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Dance

Irish Step Dancing Even You Can Do

Dancer and documentarian Kieran Jordan.

Dancer and documentarian Kieran Jordan.

Before there were wigs of bouncing corkscrew curls, costumes that look like pages torn from the Book of Kells, and athletic aerial lifts that put Michael Jordan to shame, Irish step dancing was, like other folk dances, a joyous celebration of music that anyone, from toddling to doddering, could do.

And surprise—it still is. Old-time step dancing, like sean nos (the Irish phrase meaning “old style”), is alive and well.

“Just google ‘sean nos dancing’ and you’ll see hundreds of website come up,” says Kieran Jordan, a former competitive Irish step dancer from Glenside who now performs, choreographs, and teaches in Boston. “Sean nos is huge in Ireland right now. It’s a dance form that nearly died out because it was considered too wild or free form, compared to the structured, modest step-dancing where you keep your arms down and there are rules on what you wear and how you look.”

Jordan not only teaches sean nos and other, older forms of step dancing, she recently produced a documentary film, “Secrets of the Sole: Irish Dance Steps and Stories,” with two of her favorite old-time dancers, Kevin Doyle and Aidan Vaughan. Doyle, a Rhode Island native, does a form of solo step dancing that might remind you of the tap-dancing style of Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, or even Bill “Bojangles” Robinson—that seemingly effortless, percussive dance that turns the feet into virtual musical instruments. Vaughan dances the traditional sean nos style, his moves so close to the floor even Jordan admits she had to practically get down next to him to learn the steps.

“Sean nos style, was primarily danced in the far west of Ireland, a little more raw than competitive step dancing,” Jordan explains. “It’s very playful, but it can be loud and battering or floating and gliding.”

(Editor’s Note: You can see sean nos dancing live next Tuesday, December 9, at the Irish Center in Mount Airy, during the exciting “Irish Christmas in America” show, featuring Karan Casey and members of Teada.)

While “Riverdance” rekindled interest in competitive Irish step dancing with its codified style of dress and choreography—stiff upper body, arms down at the sides, aforementioned wigs and outfits–“old style dancing did almost die out in most parts of Ireland,” says Jordan. “But it’s something that even young people have latched on to lately. It’s very accessible; it brings the music to life because you’re able to move your upper body and you can improvise a little more. Your feet stay close to the floor, you’re not jumping a whole lot, and you’re standing in a more natural stance rather than in ballet turnout. It’s a dance form meant for people of all ages. People can continue to do this kind of dancing into their ‘80s and ‘90s, and I love that about it. I’ve been doing Irish dancing for more than 25 years, and it’s high impact. Anyone in their 30s and is still doing it has had injuries, big or small. Sean nos is low-impact so it doesn’t pose the same problems.”

Jordan was four years old when she told her parents that she wanted to learn to step dance. “The first time I saw Irish dancing was at the St. Patrick’s Day Parade, she recalls. “I asked my parents if I could learn to do that. Fortunately, Rosemarie Timoney was giving classes at our church, St. Luke’s in Glenside, so I went there every Saturday. I have a lot of great memories of those early classes with her. I remember taking to it right away. I loved learning new steps, I loved the music, and I made good friends.”

But she also decided to go the competitive route, which meant she had to move from school to school to work with certified teachers. “It was important to go to feis (competitions, pronounced “fesh”) and learn news steps, so I changed schools a couple of times to seek that out.”

That’s a list of familiar names to anyone interested in Irish dance in the Philadelphia area: De Noghla, Coyle, McHugh. Jordan competed nationally for 14 years, performing several times at Radio City Music Hall in Frank Patterson’s “St. Patrick’s Day Spectacular,’ which featured 100 champion step dancers in what must have felt and sounded like an earthquake of magnitude 8. When she was at the McHugh School, she joined teachers Sheila and Tara McHugh in performing with Mick Moloney, then folklore professor at the University of Pennsylvania. Moloney, now at New York University, was part of a musical trio with Seamus Eagan (of Solas) and Eugene O’Donnell, a fiddler and step dancer. Just as Moloney revived Philadelphia interest in Irish traditional music, O’Donnell helped bring about the renaissance of step dancing in the region when he arrived in the US from Derry in 1957.

