Monday, March 30, 2009
Buying your first fiddle.
As a rule, don't spend less than US$250 on a first fiddle, because anything less than that is probably going to be a frustrating experience. Beyond that, it would be difficult for me to tell you what to look and listen for in a fiddle. If you are not yet a fiddler (or violinist), you probably shouldn't go out and do a lot of shopping for an instrument yourself. Reading lists of things to watch out for (cracks, cheap Chinese fiddles, well-cut scrolls, etc.) would help with that a little, but the sound of the instrument is most important (for most fiddlers, anyway--certainly for me). No matter how well you memorize a list of things to watch out for, looking at and listening to a large variety of instruments is necessary to get a good idea of what is and is not a good instrument; without knowing how to play, in all likelihood, you still won't be able to tell what a good fiddle sounds like. If you're just starting, then definitely get the advice of someone who plays. If you have a friend who plays, that's ideal; impose on him or her to go shopping with you. If just an acquaintance (who is a good fiddler), you might consider paying him or her to go shopping with you for an afternoon. If you know no one who plays, or if you just want to avoid that effort, you really won't go far wrong simply going to a reputable violin shop and getting a decent (say, 500 U.S. dollar) "student model." Sounds demeaning perhaps but they can make nice music. Or for that matter some good deals can be had by mail order from large companies that deal online, such as Elderly Instruments in Michigan--that's just one example. (My second fiddle was obtained that way and I got a good instrument for the price.) Of course, the problem with ordering instruments by mail order is that you must go to the considerable trouble and expense of mailing them back instruments that you don't like. Even for your first instrument, you'll surely want to hear it before you buy it. I strongly advise against trying to find a "deal" in a pawn shop or antique store by yourself. It is possible to find good deals in such places, but unless you know what to look for, you just can't know if what you're getting really is a "deal." The fact of the matter is that you usually get what you pay for, and a fiddle the dealer says is a "bargain" at $100 really probably is worth $100, i.e., you shouldn't bother with it if you're serious about learning.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Siobhan Peoples and Josephine Marsh
NOTES: from Filming in Ireland, http://www.maireid.com
We went on to Ennis, which is known as Ireland's Information Technology Town. In a unique government experiment, all of the residents of Ennis within a five-mile radius of the town were given free or subsidized computer equipment and DSL online access, in the mid-1990s.
At one of the local national schools in Ennis, we filmed Siobhan Peoples (daughter of celebrated Irish fiddler, Tommy Peoples) while she taught her fiddle class, as part of the Comhaltas Ceoltoiri Eireann music program. Josephine Marsh, the celebrated accordion player, met us there after Siobhan's class and together they led us up to the Drumore Nature Reserve, several miles out of Ennis.
The afternoon sun was warm as it sparkled on the water and illuminated the autumn leaves. Water birds sang, glided and swooped all around us. An old raised cement walkway lined with overarching sapling trees bridged the wide, deep lake to castle ruins on the other side. I nearly fainted to see Siobhan and Josephine perched precariously on the edge of the walkway, playing their precious instruments, with feet dangling and dancing over the dark water. Meanwhile, Joe, one buttock suspended over the water and the other providing ballast on terra firma, leaned his camera out to film them from an impossible angle. A bit later and less afraid, I sat on the ledge myself and interviewed them separately. It was a magical setting and they were beautiful and full of wonderful wisdom and music. When we had finished, the sun was about to set behind the trees, so we stayed on to capture the magnificent sunset on film.
We went on to Ennis, which is known as Ireland's Information Technology Town. In a unique government experiment, all of the residents of Ennis within a five-mile radius of the town were given free or subsidized computer equipment and DSL online access, in the mid-1990s.
At one of the local national schools in Ennis, we filmed Siobhan Peoples (daughter of celebrated Irish fiddler, Tommy Peoples) while she taught her fiddle class, as part of the Comhaltas Ceoltoiri Eireann music program. Josephine Marsh, the celebrated accordion player, met us there after Siobhan's class and together they led us up to the Drumore Nature Reserve, several miles out of Ennis.
