today’s audio is a set of recordings i cribbed from a weekly irish/old time session i’ve been going to at my local bar. i wrote about this session a few episodes ago, how riding my bike to and from it, on a clear winter’s night, my violin and mandolin on my back, was the best tour i’d ever been on.
that joy has remained, maybe even deepened, as i’ve kept going to the session. while i am still very much a scratchy newcomer at the violin (and i’m fine with that), people at the session are starting to know me. and not treat me with such kid-gloves. i’m learning to elbow my way into the scrum of what tune to play next. and i’ve learned that if you just start playing, that ends most of the chatter. but not all of it.
at the session that night were three fiddles, including me, two guitars, a mandolin, a tenor banjo, a flute and whistle player, and an upright bass. for context, this was a relatively small session.
the first tune you hear is one i just learned, “quail is a pretty bird”. i like to imagine the flutter of a quail’s call at certain points in the melody. the next two tunes were my requests, two old time tunes in what we call a “johnny” set. “johnny cope” into “johnny don’t get drunk”.
there are a ridiculous amount of old time and irish tunes with “johnny” in the title. and among that large group, there are a lot about johnny and alcohol. how johnny shouldn’t drink, why johnny is drinking in the first place, when is johnny drinking, what happens to johnny when johnny drinks. we did not add “step around johnny” to the set, which i assume means johnny is on the floor, in the way of traffic. this johnny guy needs a meeting.
the thing i love most about this communal music experience is the informality of the whole thing. people walk in and out of the room. they play, or they don’t, if the tune suits or doesn’t. even when the music starts, they keep talking to the person sitting next to them or across the room. if you get lost in the tune, you stop, or just keep going. no one cares! every once in awhile, someone wanders in to listen, but mostly there’s no audience except the players, delighting themselves.
the bar used to be an old inn, so it’s not one big space, rather, a warren of rooms. the TV in the next room over is audibly blaring the weather channel, a group of people gathered in its glow debating the temperatures and trading war stories about the cold. this is a classic new england sport and entertainment.
in the bigger room, the folks at the pool table are laughing as they clack cues and balls. then there’s a medium-size room where the unplayed arcade machines nevertheless bleep and bloop. we play in the smallest room. it’s warm and cozy, with checkered table cloths, an impressive collection of darts trophies packs the shelves alongside late 80s and 90s red sox memorabilia. buried among the trophies is a piano, but i’ve never seen anyone play it.
the cumulative effect is that of ease, at the end of a working day, among friends, settling into the comfort of tunes. it is such a joy to play instrumental music. the tunes turn in on themselves, spinning and connecting into a wheel of rhythm and melody that builds and sustains itself. the difference between irish and old-time music is important, though they both have this warm, connected quality.
to my ears, irish music emphasizes speed, ornamentations like triplets and runs, and has a feeling of being light on its feet. dance music for the nimble of foot. old time music is marked by its unique mix of early american cultures. certainly scottish and irish tunes and cadences, but also the groove of african music, a heavy emphasis on beat 1 of each measure. the runs tend to be wider intervals and use the pentatonic scale, a 5 tone scale that you would recognize both from west african music and blues. in old time, you usually play more slowly, emphasizing the stomp of a heel rather than the spring of the toe.
i am biased, but old time music feels like home to me. i grew up dancing to it at summer camp and high school contra dances, learned to play it in a regular session in college, played guitar and bass in a teaching ensemble as an adult back at my summer camp. the slow, deliberate pace, the hair in the music, the darkness of the harmonies speaks to my soul. every once in awhile, at these sessions, or playing old time with friends, i marvel that i am even playing the violin at all. what a momentous undertaking it’s been and what a huge huge reward.
hey y’all! what a lovely time it’s been between episodes. thanks to everyone who responded to “football and jesus”. i heard from a lot of y’all, with all kinds of wonderful reflections on your own relationships with these twin gods. this is what i want most from this pod, so keep the thoughts coming.
i also stepped up my podcast shit a bit this week. i finally made the show art. oh my god, it made me so happy to draw for hours. i could do that all day. and i also officially put the pod up on Spotify and Apple. just search for “Erin McKeown’s Fax of Life” to rate, review, and subscribe.
for those of you who are so inclined, i also released the 2022 episodes as an album. it’s currently available on bandcamp, and as of friday february 10, it will be on my Spotify and Apple Music artist pages as well.
finally, i have one actual in person gig, february 16th at the lovely decordova museum and sculpture garden in lincoln MA.
