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Music has a strong hold on Ireland, perhaps because a songline runs through the geography and the history of the country. It would be possible to drive any circuitous route you liked from the north of Donegal to the southernmost tip of Cork and, as you travelled, sing songs and play tunes that named and described every mile of the landscape passed. ‘The Enniskillen Dragoons', 'The Hackler of Cootehall', 'The Kesh Jig', 'The Mountains of Mourne', 'The Fields of Athenry', 'The Limerick Rake', 'The Bantry Girls Lament.' Every parish, village, market town, hill and lake comes with its own song.

So, for the traveller in Ireland, music is the key to understanding and to feeling the spirit of the Irish. And
tracking down that music can take you to some of the remotest and least known corners of the land, as well as into the thick of 'Sham-roguery' and Leprechaun-cliche.

The reward for this musical safari, is being in the right place at the right time to catch a 'mighty session.' I'm not talking about the Aran sweaters, guitars and 'Danny Boy' stuff, but the real sessions where musicians, fuelled by alcohol, thick smoke and the weather outside, lash into jigs and reels, lifting each other's playing to ever greater heights, and carrying anyone listening along with them.

It's the uncertainty, the randomness of sessions that are their attraction. Nobody plans the best ones. Or knows exactly where one might start up. The right musicians meet, a few more people gather around in anticipation, there's drink and talk to pass the hours until the 'right' moment. Then instrument cases are pulled down from shelves and fished from under benches. A fiddle is taken out and tuned. An air started. A concertina is unboxed, then a bouzouki. More players join in. And suddenly the session's on. It's a kind of alchemy that may or may not produce gold - you put the ingredients together and see what happens.

Traditional musicians need an audience, but a knowledgeable audience, and they'll travel to find one. Here's a paradox. It costs good money to get some mediocre guitar tickler to sit in a faked-up Irish bar playing 'The Rose of Tralee' for guidebook-toting tourists. But the cream of Ireland's musicians, household names with CDs selling in five continents, will drive for hours to perch on rickety, vinyl-covered stools in some draughty, crossroads pub, AND they'll pay for their own drinks as well, just for the opportunity to trade tunes with their peers and play for people who know enough about music to know when it's really good.

To know a little about sessions and Irish music is enough to take any traveller in Ireland beyond the Blarney Stone and Lakes of Killarney, and 'Medieval' banquets and into the heart of a living tradition.

Sessions: a session is any informal gathering of musicians playing together. Usually held in a pub, a session's defining characteristic is the blurred divide between audience and musicians. "Get up and give us a song", somebody supping a quiet pint at the back of the room will be encouraged, whilst musicians will randomly stop playing to talk with friends or roll cigarettes or the better to savour their drink. Nobody's being paid to play and the musicians are free to follow their muse as they will. Sessions produce the kind of music you can't buy.

Traditional Sessions: often dauntingly purist, based as they are on 6,000 or so jigs, reels, hornpipes, polkas and 'slides', which form the canon of Irish instrumental music. Finding a 'tune, which all the musicians are familiar with is part of the ritual of a traditional session, and melding each player's variation into the whole is part of the magic.

Ballad Sessions: these are song based and more relaxed - often guitar driven and usually with a core of regular musicians. They can also be more tolerant of incomers of various abilities playing 'foreign' songs or Irish standards. All these are, of course, ingredients that can easily turn a ballad session into Leprechaun Karaoke. Equally, a bar full of people singing the same song can bring a lump to the throat.

Dance Music: in many ways at the heart of traditional music, 'dance bands' can range from a lone man lilting 'mouth music', to a bells-and-whistles electric accordion, drums and bass group pumping out volume and rhythm with all the subtlety of a bulldozer. Dances can be the place to 'feel' Irish music - by the time you've stepped and hopped your way through a few evenings, the 'changes' will be fixed in your mind for ever. A night's dancing might feature sets (the complex twirling and swapping of partners amongst groups of eight or four dancers, and best avoided by the complete beginner), line dances ("they're the ones to start with," expert Willie Daly states, "there's always someone to pull you along with them and put you in the right place."), and 'close' dancing - waltzes, polkas and other excuses to hold your partner tight.

The Music: though a session will often feature solo pieces and unaccompanied songs, the overall point is for musicians to play together, even if they're meeting for the first time. For this reason Irish traditional music is based on fixed music forms to give a firm foundation for the airy edifices built up from them.

Jigs and reels are the staples of the repertoire. The former are in 6/8 time, giving a skipping lift to the music, and the latter are in 4/4 time - straightforward rock 'n roll heartbeat tempo. The convention is for individual 'tunes' to come in two different 8-bar parts, both elements of which are repeated. Tunes are usually joined together in pairs or threes, each running into each. The choice of which tunes to bundle together and the consequent melodic gymnastics needed to get from one to the other are where musicians prove their genius.

As well as jigs and reels, there are hornpipes, slip jigs, polkas, Scottish tunes, and a growing number of oddities. 'De Dannan's 'traditional' version of 'Hey Jude' opened the floodgates for similar pop borrowings, and Andy Irvine's cross fertilization of Irish and Balkan music prompted many a less able attempt to play in complex Eastern time signatures.

