Ireland July, 2006 – Sessions – Richard Carson Morton

 I thought, perhaps, that some folks would be interested in my take on the various sessions I took part in on my recent trip to Ireland . Basically, they were of two types: entertaining, singing sessions, and traditional tune sessions.

 Castletownbere – Beara Peninsula – County Cork – McCarthy’s Pub

 This is a great town on the tip of the Beara Peninsula on Bantry Bay . Off the main tourist track. Walking down the street after dinner I heard music from inside McCarthy’s Pub. Poked my head in, but at first it didn’t look all that appealing. Two fellas, one playing a bit of everything but mostly bouzouki, and a guitarist. A lot of songs but with some amplification which, although it’s often necessary in a noisy pub, is not, traditionally speaking, traditional. However, I sat down, made my usual request of “Do you mind if I join in?” while holding up my drum, and joined them on a few lively tunes.

  I was with a large group of people and wanted them to see a real trad session, but quickly found out that the average “civilian”, if you will, is more interested in entertaining singalongs. I asked the guitarist if I could borrow his instrument for a song. He was wary at first (not the usual reaction) but I shrugged and just suggested that he accompany me instead. Then the bouzouki player egged him on and, as the guitarist handed me the guitar, he said: “I usually don’t give up my women or my guitar.” So I dove into “Tell Me Ma” which is a sure-fire way to get folks pumped up as a lot of pub denizens know the words to the chorus, and followed it up (on request) with the Leaving of Liverpool which went over particularly well as a large part of the party I was with hailed from that particular city. I even recall a chorus line of dancing girls at one point! Lesson learned: sometimes, it’s best to relax and fit into whatever is happening instead of bemoaning what isn’t.

Glengarriff – Bantry Bay – County Cork – Bernard Harrington’s Pub

 Again, walking down the street in Glengarriff at the other end of Beara when I heard a solitary whistle. Strolled over to meet Michael, a transplanted English bloke who drives tourist buses around the Ring of Kerry by day and by night holds court outside Harrington’s Pub. Joined him on a few tunes borrowing his drum then dispatched a companion to fetch my Martin travel guitar from the boot (trunk) of the car. Very nice relaxed evening singing and accompanying Michael with many pints magically appearing before me. Only rub was an English woman who was sitting with us and kept proudly declaring that she was inebriated which, judging by her behavior, I took to be a correct self-assessment. The trouble was that she was (or so she said) an oboe player and kept borrowing whistles and “jamming” on various tunes and songs. It wasn’t my place to tell her to stifle her improvisational impulses and Michael chose not to so, as in most things, relax and enjoy.

Dingle – Dingle Peninsula – Country Kerry – Unknown Pub (I can’t remember them all)

 Popped into this pub on the harbor side and joined a fiddler and a guitar player. The musicians on Dingle are a breed apart. I’ve been trying to come up with the proper word to describe their attitude and the best I can come up with are actually two words: “amiably wary”. Dingle is almost like another country, or some kind of Irish frontier town where musicians communicate with each other in an Irish bantering way that is difficult to follow and tends to keep outsiders at a distance. When I asked them if they minded if I joined in, the one fella said something like: “We hardly even know ya.” This was said with a glint in the eye and a smile but the fiddler began to pepper me with questions, in a similar way that a cat might play with a mouse before biting its head off. Luckily, the fact that I told them that I’m from Nashville and that I just became an Irish citizen was novel enough to win them over to an extent. These were younger lads who played a newer type of traditional music, with a lot of almost jazzlike accompaniment on the guitar. Little hard to follow on drum so I listened a lot and waited for jigs to come along.

 Doolin – County Clare – Gus O’Connor’s Pub

 Now, we’re talking. O’Connor’s fills up pretty fast so the trick is the go an hour or more before “half-nine” and find a seat close to the action and then order a pub dinner from the bar. Asked a couple from Seattle if I could sit at their strategically-positioned table and discovered that they are avid sailboat racers, and seeing as I had just come off a  weeklong sailing course on Bantry Bay, we had much to banter about before the music started.