The afternoon sun was warm as it sparkled on the water and illuminated the autumn leaves. Water birds sang, glided and swooped all around us. An old raised cement walkway lined with overarching sapling trees bridged the wide, deep lake to castle ruins on the other side. I nearly fainted to see Siobhan and Josephine perched precariously on the edge of the walkway, playing their precious instruments, with feet dangling and dancing over the dark water. Meanwhile, Joe, one buttock suspended over the water and the other providing ballast on terra firma, leaned his camera out to film them from an impossible angle. A bit later and less afraid, I sat on the ledge myself and interviewed them separately. It was a magical setting and they were beautiful and full of wonderful wisdom and music. When we had finished, the sun was about to set behind the trees, so we stayed on to capture the magnificent sunset on film.
Fiddlers Retreat
Fiddlers Retreat was established in 2005 by Theresa Bourke, musician and teacher. Having toured the world as a fiddle player with internationally renowned Irish dance shows Theresa decided the time had come to set for herself a new challenge.
She loved the idea of creating a holiday concept where musicians would visit her region and get to experience a real and authentic insight into Ireland by staying with her, learning traditional Irish music in the mornings, seeing the historic and scenic sights during the afternoons and going out to the sessions at night.
The Irish Fiddle and Culture Holiday was created.
On many occasions the partners of the musicians also wanted to come and enjoy the Fiddlers Retreat experience too, but without the Irish fiddle tuition. An alternative holiday packages for non-musicians was compiled.
The Ireland Appreciation package was created to include an array of different activites throughout the 6 night stay.
All holiday packages are designed and created specifically with you in mind and are tailor made to suit individual and group requirements.
Through the varitey of activities you will be welcomed into the heart and soul of the real, country Ireland.
Theresa made her dream a reality and now welcomes people from all over the world, both musicians and non-musicians.
Teachers at Fiddlers Retreat.
Theresa is the main fiddle teacher at Fiddlers Retreat and on occasion brings in other excellent and experienced instrumental, Irish language, Irish dancing teachers to take some classes.
Orchestra, Music Camp and Master-class availability:
Due to her experience as a teacher and performer Theresa is in demand as a teacher at fiddle camps both in Ireland and abroad.
Theresa also conducts master classes to orchestras and large music groups/schools visiting Ireland. Please contact her if you have an enquiry and wish to make a booking. Alternative accommodation is arranged to suit large groups.
School Tours
Fiddlers Retreat is an ideal and unique school tour option availavle to student groups over the ages of 16.
Packages are tailor made to suit group requirements.
Corporate Gifts and Team Building
The gift of a Fiddlers Retreat experience is often given to company employees. We also cater for Team building eemployee opportunities where a private and secluded location is guaranteed, new and creative challenges are the focus of the music lessons and sociable opportunities are pleantiful during the afternoons and evenings.
She loved the idea of creating a holiday concept where musicians would visit her region and get to experience a real and authentic insight into Ireland by staying with her, learning traditional Irish music in the mornings, seeing the historic and scenic sights during the afternoons and going out to the sessions at night.
The Irish Fiddle and Culture Holiday was created.
On many occasions the partners of the musicians also wanted to come and enjoy the Fiddlers Retreat experience too, but without the Irish fiddle tuition. An alternative holiday packages for non-musicians was compiled.
The Ireland Appreciation package was created to include an array of different activites throughout the 6 night stay.
All holiday packages are designed and created specifically with you in mind and are tailor made to suit individual and group requirements.
Through the varitey of activities you will be welcomed into the heart and soul of the real, country Ireland.
Theresa made her dream a reality and now welcomes people from all over the world, both musicians and non-musicians.
Teachers at Fiddlers Retreat.
Theresa is the main fiddle teacher at Fiddlers Retreat and on occasion brings in other excellent and experienced instrumental, Irish language, Irish dancing teachers to take some classes.
Orchestra, Music Camp and Master-class availability:
Due to her experience as a teacher and performer Theresa is in demand as a teacher at fiddle camps both in Ireland and abroad.
Theresa also conducts master classes to orchestras and large music groups/schools visiting Ireland. Please contact her if you have an enquiry and wish to make a booking. Alternative accommodation is arranged to suit large groups.
School Tours
Fiddlers Retreat is an ideal and unique school tour option availavle to student groups over the ages of 16.
