Our destination: the West Coast of Ireland
and the Scoil Samraidh Willie Clancy
— known as "Willie Week" —
in Miltown Malbay (which is just over these cliffs to the left).
Willie Clancy was the most famous uileann piper in Ireland. His recordings are like the Bibles of Irish music. Learning those dance tunes on the harp, I would discover, would be an exercise in frustration and discovery during Willie Week.
I was thrilled to be under the tutelage of Kathleen Loughnane, Grainne Hambly and Cormac DeBarra again. I was thoroughly enjoying being around harpists every single day and talking about harp-nerd things like sharping levers...gut vs. nylon vs. carbon strings...tuning in flats vs. tuning in C...1-2-1 vs. 4-3-2 fingering on rolls (not topics I get to talk about every day at home).
But I was struggling with the dance tunes. Learning the notes was fine. Remembering them was fine. Getting them under my fingers was fine. Hearing other people play them was a delight. But...I just didn't like playing the dance tunes like I'd fallen in love with playing slow airs and songs I'd learned last week. I kept remembering the symposium on the future of the harp in Ireland that had taken place during Harp Camp. Grainne Yeats, grand dame of the Irish harp, kept stressing that dance tunes should only be played on the harp when dancers are present, and that the original purpose of the harp — to carry the melodies and accompany the songs of Ireland — shouldn't be forgotten in favor of playing fast dance tunes for show.
Lessons were in the mornings, and I had my afternoons to myself.
I spent a lot of time sitting on the patio of our bed and breakfast,
which had an awesome view of the Atlantic coming roaring in,
working on composing some new music.
Mom and I drove in round-about circles on the winding lanes surrounding Lahinch, seeking out ancient ring forts, dolmens and rugged scenery.
I bought music books of slow airs and pored through them.
I read from my book of ancient Irish poetry.
In other words, I did EVERYTHING but practice my dance tunes.
Finally, I had a heart-to-heart with Kathleen Loughnane. I told her what I was experiencing, played her some of my compositions, confessed my dislike for playing the dance tunes. And she told me exactly what I needed to hear, exactly what the purpose of this whole journey and grant experience came to be for me:
I could play whatever I wanted, however I wanted to play it. Because Irish music is a living tradition. As long as I was true to the tune and got to know it and hold it close and make friends with it, I could then do whatever I wanted with it. And if I didn't want to play dance tunes, I didn't have to. I had nothing to prove to anybody.
Whew. You don't know how long I've been needing to hear these words. And to hear them from "the source" — from one of the best harpers in all of Ireland — turned my whole grant trip around. I approached the remaining days of lessons with a new attitude. I listened carefully, memorizing the sounds and the chord progressions and the emotions that came out of the music. I thought about Martha playing the melody on her whistle, Marti playing the B part on her violin, Sam drumming it through, and how I would add color and base chords to it all. I thought many times how fortune I am to not only be able to have this learning experience, but to be able to have the best of both worlds musically — getting to play along with the dance tunes but leaving the actual playing of them to my band.
The finale of Willie Week was the three-hour concert of traditional music.
I bought Mom a ticket for her birthday.
We had a great time, tapping our toes and laughing and clapping along with the music and getting breathless watching the set dancers. Then we set out for a pub in Lahinch and lifted a couple of Bulmer's Irish Ciders in "Slainte" to Willie Week.
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