Both of my parents are big ballad fans. My dad played in ballad groups for years. My mum grew up in Dublin, and regularly attended ballad gigs. I grew up listening to the Dubliners and the Voice Squad. I like ballads - I believe that you'd want to be very very boring not to enjoy a decent ballad group. Now, my parents had heard these High Kings on the radio a few times, and were impressed by their repertoire and singing, so my mum bought tickets for herself and dad to go and see them in UL last Thursday. My dad, however, had a rake of Germans over and he was playing with them, so I went along with herself to hear these boys.
Now, I had heard from other musicians that the High Kings were the male version of Celtic Woman (who are, to be blunt, absolute SHITE) and that they were extraordinarily cheesy. My mother wasn't aware of this cheese factor, which I realised when she excitedly suggested that there would be a 'rough crowd at this thing' because 'that's the kind of crowd who go to ballads'. I gently told her that it would be full of aul ones and this crowd were like the folk version of Westlife. She didn't believe me at first but ten minutes in, she was nodding sagely and mouthing the words 'Westlife'.
They are excellent singers, and know their stuff, given their family connections (the sons of Bobby Clancy, Finbar Fury and Sean Dunphy are three of the four members). Some of the singing was truly inspiring, I have to be honest. However, this inspiration generally occured when they stood fairly still and sang into the mics with dignity and restraint. It was the boyband slide dancing, having a bodhran to bodhran face off, the horrific joke about the Aran knit jumpers, the singing with their arms around each other in a metrosexual, open about our affection for one another way etc etc etc. Blahdeblah. So the production was really irritating. Musically, the show was incredibly polished and professional, which, I believe detracts from what is the true charm of ballad groups. My mother said she missed the singers forgetting what they were supposed to be singing next, and singers wandering off stage in the middle of the whole thing to have a fifteen minute break for a pint and the crowd hollering expletives at the stage to encourage the musicians, in the nicest way possible. All the professionalism, the note perfect arrangements, even the jokes were over rehearsed and more than a little boring.
So we weren't too impressed - it's really not our kind of thing. I can't see anyone with an interest in traditional or folk music being a huge fan of the High Kings. However, the crowd in the concert hall last Thursday went ape for the whole thing - standing ovations, singing along, clapping along, happy tears and shiny happy smiles when the whole thing was over.
We were kind of bored, so we went to Dolans for pints, where the Germans were singing their own, heavily accented versions of Irish ballads. Not polished or professional, but infinitely more enjoyable than watched four boyband members hopping around the stage in formation.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Like my photo?
I was playing with my new computer and used every effect in the whole program to come up with this little beaut.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Imagine If....
This came up in conversation the other night as Brona Graham was changing her banjo strings in a session. She had elected to change one at a time, separated by sets of tunes, and remarked - "Imagine if you had to change a string after every set of tunes?"
Which begs the following questions?
Imagine if you had to relearn every tune after you played it once?
Imagine if you had to restring your bow after every session?
Imagine if you had to reoil your flute after one set?
Imagine if you had to retune your boxy thing (a button box, a piano box, a concertina box, a melodeon box) every week?
Imagine if you had to retune your pipes after every time there is any minute change in any one of a number of conditions?
Wait, that last one actually happens. It's not nice to make fun of the insane.
Which begs the following questions?
Imagine if you had to relearn every tune after you played it once?
Imagine if you had to restring your bow after every session?
Imagine if you had to reoil your flute after one set?
Imagine if you had to retune your boxy thing (a button box, a piano box, a concertina box, a melodeon box) every week?
Imagine if you had to retune your pipes after every time there is any minute change in any one of a number of conditions?
Wait, that last one actually happens. It's not nice to make fun of the insane.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Smoking Ban
What are peoples' thoughts on the effect that the smoking ban (implemented in Ireland in February 2004, and celebrating its fifth birthday next year) has had on traditional Irish music sessions?***
See, I'm generally a fan of the smoking ban. It's really nice not to come home with ones clothes reeking of smoke after a night out. The social aspect (especially in Ireland, where businesses seem to encompass a particularly rigorous approach to socialising that if we could only apply to education and healthcare would make this little soggy country a much nicer place to live) is fantastic - I don't think we could have envisaged the excitement of 'smirting' (apparently it's smoking and flirting all at once) when we were gazing forlornly at our twenty Marlboro prior to the introduction of the ban. The health thing is fantastic - ensuring that those of us who do smoke do not impress our habit upon those who don't.
