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]

Irish Fiddle Concert: Liz Carroll, John Doyle & Daniel Lapp

Irish Fiddle : Cathal Hayden & Arty McGlynn

Irish Fiddle Ornaments

When I started playing jigs, my default bowing pattern made a groove like Pop Goes the Weasel: "Long-short, long-short, muberry bush, the long-short, long-short weasel."

And that still works for me without having to think about it. The one rule to keep in mind is: Do not slur from one string to another. This is unlike Irish reels. There, you can and do slur from one string to another. But not in jigs.

Getting the hang of ornaments

I think of the Irish fiddle ornaments as falling into melodic and percussive categories.

The three most common melodic moves are, the grace note, the triplet, the roll. These moves all use "neighbor notes." Any note within one step of the main melody note can be a neighbor note. In Irish fiddling, the neighbor note can be two steps away.

Grace notes are typically the upper neighbor, one whole step or half step higher. The grace note is usually played just before the beat.

In standard music notation it is shown as a very small note. In my tab charts I follow this convention by making the tab grace note much smaller than the main melody notes.

Triplets start with the melody note, go up to the neighbor note, and return to the melody note. The rhythm of this is a substitution of three internal beats for two.

Think of a shuffle pattern: dah-duh-duh. Now go: diddally-duh-duh. This ornament is very popular in Texas Contest style also.

The roll starts on the melody note, goes to the upper neighbor, back to the melody note, then to the lower neighbor, then back to the melody note. When the melodic note is played with the first finger, the upper neighbor is usually the third above, and is played with the third finger. In the roll, the neighbor notes are very light and quick, almost ghost notes.

Percussive finger and bow tricks

These next two moves are a lot of fun. They imitate the bodhran drum. I think of them as being rhythmic ornaments, not melodic.

The bow shake, (my term), is not intended to make three distinct notes. You should hear an interruption of the melodic sound when you do it.
Yes, it is a triplet pattern, but done so quickly that you just hear the sound of the bow digging into the string.

Finally, the cut, which you execute by dragging your finger across the (usually) open string without changing the bow direction. This also creates an interruption of the melodic sound. The violin as a percussion instrument!

Slidin' and Squawkin'

The first collection I found of Irish and Celtic tunes, way back in the day,was
English, Welsh, Scottish & Irish Fiddle Tunes by Robin Williamson.

This was published in 1976 and came with a vinyl recording of the author playing his tunes up to speed. I still play Carolan’s Concerto and Off to California, which came from this book originally.

Williamson writes about slides as being squawks and smears. A squawk is a quick slide and a smear is a lazy slide. The lazy slide has become a favorite of mine, often replacing several notes of a melody.

In slides the object is to start the slide flat to the target note. It can be a half step low or, sometimes, even more. When you slide up the neck, be sure to stop at the desired pitch.

Many times in my studio I coach students to do this correctly. The common mistake is to start at the target pitch and slide up. Be very careful to avoid this error. It just doesn’t sound right.

Quick slides, or squawks, can be done often. You will find some notes are better than others for a quick slide. The third note of the scale you are in, for example, is almost always good. The note attracts a slide, especially if it does not go by too fast.

The slower slide, the smear, will often take more time than the usual note allows. So you just steal time from another note. Then you take that note out back and shoot it. (Just kidding. You let the note back in later, when you don’t play the smear.)

Martin Hayes plays at Sale's wake

Gwennie Sale, a fine Irish fiddler (though born a Scot) was tragically killed in her prime by a negligent driver. She was married to accomplished guitarist Dennis Cahill and he plus a vast number of the Irish community, marked her passing with a day-long wake which started in this park (a favourite spot for Gwen) then moved to Martyr's, lasting until the wee hours.

Irish Fiddle Holidays for Adults

Irish fiddle lessons and courses for complete beginners and Level 1 and 2 intermediates

Kerry Fiddles specialise in fiddle virgins.
Even if you have never played any musical instrument before, by the end of the week you’ll be playing your first tune on the fiddle! Morning classes are a hoot, there’s no music theory, no pressure and no rush. Afternoons are free to explore the most beautiful part of Ireland.
For Intermediates, it’s a chance to devote a week to your music, to getting new tunes, improving technique and learning how to teach yourself.

We do our best learning when we’re relaxed, so don’t expect a studious music course. Though we aim to motivate, lay solid foundations and teach effective practice, our main concern is that you have fun.

Morning classes are held at our house, in a spacious music room with great acoustics and mountain views! Though it feels spectacularly remote, we are only 4 miles from Kenmare.


Afternoons are free for you to do what you want. There are loads of ideas on our 'Free Time' page and all are within easy driving distance of Kenmare

Most evenings will be spent at sessions in and around Kenmare. If there are any gigs on in the Kerry/Cork area we’ll try and get to those too. If you’re up to playing sessions, you’ll be very welcome to join us for tunes on Monday and Tuesday nights in Crowley’s bar.

