In Irish music, many of the instruments used are diatonic. In other words, they are not chromatic; it's hard to play in more than two major keys and their related minors. For example, on a standard tin whistle or uilleann pipes, the player can only play in the keys G major or D major, as well as the related modes that have only one or two "sharps." The lowest note played by these instruments is usually D, and this standard has become known among Irish musicians as "concert pitch."
In the 1970's it became fashionable among fiddlers to tune their strings a half-pitch up, so that their D string became an E-flat string. Many fiddlers liked the "brighter" sound.
However, since 2000 it has become increasingly popular to play various instruments at lower pitches. The sound is often mellower" than the normal high-pitched instruments, and lends a different tonality to the tunes, especially when played at a bit of a slower pace. Interestingly, many antique instruments were designed to be played at lower pitches, but went out of fashion for a long time. They have now been revived, and while they are often harder to find than "concert pitch" instruments, they are readily available, albeit for a price.
One of the albums that really sparked this trend of playing at a lower pitch was Kitty Lie Over by Mick O'Brien and Caoimhin O Raghallaigh, on flat pipes and fiddle respectively. Here is the well-known duo playing the second track off that album:
And here is a brother-sister duet playing a couple jigs on a baritone concertina and viola:
Showing posts with label Irish music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irish music. Show all posts
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Thursday, March 7, 2019
Getting Serious about St. Patrick's Day
The prayer is known as St. Patrick's Breastplate or The Deer's Cry. It contains the kind of semi-Franciscan praise of nature that you might expect to find in Celtic Christianity, but it also includes elements more often associated with Roman orthodoxy, like praise of the apostles and condemnation of heretics. Perhaps most importantly, the penultimate stanza, beginning with "Christ with me," makes very clear that, at its deepest root, St. Patrick's Day is really about Jesus Christ. It's a fantastic prayer.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.
I arise today
Through the strength of Christ's birth with His baptism,
Through the strength of His crucifixion with His burial,
Through the strength of His resurrection with His ascension,
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.
I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim,
In the obedience of angels,
In the service of archangels,
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward,
In the prayers of patriarchs,
In the predictions of prophets,
In the preaching of apostles,
In the faith of confessors,
In the innocence of holy virgins,
In the deeds of righteous men.
I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.
I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.
I summon today
All these powers between me and those evils,
Against every cruel and merciless power
that may oppose my body and soul,
Against incantations of false prophets,
Against black laws of pagandom,
Against false laws of heretics,
Against craft of idolatry,
Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul;
Christ to shield me today
Against poison, against burning,
Against drowning, against wounding,
So that there may come to me an abundance of reward.
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.
I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity,
Through belief in the Threeness,
Through confession of the Oneness
of the Creator of creation.
Today's image comes from the blog of Fr. Dwight Longenecker, from a post titled "The Importance of Patrick in Spiritual Warfare."
Saturday, March 17, 2018
St. Patrick's Day
On St. Patrick's Day this year we mourn the death, and pray for the soul, of Liam O'Flynn, a great piper who died on March 14. O'Flynn came from a musical family--his father played the fiddle, and his mother piano--and from an early age he learned to play the uillean pipes under the tutelage of Leo Rowsome and Seamus Ennis, two pipers who had kept the Irish piping tradition alive in the early 1900's.
O'Flynn became well known through his work with the band Planxty. O'Flynn gave Planxty credibility as a traditional music group--his fellow band members came more from the ballad and folk singing traditions--but at the same time he learned to adopt the pipes to accompany some of the non-Irish songs Planxty performed. O'Flynn also stood out in Planxty for being far more soft-spoken and far less emotional than his bandmates; he was always seated in the middle of the stage and only occasionally swayed a little to his music or cracked a smile. In the following video, though, O'Flynn demonstrates his skill on two slip jigs and ending with a classic piping jig (starting at 3:50), "The Yellow Wattle":
Later in his career, O'Flynn continued to show how flexible a musician was, becoming the first piper to record with an orchestra while working on several pieces with Shaun Davey. He also collaborated with poet Seamus Heaney in setting poetry to music; he later played a lament at Heaney's funeral.
But, in the end, O'Flynn will be remembered as a great piper and, by all accounts, a kind and gentle man.
