Here are some interviews I did when I was writing for GI…
…and I also did one with Liam O’Flynn and Andy Irvine. Andy’s webmistress later e-mailed me and asked if she could put it on his website, so of course I said Yes. Here it is.
Marcel Dadi (1982)
This is a Greek bouzouki duet from the late ’60s; I don’t know anything about it except the title, so if anyone knows who it’s by, please let me know.
I liked it so much I transcribed the whole thing—two bouzoukis, guitar chords and bass line. The original is in F, but I didn’t own a bouzouki at the time, so I transposed it for two mandolins to play in D, which I found easier. Both transcriptions are presented below.
In the F version, the original bass line (with only minor changes) and chords are playable on a single guitar, which is why the bass part is given in an (8vb) treble clef. In the D version, the original bass line would go down to low A, which requires a bass or bass guitar. (Of course, you can always capo the D version at 3 to make it easy for the guitarist.)
Dónal Clancy—Dog Rock
Right from the start Danú were one of my favourite Irish folk groups, and their live DVD in particular is superb.
As well as the main concert footage, it features interviews with all the individual members; and Dónal opens his with this engaging little piece in DADGAD tuning.
It’s title is not announced; but when I asked him, he said it was Dog Rock, named after “a rock we used to fish off that is behind where I’m sitting on the DVD”.
With the Chieftains, the Dubliners were both the most seminal and the longest-lasting of all the Irish groups of the Folk Revival. Combining both charismatic lead singers and brilliant instrumentalists, they took not only the folk world but, startlingly, even the English hit parade by storm.
Long, long ago, in a country far, far away, the Dubliners made their first LP; and Barney played two instrumentals (this was before John joined). And some record-company executive whose name is lost to history said “Tell me the names of these tunes, so that we may put them on the album cover.” And Barney said “The Swallow’s Tail Reel and The High Reel…”
And Barney continued “…and something-1 and something-2.”
But the executive was not listening, for he thought he already had the names of the tunes, not realising that both were medleys: the first being a medley of The Swallow’s Tail Reel and The High Reel, and the second tune, a medley of something-1 and something-2. So the LP appeared, and the medley of The Swallow’s Tail Reel and The High Reel was labelled The Swallow’s Tail Reel, and the medley of something-1 and something-2 was labelled The High Reel. And every Dubliners anthology ever since has perpetuated this mislabelling.
So the crucial question is, what are something-1 and something-2? By the simple expedient of sight-reading straight through the reels in O’Neill’s Dance Music of Ireland (1,001 Gems), I was able to work out that something-2 is The Boyne Hunt; but nobody I’d ever met or corresponded with (and I know some real experts) knew what the first tune is. So I asked a mutual friend to ask Barney when next he saw him.
Which he did. You can see Barney’s correction of the title of my transcription on the Wikipedia page for the Dubliners’ eponymous first album.
The Maids of Castlebar is a bonus track on the CD reissue of that same first album, informatively labelled Insturmental (thanks to Alan Ng and irishtune.info for running that one down).
The listing of The Knights of St Patrick (in the Piper’s Chair set) as The Nights of St Patrick is of course simply mindless, as is that of Fermoy Lasses as Fairmoye Lasses (I think it was Melody Maker that first pointed out that record companies are run by people who hate music).
Off to California and The Plains of Boyle are a couple of hornpipes that I recorded in the ’70s, probably from the Beeb’s Folk on Friday or something similar. The Dubliners seem never to have committed them to record.
Hungry for Irish music and entranced by the brilliant performances, I transcribed nearly all the early Dubliners instrumentals in my own early days. Here they are. The ones labelled complete include all the variations.
The Halliard—Tae the Weavers Gin Ye Go
The Halliard were Nic Jones’s first folk group, the other members being Dave Moran (vocals) and Nigel Paterson (mandolin); and they were more than the sum of their parts. Dave was the archetypal extraverted front man, while Nigel sang the lower harmony in The Halliard’s vocal arrangements. The combination of Nic’s guitar & Nigel’s mandolin provided a complex but sympathetic accompaniment to their broadside ballads.
When the Halliard broke up, Nic (after a period of careful consideration) decided to go solo. And so I was fortunate enough to hear him regularly over a total period of about three years.
The thing that struck me most about Nic, almost from the beginning, was his startling originality. Week after week, there would beautiful new arrangements that I’d never heard before. Quite frequently, I would hear a song once, and the next time I heard it, it would have been completely rearranged (as for example with The Outlandish Knight, because the old version “was a bit outlandish”). Some of his performances that impressed themselves permanently on my memory seem never to have been caught on tape by anybody—for instance, Lucy Wan, accompanied in a similar fashion to Annan Water and amazingly beautiful.
