Interfaith Ceili anyone?

Thomas

Thomas

So it goes ...
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OK, so Sunday evening my family and friends took me to an Traditional Irish music night at The Boogaloo, to celebrate my birthday.

A core of four or five musicians playing, with a constant stream of guests sitting in for a tune or two, so at one point about a dozen, with two girls step-dancing in a corner and everyone else stomping along.

I was nearly banjaxed when the harpist played a solo rendition of "Women of Ireland" — dad used to shut himself in the bedroom and play this when the homesickness really got to him, I can't listen to it without the memories flowing back ... but this was a social, and a birthday, and something of a party, so no time for that, and off to the bar for refills all round.

The upshot of all this is, in a moment of Bushmills-induced euphoria, I spoke to the piper about the chances of an old fart learning to play the uilleann pipes. Great enthusiasm all round, I've got an email address, a promise of lessons, and someone willing and ready to come shopping with me to get me started.

First step: The purchase of an Irish Low Whistle, which is the same tuning and fingering as the pipes. Learn that, you can play the pipes.

When I can hold a tune, I'll put out a call, and we can get together, just for the craic ...

God bless all,

Thomas
 
If someone could/would loan me a harp and some time, I might be up for a bit of playing (just have to re-familiarize myself with the instrument [I refuse to try the Welsh harp, which has three sets of strings, I believe].)

Otherwise, I'm up for some dancing. :eek:

Phyllis Sidhe_Uaine
 
Yeah, good luck with that! It's interesting how cultural folk music can really grip you. I know lots of folks who are super enamored of Celtic stuff. Maybe they watched Brave Heart one too many times, but the fixation seems almost innate. I have a thing for black gospel music. I have no idea where that came from. I don't much care for Irish drinking songs, but I know plenty of people who just about wet their knickers over that kind of stuff.

Chris
 
Hi Chris —

My grandfather walked out on a well-to-do family business in Ayrshire (Scotland) cos his dad reckoned the violin was a 'common' instrument.

He emigrated to Ireland and learnt to play there. Story goes he gave my dad a tin fiddle for his 3rd birthday, who promptly sat on it, and g-dad said 'the boy wants a real one.'

Dad used to bunk off school (with parental connivance) to practice 8 hours a day! At 16 he was winning competitions all over Ireland ...

I have a vivid memory of dad giving me a fiddle, me going 'scrape' and him taking it away, "He'll never play ... "

Dad and I were chalk and cheese, opposite in almost everything, we didn't talk, we did things together (he got me out of bed the night before my 8th birthday to open my present, a trainset, because he couldn't wait another day to play). We built go-karts, we built box-kites the size of outhouses ...

My teen years were fraught with dad/son tensions, not helped by differing outlooks on almost everything, neither of us understood what made the other one tick ... except ...

It was common knowledge that when I went to see dad play, he'd play the house down. When I brought a girl to see him play, then such music would come off the bow, no word of a lie, I've seen musicians go weak at the knees. Even though I did not play an instrument, when dad played there was a dialogue between father and son that only he and I knew was taking place ... another family (not-quite-true) story was the drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend I brought to see dad play. "What d'you think of that?" I asked. "Not my thing, really," came the reply. That relationship ended very shortly after.

When I brought my love to see him play, he played for me, and made eyes at her, all night. He knew before I did that she was the one.

So yeah, there's Gaelic genes I cannot deny, and the music's there ... but there's me and me da', and it might be pure sentiment, but it's something else altogether.

God bless,

Thomas
 
China Cat Sunflower said:
It's interesting how cultural folk music can really grip you. I know lots of folks who are super enamored of Celtic stuff. Maybe they watched Brave Heart one too many times, but the fixation seems almost innate.
Chris
Click to expand...

It might be said that music is our common, original language. So-called folk music is perhaps the most direct expression and means of communication between us. More modern music is created with more intellectual effort thus making it more culture-specific and less directly communicative.

s.
 
Thomas said:
Hi Chris —

My grandfather walked out on a well-to-do family business in Ayrshire (Scotland) cos his dad reckoned the violin was a 'common' instrument.

He emigrated to Ireland and learnt to play there. Story goes he gave my dad a tin fiddle for his 3rd birthday, who promptly sat on it, and g-dad said 'the boy wants a real one.'

Dad used to bunk off school (with parental connivance) to practice 8 hours a day! At 16 he was winning competitions all over Ireland ...

I have a vivid memory of dad giving me a fiddle, me going 'scrape' and him taking it away, "He'll never play ... "

Dad and I were chalk and cheese, opposite in almost everything, we didn't talk, we did things together (he got me out of bed the night before my 8th birthday to open my present, a trainset, because he couldn't wait another day to play). We built go-karts, we built box-kites the size of outhouses ...

My teen years were fraught with dad/son tensions, not helped by differing outlooks on almost everything, neither of us understood what made the other one tick ... except ...

It was common knowledge that when I went to see dad play, he'd play the house down. When I brought a girl to see him play, then such music would come off the bow, no word of a lie, I've seen musicians go weak at the knees. Even though I did not play an instrument, when dad played there was a dialogue between father and son that only he and I knew was taking place ... another family (not-quite-true) story was the drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend I brought to see dad play. "What d'you think of that?" I asked. "Not my thing, really," came the reply. That relationship ended very shortly after.

When I brought my love to see him play, he played for me, and made eyes at her, all night. He knew before I did that she was the one.

So yeah, there's Gaelic genes I cannot deny, and the music's there ... but there's me and me da', and it might be pure sentiment, but it's something else altogether.

God bless,

Thomas
Click to expand...
That was a real pleasure to read, Thomas. Thank you!

Chris
 
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