There is, when viewed objectively, only one downfall to this ban (two if you count the appealling aroma of Guinness farts - mmmmmm). Musicians smoke - a LOT of musicians smoke. Go to any festival, and the smoking area is heaving - elbow room only. Now, while a musician is in a pub and she gets a pint and has a few tunes, maybe forty five minutes later she'll start to think of that shiny rectangular box in her bag. In the past, she would have sparked up there and then, and if a tune began that took her fancy, she would utilise that dying art of 'balancing the cigarette at the cigarette holder part of the ashtray so it will go out on its own without having to stub it out' and join in. Then she could light up again at her leisure, potentially taking three or even four 'goes' to finish the cigarette. That was the blissful past, where smoking in no way detracted from the participation in and the quality of the session.
Nowadays, our musician wants a smoke. Undoubtedly, he must traverse a gauntlet on the way to the smoking area blocked by a piper, a keyboard player, three flute players dribbling saliva all over his shoes, three fiddles accidentally poking him in the back of the knees with their bows, a piano accordion being fierce loud, a guitar string snapping in his face, a drunk man tripping over a stool, an enthusiastic listener at the bar who just won't stop talking crap, a stack of beer barrels and a wonky umbrella. By the time he has got through that, had his miserable little smoke under a heater where one shoulder is the colour of roast ham and the other could be turned into a manmade habitat for polar bears, gone to the loo and made his way back to his place, there is some newly arrived crusty with some bizarre instrument yoke in his place, thus violating all session ettiquette. After fecking his many legged tinwhistle with strings over the bar and berating him for his rudeness, anything up to half an hour may have passed. The musicians have had to stir themselves twice, poking each other in the eyes and tearing ligaments in ankles with dignity (and of course, surreptuously brushing hands with the sexy musician next to them. Is it a crisis or an opportunity, hmmmm???). He can start to play again, but of course, then the next one is out for a smoke and the whole delicate dance begins again.
Big BIG BIG distractions - wreaking the place, fighting over seats, dealing with the masses - in the past you could just sit at your seat and nurse your cigarette to the timing of the session. It might not be healthy, but it does NOT suit Irish music. Not one little bit.
*** Incidentally, I'm aware of the fact that there is nobody reading this, and that I am addressing this question into deepest, loneliest cyberspace, and that anyway I intended to answer the question myself, thus rendering the tone of that introduction rather redundant. I am aware, you (if you ever do show up) don't need to point that out.
See, I'm generally a fan of the smoking ban. It's really nice not to come home with ones clothes reeking of smoke after a night out. The social aspect (especially in Ireland, where businesses seem to encompass a particularly rigorous approach to socialising that if we could only apply to education and healthcare would make this little soggy country a much nicer place to live) is fantastic - I don't think we could have envisaged the excitement of 'smirting' (apparently it's smoking and flirting all at once) when we were gazing forlornly at our twenty Marlboro prior to the introduction of the ban. The health thing is fantastic - ensuring that those of us who do smoke do not impress our habit upon those who don't.
There is, when viewed objectively, only one downfall to this ban (two if you count the appealling aroma of Guinness farts - mmmmmm). Musicians smoke - a LOT of musicians smoke. Go to any festival, and the smoking area is heaving - elbow room only. Now, while a musician is in a pub and she gets a pint and has a few tunes, maybe forty five minutes later she'll start to think of that shiny rectangular box in her bag. In the past, she would have sparked up there and then, and if a tune began that took her fancy, she would utilise that dying art of 'balancing the cigarette at the cigarette holder part of the ashtray so it will go out on its own without having to stub it out' and join in. Then she could light up again at her leisure, potentially taking three or even four 'goes' to finish the cigarette. That was the blissful past, where smoking in no way detracted from the participation in and the quality of the session.
Nowadays, our musician wants a smoke. Undoubtedly, he must traverse a gauntlet on the way to the smoking area blocked by a piper, a keyboard player, three flute players dribbling saliva all over his shoes, three fiddles accidentally poking him in the back of the knees with their bows, a piano accordion being fierce loud, a guitar string snapping in his face, a drunk man tripping over a stool, an enthusiastic listener at the bar who just won't stop talking crap, a stack of beer barrels and a wonky umbrella. By the time he has got through that, had his miserable little smoke under a heater where one shoulder is the colour of roast ham and the other could be turned into a manmade habitat for polar bears, gone to the loo and made his way back to his place, there is some newly arrived crusty with some bizarre instrument yoke in his place, thus violating all session ettiquette. After fecking his many legged tinwhistle with strings over the bar and berating him for his rudeness, anything up to half an hour may have passed. The musicians have had to stir themselves twice, poking each other in the eyes and tearing ligaments in ankles with dignity (and of course, surreptuously brushing hands with the sexy musician next to them. Is it a crisis or an opportunity, hmmmm???). He can start to play again, but of course, then the next one is out for a smoke and the whole delicate dance begins again.
