Ó Leitirmóir go Nashville ag gabháil fhionn

From Lettermore to Nashville Singing

by Máirín Ui Chéide

It is quite a journey and a leap of culture to arrive in Nashville, singing the songs that are the very essence of your being,  epic tales of mystical life, times and places, forlorn maidens and elusive lovers, laments, to historical events, political rebellions, lullabies, satires and light comic relief passed down through generations ,without pomp or circumstance  effortlessly. The songs that flowed from their lips as they labored, played or journeyed, passed on by attentive listening ears and retentive minds. It was a way of life, the essence of life itself. The word Sean-Nós means old style, although I rarely heard that description associated with the songs as a child.  It was just what it was singing an old song.

Irish Singing in Nashville

Yet now I find myself teaching this singing style to an audience in Nashville. Living in the USA, I am reminded daily of the intense interest Americans have in the rich culture of Ireland.  There is grounding in truly connecting to one’s roots that are as multifaceted as our culture. For the many, whose lineage and heritage lies across the Atlantic Ocean, it becomes a labor of love to reconnect with their true selves.  It is the story of ancestry, shaping the present life story and ensures a continuance of this tale for future generations.  This is my heritage, my identity, and my innateness to pass on as pure as I heard it without change, correction or embellishment minimizing as  best I can, the changes that occur naturally  as in all oral traditions, yet embracing this ever changing world of technology to carry it to infinity.

When I sing, I remember the singers, some long gone, never recorded, never graced a stage other than the sanctity of their own hearths, revered by their neighbors. I remember the simplicity and unhurried air that seemed as if time had stood still. I hear the voices of my favorite icons,  Josie Sheáin Jeaic Mac Donncha,  Dara Bán Mac Donnchadha, Sorcha Ní Ghuairim, Áine Bn Mhaitiú, gus Máire Nic Dhonncha  (Máire Cholman Johnny) as an gCeathrú Rua.  I hear the voice of  Antaine Pheatín Terry each time I sing Bruch na Carra Léith.  It is a treasure, an immeasurable wealth that I hope I can impart to others who are eager to journey with me there once again. Indeed, I have found an audience, eager students here in Nashville and all over the world. The history of this region shows that early Irish immigrants brought their prized possessions, oftentimes that being a musical instruments, the fiddle being the most popular because it could be played to sound sad and mournful or bright and bouncy.

The Irish Gift Community

As we return to this neck of the woods in the form of the Gift, we are humbled by the welcome and sincere interest in all aspects of our treasured culture. I am delighted to be in the company of Sean-Nós singers like Eamon Ó Donnachú and Meatí Jó Shéamuis, both masters of their art. I like to quote Tomás Ó Canainn, one of Ireland’s foremost uilleann pipers and founder of and singer with the famous traditional music trio Na Fili, as he asserts, ’no aspect of Irish music can be fully understood without a deep appreciation of Sean-Nós singing. It is the key which opens every lock’. Níl agamsa le rá ach go bhfuil mé thar a bheith buíoch go bhfuil deis agam an cultúr seo a chuir i láthair le mórtas  as ár n’aitheantas,ár noidhreact agus ár ndúchas.

“Everything that we inherit, the rain, the skies, the speech, and anybody who works in the English language in Ireland knows that there’s the dead ghost of Gaelic in the language we use and listen to and that those things will reflect our Irish identity.”

John McGahern

photo credit: sergey vyaltsev via photopin cc

Learning to Play Irish Flute

Learn to Play Irish Flute

by Jessica Dunnavant

Why Irish Flute?

I’m not Irish. I’m American, so it’s in the mix of my roots, but I’m also Scots-Irish, German, Dutch, Welsh, Manx and straight-up English—and those are just the family lines that we know of and can trace. I think it’s an important distinction to make, because we Americans tend to romanticize so much of our imagined Celtic heritage. My ancestors, real ones that I can name, climbed through the Cumberland Gap to claim a Revolutionary War land grant, and I as an adult live only 100 miles or so from the green valley where they settled. They weren’t Irish either, come to think of it, but finally, there’s the Irish—in some of their ancestors, people I can’t name, who boarded a ship and wound up in Virginia.

My Irish Flute

Before you decide I’m pointing my finger at my proud Irish-American friends, remember—I’m learning to play the Irish flute, meaning I’m just as capable of romanticizing! I can’t tell you in logical terms when I began to love traditional music. I have very little patience for pub songs, but I love the Bothy Band, Lunasa, Cherish the Ladies, Fiddler’s Bid (yes, I know they’re from Scotland!)…something about the whirl of notes, the combination of sounds as fiddle mixes with flute, with whistle, with pipes…it speaks to me clearly and calls me to play. Right now it calls me to play slowly, with lots of cursing and missed notes, but play I will!

I’m Cheating

I’m a cheater. I’m learning to play Irish flute, yes, but I’m a professional musician. Wouldn’t you think that would make it an easier thing to do? The problem is this: I’m a professional classical musician, meaning that I know lots of facts, historically speaking. I can tell you more than you want to know, ever, about music theory and the importance of many esoteric composers, people you’ve never heard of. It also means that as a performer, I am tied visually to a page of printed music. I am so used to reading the music I play that this world of Irish traditional music is a brand new place, far different from the musical world I’ve inhabited since the age of six. I love it! It fills me with glee to learn a new tune by ear, to play without a music stand blocking me from my fellow musicians or a prospective audience. This way of making music feels organic to me. The element of creativity required to deploy all the ornaments I’m learning into the tunes I’m learning is a breath of fresh air. So I only know six songs—so what!