While most teens were bagging at the Acme or asking people 1,000 times a day, “Do you want fries with that?” Jordan was performing professionally. “I remember getting to use my mom’s car to go off to gigs and Mick always paid me. It was wonderful,” she recalls.

When she graduated from high school she won the first college scholarship given by the Irish Dance Teachers of North America and attended Boston College. But she never expected to wind up with a career in dance. “I thought I was going to be a journalist or an English professor. I always wrote for the school newspaper. I wrote for the Irish Edition when I was a teenager and in Boston, I worked for the Boston Irish Reporter for four years, though I was never far from the Irish dance scene, because that’s what I was writing about.”

She explored other forms of expression too, taking classes in jazz, musical theater, and other percussive dance styles, such as Appalachian clogging, tap, and Cape Breton step dancing. She found she loved the close interplay between dancer and musician these other styles offered, allowing the dancer’s personality to emerge and shine. Through Boston College’s Irish Studies Program and at University College in Cork and Limerick University, where she got her master’s degree in contemporary dancer performance, she met and learned from a variety of instructors, including Joe O’Donovan, a master of the “old style” Irish dancing. That’s where she also met Aidan Vaughan–while working on independent projects on sean nos dance that focused on his County Clare style. Jordan also won second place for her sean nos jig dancing at the Comortas Choilin Sheain Dharach, a sean nos dance festival in Connemara.

Her fate, it seems, was sealed. Today, she’s a fulltime performer and dance instructor, teaching her “Beyond the Feis” workshop in Boston, Cambridge, and wherever in the country she’s invited to teach (like Irish Week in the Catskills, where her daily classes are filled and her husband, artist Vincent Crotty, teaches painting). She also tours frequently. “A couple of weeks a month, I’m somewhere,” she laughs.

For the next few weeks, she’s working as choreographer for WGBH-TV’s annual Christmas Celtic Sojourn show (her old friend, Seamus Eagan, is music director), something she’s done for the past five years. “We even have a PBS special, a DVD and CDs, though it hasn’t left New England yet,” she says.

And her writing skills aren’t getting rusty. She’s using them wto market her dance DVD (while working on another instructional video). “I can write my own PR releases, so I’m grateful to have those skills,” she laughs. But she’s doesn’t regret choosing dance over journalism. While she’s happy to use her writing and dancing talents to help broaden the audience for Irish folk dance, it’s still the dancing, she says, “that’s where my heart is.”

Dance

A Look Back at the 2008 Oireachtas

Here they are, the McAleer "Ghillies."

Here they are, the McAleer "Ghillies."

Many of the dance schools that competed in the Mid-Atlantic Oireachtas down at the Center City Marriott created custom T-shirts for their teams. One set of tees stood out above the rest—those worn by the McAleer School out of Claymont, Delaware.

You might have to be a dancer to get the joke, but emblazoned in baseball script across the McAleer pinstriped jerseys was the word “Ghillies.” (Ghillies, for you non-dancers, are dance shoes.)

To Tricia Beichner, who designed the shirt, it was a no-brainer: “”The Phillies won the World Series, and that’s why we did it.”

The shirts proved so popular that not only the bewigged dancers were wearing them. (And that’s a look, let me tell you.) “It’s beyond the team,” said Beichner. “The dads and the moms bought the shirt, too.”

You’ll find more pictures from this year’s Oireachtas, a huge competition for Irish dancers throughout the mid-Atlantic states, in our photo essay.

  • Dance, Music

    Didn’t We All Just Have the Best Time?

    Stella means star ... and she is. One of many who just couldn't keep from dancing.

    Stella means star ... and she is. One of many who just couldn't keep from dancing.

    Not all that long ago, Irish newcomers to the Delaware Valley found a pretty fair treatment, if not a cure, for homesickness in the dances at the old VFW on 69th Street.

    Rosemarie Timoney, one of the local legends of Irish dance, recalls working in Chestnut Hill in those days. She used to hop on a bus that would take her from Bethlehem Pike down to Cheltenham Avenue, and from there, she’d join her girlfriends on the E bus for the last leg of the trip down to Upper Darby.

    There, she and her pals would dance the sets—Shoe the Donkey, the Siege of Ennis, the Philadelphia set (of course), and more.