 Finally, three musicians took their places at the semi-circular booth: a flute/whistle player in his fifties, a fiddler in his sixties, and a button accordion man, thirties or forties. And this was the real thing, a true older style trad sessions at which I was the only rhythm player on the drum. If I do say so myself, my playing fit in very nicely; in fact the flute player (who turned out to be no less than the great Christy Barry himself) kept asking me to play the drum on his solo whistle tunes, real highlight. On top of that, Mr. Barry is an incredibly spectacular spoons player who has to be seen and heard to be believed. I might even have some video so come back here soon and I'll try to post it. I even sang “Tell Me Ma” to the accompaniment of the accordion (shameless, I know).

Inishere – County Galway –Ostan (Hotel) Inis Oirr

 I clambered off the ferry, got myself sorted out at the B&B nearby, rented a bike and prepared for a trip around the island. But first, thinking I needed some seafood chowder for fortification, I headed for the local hotel. Two lads were playing in the corner, a guitar-player singer and button accordion player who was a dead-ringer for Eric Clapton (I really had to look twice). After a glass (half-pint) of Murphy’s I asked if I could do a song. I sang (you guessed it) "Tell Me Ma" (it always works!) and started to hand the guitar back, but the fella said: “Go on. Good things always come in threes.” So I did an original but trad sounding song and then threw in my nasty little rocker “You Don’t Look Nothing Like Elvis” (about as far away from an Irish song as you can get) for good measure. Amazingly, it went over very well indeed.

 After I relinquished the guitar ,the Proprietor motioned me over to the bar. And then he said the golden words: “You come back tonight and do that again and I’ll give you a few euro.” Delighted, I said I’d do my best to come back. He asked what I was drinking and I said, “No thanks, I’m biking around the island.” It didn’t seem to register as, next thing I knew, there was another Murphy’s in front of me. I was drinking it out of politeness when the guitar player came over and commiserated with me. “Don’t worry. It’s easy to get hijacked around here.” Finally, I mounted my bike and began my tour. Unfortunately I chose the side of the island with the very rocky road and within a short time my beer-soaked brain was rattling around in my skull. I walked the bike back to the rental place, handed it back in, went back to the B&B for a quick nap, and then completed my tour on foot. Much nicer.

 As a quick addendum, on the way back I followed the sound of church bells and ended up attending a 6pm Mass given entirely in Irish. Tellingly, it was only attended by a handful of the island’s older inhabitants.

Inishere – County Galway – Tigh Ned Pub

 That night I had every intention of returning to the hotel to earn my “few euros”, but once again I got hijacked by a session with a great piper and guitar player in the other pub on the island, the Tigh Ned. It was a much more relaxed, less party atmosphere than the pub and I ended up socializing with a nice fella from Dublin and his daughter, folks I had met earlier in the day at the rusting hulk of an old freighter, one of the attractions of the island. Anyway, I never did make it back to my “gig’ at the hotel. A highlight was a dog that had just given birth to a litter of pups and was so exhausted that she promptly fell asleep on my bodhran bag.

 Ennis – County Clare - Cruise's Pub, Ciaran's Bar

 My last night in Ireland . I’d never stayed in Ennis before and it’s a really lively large town laid out almost in the English style of a central square with streets flowing out of like spokes of a wheel. Found a good session at Cruise’s Pub off the Queen's Hotel with an amazing banjo player, a fiddler, and an English guitarist and played with them for a while but the place was packed and the din of conversation was too much bear, so I excused myself and went across the street to Ciaran’s Bar for my last fling.

 And a wise move it was as this, my final session in   Ireland, turned out to be the best. A fiddle player, incredible button accordionist, and a guitar player, and - oh yes - me on me little drum. These guys were 100 percent traditional but they definitely knew how to put together a set of reels. They would start with a couple of Em tunes then build to rollicking D major tune and finally, just launch into a rousing G tune that had the whole place shaking. I even got to sing harmony on “Hard Times Come Again No More” with a young woman who joined the group for a song.

 One of the highlights was a gentleman who sat down at the table, produced a pair of old tuppence coins and proceeded to play them with great accomplishment on the table top. They sounded great. When I asked him about the coins, he said that that no other coin could compare to his trusty two-pennies. The only trouble was that there were so many pints in front of me that I had to take a walk and abandon them in far corners of the pub so I wouldn’t appear rude by not drinking these dark, foamy offerings.

 A great round of sessions altogether.

BACK