O'Flynn became well known through his work with the band Planxty. O'Flynn gave Planxty credibility as a traditional music group--his fellow band members came more from the ballad and folk singing traditions--but at the same time he learned to adopt the pipes to accompany some of the non-Irish songs Planxty performed. O'Flynn also stood out in Planxty for being far more soft-spoken and far less emotional than his bandmates; he was always seated in the middle of the stage and only occasionally swayed a little to his music or cracked a smile. In the following video, though, O'Flynn demonstrates his skill on two slip jigs and ending with a classic piping jig (starting at 3:50), "The Yellow Wattle":
Later in his career, O'Flynn continued to show how flexible a musician was, becoming the first piper to record with an orchestra while working on several pieces with Shaun Davey. He also collaborated with poet Seamus Heaney in setting poetry to music; he later played a lament at Heaney's funeral.
But, in the end, O'Flynn will be remembered as a great piper and, by all accounts, a kind and gentle man.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
St. Patrick's Day
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
This year, to supply you with Irish music on the one day of the year when it is on demand, I will show you a few videos that illustrate the influence America has played on traditional Irish music today.
Most of the earliest commercial recordings were actually made in America by Irish immigrants. Perhaps the most famous of these musicians was Michael Coleman, a fiddler born in Killavil, Co. Sligo who came to New York City in 1914. He soon found work as a professional player in vaudeville shows, and picked up many tunes that he recorded in a traditional style but to our ears today sound unmistakably like rag-time. Many of Coleman's records were sent back to Ireland, where young musicians were so enthralled that they copied his music note for note. Even today, musicians throughout the Irish diaspora will play sets that were first popularized by Coleman.
One of those sets is of two reels: Bonnie Kate & Jenny's Chickens:
But, he could also play more graceful waltzes popular with the American crowds he played for:
Coleman's influence on the world of Irish music was so strong, not just because of his records, but also because of the fiddlers he taught. One of the most prominent of those students was Andy McGann, who recorded a number of albums in the 1970's, and who has a remarkably similar style as Coleman:
And that New York-Sligo fiddle style is still alive today, particularly in the playing of Brian Conway, who is shown here doing his own rendition of Bonnie Kate & Jenny's Chickens (with a third reel added to the set):
Another well-known musician who emigrated to New York around the same time was the Leitrim-born flute player John McKenna, who also recorded in the 1920's and 1930's. Here he is playing a polka with a distinct American flavor, "Tripping to the Well."
Finally, this old-time, rag-time-influenced style of Irish music has been making a comeback in recent years, after being going underground for a while in the folk revival of the 1970's. One of the positive aspects of this comeback (in my opinion) is that musicians are starting to dust off a lot of the old polkas and barndances that were nearly forgotten in the 1970's when a lot of bands pumped out only reels and jigs. A little rhythmic variety never hurt anybody!
Here is one new band, Morga, who can put on a great show (as I saw in Chicago last summer), playing a polka from the Roaring Twenties called "Fitzmaurice's Flight":
This year, to supply you with Irish music on the one day of the year when it is on demand, I will show you a few videos that illustrate the influence America has played on traditional Irish music today.
Most of the earliest commercial recordings were actually made in America by Irish immigrants. Perhaps the most famous of these musicians was Michael Coleman, a fiddler born in Killavil, Co. Sligo who came to New York City in 1914. He soon found work as a professional player in vaudeville shows, and picked up many tunes that he recorded in a traditional style but to our ears today sound unmistakably like rag-time. Many of Coleman's records were sent back to Ireland, where young musicians were so enthralled that they copied his music note for note. Even today, musicians throughout the Irish diaspora will play sets that were first popularized by Coleman.
One of those sets is of two reels: Bonnie Kate & Jenny's Chickens:
But, he could also play more graceful waltzes popular with the American crowds he played for:
Coleman's influence on the world of Irish music was so strong, not just because of his records, but also because of the fiddlers he taught. One of the most prominent of those students was Andy McGann, who recorded a number of albums in the 1970's, and who has a remarkably similar style as Coleman:
And that New York-Sligo fiddle style is still alive today, particularly in the playing of Brian Conway, who is shown here doing his own rendition of Bonnie Kate & Jenny's Chickens (with a third reel added to the set):
Another well-known musician who emigrated to New York around the same time was the Leitrim-born flute player John McKenna, who also recorded in the 1920's and 1930's. Here he is playing a polka with a distinct American flavor, "Tripping to the Well."
