There we were, sitting at a session playing our instruments with faithful abandon as usual when the dreaded "bard of Butte" (no names mentioned) steps in with his giant bohdran and a look that said only too clearly our session had been cancelled for the night. Now before we could all go stampeding for the door and the safety of our cars, he had broken into one of his cacaphonic sea shantys. It was one of those that change key several times per bar.
Then I recall the time when a "musician" whom no one had seen before, showed up with two river rocks. Much to our astonishment he commenced to banging them together in an attempt to counter the rhythm of the tune.
Is this just with Montana or are their other "terrors" out their causing pain and sorrow to the Irish music scene around the world?
Dominic, you should come to Helena more often, where you only have a sea of fiddles to slash at with your flute.
Truly, I'm sorry to hear that the river rock guy is back, and apparently ranging farther afield from his home in Missoula. And I hope that the bodhran player isn't who I'm thinking of.
We almost had a great session here in Helena last night. Cait Reid is in town and sat in with us, but so did eight (!!!!!!!!) other fiddles, not to mention about 120 people crammed into our little taproom drinking beer and shouting at each other. Several decent musicians left because they couldn't get a seat or hear the tunes. One left in a huff because the core four of us decided to just circle our heads and play amongst ourselves (since no one could hear anyway). Cait's a lovely east Clare style player, so we took the leisurely long-way-round through a bunch of reels, jigs, and polkas. Your flute would've been a most welcome addition. And we continued for a few more hours over at the Windbag, as usual, a much more pleasant (audible) setting for the tunes.
What I notice at sessions here in the States is that musicians and punters alike are so accustomed to loud, fast, foot stompin' music (pop, rock, bluegrass, old-timey, mass media blues and country) that they don't know how to respond to Irish music in its more lyrical moods. If it's not "reels at 90" with a line of hardshoe dancers, it's just not appreciated. Some nights I come home from playing feeling like I've been to a hockey game, not a session....
Hey Will! - you don't have a monopoly on dodgy audiences, you know! But down at the Woodman, Tir na nOg and particularly the Kilkenny, which I went to for the first time last night (see sessions section here), the audiences, or should I say non-playing drinkers, are mostly sympathetic, and know what's going on, thanks to the huge Irish population in London, and the hugeness of London, anyway. BUT, god, sure, I've played many sessions such as that you described...don't they know that's wot this stuff is, it's NOT rock n' roll.
We had a crazy clarinet player (only once, thank God) who couldn't play and wouldn't leave even after being asked, then told to go away. Even so, the most bizarre guest to date would have to be the drunken opera singer.
She came into the room a little after 1:00am, just when the crowd thins out and we play some old-timey tunes and Cape Breton jigs and waltzes etc. to wind down before going home. We had the great fortune of having this woman standing and belting out librettoes (in Italian) at the top of her lungs in very authentic opera voice over tunes like "Whiskey Before Breakfast". A very jarring way to wind up an otherwise pleasant and tuneful evening.
Happily, encounters of this nature are rare at our sesh. But if she shows up again, I'll be sure to inform her that her soulmate, the "Bard of Butte", can be found at your place.
Fadah, your River Rock Man reminds me of that passage in Douglas Adams's "Hitch-Hiker's Guide" where a radio announcer addresses all the intelligent life forms in the galaxy, and says "and for the rest of you, keep banging the rocks together guys" - I'm quoting from memory btw.
Trevor
Have any of you guys/gals ever had a harmonica player at a session? we had one show up a little while back. Other than the harmonica being a little piercing at times, I had no other complaint about it. The guy was super enthusiastic about the music and knew *loads* of tunes. A new definition of "Irish harp", huh?
I'm thinking of starting an "alternative" ceili band.
The ideal line up would be:
Tea Chest Bass
Washboard Man (Tinman for electric numbers)
Lagerphone/also doubles up on an empty beer carton
Spoons and assorted cutlery
Singing Saw
Clarinet/Saxamaphone
Hurdy Gurdy
Djembe
Okarina
Didgereedoo
Someone playing a theramin-or glasses filled to differing notes
Tambourine
Conch Shell
Lambeg Drum
But I think the guy getting his rocks off is a bit too wierd for this line-up
yes,i do remember tin man,Danny.
he also had a very big screwdriver in his very big collection of essential instruments.which he banged;not forgetting the violent beating of the drumsticks on the side of the table - think machine-gunning in some over the top stallone 'movie'.
he was one of the reasons i eventually stopped going to that session in those times.
when the old fox&hounds session was 'between' venues and at the crown in greenwich there was a very funny incident involving the tin man and a bodhr
OH, I only just remembered a woman at a local session once when I was just beginning! She would sit just outside the circle and sort of moan...apparently, she thought whale song was the coolest thing ever, and she felt that singing whale song along with the players would be just the ticket.
Last Halloween my friends and I all went out for some tunes. Of course we were all dressed up - I went as the classic B-52's anthem "Rock Lobster" (I wore a punk-rocker outfit and a lobster hat. No one understood what I was...oh well...).
Anyway, so Rock Lobster, Geisha Girl, Elephant Man, Rasta Man and Crazy-Biker-Alien Man were sitting around playing a great set of tunes, when this pajama clad hippie strolled up holding his electric guitar and extra long patch cord. He stood there headbanging along to the tunes for a while, and then I saw him lean over and exchange some words with Rasta Man (sidenote - Rasta Man was/is not a very likeable person or musician both before and after this event). While we were all in the middle of playing through a set of reels, the hippie dude perched himself atop one of the booths next to the session circle and Rasta Man plugged his patch cord into the mixer for the in-house sound system. The hippie dude started strumming away...