Now the Halliard”s recordings have been, properly, rescued from oblivion (although some of Nic’s solo albums, amazingly, remain there). Among my favourites were always two instrumentals by Nic and Nigel that were true duets (rather than solos plus accompaniment). The first was Down in Yon Forest (or All the Bells of Paradise), which at one point (I remember) slid smoothly into bell-like harmonics from Nigel; and it seems to have sunk without trace. The second was Tae the Weavers Gin Ye Go, and it was (mercifully) included in their first (joint) album, The Halliard and Jon Raven (1968); their contribution has now been reissued (with additional new material), and is available from Nic and Julia’s web site.
The Johnstons are seldom mentioned these days except as the starting-points for Paul Brady and Mick (then known as Mike) Moloney, but for my money they were one of the best groups ever for Irish traditional music. They understood their material perfectly, they were first rate instrumentally, and their harmonies were stunning—listen to Fuigfidh Mise ’n Baile Seo, for example.
The focus here, however, is on Mick, who was in the forefront of the next generation of tenor-banjo players after the Dubliners’ pioneer Barney McKenna.
The absolute pitches of some of the instrumentals are rather strange, whether one assumes GDAE tuning or CGDA. I’ve therefore standardised the transcriptions to the norm for GDAE.
The Kid on the Mountain, never identified by name on the album, is used as an interlude in Ian Campbell’s The Old Man’s Tale, on Colours of the Dawn. It is a slip jig, sometimes found in five parts, but here played in four.
For the rest, O’Carolan’s Concerto is on guitar, and The Kilfenora Jig (one of the most beautiful arrangements I’ve heard, incidentally) on mandolin: “It’s unusual to have an Irish jig with seven parts—five originally, with two more of another jig Is fearr port ná paidir (A Tune Is Better Than A Prayer) added on gradually by the musicians of the Kilfenora Ceílí Band until they became an integral part of the jig”.
The Johnstons’ albums are now conveniently available as threefers.
|Approx. Pitch||Transcription in||Video||Media||Download|
|The Fair-Haired Boy/Kiss the Maid Behind the Barrel/The Dawn||G/C/C||D/G/G||?||Buy CD||?|
|Hand Me Down the Tackle/Jenny’s Welcome to Charlie||B/B||D/D||YouTube||Buy CD||?|
|Joseph’s Fancy/A Trip to Durrow||G/G||D/D||YouTube||Buy CD||?|
|The Kid on the Mountain||Fm||Em||?||Buy CD||?|
|The Kilfenora Jig||C#||D||?||Buy CD||?|
|The Nine Points of Roguery/The Humours of Tulla||F/F||D/D||YouTube||Buy CD||?|
|O’Carolan’s Concerto||D||C (capo 2) & D||YouTube||Buy CD||?|
The King’s Head Tunebook
Throughout the first decade of the 21st century, the King’s Head pub in Campbell, California, hosted a fine folk-music session every week. The book was a collection of 101 tunes that I put together for new arrivals, in an attempt to mitigate the plethora of unfamiliar material they were confronted with. The majority were drawn from the repertoire of the fiddler John Taylor.
For those interested, you can find the Tunebook here.
The classic version of this 16th-century Christmas carol is of course by Steeleye Span, one of their (unfortunately few, especially in view of Maddie’s stunning voice) a cappella performances. The transcription here however, for once isn’t mine—it’s the original. I haven’t checked to see if it’s exactly what Steeleye sing, but it certainly sounds like it.
Dave Swarbrick & Martin Carthy
It seems hard to remember now that no one in the Folk Revival of the ’60s (except The Dubliners) was yet playing jigs and reels, and traditional musicians’ performances were often ruined by clomping piano-drivers (Michael Coleman being the archetypal example). Swarbrick was like a breath of fresh air, and Rags, Reels and Airs in particular was a revelation. No one then sounded like Swarbrick… although this is no longer true, since he’s been a huge influence on many, not least Eliza Carthy!
The mandolin-playing is just as brilliant as the fiddle, and some of the best tunes are where they're double-tracked.
|The Bottom of the Punchbowl Set||YouTube||Buy CD||Buy MP3|
|The Leitrim Fancy Set||?||Buy CD||Buy MP3|
|The Teetollar’s Medley||YouTube||Buy CD||Buy MP3|
Over a long and distinguished career, John has composed (and recorded) many fiddle tunes. He has now kindly made available for download both a book of the tunes and the recordings. To achieve this, right-click (or control-click) on a link and choose Save Link As… (or Download Linked File) from the pop-up menu.