Finally, this old-time, rag-time-influenced style of Irish music has been making a comeback in recent years, after being going underground for a while in the folk revival of the 1970's. One of the positive aspects of this comeback (in my opinion) is that musicians are starting to dust off a lot of the old polkas and barndances that were nearly forgotten in the 1970's when a lot of bands pumped out only reels and jigs. A little rhythmic variety never hurt anybody!
Here is one new band, Morga, who can put on a great show (as I saw in Chicago last summer), playing a polka from the Roaring Twenties called "Fitzmaurice's Flight":
Monday, March 17, 2014
St. Patrick's Day
This year in honor of St. Patrick's Day, a few polkas.
Most people would be surprised to learn that the Irish dance polkas, but it's true. In the middle of the 19th century, a polka craze swept through Europe, starting in central Europe and going all over the world--for instance, German settlers brought the style to Texas, where Mexicans adapted it until it became Norteno/Tejano music. Polkas were brought to Ireland at the same time, but until recently the polka craze was generally confined to two small regions within Ireland. The first region was Sliabh Luachra, the hill country along the River Blackwater on the border of Cork and Kerry. In Sliabh Luachra, the style of polka played there is very fast and very syncopated and obviously meant for crossroads dancing. There the fiddle and button accordion were the primary instruments for dance music and still are today. The first clip features two well-known Sliabh Luachra musicians playing a set of polkas: Jackie Daly on accordion and Seamus Creagh on fiddle. Notice how on the first tune Jackie Daly plays an octave lower the second time through.
Here is a link to another set of polkas (the video could not be embedded), played by another fine fiddle-accordion duet from Sliabh Luachra: Matt Cranitch and Donal Murphy.
The other region where polkas were played was in the northwest around Sligo. There the style is slower and less syncopated and a bit more graceful. There the fiddle is also popular, but the flute is more common than the accordion. The following video features Matt Molloy, from Ballaghadereen on the Roscommon-Mayo border, playing flute and on fiddle John Carty, who was born in London but whose family hails from Sligo. The second tune they play is called "The Killavil Postman"; Killavil is the village in Sligo where the famous fiddler Michael Coleman was born. The set of polka begins at about 3:30, with "The Killavil Postman"
starting at about 4:38.
Most people would be surprised to learn that the Irish dance polkas, but it's true. In the middle of the 19th century, a polka craze swept through Europe, starting in central Europe and going all over the world--for instance, German settlers brought the style to Texas, where Mexicans adapted it until it became Norteno/Tejano music. Polkas were brought to Ireland at the same time, but until recently the polka craze was generally confined to two small regions within Ireland. The first region was Sliabh Luachra, the hill country along the River Blackwater on the border of Cork and Kerry. In Sliabh Luachra, the style of polka played there is very fast and very syncopated and obviously meant for crossroads dancing. There the fiddle and button accordion were the primary instruments for dance music and still are today. The first clip features two well-known Sliabh Luachra musicians playing a set of polkas: Jackie Daly on accordion and Seamus Creagh on fiddle. Notice how on the first tune Jackie Daly plays an octave lower the second time through.
Here is a link to another set of polkas (the video could not be embedded), played by another fine fiddle-accordion duet from Sliabh Luachra: Matt Cranitch and Donal Murphy.
The other region where polkas were played was in the northwest around Sligo. There the style is slower and less syncopated and a bit more graceful. There the fiddle is also popular, but the flute is more common than the accordion. The following video features Matt Molloy, from Ballaghadereen on the Roscommon-Mayo border, playing flute and on fiddle John Carty, who was born in London but whose family hails from Sligo. The second tune they play is called "The Killavil Postman"; Killavil is the village in Sligo where the famous fiddler Michael Coleman was born. The set of polka begins at about 3:30, with "The Killavil Postman"
starting at about 4:38.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
St. Patrick's Day
Turlough O'Carolan (1670-1738) was the last of the great Irish bards.
In ancient and medieval Ireland, the bards were poets and musicians who kept the native folklore alive. They traveled from house to house, telling old stories and composing new songs, relying on the patronage of the island's great families. However, in the 17th century, after the Flight of the Earls, most of the great clan-leaders had no choice but to become grantees of the King of England. They were no longer chieftains, but simply landholders.