I cannot describe to you the physical, aural and emotional pain suffered by every session musician present for this particular event! It was the most awful thing I've ever heard. We all started glaring at him and several of us stopped playing to tell him to knock it off...first politely and then it turned into a blatant "shut the f*** up!" The hippie dude was a little taken aback, and sat for a while and just listened. In the meantime, Crazy-Biker-Alien-Man was sitting next to the mixer and he turned off the channel that the hippie dude was plugged into. Hippie dude started up again a while later, apparently attempting to "solo" over a set of slip jigs. When he once again realized that we couldn't hear his amazing shredding solos, he reached over himself and attempted to turn up the sound system. I'm not sure who exactly confronted him this time, but I do distinctly remember the hippie dude getting swatted quite fiercely over the head as he was bent over the sound system. He left rather dejectedly after that, and Rasta Man got QUITE an earful from the rest of us. What WAS he thinking!!!
On a similar note, during that same session Rasta Man, a bouzouki player, began strumming along to an E minor reel that we were playing. We spent the whole time shouting "E minor! E minor!" at him while he just looked at us and nodded. When we finished the reel, one of the musicians leaned over and asked him, "What key were you playing in?"
His haughty response: "G minor. WHY? What key were YOU playing in?"
Zina, what kind of whales songs were they--beluga, right, or humpback? We all make dog sounds when our session mate Jane sings the Foxhunter's, and the taproom sounds like the dog pound--every breed imaginable, in various states of excitation and apparent distress. Somehow, the singer carries on.....
I ran into an old high school friend that used to play rock & roll at all of our old parties. I tell him we have to go to a session downtown so I can turn you on to this Irish music that I'm just crazy about. He plays guitar & violin, went to college and got a big degree in music and everything. He's talented but kind of has a big head and throws questions at me like "whats a double flatted D" and all this big time theory stuff - I guess to impress me with how much he knows. Anyway we plan to go to Fado's and check out their session. I tell him maybe you could take an acoustic guitar because it's more of that kind of enviornment. Well he starts in telling me how I'm getting closed minded about the acoustic thing and he wants to be heard when he plays etc. etc.. I pick him up and sure enough here he comes with his violin and a small amp. I'm thinking aghhh why did I invite him.. We go down to Fado's and he carrys in his amp. and sees that I was right. He covered the amp with his coat and sat in awe as the session went on. Of course he needed to let someone know that he was a well educated musician and asked one of my old teachers - what key was that in and my teacher say's I don't know. Then he asked the name of one of the tunes - same response - I don't know which completly baffled him. But he did enjoy the music and thankfully never plugged into the amp. what a relief that was for me. ha
You obviously weren't at The Duke the night Mobile Phone Man turned up.
I arrived early as usual for a jar or two to limber up and this loner clocks the instrument case.
"Is there a session on here tonight?"
"Aye"
"What time does it kick off?"
"In an hour or so."
"Right, so! I'll finish off this beer and get a taxi back to pick up my harmonica ..."
No problem, I think, Brendon Powers, Paul Moran ... fine players on the oul' tim sandwich ... a new voice in the mix ... fair play to you.
Then he drops the bombshell. "It's a C harmonica."
I gulped.
"We don't play many tunes in C."
"Not to worry" says your man "You'll soon get the hang of it!"
So ... off he staggers.
Given the cut of him, I reckoned we'd not see him again. I'm sure his bed was beckoning.
But no such luck. Just as we were settling down to the pre-kick off pint, in he wanders.
"The lads!"
I groaned inwardly.
Anway we played away and he tried to blow along with us, but it was obvious even to him that he was not pitched properly. So, after a few attempts to cajole the assembled company into playing "Danny Boy" (God bless us ... I was feeling very nervous at the sheer thought) in C (palpitating, I was), he shoved the harpoon back in his dirty ol bandana.
Only to strike up a long and loud conversation with some character on his mobile phone. His insouciance was fascinating. John the fiddler ... one of the mildest-mannered men in South East London, second only in civility, gentility and haughty bearing to myself (ha, ha) ... eventually lost it!
In his polished tones, he commanded ... "Now listen here! You're being very rude and annoying. If you wish to carry on your conversation, I suggest you do so without the earshot of this estimable company of musicianers." (or words to that effect)
To which mobie dick replies. "You're alright, lads. It's the sister in Dublin. Play away as loud as you like. She loves the oul' music."
Aye, Aidan, I was there that night, and remember the cut of yer man. Sure, did he not ask me to play Danny Boy in C, to which I replied something like "I didn't know Danny Boy went in the Sea" - totally lost on him. Was it not the same night the Shadow's shadow was there?
Some sessions have passengers, mine has hi-jackers.
Yes, we have also had the river stones and sticks players. I encouraged my gang to start digeridoo noises a-la Rolf and launch into "Sun Arise" - they soon stopped their clatter.
We also had tramps pass by, one who played two guiness bottles like bones all night, the other played two 50 pence pieces also like bones. They were both passable musicians, both step danced, so I suppose they were of "the old school" and good entertainment. We never saw either again.
Another music-hall old stager decided to do card tricks and sleight of hand during the session, his party piece was rolling a sheet of newspaper into a cone and balancing it on his nose. By this time my gang had entered into the spirit and were playing "Entry of the Gladiators".
The best two session clowns ever - one said
"your accordion just sounds like the real thing"
and the other said
Punter: Do you do requests?
Band: Yes, what do you want?
Punter: Oh, anything!
Right, I'm for taking my Stylophone out this weekend. If I play Boys of Bluehill, d'you reckon people will suss I'm a beginner? As I live in Glasgow, any bets on how long before the batteries get flung out a window?
Andee - the mouth organ in Irish is An Fidil Fhrancach otherwise the French Fiddle! I have no idea how that came about - any ideas out there?
My own particular favourite was the deaf double bones player with a hearing aid in both ears. I suspect that they were turned off since he didn't even come close to the rhythm. When we upped stciks to move to another venue the B*****d followed us - finally we had to gulder at him to bog off. Never been seen since - thank Magog.
lately came thru here and while half of the session tried to play on some sets of tunes pretending beeing more or less unimpressed the other half put down their instrument and had a few long sips on their pints or even left the room to stroll arround till the situation clears up, the spoon man with much enthusiasm and in great speed gathered around him some bodhran beginners and more and more people from the audience armed with all the spoons available in the pub teaching them all the rhythms that are not the ones of the actual played tunes ...... this was bavaria in southern germany so he now might appear in italy, france or spain (or is he already cloned???)
