Secret Society: Sessions

Interesting thing about live music, and traditional Irish music in particular. It's oftentimes elusive, like it's some sort of secret society that you need to find. In Dublin's Temple Bar area, where the tourists gather en masse every evening, out of nearly every pub you can hear a rollicking sing-along of some over-played Irish song that, to me, is such a turn-off. It may be because I don't like the drunken crowd, or it may be because the songs are on my list of Songs that Must be Retired. I refer to it as "shlock Irish," combining the Jewish roots I was born with the Irish ones I've adopted. At any rate, that's not the music I seek out.

The music I seek out is the the session music, which is played mostly by local amateurs who know lots of the same tunes and play for the sheer joy of it...and perhaps a few free pints. It is something special, something delightful, and something fraught with so much anxiety that it takes all the courage I can muster to approach an unknown pub where I hear there might possibly be some session going on, but only on a Tuesday when the moon is full, and definitely not before 9:30, which means 10:30 at the earliest, but only if Seamus is leading it that week, and if he isn't, well, we might need to wait until 11-ish. Ish. Have a pint and go sit in the corner and don't touch anything.

Oh, but when you find it, what a treat. One day I hope to have enough tunes swirling around my head to feel comfortable actually playing the whistle at a session. When I return to DC, I'm planning to check out the slow session I've heard about at the Auld Shebeen in Fairfax, just to get some experience playing with others. And practice, practice, practice. The whistle brings me too much joy in playing to not play well, or at least better.

One thing you definitely do not want to do unless you're really, really good, is bring a bodhrán to a session where nobody knows you. I've done it. Don't do it. If they're polite, the other players will acknowledge your presence, smile a sort of wince-y smile, and then look at each other as if to say, "I hope that's just pizza he's got in that case." And I say that with the full knowledge that I've been that player. I mean, I have rhythm, I can knock out a decent beat. But I hope I've never been the one who thinks that the bodhrán is equal in any way to the melody instruments. The bodhrán is background, it's support. It is not a solo instrument, unless you're Jesse Winch or John Joe Kelly.

I do sing traditional music, so when I am at a session where nobody knows me, I try to let at least one person know that I'm a sean-nós (more or less pronounced "shan noss," Irish for "old style") singer, and maybe I'll sing a song or two during the evening.

There are a few places in Dublin that I've found "the good stuff," but the majority of sessions, and the ones that aren't over-run with tourists, seem to be tucked away in little villages and towns, miles or hours away from Dublin. One of the best places I found when I spent a month in Galway was The Crane Bar, which always had great sessions. This trip, I got lots of recommendations of places to drive to, but I will probably try visiting those types of places when I have a travel companion and a car. As much as I enjoy sessions, driving 2 hours each way on the other side of the road isn't appealing to me this trip. And DC has some awesome sessions, which I definitely need to make more time for.

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