O'Carolan was born after the Flight of the Earls when the old Gaelic order had already collapsed and was nearly extinct. As a boy, his father took the family to Roscommon so he could work for the MacDermot Roe family, who had formerly been chieftains but were now living as landholders. The MacDermot Roe family, however, still kept up the family's role as patrons of the arts. The young O'Carolan showed promise as a poet, but was blinded by smallpox at the age of 18. Lady MacDermot Roe had him trained as a harper and then gave him a horse so that he could take up the life of a bard, traveling the countryside, performing for what remained of the Irish gentry. The MacDermots Roe remained his patrons for the rest of his life, and he expressed his gratitude to Lady MacDermot Roe in particular with one of his finest compositions, "Princess Royal."
As can be heard in "Princess Royal," O'Carolan was influenced by the European art music of his time. He reportedly went to Dublin to hear the Italian baroque virtuoso Geminiani perform on the violin. Given his affinity for baroque music, it is not surprising that one of his best-known planxties (melodies composed in honor of a patron) has been dubbed his "concerto."
In the past half-century, O'Carolan's music has been revived, beginning with Sean O'Riada, whose group Ceoltóirí Chualann later morphed into the Chieftains, who for the pat fifty years have regularly featured pieces by O'Carolan (above all the "concerto") on their albums and in their concerts. Even Clannad, the Donegal family that became famous for its New Age music and for launching the career of Enya (the stage name of Eithne Ní Bhraonáin, the sister of several of the members), recorded a simple, but beautiful, arrangement of "Eleanor Plunkett" on one of their early records.
After years of wandering as a bard, O'Carolan married and settled down in Leitrim. But, after his young wife died, he returned to Adlerford House, the seat of the MacDermots Roe, and lived his last days there. It is said that upon his return, he greeted Lady MacDermot Roe, went to a bedroom, and composed his "Farewell to Music." O'Carolan is now buried in the MacDermot Roe family crypt.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
St. Patrick's Day
It's time once more for a little music in honor of St. Patrick's Day, just as in 2009 and 2010. This year's post is dedicated to a wonderful little instrument: the concertina.
The concertina is a type of squeezebox. To those who are unfamiliar with the concertina, it could probably best be described as a mini-accordion: it is smaller both in size and in sound. Unlike most types of accordion, the concertina has buttons rather than a keyboard. The typical Anglo concertina, which is the type most widely used in Irish music, has 30 buttons, 15 on each side. Each button plays one note at a time, but the note produced when the player pushes the bellows in is a different note from that produced when the player pulls the bellows out. It is possible to push more than one button at a time, which gives the player the ability to produce chords.
The concertina has never been as popular in Irish music as the accordion, and until recently it was confined mainly to County Clare. For whatever reason, as well, the concertina was very popular among women. One of the most important concertina-players before the folk revival of the 1970's was Mrs. Crotty of Kilrush. While not much of her music was recorded, her legacy lives on in the playing of her nephew Michael Tubridy, one of the original members of the Chieftains, who, though best known for his flute playing, could also knock out a tune on the concertina.
Another good concertina player is Mary McNamara of Tulla. Her slow, steady pace in the next video (as well as in this video) is typical of the County Clare style.
Two other fine female concertina players today are Ernestine Healy and Niamh Ni Charra.
Probably the best known concertina player over the last thirty years, though, is Noel Hill, also from County Clare.
Finally, the concertina tends to be played solo; for whatever reason, it has not featured prominently in many bands. One exception to that statement is Niall Vallely's Buille, which in the next set manages to combine Irish traditional music with jazz influences, all with the concertina up front and center.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lord Franklin
Aaron's post yesterday about the fabled Northwest Passage, and Stan Rogers' song about it, brought to my mind a common folk song about one of the men who went searching for it: Sir John Franklin.
Lord Franklin set sail from England on May 19, 1845. After sailing past Greenland, they become ice-bound somewhere past Baffin Bay. None of the crew, including Lord Franklin, was seen alive again. A note, however, was later found on Beechey Island, stating that Lord Franklin died on June 11, 1847.
After no word after a couple of years, a search party was sent out, but none of the crew--besides a few graves--was found. The mystery surrounding the voyage to the Northwest Passage captured the public's imagination, and within a few years an anonymous musician wrote a song about it, describing the fear that Lady Franklin must have felt waiting for news about her husband.
The first version of this song comes from the English folk-rock band Pentangle, which at the time featured two superb guitarists: John Renbourn and Bert Jansch. Their version of this song contains a very restrained, and very tasteful, guitar solo.
The second version comes from Mícheál Ó Domhnaill, the late Irish singer best known for his work with the Bothy Band. He was (I have heard) a great admirer of Renbourn and Jansch's work with Pentangle, and I suspect it was the above version that inspired him to do something unusual for him: sing in English. He recorded it with fiddler Kevin Burke on their 1979 duet album Promenade.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St. Patrick's Day
Happy St. Patrick's day to all of you!