Big BIG BIG distractions - wreaking the place, fighting over seats, dealing with the masses - in the past you could just sit at your seat and nurse your cigarette to the timing of the session. It might not be healthy, but it does NOT suit Irish music. Not one little bit.
*** Incidentally, I'm aware of the fact that there is nobody reading this, and that I am addressing this question into deepest, loneliest cyberspace, and that anyway I intended to answer the question myself, thus rendering the tone of that introduction rather redundant. I am aware, you (if you ever do show up) don't need to point that out.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
It's one thing...
...to have a complete nuisance in a session, someone with an inflated sense of importance that isn't at all matched by their ability, someone who monopolises the evening with unsuitable tunes that no one else knows and who generally rubs everyone up the wrong way. That is one thing.
It is another thing entirely to be caught ROTTEN bitching about them in the smoking area.
Whoops.
It is another thing entirely to be caught ROTTEN bitching about them in the smoking area.
Whoops.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Welcome again...
An very kind friend reminded me of the months worth of nonsense I churned out here in July of last year and asked why I stopped. It's not magic children, the lazy gene kicked off and I just wasn't arsed. But far be it from me to disappoint the loyal fans, the 21 views that this page has had in one whole year (I'm SO POPULAR, it's SICK). So here we are again for another month.
What have I done, pints and tunes wise? Well, quite a lot actually. Because of my deep commitment to tunes all year they gave me an MA to recognise it - the Masters in Irish Traditional Music Performance from the IWblahblablah. It was a course I elected to participate in only after it had started and I burst into the course directors office, demanding a place and God was smiling down - he threw his eyes up to heaven, left me sitting there alone for 45 minutes and let me in. It was a fantastic year, I never knew how much I didn't know about playing music until I did it. And in fairness, I still haven't a clue. Would you like to be jealous? I would like to make you jealous. Here is my list of tutors in no particular order...
Siobhan Peoples (regular tutor all year)
Frankie Gavin
Tommy Peoples
John Carty
Brendan Mulkere
Matt Cranitch
Laura Cortese
Tola Custy
Liam Lewis
Claudine Arcand
Athena McLoughlin
John Dipper
Manus Maguire
Caoimhin O Raghallaigh
Gerry O Connor
Eileen O Brien
Jenna Reid
Gerry Holland
I can honestly say I learned something from every single one of them, however, Gerry Holland was particularly special. On top of this, I was lucky enough to be a member of a wonderful class - each and every student was extraordinarily talented and more importantly, really really sound. And in my book sound trumps talent at each and every turn.
That's all for now - pints catching up with me, you know yourself. Promise I'll be back this time.
What have I done, pints and tunes wise? Well, quite a lot actually. Because of my deep commitment to tunes all year they gave me an MA to recognise it - the Masters in Irish Traditional Music Performance from the IWblahblablah. It was a course I elected to participate in only after it had started and I burst into the course directors office, demanding a place and God was smiling down - he threw his eyes up to heaven, left me sitting there alone for 45 minutes and let me in. It was a fantastic year, I never knew how much I didn't know about playing music until I did it. And in fairness, I still haven't a clue. Would you like to be jealous? I would like to make you jealous. Here is my list of tutors in no particular order...
Siobhan Peoples (regular tutor all year)
Frankie Gavin
Tommy Peoples
John Carty
Brendan Mulkere
Matt Cranitch
Laura Cortese
Tola Custy
Liam Lewis
Claudine Arcand
Athena McLoughlin
John Dipper
Manus Maguire
Caoimhin O Raghallaigh
Gerry O Connor
Eileen O Brien
Jenna Reid
Gerry Holland
I can honestly say I learned something from every single one of them, however, Gerry Holland was particularly special. On top of this, I was lucky enough to be a member of a wonderful class - each and every student was extraordinarily talented and more importantly, really really sound. And in my book sound trumps talent at each and every turn.
That's all for now - pints catching up with me, you know yourself. Promise I'll be back this time.
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