese, Indian, Japanese, Pacific Islander and, of course, Māori. The indigenous people make up 15% of the nation’s population, according to our airport shuttle driver. He was of the opinion that they got a lot of deference from government policies and programs for “past wrongs.” Not an unfamiliar viewpoint for those of us who live in the U.S.
We have found people to be friendly, courteous and helpful, especially bus drivers, and staff in shops and cafes. Perhaps, old-fashioned is the right descriptor. There are tourists and visitors, like ourselves, but many are immigrants as far as we can tell. The country is sports-mad with fields, pitches, clubhouses and facilities everywhere. Rugby is the the dominant sport but by all accounts soccer is catching up fast.
Juliet thinks the wide street, Ponsonby Road, near where we are staying has a 1970s Belfast vibe, without the Troubles and with better coffee. She is intrigued by the fashions, also reminiscent of the 70s, lots of green and brown stripes. There is a wide selection of tattoo parlors and one tattoo removal service for those with later regrets. We also have a choice of psychologists, therapists, massage therapists and chiropractors. All in white, colonial-style houses with verandas. Even waiting for a bus is an occasion for style. Photo
Later this week, we head to Wellington to see two group decider games: the U.S. and the Netherlands and Spain vs. Japan. Japan scored the biggest victory so far putting five goals past the hapless Zambia. The Dutch women will match up to the U.S. in skill and physique and will be keen to make up for their loss in the 2019 final.
The news of Michael Longley’s death today prompted me to search through the blog archives for my review of books by Longley and Ciaran Carson. Carson died in 2019, and Longley has now departed. Many tributes will be paid to Longley over the next few days and weeks. The Irish President, Michael D. Higgins, led the way in today’s Irish Times:
Michael worked to give space and actuality to the moral imperative that we must live together with forbearance, with understanding, with compassion and insight, and above all else, perhaps, with hope.
One of the first pieces I wrote for The Irish Herald in San Francisco in May 2000, at the instigation of Elgy Gillespie and Catherine Barry, was a review of two books of their poetry. This edited version appeared in the blog in August 2010, and I reproduce it here as a small tribute to Longley’s work and genius.
The Honest Ulstermen
A review of The Twelfth of Never by Ciaran Carson; Wake Forest University Press, 1998, and The Weather in Japan by Michael Longley, Cape Poetry, Jonathan Cape, 2000.
I first came to Carson’s poetry through his prose. Last Night’s Fun (North Point Press, 1996) is a masterly piece of work, arguably the finest book ever written about the mysteries of the music-making process. His new book of poetry, The Twelfth of Never, continues in that vein. He uses tune titles –notoriously misleading in the Irish tradition- for many poems. He poetically plagiarizes many old ballads, twisting and turning familiar lines into a darker tapestry such as this from The Rising of the Moon:
The pale moon was rising above the green mountain, The red sun declining beneath the blue sea, When I saw her again by yon clear crystal fountain, Where poppies, not potatoes, grew in contraband.
Carson writes like a man possessed. The Twelfth of Never reads like it was written in one passionate, pellucid night when the words flowed freely, and his magpie mind couldn’t be stopped. And, as if living in the North was not strange enough, Carson’s forays into Japanese culture bring him to locations where he finds, The labyrinth to which I hadn’t got the key.
Poetry is, at its best, an intellectual and emotional con game. The poet hopes to trick us into thinking anew about things or rethinking familiar things by sleight-of-word. Carson riffs, raps, trips, traps, rocks, and rolls our perceptions in his poetry. In The Display Case, Carson seems to express some regret that his oeuvre is nearly all in English, not his native Irish language. But this is English writing that could only emerge from an Irish consciousness, Where everything is metaphor and simile (Tib’s Eve).
Carson’s poems are odes to complexity, a dissection of that hairball of historic proportions, that nest of co-dependent hostilities that is Northern Ireland. And discussion of Northern Irish poetry is no less fraught with difficulty, a minefield sown with words.
Both Carson and Longley are distinctly Northern Irish. Longley describes being there as living in three places at once: one partly Irish, one partly English and one that’s “…also its own awkward self.” Each covers the touchstones of Northern identity and the struggle of people to lead normal lives in the mayhem, including their efforts to play an artist’s role in a society given more to ideology than to introspection.