As I did last year, I'd like to show a few videos about Irish music. The first video comes from a 1972 documentary about Donegal fiddler John Doherty. Doherty was the last in a family who made their living by traveling from village to village in southwestern Donegal working as tinsmiths, but who were also accomplished storytellers and fiddlers. When he reached middle age, Doherty was discovered by various folklorists, such as Peter Kennedy and Allen Feldman. Due to this exposure, and a few commercial recordings, Doherty exerted a great influence on a new generation of Donegal fiddlers, such as Mairead Ni Mhaonaigh of Altan.
What I like most about this documentary is that it gives a glimpse, albeit a somewhat sentimental glimpse, into what Irish music and Irish peasant life was like not that long ago (something I tried to do, here and here).
The rest of the documentary can be found here.
For anyone curious in how the Irish language sounds, this next video is for you. It features singer Treasa Ni Mhiollain from the Aran Islands. I must warn you, though, that this style of singing is probably not what you usually associate with Irish music. This is an example of sean-nós singing, and will probably sound quite foreign to most ears.
And, if you have had enough learning for today and all you want is some good tunes, here are two jigs from one of my favorite young Irish bands, Teada.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Cultural Eclecticism & Irish Music (Part 2)
Continued from yesterday...
One of the few factors in national life working in favor of traditional music in the late 19th century was the rise of the Irish nationalist movement. In order to foster traditional culture, many nationalist organizations organized musical competitions. One effect of these competitions, though, was to encourage an interest in virtuoso performances of traditional music that could be recognized at a country-wide level—an idea almost completely foreign to the humble village life, where all that was required was someone who could play enough tunes to keep the dance going into the night. If he could play well, that was simply an added bonus. While the nationalist organizations undoubtedly did much to keep traditional music alive, they were not able to keep it alive in the context of village life, from which the music derived most of its vitality. Ultimately, the nationalist interest in music must be seen as a sign of the decline of traditional culture.
By the 1950’s traditional music was nearly dead in Ireland. It took the success of the Clancy Brothers in America to revive some interest in ballad-singing in Ireland. To a large extent, their success was due to the nostalgia of Irish-Americans for a culture they had never really experienced. Their choice of less traditional material sung in English, along with their use of guitars—and their touring with Pete Seeger—also meshed nicely with the folk revival in America, and made them into a commercial success. This spurred a new generation in Ireland to find ways to modernize their own traditional music.
Perhaps the first “modern-traditional” Irish band to arise was Planxty, which released its debut album in 1972. Planxty also featured many of the same ballads that the Clancy Brothers had popularized before them, but with the addition of piper Liam O’Flynn, they also exposed a wider audience to the older dance tunes that were being lost. Then, in 1975, the Bothy Band released its first album. Though they only stayed together for four years, this sextet occupies a special place in the history of Irish music because of their unabashed embrace of the older dance tunes and the Irish language. Their front-line combination of flute, fiddle, and pipes could play both at ferocious speeds and with great delicacy. At the same time, the sibling duo of Micheal O’Domhnaill and Triona Ni Dhomhnaill were unafraid to sing in Irish. What made the band truly modern, though, was their rock ’n’ roll style of accompaniment, combining a strong rhythm guitar, an aggressive bouzouki, and booming bass lines on an electric clavichord. They introduced traditional music to a whole new audience. Thanks to them, it was no longer something for Irish-speaking peasants in the countryside; it was for an urban, non-dancing youth generation. Indeed, with all the musicians’ long hair and hard drinking, traditional music had now become a legitimate form of rebellion for the younger generation.
But what connection did all this have to traditional music as played in the early 1800s? It was still the same music, but the ethos was more eclectic, commercial, and youth-oriented. It often was played at such great speed that it was nearly impossible to dance to. It is an interesting comment on modern Irish culture that when the Bothy Band’s star fiddler, Kevin Burke (born and raised in London by parents from Sligo, incidentally), in the liner notes of his first solo album in 1978, tried to explain his music to Irish youth, he did so by comparing the spirit of his playing to that of “old Negro bluesmen”: Enjoyment and an appreciation of life—whether in the form of joy or sorrow—were his primary goals, not profit. While these are certainly worthy sentiments, what is telling is that his cultural references—and those of the young audience he was attempting to reach—were informed more by a heavily romanticized view of American blues and rock ‘n’ roll than by a deep knowledge of Irish life before the Potato Famine. The Romanticism of Burke’s comments signals that there has been a clear break in cultural continuity. Ireland had entered the modern world.