The week before Gaelic Roots, a woman brought a tambourine to our weekly session. She didn't sit in with us, but shook it hap-hazzardly while socializing at the bar. I turned around and gave her my infamous death-stare and this seemed to work. She hasn't been back. I know I can be ruthless sometimes, but there are several of us who have worked our arses off to bring our session to a new level.
It's a great sport and community pastime here to try and spot the "Freak of the Week" before they start playing.
Here are a couple memorable ones...
The Suitcase Sultan:
A pipe player at the session carries around his pipes in a suitcase-like case. So, he's playing away on the pipes and in walks the Freak of the Week. He sits down and asks if he can look at the pipes player's case. The pipes player is confused and says sure...the man proceeds to beat on the case like a drum and in any rhythm other than the one being played. That's was put to a stop really quickly.
The Ceili Queen and her Faithful Minion:
So, it's around Christmas and we're playing away, having a great 'ole session. Nice tunes but even nicer holiday atmosphere complete with flowing rivers of liquid cheer. There's this drunk woman sitting at the bar who has humongous breasts. I don't say that because I'm a sexist pig; I say that because she was wearing a zip-up shirt that was not very zipped, thus advertising to the world her talents (just a little detail to clarify what a class act she was). Well, she proceeds to belt into song at very inopportune moments, particularly the middle of a set. They are mostly songs about her husband and her love for him - he is covering his face at the bar.
Finally, someone says something to her. She replies back, very loudly, that this is a ceili and that everybody can do whatever they want. We reply that, no, this is a session and in fact you can not do whatever you want because the bar pays for the regulars to play. Well, she proceeds to try and get the crowd into it, saying something like,"This is a ceili, am I right, am I right?!!". All of this is done in such a Jerry Springer like fashion that I can not keep from laughing despite the tension.
We keep trying to play.
Well, after a while she goes back to her seat at the bar. Fine, except that she is soon joined by a homeless man who is high as a kite. My wife, the beautiful queen bi***, has proceeded toward the bar to put an end to this whole situation. She arrives just as the woman is telling the street person that sure he can sing songs because it's a ceili. My wife says no, this is an Irish session and if you know the songs and/or tunes in the tradition maybe we'd like to hear something but otherwise no. This offends the street person to no end, "OH, I see...a black man can't come in and sing songs to his Lord Jesus Christ in a white man's bar." At this point my wife realizes she is out of her depth and walks away.
Of course, the street person does grace us to a few songs with such great Irish lyrics as "Oh, my Jesus; my sweet Jesus". My sweet Jesus, indeed.
Then the bar manager kicks them out. The end.
At other points we've had a mandolin and guitar player who tuned for and hour straight, spoon players, bad guitar players...blah,blah,blah, the usual. I think it runs in trends here. We haven't had any freaks in a long time, thank God, but this is a tourist town and it is summer. It's only a matter of time. The odd freak adds some excitement and makes for good stories. They're really funny for a little while; you just can't let them ruin a good session. It's like a streaker at a baseball game; it makes for an interesting day at the ballpark, but usually you just want to play ball. You could move to a nudist colony to see naked people.
In years past a cross-dressing tenor recorder/bowed psaltery player used to attend our session. S/He/It had no discernible effect on the music because these are very quiet instruments, but it was a bit an odd sight, to say the least-a 230+ pound guy in a tie-dyed dress playing recorder very quietly in the midst of our session. Harmless, but odd.
I've seen rub board players at irish sessions and bluegrass concerts, too, and GAWD, they're annoying. Not even the bluegrassers can stand them, and they've a fairly high tolerance for BS.
Another time a clueless djembe player turned up and was lucky to escape with his life.
There was this gent who would come in and annoy the session by sitting close at a table and playing his favorite instrument, a quarter against his pint glass. Not only was he out of time but varied his pitch as his drink diminished! Eventually he was asked to stop it, none to soon and then left in a huff. Aye yi yi
Like the Demon Drummer who arrived at a Broadstairs Folk week session armed with a huge hairy arsed drum which could be heard and even felt 300 yards up the street.
Geez!! these stories are great.
So back to the "bard of butte".
It so happened that night he showed up, Ken omalley of the twighlight lords was at the session along with kathleen keane(famous whistle player). Everything was going okay until the "bard of Butte" Decided to take on the most honorable roll of....(drum roll please)....SESSION M.C. !!! So before every tune or song he would ask one of the younger musicians who didn't know any better for tha name of the tune. then he would roar out in his most operatic voice "Here Here!!! "Bob" is about to play the bueatiful song/tune (and then after a short biography of the peice he would mention the name.) It did take long for the junior member of the session to realize the damage he was doing. So we quit playing tunes we knew he names of which left our poor bard out of a job. He was forced to retire to his chair and sat the rest of the night slumped over his giant bohdran with a look of dejection on his face.
and then we played happily ever after.
dominic
lately the jaw harpist was at our session. he did quite well with almost all the tunes. I guess he must have found an instrument in the key of D (maybe from an irish jaw harp maker) ...
Two things spring to mind here. The first was at a folk session in the UK many years ago where a guy sitting at the table sang, of all things, Rock Of Ages. He was TERRIBLE. He changed key at least every three notes and sang every verse. If anyone had been there to record it, and then transcribe the whole thing, pauses, tempo changes, dotted notes key changes and shifts in pitch, then given it to any accomplished singer it would have been impossible to recite.
The second was at a 'standing room only' session, and a guy sitting up against the wall at the back was snapping the finger of one hand in front of his open mouth and then punching the palm of the other in time to the music. My wife pointed this one out to me, and I couldn't believe I'd been listening for so long and not noticed. I suppose it's a great example of being so into the music you want to take part yourself.. At least he couldn't be heard, he was enjoying himself, and doing no one any harm and that's what really matters, but I always have a quiet laugh when i think of it.