Packages are tailor made to suit group requirements.
Corporate Gifts and Team Building
The gift of a Fiddlers Retreat experience is often given to company employees. We also cater for Team building eemployee opportunities where a private and secluded location is guaranteed, new and creative challenges are the focus of the music lessons and sociable opportunities are pleantiful during the afternoons and evenings.
Siobhan Peoples Interview
Mad For Playing
An Interview by Brendan Taffe
Siobhan Peoples is a mighty fiddle player, and a highlight of a trip to Ennis for many a musical tourist has long been the chance to hear her play in a session around town. With the recent release of a duet album with accordion player Murty Ryan, Time On Our Hands, many more people will have the pleasure of hearing her play. She is also a strong argument for a gene of musical talent that's yet to be found on the DNA maps: her father, of course, is the legendary Tommy Peoples, and her grandmother on her mother's side was Kitty Linnane, the piano player with the storied Kilfenora Ceili Band. For all that one might expect a certain quest for fame, or sense of self-importance, but Siobhan is interested only in the music. In her own words, she's "mad for it." We met over a cup of tea in Queen's Hotel, Ennis, County Clare, Ireland.
How did you get started playing the fiddle?
'Twould have been from hearing it from a very young age. We lived with my grandparents until I was about seven. My grandmother was Kitty Linnane, who played piano with the Kilfenora Ceili Band and the band would have been pretty active at that time. I mean they were old, but they still practiced an awful lot. We moved to Toonagh then, and Frank Custy was the headmaster in school there. Everybody who went through the school played something. You would start on whistle, and then pick something and they would teach you the basics.
Was it your idea to start on the fiddle, or your father's?
I think it was just the obvious choice. I was about seven, so I don't think it was based on choice as such. It would have been Frank that gave me the fiddle at first and probably because Dad played it and he played it himself.
So, all of your mates at school played traditional music?
Everyone at the school learnt and played something. At the time, you weren't allowed to give it up until you left, but Frank just involved everybody. We would have gotten together a lot for competitions; ceili bands and duets and trios. Frank had children my age, so there were a few of us that were very interested and it was very easy to keep it up.
Which is quite different from players a generation older, who didn't have anyone to play with.
I had a bit of that later on, in my teenage years. I suppose that was the early '80s, and even people that did play didn't talk about it much. But I was mad for playing. I'd have been out all the time, but it was always with older people.
The other teenagers wouldn't admit to it?
We were all at school, and in some families you had to concentrate on your studies. But I was a bit rebellious that way. My grandmother, Kitty Linnane, would invite little groups to play; like keyboard and three musicians. I would have played with them a good bit from an early age, twelve or thirteen, and then with Dad as well. At about sixteen or seventeen, I branched away from family and met up with a few of my own friends and started to play with them. But it was always in a very safe environment and always very local; around here and in North Clare: Kilfenora, Corofin, Lisdoonvarna, Doolin.
Apart from being a fiddler in your own right, what's it like to be the daughter of such a renowned fiddle player?
Growing up I would never have noticed it, because I was so mad to learn what he knew, and was just mad for playing anyway that I would have kind of inhaled it. If Dad was playing at home I would have listened. I was mad to learn so I would have picked up a lot of his accent, his fiddle-playing accent. Then I would still have been a teenager, doing gigs with him in Dublin and meeting people. I think the problem was more with other people than with us. They'd say, "Ah, you play just like your father." Well, I don't really. "Ah, you do, you do." But you didn't play well enough like him, and you'd never be as good as him, and all this kind of thing, or you have to be better than him. It was never just, "Enjoy your fiddle-playing." It was always comparisons, and that was difficult.
The pressure of it.
Well, when you're young it's a pressure because you're only learning. You're a teenager; you're not even fully formed in thought or anything else, so you're kind of learning all the sames before you find out what your differences are -- outside of fiddle-playing. I suppose it would have undermined me a little bit at that time, but I wouldn't worry about it so much now. It still goes on, but it doesn't bother me.
Because you're more comfortable in what your own style is.
Absolutely. It's always going to be very Peoples-based. You know you can't get away from your family, nor would I have any desire to. I'm just more comfortable with the thought that other people have nothing better to be doing than comparing us.