Both are famous as the artists that stayed home, laboring in the bloody northern field. They served long stints with the Arts Council of Northern Ireland before retiring in recent years to focus on their writing. As John Hume has noted (Arguing at the Crossroads, 1998), Northern artists were mainly responsible for keeping the flame of diversity and multi-culturalism alive during the years of strife and political polarization.
In All of These People, Longley ruminates:
Who was it who suggested that the opposite of war Is not so much peace as civilisation? He knew Our assassinated Catholic greengrocer who died At Christmas in the arms of our Methodist minister.
The North, despite George Mitchel’s valiant efforts to impose some American pragmatism, remains an immensely complex place where words can and do explode –just think of the recent haggling over “decommissioning.” As Fintan O’Toole noted in the New Yorker (The Meanings of Union, April 27, 1998), crafting agreements in the North will require a poet’s skill, not a pragmatist’s words.
The ancient words of the Persian poet Rumi seem particularly pertinent to the current impasse in the North of Ireland.
Out beyond ideas of Right doing and wrong doing There is a field. I’ll meet you there.
And if the Catholic and Protestant diehards ever make it out to that field, they’ll find Michael Longley and Ciaran Carson waiting to have words with them. High kudos to them for these collections. I can think of no two better Irish people to lead the charge of the write brigade across the field of new Irish dreams.
Eamonn Flynn brought his Dublinesque music hall event to the Back Room in Berkeley on February 1, St Brigid’s Day. I’ve seen this show a few times in recent years, and it’s always lively, entertaining, and ever-changing. Led by Flynn on piano and vocals, the ensemble includes Darcy Noonan from Oakland on fiddle, Hector Bragado from Balboa on banjo, and Felim Egan from Offaly on accordion.
As the name suggests, the show focuses on Dublin songs and stories; every song has a story, and vice versa. The show is built around Flynn’s grooving, tuneful Dublin tribute album from 2022, Anywhere But Home. The city has its share of catchy, light-hearted songs: Molly Malone, Dublin Saunter (Dublin Can Be Heaven), Daffodil Mulligan, and Flynn’s own classic, Strollin’ (Baile Atha Cliath).
But there are darker songs, too. Sack ‘Em Ups is a rhythmic riff on the spooky subject of grave robbers in 19th-century Dublin. May Oblong is a tribute to one of Dublin’s most famous Red Light madames. Weela Weela Wayla, a well-known children’s song popularized by The Dubliners, is a gruesome tale wrapped in an infectious tune.
Another grim story is told in Hunting the Wren, written by Ian Lynch of Lankum. Darcy Noonan set down her fiddle to bravely and boldly take the vocals on this dark, intense song. It commemorates The Wrens of the Curragh, a shameful episode in the history of Irish mistreatment of women. Willie O is a lovely old song that many singers have covered (I recommend Niamh Parson’s version.) Flynn paired it with a Dr John instrumental, Cajun Moon.
He is part of many wide-ranging musical groupings in the Bay Area. He and Egan play with the Black Brothers, who have some Bay Area shows in March. Check his website for upcoming performances in February and March. He has also been part of the Glide Memorial music program for a couple of years and brought some of the Glide Choir as guests for this show. They provided the highlight of the evening with Dennis Hersey singing Danny Boy. It’s an overused piece, but Hersey sang with it with great heart and reverence.
Dennis Hersey of the Glide Memorial choir brought a deep interpretation of Danny Boy
St Brigid seems to have taken on a new agent in recent times. There were three other musical events in the East Bay on her feast day. The second Bank Holiday created by the Irish government to commemorate her occurs this Monday, February 5. Maybe someday, her life will be as widely celebrated as St Patrick’s. Flynn opened the evening by reading a poem attributed to Brigid known as The Lake of Beer. So, could there be a similar amount of sanctioned drinking on her holiday?
If there is a better way to start the New Year than taking in a Christy Moore concert, I don’t know what that could be. He opened a series of performances on January 2, 2024, at Vicar Street in Dublin. The show reaffirmed that he is a force of nature, propelled by his deep dedication to singing and playing. He is still in powerful form and has many more performances lined up for this year.