It's a mad mad mad mad world
B
Last year, in a session at the London Irish Centre, during the Return to Camden Town festival, there was an eccentric lady playing a terracotta tile with a strange curved drumstick. She appeared to be trying to keep in time with the music, but invariably wandered off after a bar or so. To be fair to her, she was at least aware that she was out of time and paused to re-synchronise herself every two or three bars - and she had the common decency to play such an unobtrusive instrument as a tile, rather than a Salvation Army bass drum (here's hoping she never learns to play in time, lest she decide she's ready to graduate).
Trevor - Was the washboard + paraphernalia man a tall, lanky man in his 50s, sporting a handlebar moustache? It sounds like it could be Carl Woffinton, from Berkshire. I play with him not infrequently, in the embarrassingly named Beer and Baccy Ceilidh Band. We also have a tea-chest bassist with us from time to time. Needless to say, we do not model ourselves on the Tulla or the Kilfenora Celi Bands - more like a poor man's Gallowglass.
Jeremy - that mandolin and guitar player that spent an hour tuning wasn't me, was it?
...No, I leave my guitar at home these days. I only spend 3/4 hour tuning now.
David, our washboard + etc man was a much older, tubby man, must be well into his 70's, and lives (lived?) locally in Bristol. I shouldn't have thought he did much in the way of travelling. I haven't seen him for about a year, so I don't know whether he's still active. Not your chap, anyway.
Trevor
There was a rather desperate sad woman at a local session last winter. We weren't sure at all what to do about her and ended up doing nothing, I'm afraid. She left about 3/4 of the way through the night. She was crying and swaying to the music, waving her hands in the air, outlining the oddest shapes with them, and sort of crooning along in a toneless kind of way. Every time we stopped playing, she'd glare at us like we were doing something wrong. At one point she actually yelled at someone who inadvertently stood between her and the music, but thankfully did nothing else about it.
The sad thing is that this session has quite a few very understanding and very sympathetic people in it. Very nice folks, overall. if she'd simply been crying, someone would probably have befriended her and tried to help her if they could, but as it was, everyone was afraid that she might turn out to be some kind of ticking bomb bazooka murderer or something and was too afraid that talking to her might actually set her off.
What a world, huh? *sigh* It's stuck with me, obviously -- wish the world wasn't such that somebody in obvious pain could go so unhelped.
Pooooor woman - she sounds like one of our customers (or rather the psychiatric hospital {the Maudsley Hospital} to which the IOP is attached.) Schizophrenic with alcohol induced depression. The trouble with schizophrenics is that often they tend to drink a lot (but sometimes not at all!) and also they get severe depression (as if just being schizophrenic wasn't bad enough!)...the depression is often a result of things like the hearing of voices, talking about the victim in a derogatory manner. She'd be walking down the street, meanwhile a running commentary would be going on in her head ... "look at the cut a the quare one there, who de f*ck dez she think she is..." and so on.
Quick geek qoute (sorry):
"Nothing is easier than to condemn the evildoer, nothing is harder than to understand him."
- Fyodor Dostoyevski
So, I'm with you there Zina - there but for the grace of God go I. There's not much separating us so-called "normals" from people with psychiatric problems. I also can't stand by and watch someone be in pain, be it physical or psychological. We're meant to have a National Health Service in this country but it's a loada keech (=sh*te, but I'm not allowed to say that) right now. You see someone in obvious distress, you help how you can, that's a natural human thing. But our job is to play music.
....Actually, our job is to be humans, so I've changed my mind.
Hell, I don't know. If there is one great consciousness of the universe which is everywhere, from supernovae, down to a planet having a self-regulating Gaia consciousness, then going down to mere humans, whose occupants have reported signs of consciousness, then down to musicians...*joke!*...then down to Schrodinger's & Heisenberg's sub-atomic particles.... why doesn't this ultrahuge-mega-god redefine the laws of the universe (ie change the speed of light to slightly quicker or something) so that there wouldn't be any greed and then zillions of people in Africa might stay alive this year.
That's why I don't have faith in anything other than what we're prepared to do ourselves, for whatever reason. Gods are a made up thing, and an excuse for either nothing, or leaving the blame with someone else.
To try and put this back on some musical rails, talent isn't God-given, but is acquired through hard work, or that your DNA codes for more accurate motor-neuron coordination.
the terror of the session
the terror of the session
There we were, sitting at a session playing our instruments with faithful abandon as usual when the dreaded "bard of Butte" (no names mentioned) steps in with his giant bohdran and a look that said only too clearly our session had been cancelled for the night. Now before we could all go stampeding for the door and the safety of our cars, he had broken into one of his cacaphonic sea shantys. It was one of those that change key several times per bar.
Then I recall the time when a "musician" whom no one had seen before, showed up with two river rocks. Much to our astonishment he commenced to banging them together in an attempt to counter the rhythm of the tune.
Is this just with Montana or are their other "terrors" out their causing pain and sorrow to the Irish music scene around the world?
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by fadah
Re: the terror of the session
Will, i thought i told you to stick to the fiddle!
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by glauber
Re: the terror of the session
Heh, the phantom stoner strikes again!
Dominic, you should come to Helena more often, where you only have a sea of fiddles to slash at with your flute.
Truly, I'm sorry to hear that the river rock guy is back, and apparently ranging farther afield from his home in Missoula. And I hope that the bodhran player isn't who I'm thinking of.
We almost had a great session here in Helena last night. Cait Reid is in town and sat in with us, but so did eight (!!!!!!!!) other fiddles, not to mention about 120 people crammed into our little taproom drinking beer and shouting at each other. Several decent musicians left because they couldn't get a seat or hear the tunes. One left in a huff because the core four of us decided to just circle our heads and play amongst ourselves (since no one could hear anyway). Cait's a lovely east Clare style player, so we took the leisurely long-way-round through a bunch of reels, jigs, and polkas. Your flute would've been a most welcome addition. And we continued for a few more hours over at the Windbag, as usual, a much more pleasant (audible) setting for the tunes.