Instruments: arguments over what constitutes a traditional Irish instrument have busied many a musician in defending his own chosen noise-maker. Early Irish music probably had little more than a simple harp, the Celtic horn, frame drum and basic whistle to draw on and the 'traditional instruments' of modern Irish music were all later imports. The need to play fast, ornamented melody to strict time in an ensemble setting has favoured certain instrumentation, leading to the predominance of fiddles, wooden flutes, uilleann pipes and the bodhran, the Irish drum. The acceptance of new instruments - and everything from saxophones to lutes have been tried over the decades - in Irish music has always depended on the skill and sensitivity of their players. For example, the odd jig or reel played on didgerido by the brilliant Australian guitarist Steve Cooney, is a pleasing novelty because he knows his way around the music, plays well and doesn't do it very often. But it's not something that's encouraged.

The Uilleann Pipe: a chanter bagpipe, blown by a bellows pumped under the arm. Often seen as the quintessential Irish instrument. Difficult to play well (or even acceptably), it's said to take seven years learning, seven years practicing and seven years playing to become a piper. Its 'bluesy' crying tone in slow airs, and keening yelps in fast pieces can lift a session high.

The Bodhran: a large tambourine shaped drum, usually played with a single, double headed 'beater.' The bodhran's apparent simplicity and the consequent enthusiastic flailings on it by non-musicians have led to its reputation as a session wrecker. "Ah, the Irish frisbee," declared one fiddler of my acquaintance, picking up a tourist's bodhran, and demonstrating his thesis by spinning it out of an open window.

The Fiddle: "The fiddle is a violin played by a man who doesn't wear a bow-tie" I was told once. It has become the session instrument par excellence. Portable, capable of carrying the emotion of slow airs and the rush of passion in jigs and reels, playable quietly or loudly depending on ability and confidence, and blending well with other instruments. Fiddlers tend to be the keepers of the flame when it comes to the pure tradition.

Whistles and Flutes: like the fiddle the wooden flute is another 'serious' instrument, as is the tin whistle if blown by a flute player. Equally, the tin or 'penny' whistle's cheapness tends to make it a bulk buy for tourists, along with tartan caps and shamrock tee-shirts, and so should never be pulled out at a session by anybody who can't really play the thing.

'Boxes': the collective noun for accordions (which have keys like a piano) and concertinas (which have buttons). Accordions are too loud and inflexible to be good session instruments, though they can motor a ceili dance along, (which is why their players are referred to as 'drivers'). On the other hand the delicate and nimble sound of the concertina, and a more appropriate tuning, makes it a wonderful tool for sessions.

Guitars, Bouzoukis, Mandolins and Banjos: the ability of fretted instruments to play chords and drive a piece along rhythmically has done a lot to change the range of sound in Irish music over the past 30 years. Guitars fuelled the ballad sessions made popular in the 1960s and 1970s by groups like the Clancy's and Dubliners, but they only made it as proper traditional instruments when reconfigured by players such as Arty McGlyn and Paul Brady. Banjos and mandolins were in more suitable for 'carrying a tune' than guitars and fitted into the tradition better. Perhaps the strangest admission of a 'foreign' instrument into the inner circle of 'acceptables' (and this mainly to do with the skills of Andy Irvine and Donal Lunny) was the elevation of the flat-backed bouzouki into a genuinely innovative Irish instrument, in many ways filling a gap which the harp might have occupied in former times.


Odd Instruments: there are good spoon players (two held loosely in one hand and rapped against the other hand or knee to give a castanet-like clattering), harmonica suckers, double bass pluckers, and bongo batterers, amongst others, who are welcome in sessions, as well as on the CDs of some of Ireland's best musicians. But to conclude that any of these is generally seen as an asset in traditional music would be a mistake.

Voice: there are as many singing styles as singers in Ireland, but it is possible to make a distinction between sean-nos ('old style'), which is formalised, usually unaccompanied songs in the Irish language, and 'folk singing,' which can cover everything from Irish ballads and contemporary American country songs to English music hall numbers and locally written humorous skits.

Session Etiquette: tolerance at sessions is legendary. Drunken Germans, ballad book in hand, mumbling their way through 'Galway Bay'; teenage guitarists attempting 'Stairway to Heaven' and home-grown eccentrics with 37 verses of self-penned observation on the history of a field. All have been endured. But it doesn't mean they're welcomed. But following a few hints can make the 'incomer' into that rarest of all things - a good listener, and perhaps, too, a good performer.

Firstly, don't take the musicians' seats. A corner or a particular table in a bar will be reserved for players whenever they might arrive. They'll still be reserved for them even if they don't come. That's the way it is.

Clapping isn't a great feature of sessions. The knowledgeable are more likely to mutter a low 'Good man yourself' in response to an inventive stunning solo. Listeners who find themselves truly moved have one way of showing true appreciation - to buy a round for the musicians (check just how many there are before you commit yourself). No fanfare - a word with the barman, pass over the money and the most subtle of nods when the musicians catch your eye.