    A few of the folks who remember the dance hall days all too well—including Rosemarie, Ed Reavy Jr., Tommy Moffit and Kevin McGillian—were on hand over the weekend as the Philadelphia Ceili Group held its annual festival of Irish music and dance at the Philadelphia Irish Center. One very special feature of that three-day event was a Saturday afternoon dance to commemorate those days down on 69th Street. With Rosemarie herding the newbies, Tommy calling the tunes, Kevin playing accordion and Ed dancing up a storm, it felt like nothing had really changed at all. The dance hall was different, but the dance goes on.

    It all felt like a great reunion party. But, then, the Ceili Festival always seems to reunite people who sometimes manage to see each other two or three times a week, as well as people who maybe haven’t been inside the Irish Center for years. Everyone just picks up where they left off, and they all throw themselves into hours and hours of great music—this year including a concert by the great New York fiddler Tony DeMarco—as well as endless hours of floor-shaking dancing. (You can hear the shoe-pounding pretty well in the parking garage under the ballroom.) The bar does a pretty fair business, and traditional music sessions go on and on into the night.

    We’ve tried to capture some of the best moments in pictures.

    Dance, Music

    It’s Ceili Group Festival Time Again!

    Singers Terry Kane and Rosaleen McGill are on the bill for the 34th annual Philadelphia Ceili Group music festival.

    Singers Terry Kane and Rosaleen McGill are on the bill for the 34th annual Philadelphia Ceili Group music festival.

    Tony DeMarco.

    As far as I’m concerned, you don’t get much more Irish than that. Sure, his Dad was Italian, but the part-Irish DeMarco (his mom’s a Dempsey) is one of the finest practitioners of the so-called Sligo style of fiddling. It’s bouncy, intricate (musicians call it ornamentation), and you can’t keep your foot still for love nor money.

    DeMarco, who recently produced his first CD, will be challenging you to stay in your seat on Friday night , September 12, when he performs during the 34th Annual Philadelphia Ceili Group Irish Music and Dance Festival, held at the Irish Center in Mt. Airy. The three-day event is a musical must-see for anyone interested in traditional Irish music and dance–in fact, for anyone with an interest in real folk music. 

    It kicks off with one of the best additions in recent years—Thursday’s Irish Circle of Song, featuring local singers Rosaleen McGill, Matt Ward, Kathy DeAngelo, Eugenia Brennan, and Terry Kane. Also joining them on stage will be Brian Hart, the only American ever to win an All-Ireland title for singing at the Irish Fleadh Cheoil, and Canadian sean nos (old time) singer Catherine Crowe, who also usually brings her handmade jewelry to sell.

    If you really, truly can’t keep your feet still during Tony DeMarco’s performance on Friday, or it gives you a case of the restless legs, head into the Irish Center’s Big Ballroom where you can kick up your heels to Danny Flynn’s The Bog Wanderers, a topnotch ceili band from Maryland. The Washington Post called their first CD “consistently enjoyable.”

    On Saturday, the doors open at noon to one jam-packed day, tailor-made for the multi-tasker. There are workshops in fiddle, accordian, bodhran pipes, sean nos singing, and step-dancing from noon to 2 PM in the Ballroom. There’s a tin whistle workshop followed by a pipes, flutes and whistles concert so everyone can show off what they learned.

    In the Ballroom, what’s billed as a “continuous killer ceili” will keep you moving and grooving from 2 to 10 PM , followed, if you have the energy or are still living, by a traditional Irish House Party (a dance so called because it was traditionally held in someone’s home, with the furniture pushed against the walls to create a dance floor) with set and figure dancing to live music. 

    On the Fireside and John Kelly Stages, there will be concurrent performances, from 2 PM to 10 PM, by a variety  of performers. They include the father-son team of Kevin and Jimmy McGillian, brother and sisters John, Judy, and Eugenia Brennan, Brendan Callahan, Sean McComiskey, Fintan Malone of Blarney, Tom O’Malley, Caitlin Finley, Dennis Gormley, Kathy DeAngelo, Tony DeMarco, Danny Flynn,The Bog Wanderers, Brian Hart, Jeremy Bingamen, Mary Malone, Paddy O’Neill, Matt Ward, Matt Heaton, Brendan Mulvihill, Kieran Jordan, Tim Britton, McDermott’s Handy, Catherine Crowe, Rosaleen McGill, Terry Kane, Tim Hill, and more. All are welcome to stay for the Open Music and Song Jam Session (seisiún in Irish) until the wee hours!