At one time, he was a bit grumpy about people singing along at his concerts. At this stage, asking people not to sing the choruses to The City of Chicago, Ride On, or Viva La Quinta Brigada is a fool’s errand. This night, he embraced the communion of voices and the convivial vibes. The energies exchanged at his concerts make for spiritual and even transcendent experiences.
He has a rotating set list of favorites from the hundreds of songs in his repertoire. The Voyage, Lisdoonvarna (now with RTE flip-flops!), Welcome to The Cabaret, Barney Rush’s song Nancy Spain, and Joxer Goes to Stuttgart made welcome appearances. Moving versions of the Bobby Sands’ song Back Home in Derry and Black is the Colour made the list. His take-down of political gobbledygook, Lingo Politico, is another favorite. He is trying out a new song with the tart tagline: When it comes to social media, They’re afraid to use their names.
He interspersed some less performed songs like the one he wrote with the late Wally Page about going to Bob Dylan shows. Lyra, his tribute to the slain Northern Irish writer Lyra McKee, was well received. Barrowland, a song for his favorite Glasgow ballroom, another Page collaboration, popped into the setlist in response to a “noble call” from the floor. Another shout-out prompted the Shane McGowan masterpiece, A Pair of Brown Eyes. A quick chorus of I’ll Tell Me Ma could have been a memento mention for Sinead O’Connor, and if he had launched into “How can I protect you, in this Crazy World” for Christy Dignam we’d have been right there with him.
My evening highlight was his tender rendering of Beeswing, Richard Thompson’s novella of love, loss, and longing. An impressionist song filled with painterly lines: She was a rare thing, fine as a beeswing; Even a gypsy caravan was too much like settling down; and, You might be lord of half the world, You’ll not own me as well. The late Frank Harte proposed this song to Christy, a man who shared his forensic understanding of songs and singing. Moore has said, “It chills me to sing this, makes me happy and sad.”
Those contrasting emotions come in waves at Christy’s shows and never more so in the intimate space at Vicar Street. The modern Moore’s Melodies are memorable, feisty, and evocative songs that inspire and motivate. He has been the beating heart of contemporary Irish folk music since the 1960s. Indeed, seeing him sing in the Liberties brought back happy memories of the first time I saw him play a solo gig in St Catherine’s Church of Ireland up the street at The Liberties Festival in the early 1970s. If memory serves me right, a young Barry Moore before his Luka Bloom incarnation was on the bill that night.
I reviewed his remarkable book, One Voice, My Life in Song, in The Irish Herald, San Francisco, in December 2000 and said this about his status as a living legend:
“.. he is the best kind of legend -one who is still alive and picketing, and singing, writing, doing whatever is necessary to live a full and moral life.”
Today, his music continues to comfort the have-nots and confront the have-yachts.
New CD and DVD
A new CD and DVD called Christy Moore: The Early Years 1969 – 1981 was recently released. Christy’s website has a lovely introduction to the project with his son, Andy, interviewing him and singing along on the Dun Laoghaire pier, a “plein air” performance.
My post on Cormac Begley’s Vicar Street concert was out in the web world before I got a copy of his album, B. It arrived this week, and it’s a thing of beauty. The playing, the music, the design, and the dedication to delivering a concertina concept album. That’s the beauty on the left of the photograph.
I also recently received a “hard copy” of another album I recommended in that post, Niall Vallely’s Buille Beo. It, too, is an exceptional musical achievement, a live album recorded in Ballyvourney, Co Cork. Vallely is partnered with his brother Caoimhin on piano, Ed Boyd on guitar, Brian Morrissey on percussion, and Kenneth Edge playing some gorgeous soprano saxophone. Almost all the tantalizing tunes are composed by Niall and Caoimhin. The one that isn’t, In A Silent Way, is a Joe Zawinul composition immortalized by Miles Davis in an album of the same name. The version here is simply delightful, paired with an Indian-influenced tune written by Niall Vallely.
New music from Martin Hayes is always worth the wait. He is primarily a live performer but his recordings are unique, accomplished, and accessible. Peggy’s Dream is a graceful and adventurous album, building afresh on his other ensembles: The Gloaming, The Blue Room Quartet, Brooklyn Rider, and his long, profound partnership with the late Dennis Cahill. The album is dedicated to and inspired by Cahill and Hayes’ mother, Peggy.