Any of you familiar with Bristol Fiddles will know about our Weekend Workshops with Kevin Burke, Tommy Peoples, Brendan McGlinchey, Paul O'Shaughnessy, Ciaran Boyle, Pete Challoner, Des Hurley, Bernard and Gerard KilBride, Joe Scurfield and Henry Sears.

We're planning to put similar workshops on in Kenmare. Send us your e-mail address if you'd like advance notice.

http://www.kerryfiddles.com/

Irish Fiddle Regional Styles

An Article from Caoimhín Mac Aoidh on 
Regional Styles in Irish Fiddling

PART I

Approximately 90 years ago the Irish language was spoken without break along the entire southern western and northern coastline and as far inland as County Roscommon (Irish Language Survey of 1891). At this time the Irish of these areas, dialectically speaking, gradually flowed into one another, thus making distinct dialects along a continuous transverse section almost undetectable.

A language can be simply defined as a highly organised series of sounds and it is important to note that music, and in this case traditional Irish dance music, also fits well with this definition.

I feel that both language and music are reflective of their practitioners or creators. Northerners to me generally are straightforward people in their humour and speech. Their music is usually straightforward as well; their song, ornamentally, is also. The Ulster dialect of Irish is often referred to as bland or flat. The music of the more southern counties, as regards their sound, and Irish dialects are significantly lighter in nature. A link between the music and the language is herein implied.

I would like to speculate that prior to the drop-off in the acceptance and playing of traditional music as well as the speaking of the Irish language, dance music, like the language, existed in a continuous gradual blending of styles between areas. These gradations, however, most likely suffered some breaks in the face of insurmountable natural barriers such as the River Shannon and various mountain ranges which limited communication between regions. Postdating the decline in both the acceptance of both traditional dance music and Irish, it was exactly these barriers which helped to maintain the now remote, isolated pockets which held on to their traditions. By the turn of the century the blending of musical styles was defunct, with distinct styles, like Irish dialects, being recognisable only within isolated areas.

To support this idea, one can easily see the River Shannon acting as a natural barrier between County Clare, a musical province where the reel is a heavily emphasised rhythm, and Counties Kerry and Limerick, where a generation ago slides and polkas predominated. (The author acknowledges the presence of turf boats which, at the time in question did somewhat link these areas. It is significant to point out that The Foxhunter's Reel is claimed to be a native tune in both areas with each side claiming transportation to the other district to turf boats). Scattery Island, by all local accounts would have been enigmatic. As this island lies comfortably tucked in a harbour by the mouth of Poulnasherry Bay near Kilrush, it would be thought that the music of the island would be more representative of the Clare area, yet highly credible sources without exception maintain that the music of this island was more like that appreciated on the southern bank of the Shannon. These informants also tell me, however, that the islanders, although forced by geographical division to call themselves Claremen, preferred to consider themselves as separate "islanders". Another excellent example of geographic barriers seperating musical and linguistic provinces are the Bluestack and Sperrin Mountains of Counties Donegal and west Derry which isolate the latter from the flat basalt plain of east County Derry and County Antrim. The mountains of Connemara act similarly separating Connemara from the east County Galway plain.

Rapid mass transportation for the general population in Ireland has become a reality within approximately the last fifteen years. Essentially, what this means, in terms of traditional music, is that prior to the arrival of the motorcar, buses, etc. the country population (musicians included) were restricted to small localised areas. The boundaries of most of these areas were commonly dictated by natural geographic barriers such as rivers, mountains, watersheds, etc. This exposed the musicians within them to a local sphere of influence, thus promoting the continuence of local styles, as outside influences such as travelling musicians still remained minimal. (Some such as Johnny Doran, in recent years however, had a dynamic effect on the local style within certain areas).

As regards the mass media and recordings, I feel it can be truthfully stated that it will be these which deal the killer blow to localised fiddle styles. At present anyone can readily obtain a recording of nearly any type of fiddle style, thus I feel eventually contributing to the rise of homogenous fiddle styles based on heterogenous influences. The late Patrick Kelly of Cree, Co. Clare best summed up the evil side of recordings when he stated that "the worst thing that ever happened to the West Clare style of fiddling was the appearance of Micheal Coleman's records". I needn't go further to illustrate the gargantuan impact which the recordings of the late Sligo fiddle master had on the entire musical population.

I posted part 1 of the promised article on regional styles. In relation to this, I wish to point out that it was written back in the late 1970s and published in the early 1980s (I suspect about 1980), based on a reference to Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh as having been already married. At that time it was the only article published which directly addressed regional styles. Few if any, other than Philippe's, have been published, indicating the dearth of investigative initiatives directed at one of the most interesting and important subjects in the music.

I should point out also that while I still stand over the article, my views have changed a wee bit. I would also write it today with a more tempered view such as substituting a different word for "evil" as appearing in part one. Again, this is an indicator of where things stood then in the 1970s, where the "national" style was booming and there was a virtual intolerance of anything local