back to the show!
a few weeks ago, i was invited to lead an ensemble of singers at a vocal workshop run by lake street dive’s rachael price. this is my third time helping rachael with her workshop, and each time i am grateful to get to watch her work, teach, and share her extraordinary gift with students.
this year, my ensemble was assigned the carole king standard “you’ve got a friend”. my job was to help the 11 singers in my group come up with an arrangement that got the song across, featured all our members, and brought something new to the song.
we started with the chorus. as we softly sang our way through it, a few folks who didn’t quite know the words yet held out the notes on “you just call…..” and “you know….”. a few others added some answers on different words. “running”. all of it sounded great, so we divided into three parts, shaped it a little, and grooved out on the familiar melody.
the first time all 11 of us sang the chorus together, even in its rough form, i got the tingles. people are meant to sing with each other. i forget this all the time. why do i do that? the answer is capitalism!
i’m serious! capitalism rewards the individual, their singular effort and voice. we have been bathed in capitalism for so long that we forget even the most fundamental representations of cooperation, coordination, and collective joy. like singing with other people.
[you’re missing out if you’re not listening!!]
i made this little recording at the end of our first rehearsal. believe it or not, we had only worked an hour at that point. that’s how right and easy the process was.
you can hear me saying a few things, guiding folks as we start to work on details like dynamics and shaping the performance of our arrangement. you hear me say, “second gear, third gear,” etc. i use the metaphor of a transmission to help folks understand how much volume and intention to put into each section. second gear, you are moving forward, but also holding something back. third gear, you are driving the speed limit, fourth and fifth, you are moving into special territory to be used strategically and sparingly. we used fifth gear for the big a capella chorus ending and the outro of the song.
you can hear a little of what the performance sounded like on the social media posts for this episode.
when i listen back to this work tape, i smile because i remember this group sounded even better in performance. the harmonies got tighter, the gears got clearer, and when we got to the end, people really sung out, and the audience couldn’t help but join us.
you’ve got a friend! you’ve got a friend!
indeed you do. and your friend is your neighbor, your sibling, the person in the tiny barroom fiddling away with you. they are the friend you just met but put your voice next to, and it gave everyone shivers.
this is all in such contrast to my singer-songwriter career, where i am often performing alone to a wonderfully attentive and usually very quiet audience. my words do as much communicating as my guitar, and together i present very carefully crafted thoughts that demand everyone’s attention.
i’m not saying one thing is better than the other, but i know i am happiest when i am engaged in a variety of things. and i am noticing how most of my musical projects these days include more people than less.
so give me an old time session, and a community chorus, and experimental musical theater, and the sweet sound of carl snoring next to me as i write this. and you! listening and writing in and telling a friend. thank you!
x erin
ps - your carl content. his best friend levee has been visiting. while my septic tank overflowed and we had arctic temperatures, these guys stayed cozy.
pps - i’m busy with a few projects the next few weeks, including producing a record for the awesome artist mo pepin, so there won’t be a second episode in february. this one will have to do you. see you in march!
¡ME GUSTA! : SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS!
speaking of the joy of singing together. omg whales singing. bring it.
my rad friend carsie blanton penned a righteous, honest, and true article for the nation on the economics of singer-songwriter-ing. yes, we have heard this tale before, but until something changes, we apparently need to keep hearing it.
menopause! or rather… peri-menopause! let’s talk about it.
i’ve been lucky enough to be a guest on one of my favorite pods, design matters, hosted by the incomparable debbie millman. this week she has the G.O.A.T. meghan rapinoe on.
i was reading an article about the jan 6 committee, and it mentioned that in december 2020 liz cheney was reading a book about the moment between lincoln’s election and inauguration, when proto-confederate fools tried to overturn the election results of 1860. i decided to read this book, charting lincoln’s 13-day train journey from springfield IL to washington DC. it is magnificent.
one of my favorite TV series by one of my favorite writers with one of my favorite actors had its finale. wow. happy valley, there will never be another show like you.
UPCOMING SHOWS
Feb 16 - Lincoln MA
deCordova Museum
TICKETS
now - Feb 19 - San Jose CA
Miss You Like Hell at City Lights
MORE INFO
Oct 14 - Nov 11 - Seattle WA
Miss You Like Hell at Strawberry Theatre
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If you have further questions or concerns about COVID protocols, please contact the venues directly.
Reminder, Erin does not appear in productions of Miss You Like Hell
all together now