The history of Irish music over the last two centuries is a good illustration of the growth of an eclectic culture out of the elements of a once integral culture. The economic pressures of the Famine and the self-doubt that came with modernization mostly did away with village life and the old peasant culture. Music lost the connections to the rest of the culture which had given it meaning originally. As a consequence, most Irish gave up interest in their traditional music. Ultimately, though, the music did survive into the 21st century—and even survived Riverdance—but to do so it had to move to the city and assume a modern, rebellious tone. At this point in time, most yearning for the return of the integral culture is bound to appear as just more Romantic nostalgia. The old Ireland is dead. But, perhaps the traditional music can become part of a new integral Irish culture. Time will tell.
One of the few factors in national life working in favor of traditional music in the late 19th century was the rise of the Irish nationalist movement. In order to foster traditional culture, many nationalist organizations organized musical competitions. One effect of these competitions, though, was to encourage an interest in virtuoso performances of traditional music that could be recognized at a country-wide level—an idea almost completely foreign to the humble village life, where all that was required was someone who could play enough tunes to keep the dance going into the night. If he could play well, that was simply an added bonus. While the nationalist organizations undoubtedly did much to keep traditional music alive, they were not able to keep it alive in the context of village life, from which the music derived most of its vitality. Ultimately, the nationalist interest in music must be seen as a sign of the decline of traditional culture.
By the 1950’s traditional music was nearly dead in Ireland. It took the success of the Clancy Brothers in America to revive some interest in ballad-singing in Ireland. To a large extent, their success was due to the nostalgia of Irish-Americans for a culture they had never really experienced. Their choice of less traditional material sung in English, along with their use of guitars—and their touring with Pete Seeger—also meshed nicely with the folk revival in America, and made them into a commercial success. This spurred a new generation in Ireland to find ways to modernize their own traditional music.
Perhaps the first “modern-traditional” Irish band to arise was Planxty, which released its debut album in 1972. Planxty also featured many of the same ballads that the Clancy Brothers had popularized before them, but with the addition of piper Liam O’Flynn, they also exposed a wider audience to the older dance tunes that were being lost. Then, in 1975, the Bothy Band released its first album. Though they only stayed together for four years, this sextet occupies a special place in the history of Irish music because of their unabashed embrace of the older dance tunes and the Irish language. Their front-line combination of flute, fiddle, and pipes could play both at ferocious speeds and with great delicacy. At the same time, the sibling duo of Micheal O’Domhnaill and Triona Ni Dhomhnaill were unafraid to sing in Irish. What made the band truly modern, though, was their rock ’n’ roll style of accompaniment, combining a strong rhythm guitar, an aggressive bouzouki, and booming bass lines on an electric clavichord. They introduced traditional music to a whole new audience. Thanks to them, it was no longer something for Irish-speaking peasants in the countryside; it was for an urban, non-dancing youth generation. Indeed, with all the musicians’ long hair and hard drinking, traditional music had now become a legitimate form of rebellion for the younger generation.
But what connection did all this have to traditional music as played in the early 1800s? It was still the same music, but the ethos was more eclectic, commercial, and youth-oriented. It often was played at such great speed that it was nearly impossible to dance to. It is an interesting comment on modern Irish culture that when the Bothy Band’s star fiddler, Kevin Burke (born and raised in London by parents from Sligo, incidentally), in the liner notes of his first solo album in 1978, tried to explain his music to Irish youth, he did so by comparing the spirit of his playing to that of “old Negro bluesmen”: Enjoyment and an appreciation of life—whether in the form of joy or sorrow—were his primary goals, not profit. While these are certainly worthy sentiments, what is telling is that his cultural references—and those of the young audience he was attempting to reach—were informed more by a heavily romanticized view of American blues and rock ‘n’ roll than by a deep knowledge of Irish life before the Potato Famine. The Romanticism of Burke’s comments signals that there has been a clear break in cultural continuity. Ireland had entered the modern world.