What I notice at sessions here in the States is that musicians and punters alike are so accustomed to loud, fast, foot stompin' music (pop, rock, bluegrass, old-timey, mass media blues and country) that they don't know how to respond to Irish music in its more lyrical moods. If it's not "reels at 90" with a line of hardshoe dancers, it's just not appreciated. Some nights I come home from playing feeling like I've been to a hockey game, not a session....
Sigh.
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Will Harmon
Re: the terror of the session
Hey Will! - you don't have a monopoly on dodgy audiences, you know! But down at the Woodman, Tir na nOg and particularly the Kilkenny, which I went to for the first time last night (see sessions section here), the audiences, or should I say non-playing drinkers, are mostly sympathetic, and know what's going on, thanks to the huge Irish population in London, and the hugeness of London, anyway. BUT, god, sure, I've played many sessions such as that you described...don't they know that's wot this stuff is, it's NOT rock n' roll.
OK. Back to F
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Rudall the time
Re: the terror of the session
Cousins and brothers, one and the same, no doubt....
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Will Harmon
Re: the terror of the session
Nightmare time: the Rockist, the Tin Woodman, and the Gypsy Queen, all homing in AT THE SAME TIME on your own defenseless home session...
Run! Run!
Zina
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Zina Lee
Re: the terror of the session
In Bristol (UK) I have seen the Tea Chest Bass Man. He actually took the trouble to play it in tune and in time, but now plays the bodhr
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Trevor Jennings
Re: the terror of the session
fadah, you are not alone.
We had a crazy clarinet player (only once, thank God) who couldn't play and wouldn't leave even after being asked, then told to go away. Even so, the most bizarre guest to date would have to be the drunken opera singer.
She came into the room a little after 1:00am, just when the crowd thins out and we play some old-timey tunes and Cape Breton jigs and waltzes etc. to wind down before going home. We had the great fortune of having this woman standing and belting out librettoes (in Italian) at the top of her lungs in very authentic opera voice over tunes like "Whiskey Before Breakfast". A very jarring way to wind up an otherwise pleasant and tuneful evening.
Happily, encounters of this nature are rare at our sesh. But if she shows up again, I'll be sure to inform her that her soulmate, the "Bard of Butte", can be found at your place.
Cheers,
Greg
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by octogreg
Re: the terror of the session
Fadah, your River Rock Man reminds me of that passage in Douglas Adams's "Hitch-Hiker's Guide" where a radio announcer addresses all the intelligent life forms in the galaxy, and says "and for the rest of you, keep banging the rocks together guys" - I'm quoting from memory btw.
Trevor
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Trevor Jennings
Re: the terror of the session
Have any of you guys/gals ever had a harmonica player at a session? we had one show up a little while back. Other than the harmonica being a little piercing at times, I had no other complaint about it. The guy was super enthusiastic about the music and knew *loads* of tunes. A new definition of "Irish harp", huh?
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Andee
Re: the terror of the session
I'm thinking of starting an "alternative" ceili band.
The ideal line up would be:
Tea Chest Bass
Washboard Man (Tinman for electric numbers)
Lagerphone/also doubles up on an empty beer carton
Spoons and assorted cutlery
Singing Saw
Clarinet/Saxamaphone
Hurdy Gurdy
Djembe
Okarina
Didgereedoo
Someone playing a theramin-or glasses filled to differing notes
Tambourine
Conch Shell
Lambeg Drum
But I think the guy getting his rocks off is a bit too wierd for this line-up
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Greenwiggle
Re: the terror of the session
And they should learn "My Heart Will Go On" as their party piece...?
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Zina Lee
Re: the terror of the session
oy! the dij is good rhythym piece when properly done..
Look at 'S
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Pádraig
Re: the terror of the session
yes,i do remember tin man,Danny.
he also had a very big screwdriver in his very big collection of essential instruments.which he banged;not forgetting the violent beating of the drumsticks on the side of the table - think machine-gunning in some over the top stallone 'movie'.
he was one of the reasons i eventually stopped going to that session in those times.
when the old fox&hounds session was 'between' venues and at the crown in greenwich there was a very funny incident involving the tin man and a bodhr
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by biggus dave
Re: the terror of the session
Yes, Liam, but you'll note they don't use it on every track. Therefore: a novelty.
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Zina Lee
OH, I only just remembered a woman at a local session once when I was just beginning! She would sit just outside the circle and sort of moan...apparently, she thought whale song was the coolest thing ever, and she felt that singing whale song along with the players would be just the ticket.
Jeez, I'd forgotten all about that.
zls
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Zina Lee
Re: the terror of the session
Last Halloween my friends and I all went out for some tunes. Of course we were all dressed up - I went as the classic B-52's anthem "Rock Lobster" (I wore a punk-rocker outfit and a lobster hat. No one understood what I was...oh well...).
Anyway, so Rock Lobster, Geisha Girl, Elephant Man, Rasta Man and Crazy-Biker-Alien Man were sitting around playing a great set of tunes, when this pajama clad hippie strolled up holding his electric guitar and extra long patch cord. He stood there headbanging along to the tunes for a while, and then I saw him lean over and exchange some words with Rasta Man (sidenote - Rasta Man was/is not a very likeable person or musician both before and after this event). While we were all in the middle of playing through a set of reels, the hippie dude perched himself atop one of the booths next to the session circle and Rasta Man plugged his patch cord into the mixer for the in-house sound system. The hippie dude started strumming away...
I cannot describe to you the physical, aural and emotional pain suffered by every session musician present for this particular event! It was the most awful thing I've ever heard. We all started glaring at him and several of us stopped playing to tell him to knock it off...first politely and then it turned into a blatant "shut the f*** up!" The hippie dude was a little taken aback, and sat for a while and just listened. In the meantime, Crazy-Biker-Alien-Man was sitting next to the mixer and he turned off the channel that the hippie dude was plugged into. Hippie dude started up again a while later, apparently attempting to "solo" over a set of slip jigs. When he once again realized that we couldn't hear his amazing shredding solos, he reached over himself and attempted to turn up the sound system. I'm not sure who exactly confronted him this time, but I do distinctly remember the hippie dude getting swatted quite fiercely over the head as he was bent over the sound system. He left rather dejectedly after that, and Rasta Man got QUITE an earful from the rest of us. What WAS he thinking!!!