Outside of family, who were major influences on your playing?
Frank Custy was a big influence. For fiddle players, I'd love all the northern connection -- Paddy Glackin, and any Donegal fiddle player you'd want to mention. Locally, Dad would have been the biggest; Paul O'Shaugnessy; this guy Maurice Bradley from Derry; my cousin James Gibson. When I heard Steve Cooney [the guitar player], he would have been a major influence, just because of the change of chord progressions. You went from a nice, safe piano and guitar back-up to mayhem, and it just seemed to suit my brain completely.
How did those chord progressions influence your fiddle playing?
It just opens up so much more possibility in a tune. Most of my variations would have been based on chord progressions, and when those chords were blown apart, and suddenly they're putting in notes that you've never heard of in that scale, or never heard played on a piano -- it would have influenced even the tunes that I write. I've been told since that a waltz I wrote sounds very Swedish. I've never sat down and listened to Swedish music, but it certainly doesn't sound like an old Irish tune.
I was very lucky in that I'm in the same age group as Dermot Byrne and Michelle O'Sullivan. I think when you see people your own age pushing out boundaries, influences are more about possibilities than actually copying something. You have to copy initially before you can adopt it to your own, but I think it's that they give more possibilities than actual ways of how to play something.
You've had some trouble with your left hand?
I lost the power of two fingers -- just for fiddle playing. They're perfect otherwise. It's just such a controlled space and a very small space, very limited, and the hand just kind of said "No." It was like that for a long time and just progressively got worse. I went to lots of people who could tell me what it wasn't, but there didn't seem to be much of a fix for it. So I just developed my own style of playing after that, which is basically with two fingers. I use these two, my index and middle finger mainly, and I have some little power back in this [ring finger] now, so I could use that for high B's. I'm going between first and second position all the time; it's not as difficult as it sounds. If you saw it, you wouldn't actually notice it. I position between the two, so it's all in the wrist.
And you can still get the rolls and the ornaments?
There's lots of things I can't do.
When did you first have that trouble?
When I was about sixteen or seventeen, I'd get a cramp, but it would be gone after a couple of minutes. Then a couple of years later it just kind of gave up altogether. I think a lot of it was panic. When I'd take out the fiddle I'd just tense up because I didn't know what was going to happen; you couldn't rely on it to be right.
Was there a period of time where you couldn't play at all?
I still can't play, if you know what I mean. I can play, but not play the fiddle the way it should be played. When I went to start to go to see people, they'd check and all this stuff and the first question was should I stop. They all said no, can't see any benefit in you stopping, because it wasn't anything obvious. So it probably did stop me from playing, but I didn't stop, if that's understandable.
How long did it take to develop this two-fingered style?
Ah sure, it was like learning all over again. I'd still be improving at it if you know what I mean, but it took a good few years. When you've learned something and then you have to do it differently, you have to forget about how you used to do it in the first place. I wasn't doing that with the two fingers and it sounded horrendous. Once I had kind of forgotten, I suppose, I started to learn. It's basically just having the trust in your judgment. I had everything else, and knew where everything was on the fiddle, but it was just judgment.
How do you think your style has changed because of that process?
Well, it obviously differs because of the physical limitations. I can't really do third finger rolls; even with the adapted style, it's a hard stretch. My style now is an awful lot simpler than it used to be, because it's limited, but I think in a way it helped me to listen to rhythm more. I hadn't many options when I couldn't do the stuff I wanted to do, so you have look for something else. Before it would have all been getting out your books and learning the positions. You want to conquer your instrument and that kind of thing. I couldn't do that, so I just got into the whole idea that basically all the tunes are there, but they're just a way of expressing the same couple of rhythms all the time. I've definitely concentrated on my bow hand more -- I'm still in the process of it, if you know what I mean, but I had come through the whole re-learning thing and come to a point where I could sit in any session. It's in the last couple of years that I'd be concentrating more on the power of the bow hand, realizing that it's half the instrument, rather than just something to express what you do with your fingers.
Has the scene here in Ennis changed since you were a teen?