Hayes brings a high degree of artistic, intellectual, and cultural credibility to Irish music, universally defined. He takes traditional music to the most prestigious arenas where it meets many other music genres as an equal and a willing partner. He has expanded and enriched Ireland’s cultural capital as a musician himself and as a facilitator of imaginative combinations. His partners on this new album are luminaries in their own right, selected for their musicianship and mutuality.
Cellist Kate Ellis is a prolific performer and musical leader. She is the artistic director of Ireland’s leading contemporary music group, Crash Ensemble. Her folk and traditional interests are well established, having played and recorded with Iarla Ó Lionáird, Gavin Friday, and Karan Casey. Guitarist Kyle Sanna has worked with Seamus Egan and Dana Lyn. Cormac McCarthy is a pianist, composer, arranger, and conductor from Cork. He is primarily a jazz and contemporary music artist with an album/band called Cottage Evolution. Brian Donnellan is the most mainstream traditional member of the group playing bouzouki, concertina and harmonium. Like Hayes, he is from an East Clare family and is a member of the legendary Tulla Céilí Band.
I have long thought that there is a case for the cello in the Irish tradition. The seminal Hidden Ground recording in 1980 from Paddy Glackin and the late Jolyon Jackson was a major influence on my thinking in this respect. I described it previously as the most artful deconstruction of Irish traditional music up to that point. Jackson played cello and a multitude of other instruments on the album, and his playing was also featured on The Chieftains Boil the Breakfast Early the previous year. More recently, Iarla Ó Lionáird’s thrilling and brilliant 2011 album, Foxlight, had two cello players, a viola, and Caoimhín Ó Raghallaigh! It sets a new bar for the integration of cello into traditional arrangements. It could well be an inspiration for Peggy’s Dream and this grouping. The hidden ground is now part of the commons.
The cello brings other dimensions and flow to the slower, more contemplative tunes. The Boyne Water opens with a jaunty melody from the fiddle and piano, then darkens with the cello’s arrival and a set of low, deep chords on the piano. Cá Bhfuil An Solas is a Peadar Ó Riada composition first recorded on the Triúr Arís (Three Again) album. The piano lays down a lively backing. Garrett Barry’s Jig has a moody, dissonant start with somber cello and harmonium throughout. It’s a mesmerizing piece with a perfect tonal balance of low and high. The Glen of Aherlow was written by Tipperary fiddler the late Seán Ryan, a prolific composer. Here it gets the “high lonesome” treatment from Hayes with a tight bit of ensemble playing, Sanna channeling Dennis Cahill on guitar. The piano and cello colorations are delightful. Aisling Gheal is a “goltrai” (an old Irish term for a lament) classic where the fiddle gets pride of place with empathetic piano.
The title track, Peggy’s Dream, was sourced by Steve Cooney from the Goodman Collection, like the Fainne Geal An Lae track on Foxlight. Plucked strings (is it piano or cello?) give a percussive base to the tune that is picked up by the concertina and fiddle. Like a few other tracks, this has a gentle, fade-out ending, perhaps dictated by the limitations of making a record. Live performances of these tunes may be very different.
The more up-tempo tracks contain the bones of Hayes’ trademark long sets. Toss The Feathers/The Magerabaun Reel opens with fiddle and guitar before McCarthy embarks on a jazzy piano section with shades of The Gloaming and Thomas Bartlett. Hayes soars to a big flourishing finish spurred on by the company. Johnny Cope, an old hornpipe I first heard on a Planxty album, is paired with the vivacious Hughie Travers’ Reel. The Longford Tinker has the rhythm of a joyful train journey.
Hayes worked with McCarthy and Donnellan on a gorgeous EP recording, Live at the NCH 2020. Like any creative person, Hayes does not like to repeat himself. Even with tunes he’s played hundreds of times, he is always looking for another angle, a deeper emotional realm to explore. In his musical memoir, Shared Notes, Hayes describes it like this:
I must go to the space that I want others to enter, go as deep as possible and trust that the invitation is powerful enough for others to come along.
Some of Hayes’ favorite melodies get beautifully reconsidered on this album: Lucy Farr’s Barndance and, one of my all-time favorites, The Wind Swept Hill of Tulla.