    But if your bent is more the spoken word, at 6 PM there will be a presentation by, well,you, if you want to read or recite a piece of poetry and prose. Festival director Frank Malley says he’ll “tell a story to start it off, then call on one, then another and another for about an hour to recite, read poetry, or tell stories.”

    Local Irishspeaker, Tom Cahill, will recite in Irish, then translate into English.

    All-festival tickets are $35. Individual tickets cost $12 for Thursday’s Irish Circle of Song, $15 for Friday’s Tony DeMarco Concert and The Bog Wanderers; and $20 for Saturday’s musical extravaganza. 

    Check out some of last year’s photos here. 

    And here

    Here’s where you can buy tickets.  

    And here’s why I love Tony DeMarco’s music so much.  Listen to tracks from his new CD here.  

    This is why I can’t get enough of Terry Kane’s angelic voice. Listen to clips from her CD here. 

    Dance

    Tiny Dancers

    Darrah and Niall field some, at times, humorous questions from the kindergarten.

    Darrah and Niall field some, at times, humorous questions from the kindergarten.

    Champion Irish dancers Niall O’Leary and Darrah Carr had just spent an entire class period in the Woodward Gym at Chestnut Hill Academy, teaching a group of kindergartners all about Irish dance and music. Applying their great powers of concentration and persuasion, they managed to herd all of those energetic little cats and keep them focused on the subject at hand. They even showed them how to dance a jig.

    At the end of this exhausting but fun-filled period, there was just enough time for a few questions about Irish culture.

    First question, from a little guy in the back:

    “Did the Vikings invade Ireland?”

    Darrah: Yes, they did, many times.

    Brief pause. 

    Second question, same kid:

    “How many times did the Vikings invade Ireland?”

    Darrah: Not sure, but many, many times.

    Third question, same kid again:

    “And what happened to you?”

    Darrah: Happened to me when?

    Same Scandinavian pirate-obsessed kid:

    “When the Vikings invaded Ireland.”

    Proof once again that, in the eyes of very small people, we older people can seem unbelievably old.

    O’Leary and Carr were visiting CHA this week as part of the Steele Guest Faculty Program, designed to expose students to irish culture. The program is overseen by Peggy Steele and honors her late husband Franklin Steele. Past guests have included Malachy McCourt and Irish fiddle champion Seamus Connolly.

    O’Leary is the director of the largest Irish dance school in New York City; Carr is artistic director of a New York-based modern dance company that blends Irish culture with contemporary dance.

    The two guest faculty members for the day had a very busy day indeed, visiting classes from morning to late afternoon. They also returned later that evening for a special presentation … for adults.

    Whether showing off their hard-shoe skills or playing the spoons, the grown-ups were no less charmed than were the kids.

    Dance

    Always On Their Toes

    The Coyle girls, posing for the Mom and Pop-arrazzi.

    The Coyle girls, posing for the Mom and Pop-arrazzi.

    It was a Kerri Strug moment.

    Kerri Strug, you may recall, was the U.S. gymnast who wrenched her ankle badly as she landed the vault in the 1996 Olympics, collapsing in tears.

    On Saturday, in competition at the 2007 Mid-Atlantic Oireachtas in Philadelphia, I watched a young dancer breeze through her routine. It wasn’t flawless, but still, it was pretty good. As the piano accompanist struck the last note, the dancer’s hard shoes slammed into the floor like a rifle shot. In that moment, her face registered not relief or triumph—relief being the far more typical response up to that point—but only shock and pain.

    She limped off the stage and sobbed all the way back across the competition hall to the front row, to where her teachers were sitting.

    Yes, they wear Shirley Temple wigs, flouncy lamé skirts and sparkling rhinestone tiaras, but Irish dance competition is not pretty. A lot of these girls could crack walnuts with their toes. I can think of at least one NFL quarterback who could learn a thing or two about toughness from some of those 6-foot-1, bird-legged 14-year-olds in their corkscrew curls. (My partner Denise saw one of the girls wearing a T-shirt that read, “If Irish dancing were easy, it would be called hockey.”)

    The kids can’t help it: Gotta dance.