On a similar note, during that same session Rasta Man, a bouzouki player, began strumming along to an E minor reel that we were playing. We spent the whole time shouting "E minor! E minor!" at him while he just looked at us and nodded. When we finished the reel, one of the musicians leaned over and asked him, "What key were you playing in?"
His haughty response: "G minor. WHY? What key were YOU playing in?"
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by carafiddle
Re: the terror of the session
Great stories. Ahhh, misery loves accompaniment,
Zina, what kind of whales songs were they--beluga, right, or humpback? We all make dog sounds when our session mate Jane sings the Foxhunter's, and the taproom sounds like the dog pound--every breed imaginable, in various states of excitation and apparent distress. Somehow, the singer carries on.....
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Will Harmon
Re: the terror of the session
I ran into an old high school friend that used to play rock & roll at all of our old parties. I tell him we have to go to a session downtown so I can turn you on to this Irish music that I'm just crazy about. He plays guitar & violin, went to college and got a big degree in music and everything. He's talented but kind of has a big head and throws questions at me like "whats a double flatted D" and all this big time theory stuff - I guess to impress me with how much he knows. Anyway we plan to go to Fado's and check out their session. I tell him maybe you could take an acoustic guitar because it's more of that kind of enviornment. Well he starts in telling me how I'm getting closed minded about the acoustic thing and he wants to be heard when he plays etc. etc.. I pick him up and sure enough here he comes with his violin and a small amp. I'm thinking aghhh why did I invite him.. We go down to Fado's and he carrys in his amp. and sees that I was right. He covered the amp with his coat and sat in awe as the session went on. Of course he needed to let someone know that he was a well educated musician and asked one of my old teachers - what key was that in and my teacher say's I don't know. Then he asked the name of one of the tunes - same response - I don't know which completly baffled him. But he did enjoy the music and thankfully never plugged into the amp. what a relief that was for me. ha
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by deblittle
Mobile phones
Danny ...
You obviously weren't at The Duke the night Mobile Phone Man turned up.
I arrived early as usual for a jar or two to limber up and this loner clocks the instrument case.
"Is there a session on here tonight?"
"Aye"
"What time does it kick off?"
"In an hour or so."
"Right, so! I'll finish off this beer and get a taxi back to pick up my harmonica ..."
No problem, I think, Brendon Powers, Paul Moran ... fine players on the oul' tim sandwich ... a new voice in the mix ... fair play to you.
Then he drops the bombshell. "It's a C harmonica."
I gulped.
"We don't play many tunes in C."
"Not to worry" says your man "You'll soon get the hang of it!"
So ... off he staggers.
Given the cut of him, I reckoned we'd not see him again. I'm sure his bed was beckoning.
But no such luck. Just as we were settling down to the pre-kick off pint, in he wanders.
"The lads!"
I groaned inwardly.
Anway we played away and he tried to blow along with us, but it was obvious even to him that he was not pitched properly. So, after a few attempts to cajole the assembled company into playing "Danny Boy" (God bless us ... I was feeling very nervous at the sheer thought) in C (palpitating, I was), he shoved the harpoon back in his dirty ol bandana.
Only to strike up a long and loud conversation with some character on his mobile phone. His insouciance was fascinating. John the fiddler ... one of the mildest-mannered men in South East London, second only in civility, gentility and haughty bearing to myself (ha, ha) ... eventually lost it!
In his polished tones, he commanded ... "Now listen here! You're being very rude and annoying. If you wish to carry on your conversation, I suggest you do so without the earshot of this estimable company of musicianers." (or words to that effect)
To which mobie dick replies. "You're alright, lads. It's the sister in Dublin. Play away as loud as you like. She loves the oul' music."
....!
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Aidan Crossey
Tim sandwich
Good lord!
An unintentional howler.
But I like it ... a great nickname for the Irish harmonica.
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Aidan Crossey
Tim Sandwich
Aye, Aidan, I was there that night, and remember the cut of yer man. Sure, did he not ask me to play Danny Boy in C, to which I replied something like "I didn't know Danny Boy went in the Sea" - totally lost on him. Was it not the same night the Shadow's shadow was there?
Danny
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by Rudall the time
Re: the clowning glory of the session
Some sessions have passengers, mine has hi-jackers.
Yes, we have also had the river stones and sticks players. I encouraged my gang to start digeridoo noises a-la Rolf and launch into "Sun Arise" - they soon stopped their clatter.
We also had tramps pass by, one who played two guiness bottles like bones all night, the other played two 50 pence pieces also like bones. They were both passable musicians, both step danced, so I suppose they were of "the old school" and good entertainment. We never saw either again.
Another music-hall old stager decided to do card tricks and sleight of hand during the session, his party piece was rolling a sheet of newspaper into a cone and balancing it on his nose. By this time my gang had entered into the spirit and were playing "Entry of the Gladiators".
The best two session clowns ever - one said
"your accordion just sounds like the real thing"
and the other said
Punter: Do you do requests?
Band: Yes, what do you want?
Punter: Oh, anything!
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by geoffwright
Re: the terror of the session
Right, I'm for taking my Stylophone out this weekend. If I play Boys of Bluehill, d'you reckon people will suss I'm a beginner? As I live in Glasgow, any bets on how long before the batteries get flung out a window?
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by izzymac
Re: the terror of the session
Andee - the mouth organ in Irish is An Fidil Fhrancach otherwise the French Fiddle! I have no idea how that came about - any ideas out there?
My own particular favourite was the deaf double bones player with a hearing aid in both ears. I suspect that they were turned off since he didn't even come close to the rhythm. When we upped stciks to move to another venue the B*****d followed us - finally we had to gulder at him to bog off. Never been seen since - thank Magog.