Hayes is a vivid expression of the history of Irish music, a procession of musicians, composers, and listeners that stretches back many hundreds of years. His playing was so rooted in the best of the past that, in his early years, older musicians called him a ghost. Martin Hayes’ ensembles seem to be almost covenants. They are a set of intentional relationships intended to advance the tradition and enhance the Irish musical legacy. The Common Ground Ensemble enriches the musical identity of high-level players like Ellis, Sanna, McCarthy, and Donnellan. This is a beautiful recording brimming with inventiveness, intelligence, and integrity.
Sources, Resources, and links to the artists:
The next opportunity to see Hayes perform with some of his many musical partners will be August 23-27, 2023, at the West Cork Music venue in Bantry.
Mrs. Elizabeth Crotty must have been dancing with delight in the afterlife. The legendary concertina player would be astounded that one man playing that iconic instrument could fill a large hall and be so rapturously received. It was a memorable concert in Dublin’s most eclectic venue with excellent sound quality and a deeply appreciative audience. The opening performer, singer-songwriter Niamh Regan from Galway, set the stage beautifully.
Begley began by strapping on wrist supports for each hand. His playing of the larger bass concertina requires strong and forceful actions. The instrument is extremely versatile, with built-in plaintive tones for slow airs and laments and powerful, percussive sounds (enhanced by rods attached to one of the concertinas) for marches, polkas, and slides. He brought a collection of instruments: bass, baritone, anglo, piccolo, and a baby concertina. And took the time to educate us about the origins of the instrument with short demonstrations on the “Jew’s Harp” and the harmonica, precursors of the concertina.
The range of ethereal tonalities and deep sighs he draws from the “breathing” box is extraordinary. I hear echoes of Doug Weiselman’s bass clarinet on Martin Hayes’ The Blue Room Album or, from an earlier era, Steve Cooney’s didgeridoo playing on the album, Meitheal, with Begley’s late uncle Séamus. The late Tony Mac Mahon is another clearly audible influence, and Begley played a set he put together for Tony’s 80th birthday concert.
Begley is a beguiling and brilliant figure among younger traditional players. From a famous West Kerry musical family, he has blazed a unique path playing solo and in various fruitful combinations with musicians such as Caoimhín O Raghallaigh, Martin Hayes, Liam Ó Maonlaí, Liam O Connor, Lankum and Lisa O Neill. Ye Vagabonds are frequent partners, and Brían Mac Gloinn from the duo was a guest at this concert, singing and playing mandolin. Begley first came up on my radar in a Myles O’Reilly film where he sits beside the Shannon playing the bass concertina. The sound was loud and loamy, like uilleann pipes from another dimension.
During his wry and funny interstitial comments, Begley noted that Kerry people don’t come to Dublin to take part: they come to take over. Which he did, as storyteller Eamon Kelly used to say, with a group of West Kerry set dancers, two cousins on accordions and concertinas, and Stephanie Keane, a loose-limbed traditional dancer from Limerick. His mother was in the audience too but with his vigorous, virtuoso playing gave her no opportunity to use any of the cryptic put-downs he ascribed to her on the night.
The concert was the musical highlight of my Spring visit to Ireland. I went with my son, Bryan, who heard plenty of Irish music growing up in our family, but Begley upended his perceptions of traditional music. He was deeply impressed. “I was blown away by his interaction with the crowd and the enormous energy it took to captivate the audience with the squeezing of a small musical box. A powerful performance of incredible music by one of Ireland’s future greats.”
Additional Resources on Cormac Begley and other concertina players
Myles O’Reilly’s film, Backwards to go Forwards, was the one that introduced me to Cormac Begley and other cutting-edge Irish artists. There’s more of him on YouTube
A (very) partial list of concertina players and recordings:
There are a number of women concertina players who continue the Mrs. Crotty line. Mary McNamara is a concertina master from the Clare tradition. Caitlín Nic Gabhann and Edel Fox are two well-known musicians who feature in The Irish Concertina Ensemble alongside Mícheál Ó Raghallaigh, Pádraig Rynne, and Tim Collins.
Noel Hill was the trailblazer who drew from a rich Clare traditional background but expanded it exponentially. He is a noted concertina teacher who gives classes in the United States.
Niall Vallely has been one of my favorite concertina players for years. He composes a lot of his own music, and his playing has a “blues harp” and jazz feel to it. His three albums are Buille and Buille 2 and, the most recent, BuilleBeo.
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