Oh God, yeah. I used to do a night with Dad on a Tuesday in Brogan's, a pub that had a history of music. I'd say there was about five or six sessions a week back then in the whole town, and that would have been good. Cruise's opened here, next door, about eleven years ago, and it was strictly traditional seven nights a week. It was just great. For us locally we'd go in there, and they wanted you there for your music. Then some festivals started running, and the next thing people started moving to Ennis. I suppose economically the country was doing so well that it was easier to stay around; there wouldn't have been much here work-wise to keep musicians here earlier. I'd say you have four or five times the amount of musicians in the environs at the moment than you ever would have before. It's as good as anywhere else. ...
Now that that's done, and you've relearned how to play with fewer fingers, are there things you're hoping to do next, musically?
I'm thirty-one years of age, and I've been playing professionally for twenty of that. Part of me is screaming for a break from it all, and if I was to do that I don't where I'd end up afterwards. If I was to keep playing, I'd love to develop it more in a concert setting. In sessions, you're playing against loud noise in a pub setting. So I wouldn't mind doing it on a more intimate level, so that I could hear it and they could hear it, and there's more interaction. Now I think I'd actually like that, but I'd have to wait until the wee ones are a bit bigger. We'll be practicing around Ireland for a while before we take off with our big bus.
I'm lucky in a way because music has been in my family for so long. My grandmother did it as well; that was her career, outside of raising a family, and it's probably more acceptable for me to do it. I'm the third generation of it in my family, so it wouldn't be as strange for me as for someone who's the first musician in their family and suddenly they want to leave their kids somewhere for a week and head off playing music. There would be very much a sense of purpose -- I'm very grateful to my family in that way, that they're very accepting of what I do, and that I need to go away sometimes to play. I'd like to at least have the girls sitting in school, and more on their feet.
You feel a sense of purpose when you're playing?
Well, I mean I love it, really. If I was never to play professionally I wouldn't care; I don't know was I ever meant to sit on the world and proclaim from the fiddle. There are musicians that need to do that, and are here for that. I'd be quite happy just playing away here, if it didn't become the same old stuff all the time, just as long as there's a bit of a choice.
[For the full text of this interview and Siobhan's tune "Nicos' Mermaid," subscribe to Fiddler Magazine!]
[Brendan Taaffe is a farmer and teacher in central Vermont. He plays fiddle, guitar, and penny whistle. He has a CD called Come Sit By My Chair. www.brendantaaffe.com]
An Interview by Brendan Taffe
Siobhan Peoples is a mighty fiddle player, and a highlight of a trip to Ennis for many a musical tourist has long been the chance to hear her play in a session around town. With the recent release of a duet album with accordion player Murty Ryan, Time On Our Hands, many more people will have the pleasure of hearing her play. She is also a strong argument for a gene of musical talent that's yet to be found on the DNA maps: her father, of course, is the legendary Tommy Peoples, and her grandmother on her mother's side was Kitty Linnane, the piano player with the storied Kilfenora Ceili Band. For all that one might expect a certain quest for fame, or sense of self-importance, but Siobhan is interested only in the music. In her own words, she's "mad for it." We met over a cup of tea in Queen's Hotel, Ennis, County Clare, Ireland.
How did you get started playing the fiddle?
'Twould have been from hearing it from a very young age. We lived with my grandparents until I was about seven. My grandmother was Kitty Linnane, who played piano with the Kilfenora Ceili Band and the band would have been pretty active at that time. I mean they were old, but they still practiced an awful lot. We moved to Toonagh then, and Frank Custy was the headmaster in school there. Everybody who went through the school played something. You would start on whistle, and then pick something and they would teach you the basics.
Was it your idea to start on the fiddle, or your father's?
I think it was just the obvious choice. I was about seven, so I don't think it was based on choice as such. It would have been Frank that gave me the fiddle at first and probably because Dad played it and he played it himself.
So, all of your mates at school played traditional music?
Everyone at the school learnt and played something. At the time, you weren't allowed to give it up until you left, but Frank just involved everybody. We would have gotten together a lot for competitions; ceili bands and duets and trios. Frank had children my age, so there were a few of us that were very interested and it was very easy to keep it up.
Which is quite different from players a generation older, who didn't have anyone to play with.
I had a bit of that later on, in my teenage years. I suppose that was the early '80s, and even people that did play didn't talk about it much. But I was mad for playing. I'd have been out all the time, but it was always with older people.