The history of Irish music over the last two centuries is a good illustration of the growth of an eclectic culture out of the elements of a once integral culture. The economic pressures of the Famine and the self-doubt that came with modernization mostly did away with village life and the old peasant culture. Music lost the connections to the rest of the culture which had given it meaning originally. As a consequence, most Irish gave up interest in their traditional music. Ultimately, though, the music did survive into the 21st century—and even survived Riverdance—but to do so it had to move to the city and assume a modern, rebellious tone. At this point in time, most yearning for the return of the integral culture is bound to appear as just more Romantic nostalgia. The old Ireland is dead. But, perhaps the traditional music can become part of a new integral Irish culture. Time will tell.
Cultural Eclecticism & Irish Music
In his recent post on Caritas in Veritate, Aaron noted Pope Benedict’s call for the integral development of culture as a protection against the dangers of relativism and cultural eclecticism. An integral culture is one that forms a true unity; all the parts of such a culture fit together in a coherent way. The way these individual parts fit together is usually determined by a culture’s ethos, its ordering principles. However, if a culture doubts its own ordering principles, or if outside forces upset a culture’s ordering principles, the culture’s individual parts will be distorted in some way. They either appear too large or too small, anything but their right size, and out of all proportion to the surrounding parts of the culture.
The usual result of the breakdown of an integral culture is eclecticism. Eclecticism essentially dispenses with all ordering principles besides individual preference—which is why throughout history eclecticism has usually been closely linked to relativism in metaphysics, and commercialism in economics. Eclecticism, though, is an unfortunate name for what I mean to discuss. The word “eclecticism,” at least in my mind, usually conjures up images of agnostic elites desperately searching for meaning in the universe by scouring every culture they know for fragments of intelligibility. I think of demoralized Roman senators worshiping the latest fashionable oriental divinity, or 19th-century decadents dabbling in the occult. In the modern world, though, cultural eclecticism has assumed a new, more democratic form. Thanks to the spread of videos, sound recordings, and mere factual knowledge (on the encyclopedia model), a lonely individual can appreciate one aspect of a culture, in abstraction from the rest of the culture. Then, if the enough of the masses share this individual’s taste, the newspapers (or today, the Internet feuilleton) will announce that this particular foreign element has “entered the culture.” But, what the newspapers usually ignore, or do not even know enough to investigate, is how this new development relates to the ordering principles of the culture. All they ever really notice is that someone has become rich and famous in the process. However, the crucial question to ask is: Is this an integral development of culture?
That was all rather abstract, so what is needed is a concrete example. The example I have chosen is traditional Irish music, since it is a hobby of mine (well, more of an obsession). About fifteen years ago, traditional Irish music received a lot of popular attention due to Riverdance, the dance extravaganza starring Michael Flatley. Soon there was a craze for Irish music and dance across America, and parents with Irish surnames—and even those without Irish surnames—were signing up their little girls for dancing lessons (and buying those horrible sequined dresses). This was a major “cultural event.” Yet, after a couple years, the hype died down and Irish music and dancing in America returned to their pre-Riverdance status. At the end of the day, a lot of people had heard some Irish music, seen some amazing dancing, and Michael Flatley was a wealthy man—and people genuinely devoted to Irish music and dance returned to their prior obscurity and their small groups of like-minded individuals. Riverdance, with its incorporation of elements of tap, flamenco, and ballet, marked the victory of modern eclecticism over integral culture. Many people now realize that Riverdance was only based on traditional music and dance, but have no conception of the broader tradition. What was Irish music—and Irish culture—like before Riverdance?
To answer that question, we need to go back to the early 1800s, a time when Irish peasant culture was relatively intact. The Irish have never been a very urban people, and so most of what we think of as traditionally Irish developed in the context of the countryside. At this time, music and dancing were firmly embedded in village social life, which revolved around the farming year and the special events in a community—births, weddings, and funerals—as well as around the Church’s liturgical year. In addition to these grander events, there was the informal practice of visiting neighbors in the countryside, when it was common to tell stories, sing songs, and play a few tunes at home. Music and dance were certainly developed art forms, but they were not art in the way we educated city-dwellers usually think of art. Very few musicians earned a living by their music, though a few wandering musicians did travel from village to village and play for dances, often supplementing their meager income by other work, especially by repairing pots and pans. Moreover, while some musicians were certainly known throughout a region for their skill, they did not think of themselves as virtuosos, and did not define themselves as musicians. Instead, their art and their ego were subordinate to the needs of the community. They simply provided music so that people could dance and celebrate the most important occasions throughout the year. Their celebrations were (at least loosely) bound up with the larger cosmic perspectives of agriculture and salvation history, as well as their own life and death.At the same time, however, Irish peasant culture was under tremendous pressure from outside. Their English lords had already been persecuting Catholic priests under the Penal Laws for many years. The English language was steadily displacing Irish. The death blow came, though, with the Potato Famine in 1845. From then on, Irish peasants left their homeland in droves, seeking new homes primarily in England and the United States. This mass exodus would last well into the 20th century. If the Irish could resist religious persecution and the loss of their native language, they could not withstand starvation and emigration.