If you're looking to play at a session yourself, know what you're getting into. Non-traditional musicians, however brilliant, have no place in a pure traditional session, where they interrupt the flow and stop other people playing together. As a beginner it can be acceptable to sit on the edge of a session with a fiddle or flute and silently finger out new tunes along with the players - this is how the repertoire is passed on. But there is little tolerance for guitarists, bodhran players or other instrumentalists doing the same - they either come as ready-formed virtuosi, or leave their instruments at home.

In looser sessions it's more acceptable for people to try out new songs, and indeed it's better to do something non-Irish and entertaining than a mediocre, cliched ballad. A good song will always make you friends.

During a rush of music in Dingle one evening, as we laid down our instruments for a sup and a breather, a piper (invariably the philosophers amongst musicians) leant across to give me his view on sessions.

"There's only three things you need when you go out for the night - money for drink, a way of getting home, and a song...and if the song is good and you put your heart into singing it, you probably wouldn't need the other two at all."

The Geography of Music: a session can happen anywhere in Ireland, but you can shorten the odds of finding good music by hunting it down in it's natural habitat. The Dingle Peninsula in County Kerry has numerous pubs and plenty of home-grown musicians. Dingle town is a good place to start, with more bars on the roads out to Dunquin to investigate. If you see ceilis featuring Seamus Begley and Steve Cooney advertised don't miss them - they're the dance musicians.

The villages of West Clare are a hotbed of music - Ennistymon, Lahinch and Lisdoonvarna have dances and sessions all through the summer, and doubly so during the month-long September matchmaking festival.

Cork has a reputation for good musicians. Rewarding bars in the city include 'The Lobby,' and 'Sin-E,' as well as 'The Heron's Perch' in Glanmire. Out in the county, Clonakilty ('De Barras'), Baltimore and Leap form a haphazard circuit for rambling players. The 'Jolly Roger,' on Sherkin Island, a short ferry ride from Baltimore, has produced some memorable all-nighters.

Galway is a traditional music centre (perhaps because its easy to get from the city to the hidden sessions of Mayo, Sligo and Connemara). During the annual July Arts Festival it becomes a home-from-home to many of the countries best musicians.

The Fleadh Cheoil (it means 'an orgy of music') is an annual August bank holiday event in a different venue each year. Irish and Irish interest musicians from all over the world gather together. The Fleadh (pronounced, near enough, 'Flar') can be one of the few sure ways of tracking down the best of Irish music in an informal setting.


Horse fairs are often good bets for drink-fuelled crack, and Ballinasloe Great Fair in County Galway over the first and second weekend of October brings in some of the great Traveller musicians. As does Puck Fair in Kilorglin, County Kerry, every August.

Books: Rough Guide to Ireland. The best for getting around the country, and good on Ireland's history and culture as well as festivals. But the old paradox applies - if a music bar is flagged in the guide book as being a little-known gem, it'll be full of guide-book carrying foreigners by the time you get there and far from special - this being pretty much the fate of the famed Doolin in West Clare.

'Last Night's Fun; A Book about Music, Food and Time' - Ciaran Carson (Pimlico, 1997). A wonderful evocation of the atmosphere and driving force behind sessions and Irish music by a poet and a flute player. Highly recommended.

'The Dance Music Of Ireland; 1001 Gems' - Francis O'Neill. This is one for musicians - a source for the music of the most popular instrumental pieces played in sessions and a Bible for those feeling their way into playing sessions.

Bookshops in Ireland have a wide selection of ballad books covering the main repertoire. None is particularly recommendable, but they are a good source for the songs that pop up over and over again in sessions.

Listening: to understand traditional music and sessions, you need to go to sessions. But you can prepare yourself by listening to recorded music. There's no such thing as a definitive list, but there are some names to look out for:

Sharon Shannon - Box and fiddle player - with a perfect marrying of new and old style traditional music.

Moving Hearts - Ireland's lamentably disbanded traditional super-group, featuring Davy Spillane on uilleann pipes amongst other virtuoso players.

Patrick Street - tunes and songs featuring some of the best of contemporary traditional playing. Highlights are Andy Irvine's songs and bouzouki playing, and Jacky Daly's box work.

De Danann - The band that started three now-famous-in-their-own-right singers on their way (Mary Black, Dolores Keane and Maura O'Connell), built around the nucleus of Frankie Gavin and Alec Finn.

Willy Clancy - Find the LP, 'The Minstrel from Clare' and hear the magic of a master on pipes, fiddle and song.

Christy Moore - Almost any album by him yields interesting songs, but track down ‘Prosperous’ and note the musicians who are playing with him, then look out for records by any of them. Christy Moore's genius is for song writing and for attracting the best of Irish musicians into his company.

Bringing it all Back Home - The soundtrack to the television documentary, showing the range and influence of Irish music.

Begley and Cooney - 'Meithal' Driving guitar and box dance music.

Naturally the old rule about avoiding any musical offering with the words 'Shamrock,' 'Memories,' or 'Irish Fireside' in the title applies when flicking through records on offer...

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