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by breandan
Re: the terror of the session
the travelling spoons tutor ...
lately came thru here and while half of the session tried to play on some sets of tunes pretending beeing more or less unimpressed the other half put down their instrument and had a few long sips on their pints or even left the room to stroll arround till the situation clears up, the spoon man with much enthusiasm and in great speed gathered around him some bodhran beginners and more and more people from the audience armed with all the spoons available in the pub teaching them all the rhythms that are not the ones of the actual played tunes ...... this was bavaria in southern germany so he now might appear in italy, france or spain (or is he already cloned???)
# Posted on June 25th 2003 by crannog
Re: the terror of the session
The week before Gaelic Roots, a woman brought a tambourine to our weekly session. She didn't sit in with us, but shook it hap-hazzardly while socializing at the bar. I turned around and gave her my infamous death-stare and this seemed to work. She hasn't been back. I know I can be ruthless sometimes, but there are several of us who have worked our arses off to bring our session to a new level.
Joyce
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by JMH
Re: the terror of the session
It's a great sport and community pastime here to try and spot the "Freak of the Week" before they start playing.
Here are a couple memorable ones...
The Suitcase Sultan:
A pipe player at the session carries around his pipes in a suitcase-like case. So, he's playing away on the pipes and in walks the Freak of the Week. He sits down and asks if he can look at the pipes player's case. The pipes player is confused and says sure...the man proceeds to beat on the case like a drum and in any rhythm other than the one being played. That's was put to a stop really quickly.
The Ceili Queen and her Faithful Minion:
So, it's around Christmas and we're playing away, having a great 'ole session. Nice tunes but even nicer holiday atmosphere complete with flowing rivers of liquid cheer. There's this drunk woman sitting at the bar who has humongous breasts. I don't say that because I'm a sexist pig; I say that because she was wearing a zip-up shirt that was not very zipped, thus advertising to the world her talents (just a little detail to clarify what a class act she was). Well, she proceeds to belt into song at very inopportune moments, particularly the middle of a set. They are mostly songs about her husband and her love for him - he is covering his face at the bar.
Finally, someone says something to her. She replies back, very loudly, that this is a ceili and that everybody can do whatever they want. We reply that, no, this is a session and in fact you can not do whatever you want because the bar pays for the regulars to play. Well, she proceeds to try and get the crowd into it, saying something like,"This is a ceili, am I right, am I right?!!". All of this is done in such a Jerry Springer like fashion that I can not keep from laughing despite the tension.
We keep trying to play.
Well, after a while she goes back to her seat at the bar. Fine, except that she is soon joined by a homeless man who is high as a kite. My wife, the beautiful queen bi***, has proceeded toward the bar to put an end to this whole situation. She arrives just as the woman is telling the street person that sure he can sing songs because it's a ceili. My wife says no, this is an Irish session and if you know the songs and/or tunes in the tradition maybe we'd like to hear something but otherwise no. This offends the street person to no end, "OH, I see...a black man can't come in and sing songs to his Lord Jesus Christ in a white man's bar." At this point my wife realizes she is out of her depth and walks away.
Of course, the street person does grace us to a few songs with such great Irish lyrics as "Oh, my Jesus; my sweet Jesus". My sweet Jesus, indeed.
Then the bar manager kicks them out. The end.
At other points we've had a mandolin and guitar player who tuned for and hour straight, spoon players, bad guitar players...blah,blah,blah, the usual. I think it runs in trends here. We haven't had any freaks in a long time, thank God, but this is a tourist town and it is summer. It's only a matter of time. The odd freak adds some excitement and makes for good stories. They're really funny for a little while; you just can't let them ruin a good session. It's like a streaker at a baseball game; it makes for an interesting day at the ballpark, but usually you just want to play ball. You could move to a nudist colony to see naked people.
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by jerball
Re: the terror of the session
This freak show almost makes the Egg and Spoon brigade appear as respectable musicians.....
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Rudall the time
Re: the terror of the session
In years past a cross-dressing tenor recorder/bowed psaltery player used to attend our session. S/He/It had no discernible effect on the music because these are very quiet instruments, but it was a bit an odd sight, to say the least-a 230+ pound guy in a tie-dyed dress playing recorder very quietly in the midst of our session. Harmless, but odd.
I've seen rub board players at irish sessions and bluegrass concerts, too, and GAWD, they're annoying. Not even the bluegrassers can stand them, and they've a fairly high tolerance for BS.
Another time a clueless djembe player turned up and was lucky to escape with his life.
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Hanley
Re: the terror of the session
what's a clueless djembe?
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Rudall the time
Re: the terror of the session
Har har har Domhniaill. It wasn't the djembe that was clueless, it was the idiot sitting behind it.
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Hanley
Re: the terror of the session
There was this gent who would come in and annoy the session by sitting close at a table and playing his favorite instrument, a quarter against his pint glass. Not only was he out of time but varied his pitch as his drink diminished! Eventually he was asked to stop it, none to soon and then left in a huff. Aye yi yi
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Robby B.
Re: the terror of the session
Like the Demon Drummer who arrived at a Broadstairs Folk week session armed with a huge hairy arsed drum which could be heard and even felt 300 yards up the street.
I
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by Twiz
Re: the terror of the session
These stories have me rolling on the floor ... Stop my stomache hurts.
Deb
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by deblittle
Re: the terror of the session
Geez!! these stories are great.
So back to the "bard of butte".
It so happened that night he showed up, Ken omalley of the twighlight lords was at the session along with kathleen keane(famous whistle player). Everything was going okay until the "bard of Butte" Decided to take on the most honorable roll of....(drum roll please)....SESSION M.C. !!! So before every tune or song he would ask one of the younger musicians who didn't know any better for tha name of the tune. then he would roar out in his most operatic voice "Here Here!!! "Bob" is about to play the bueatiful song/tune (and then after a short biography of the peice he would mention the name.) It did take long for the junior member of the session to realize the damage he was doing. So we quit playing tunes we knew he names of which left our poor bard out of a job. He was forced to retire to his chair and sat the rest of the night slumped over his giant bohdran with a look of dejection on his face.
and then we played happily ever after.
dominic
# Posted on June 26th 2003 by fadah
Oing doing doing
lately the jaw harpist was at our session. he did quite well with almost all the tunes. I guess he must have found an instrument in the key of D (maybe from an irish jaw harp maker) ...