Village life in late 19th-century Ireland was severely disrupted, and the people demoralized. With many children knowing that they were destined to leave their homes once they were old enough to find work on their own, there was understandably little call for celebration. Paradoxically, though, what kept music and dancing alive during this period was the “American wake.” American wakes were farewell parties held for members of the community the night before they left for America, and featured much music and dancing.
Constant emigration, however, eventually took its toll. Many towns and rural areas were so decimated that they did not have enough people for dances. It was at this point that many musicians simply stopped playing. If there were no dances, there was no point in playing. Music and dance were so closely connected that one without the other was barely imaginable. Modern technology in the early 20th century also undermined the foundations of the integral Irish culture. In those places that still had enough people for a dance, the record player brought new, usually American, music to the Irish countryside. People in larger towns usually rejected traditional music as uncouth and un-modern—and so did many peasants in the countryside. Interestingly enough, even recordings of Irish music in some ways had detrimental effects. Many older fiddlers abandoned their instruments when they first heard the likes of New York virtuoso Michael Coleman’s blazing reels and heavily ornamented jigs; they felt they just could not compete with Coleman.
By the first half of the 20th century, traditional Irish music was on life support. The traditional Irish village was no longer a place where most people lived, but simply a place where they were born before they decided to cross the ocean for America. Moreover, with the disappearance of the Irish language from wide parts of the island, a vast store of older sean-nos songs was lost. Finally, the spread of modern technology even to the more backward parts of Ireland discouraged people from playing traditional music.
To be continued tomorrow...
Friday, April 24, 2009
Welcome, Peter and Emma!
I wanted to give a special shout out to a pair of new contributors who will be joining our blogging team.As the About This Blog section says, "the blog's contributors are a variety of graduates and friends of the University of Dallas." Peter Kromhout, is not, in fact, a graduate of UD, but he is very much a friend, having graduated from Christendom College, a like-minded institution.
Originally a native of the Twin Cities - one of my favorite metropolitan areas - Peter moved to Washington, DC, after finishing his BA in Philosophy and is currently studying for an MA in Statecraft & National Security at the Institute of World Politics.
Peter is a fan of Jane Austen, fine beer, the ancient Greeks, Irish music and getting himself into tight places in Arabic-speaking countries or our nation's capital.
Neither is Emma Zimmerman a UD graduate. However, this native of the great state of Arizona is a student of the liberal arts and can doubtless run circles around me when it comes to conjugating Latin. In addition to her interests in the humanities, Emma has managed to master the intricacies of science as well: she received a BA in Bioengeineering from Arizona State University and will complete an MA in the same field this spring before heading off to Montreal in the fall to begin a PhD.Emma's interests include traveling to Turkey, reading long novels (including Kristen Lavransdatter and The Brothers Karamazov, neither of which I managed to finish), throwing dinner parties and listening to This American Life.
So, please, everyone, a warm round of applause for Peter and Emma!
Monday, March 16, 2009
St. Patrick's Day
I suppose tomorrow is the one day everyone is Irish, so I'll share a couple of my favorite youtube videos of Irish music. Also, a few of you may be aware of my obsession with Irish music, so I'm taking opportunity of today to share some of that obsession.
The first video is of the Bothy Band playing a set of three reels. The Bothy Band was a short-lived but greatly influential band in Ireland. They were essentially responsible for rejuvenating Irish music by adding more modern harmonies and rhythms. They were only together from 1975 to 1979 and only made 4 albums, but their style is still very much alive. Also, after the band broke up, the individual members continued to make great music on their own or in new groups.
The second is a video of Seamus Ennis playing an ancient slow air, called "An Raibh tu ag an gCairrag?" Seamus Ennis was of the generation before the Bothy Band who kept the music alive until the revival in the 1970's. Here he is seen playing the distinctively Irish form of the bagpipes, the uillean pipes, in a much more traditional manner than the first video.
Enjoy, and happy St. Patrick's Day!
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