The other teenagers wouldn't admit to it?
We were all at school, and in some families you had to concentrate on your studies. But I was a bit rebellious that way. My grandmother, Kitty Linnane, would invite little groups to play; like keyboard and three musicians. I would have played with them a good bit from an early age, twelve or thirteen, and then with Dad as well. At about sixteen or seventeen, I branched away from family and met up with a few of my own friends and started to play with them. But it was always in a very safe environment and always very local; around here and in North Clare: Kilfenora, Corofin, Lisdoonvarna, Doolin.
Apart from being a fiddler in your own right, what's it like to be the daughter of such a renowned fiddle player?
Growing up I would never have noticed it, because I was so mad to learn what he knew, and was just mad for playing anyway that I would have kind of inhaled it. If Dad was playing at home I would have listened. I was mad to learn so I would have picked up a lot of his accent, his fiddle-playing accent. Then I would still have been a teenager, doing gigs with him in Dublin and meeting people. I think the problem was more with other people than with us. They'd say, "Ah, you play just like your father." Well, I don't really. "Ah, you do, you do." But you didn't play well enough like him, and you'd never be as good as him, and all this kind of thing, or you have to be better than him. It was never just, "Enjoy your fiddle-playing." It was always comparisons, and that was difficult.
The pressure of it.
Well, when you're young it's a pressure because you're only learning. You're a teenager; you're not even fully formed in thought or anything else, so you're kind of learning all the sames before you find out what your differences are -- outside of fiddle-playing. I suppose it would have undermined me a little bit at that time, but I wouldn't worry about it so much now. It still goes on, but it doesn't bother me.
Because you're more comfortable in what your own style is.
Absolutely. It's always going to be very Peoples-based. You know you can't get away from your family, nor would I have any desire to. I'm just more comfortable with the thought that other people have nothing better to be doing than comparing us.
Outside of family, who were major influences on your playing?
Frank Custy was a big influence. For fiddle players, I'd love all the northern connection -- Paddy Glackin, and any Donegal fiddle player you'd want to mention. Locally, Dad would have been the biggest; Paul O'Shaugnessy; this guy Maurice Bradley from Derry; my cousin James Gibson. When I heard Steve Cooney [the guitar player], he would have been a major influence, just because of the change of chord progressions. You went from a nice, safe piano and guitar back-up to mayhem, and it just seemed to suit my brain completely.
How did those chord progressions influence your fiddle playing?
It just opens up so much more possibility in a tune. Most of my variations would have been based on chord progressions, and when those chords were blown apart, and suddenly they're putting in notes that you've never heard of in that scale, or never heard played on a piano -- it would have influenced even the tunes that I write. I've been told since that a waltz I wrote sounds very Swedish. I've never sat down and listened to Swedish music, but it certainly doesn't sound like an old Irish tune.
I was very lucky in that I'm in the same age group as Dermot Byrne and Michelle O'Sullivan. I think when you see people your own age pushing out boundaries, influences are more about possibilities than actually copying something. You have to copy initially before you can adopt it to your own, but I think it's that they give more possibilities than actual ways of how to play something.
You've had some trouble with your left hand?
I lost the power of two fingers -- just for fiddle playing. They're perfect otherwise. It's just such a controlled space and a very small space, very limited, and the hand just kind of said "No." It was like that for a long time and just progressively got worse. I went to lots of people who could tell me what it wasn't, but there didn't seem to be much of a fix for it. So I just developed my own style of playing after that, which is basically with two fingers. I use these two, my index and middle finger mainly, and I have some little power back in this [ring finger] now, so I could use that for high B's. I'm going between first and second position all the time; it's not as difficult as it sounds. If you saw it, you wouldn't actually notice it. I position between the two, so it's all in the wrist.
And you can still get the rolls and the ornaments?
There's lots of things I can't do.
When did you first have that trouble?
When I was about sixteen or seventeen, I'd get a cramp, but it would be gone after a couple of minutes. Then a couple of years later it just kind of gave up altogether. I think a lot of it was panic. When I'd take out the fiddle I'd just tense up because I didn't know what was going to happen; you couldn't rely on it to be right.