# Posted on June 27th 2003 by crannog
Re: the terror of the session
Two things spring to mind here. The first was at a folk session in the UK many years ago where a guy sitting at the table sang, of all things, Rock Of Ages. He was TERRIBLE. He changed key at least every three notes and sang every verse. If anyone had been there to record it, and then transcribe the whole thing, pauses, tempo changes, dotted notes key changes and shifts in pitch, then given it to any accomplished singer it would have been impossible to recite.
The second was at a 'standing room only' session, and a guy sitting up against the wall at the back was snapping the finger of one hand in front of his open mouth and then punching the palm of the other in time to the music. My wife pointed this one out to me, and I couldn't believe I'd been listening for so long and not noticed. I suppose it's a great example of being so into the music you want to take part yourself.. At least he couldn't be heard, he was enjoying himself, and doing no one any harm and that's what really matters, but I always have a quiet laugh when i think of it.
It's a mad mad mad mad world
B
# Posted on June 27th 2003 by bacchus
Re: the terror of the session
Last year, in a session at the London Irish Centre, during the Return to Camden Town festival, there was an eccentric lady playing a terracotta tile with a strange curved drumstick. She appeared to be trying to keep in time with the music, but invariably wandered off after a bar or so. To be fair to her, she was at least aware that she was out of time and paused to re-synchronise herself every two or three bars - and she had the common decency to play such an unobtrusive instrument as a tile, rather than a Salvation Army bass drum (here's hoping she never learns to play in time, lest she decide she's ready to graduate).
# Posted on June 27th 2003 by CreadurMawnOrganig
Re: the terror of the session
Trevor - Was the washboard + paraphernalia man a tall, lanky man in his 50s, sporting a handlebar moustache? It sounds like it could be Carl Woffinton, from Berkshire. I play with him not infrequently, in the embarrassingly named Beer and Baccy Ceilidh Band. We also have a tea-chest bassist with us from time to time. Needless to say, we do not model ourselves on the Tulla or the Kilfenora Celi Bands - more like a poor man's Gallowglass.
# Posted on June 27th 2003 by CreadurMawnOrganig
Jeremy - that mandolin and guitar player that spent an hour tuning wasn't me, was it?
...No, I leave my guitar at home these days. I only spend 3/4 hour tuning now.
# Posted on June 27th 2003 by CreadurMawnOrganig
Re: the terror of the session
David, our washboard + etc man was a much older, tubby man, must be well into his 70's, and lives (lived?) locally in Bristol. I shouldn't have thought he did much in the way of travelling. I haven't seen him for about a year, so I don't know whether he's still active. Not your chap, anyway.
Trevor
# Posted on June 28th 2003 by Trevor Jennings
Re: the terror of the session
LOL -- a "tubby" man? How appropriate!
# Posted on June 28th 2003 by Zina Lee
There was a rather desperate sad woman at a local session last winter. We weren't sure at all what to do about her and ended up doing nothing, I'm afraid. She left about 3/4 of the way through the night. She was crying and swaying to the music, waving her hands in the air, outlining the oddest shapes with them, and sort of crooning along in a toneless kind of way. Every time we stopped playing, she'd glare at us like we were doing something wrong. At one point she actually yelled at someone who inadvertently stood between her and the music, but thankfully did nothing else about it.
The sad thing is that this session has quite a few very understanding and very sympathetic people in it. Very nice folks, overall. if she'd simply been crying, someone would probably have befriended her and tried to help her if they could, but as it was, everyone was afraid that she might turn out to be some kind of ticking bomb bazooka murderer or something and was too afraid that talking to her might actually set her off.
What a world, huh? *sigh* It's stuck with me, obviously -- wish the world wasn't such that somebody in obvious pain could go so unhelped.
zls
# Posted on June 28th 2003 by Zina Lee
Re: the terror of the session
Pooooor woman - she sounds like one of our customers (or rather the psychiatric hospital {the Maudsley Hospital} to which the IOP is attached.) Schizophrenic with alcohol induced depression. The trouble with schizophrenics is that often they tend to drink a lot (but sometimes not at all!) and also they get severe depression (as if just being schizophrenic wasn't bad enough!)...the depression is often a result of things like the hearing of voices, talking about the victim in a derogatory manner. She'd be walking down the street, meanwhile a running commentary would be going on in her head ... "look at the cut a the quare one there, who de f*ck dez she think she is..." and so on.
Quick geek qoute (sorry):
"Nothing is easier than to condemn the evildoer, nothing is harder than to understand him."
- Fyodor Dostoyevski
So, I'm with you there Zina - there but for the grace of God go I. There's not much separating us so-called "normals" from people with psychiatric problems. I also can't stand by and watch someone be in pain, be it physical or psychological. We're meant to have a National Health Service in this country but it's a loada keech (=sh*te, but I'm not allowed to say that) right now. You see someone in obvious distress, you help how you can, that's a natural human thing. But our job is to play music.
....Actually, our job is to be humans, so I've changed my mind.
Hell, I don't know. If there is one great consciousness of the universe which is everywhere, from supernovae, down to a planet having a self-regulating Gaia consciousness, then going down to mere humans, whose occupants have reported signs of consciousness, then down to musicians...*joke!*...then down to Schrodinger's & Heisenberg's sub-atomic particles.... why doesn't this ultrahuge-mega-god redefine the laws of the universe (ie change the speed of light to slightly quicker or something) so that there wouldn't be any greed and then zillions of people in Africa might stay alive this year.
That's why I don't have faith in anything other than what we're prepared to do ourselves, for whatever reason. Gods are a made up thing, and an excuse for either nothing, or leaving the blame with someone else.
To try and put this back on some musical rails, talent isn't God-given, but is acquired through hard work, or that your DNA codes for more accurate motor-neuron coordination.
Expecting a tirade of Keech thrown back at me,
Danny.
# Posted on June 28th 2003 by Rudall the time