Was there a period of time where you couldn't play at all?
I still can't play, if you know what I mean. I can play, but not play the fiddle the way it should be played. When I went to start to go to see people, they'd check and all this stuff and the first question was should I stop. They all said no, can't see any benefit in you stopping, because it wasn't anything obvious. So it probably did stop me from playing, but I didn't stop, if that's understandable.
How long did it take to develop this two-fingered style?
Ah sure, it was like learning all over again. I'd still be improving at it if you know what I mean, but it took a good few years. When you've learned something and then you have to do it differently, you have to forget about how you used to do it in the first place. I wasn't doing that with the two fingers and it sounded horrendous. Once I had kind of forgotten, I suppose, I started to learn. It's basically just having the trust in your judgment. I had everything else, and knew where everything was on the fiddle, but it was just judgment.
How do you think your style has changed because of that process?
Well, it obviously differs because of the physical limitations. I can't really do third finger rolls; even with the adapted style, it's a hard stretch. My style now is an awful lot simpler than it used to be, because it's limited, but I think in a way it helped me to listen to rhythm more. I hadn't many options when I couldn't do the stuff I wanted to do, so you have look for something else. Before it would have all been getting out your books and learning the positions. You want to conquer your instrument and that kind of thing. I couldn't do that, so I just got into the whole idea that basically all the tunes are there, but they're just a way of expressing the same couple of rhythms all the time. I've definitely concentrated on my bow hand more -- I'm still in the process of it, if you know what I mean, but I had come through the whole re-learning thing and come to a point where I could sit in any session. It's in the last couple of years that I'd be concentrating more on the power of the bow hand, realizing that it's half the instrument, rather than just something to express what you do with your fingers.
Has the scene here in Ennis changed since you were a teen?
Oh God, yeah. I used to do a night with Dad on a Tuesday in Brogan's, a pub that had a history of music. I'd say there was about five or six sessions a week back then in the whole town, and that would have been good. Cruise's opened here, next door, about eleven years ago, and it was strictly traditional seven nights a week. It was just great. For us locally we'd go in there, and they wanted you there for your music. Then some festivals started running, and the next thing people started moving to Ennis. I suppose economically the country was doing so well that it was easier to stay around; there wouldn't have been much here work-wise to keep musicians here earlier. I'd say you have four or five times the amount of musicians in the environs at the moment than you ever would have before. It's as good as anywhere else. ...
Now that that's done, and you've relearned how to play with fewer fingers, are there things you're hoping to do next, musically?
I'm thirty-one years of age, and I've been playing professionally for twenty of that. Part of me is screaming for a break from it all, and if I was to do that I don't where I'd end up afterwards. If I was to keep playing, I'd love to develop it more in a concert setting. In sessions, you're playing against loud noise in a pub setting. So I wouldn't mind doing it on a more intimate level, so that I could hear it and they could hear it, and there's more interaction. Now I think I'd actually like that, but I'd have to wait until the wee ones are a bit bigger. We'll be practicing around Ireland for a while before we take off with our big bus.
I'm lucky in a way because music has been in my family for so long. My grandmother did it as well; that was her career, outside of raising a family, and it's probably more acceptable for me to do it. I'm the third generation of it in my family, so it wouldn't be as strange for me as for someone who's the first musician in their family and suddenly they want to leave their kids somewhere for a week and head off playing music. There would be very much a sense of purpose -- I'm very grateful to my family in that way, that they're very accepting of what I do, and that I need to go away sometimes to play. I'd like to at least have the girls sitting in school, and more on their feet.
You feel a sense of purpose when you're playing?
Well, I mean I love it, really. If I was never to play professionally I wouldn't care; I don't know was I ever meant to sit on the world and proclaim from the fiddle. There are musicians that need to do that, and are here for that. I'd be quite happy just playing away here, if it didn't become the same old stuff all the time, just as long as there's a bit of a choice.
[For the full text of this interview and Siobhan's tune "Nicos' Mermaid," subscribe to Fiddler Magazine!]
[Brendan Taaffe is a farmer and teacher in central Vermont. He plays fiddle, guitar, and penny whistle. He has a CD called Come Sit By My Chair. www.brendantaaffe.com]
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