    I’m not about to suggest that they are altogether lacking in external motivation. I’m certain that dominating stage parents must exist. But most of the parents I ran into seemed to be just along for the ride. The dads seemed especially burdened. Balancing half-moon-shaped dress cases, shoe bags and makeup kits, the intrepid feis sherpas scaled the steep escalators at the Marriott Midtown, where the Oireachtas is held. Moms touched up hairpieces and fastened backpieces with strips of Velcro. (The Oireachtas runs on Velcro.)

    I suspect a lot of these dancers would want to compete, regardless of parental desires or inclinations. For them, Irish dance is not just an interesting hobby. It’s more of an indispensable life element, like air, water or text messaging.

    Which is pretty much the conclusion you reach when one of them almost takes your nose off with a high kick, which happened (or nearly happened) to me as I was entering the Starbucks on the ground floor of the Marriott. There is practically never a moment when the competitors are not in motion. No one at the Oireachtas just walks. They skip, prance and caper just about everywhere, all the time.

    On elevators and escalators, in the gift shop, or waiting in line to get into the Hard Rock across the street—they danced. Wearing gym shorts or jammie bottoms, Crocs or Hello Kitty scuffs, they danced. My guess is, more than a few of them dance in their sleep. They probably dance in line for communion.

    On my way to the Marriott, I passed a girl in sweats, a winter jacket and Uggs who was making her way along Chestnut Street near Macy’s. The first giveaway that she might be an Irish dancer was the wig and tiara. But the second, more obvious, cue was that she was up on her Ugg-encased toes and boogying all the way up Chestnut Street.

    Hey, gotta dance.

    Dance, Music

    It Was a Grand Party

    Lunasa's Kevin Crawford gets crazy with his bodhran.

    Lunasa's Kevin Crawford gets crazy with his bodhran.

    At one point on Saturday night, Dennis Gormley, fiddling with the mike on the Fireside Stage at Philly’s Irish Center, leaned over and expressed his thanks to the Philadelphia Ceili Group and its Irish Music Festival director Frank Malley  for “throwing this great party.”

    “And inviting all our friends,” added his wife, Kathy DeAngelo, from behind her harp.

    The duo, who have been performing as McDermott’s Handy for nearly three decades, could look out at the audience and see rows of familiar faces. But even if you didn’t know a soul, you would have thought you were among your closest friends at an intimate little party for hundreds. That’s the atmosphere of the Philadelphia Ceili Group’s annual Irish Festival, which ran for five days from September5-9.

    You could have mingled with legends.

    If you had stayed late on Friday night, for example, after the performance by the incredible Irish group, Lunasa, you could have shared a pizza with the band and piper Tim Britton, a former Delaware Valley resident, who opened for them.

    On Saturday, you might have been in the food line behind the towering form of Breanndan Begley, the Kerryman who had just mesmerized the crowd with his emotional singing. Or struck up a conversation with Sligo-born Kevin Henry, a venerable flutist and piper, now of Chicago, who wasn’t going to have a bite until he found “herself”–his wife, who was somewhere in the crowd.

    If you hadn’t brought your own dance partner for Irish radio personality Marianne MacDonald’s House Party on Saturday night, you didn’t have to worry about being a wallflower. Someone could be convinced to dance a set or two with you–or even teach you the steps in the hall. It might have been Ed Reavy, son of the legendary fiddler, who, with his wife, Mary, are the Fred and Ginger of Irish set dancing.

    And you could have seen four-time all Ireland fiddler Brendan Callahan perform superhumanly, fiddling for the Irish dancers, playing with a trio, sitting in on sessions. . .admitting only once on Saturday night that he might be “a little tired.”

    The 31st festival opened on Wednesday night with an evening of poetry and prose, read by local Irish literary lights including Father John McNamee, pastor of St. Malachy’s Parish in North Philadelphia and the author of four books, and his friend, Father Michael Doyle of Sacred Heart Parish in Camden, NJ, author of the book, “It’s a Terrible Day, Thanks Be to God.” On Thursday, local singers including Terry Kane, Rosaleen McGill, Eugenia Brennan, Sharon Sachs, and John Winward, joined Canadian sean nos singer Catherine Crow and, from the Midwest, Brian Hart, the 28-year-old singer and dancer who is the only American ever to win an All-Ireland title for singing at the Irish Fleadh Cheoil for the Circle of Song.

    The festival ended with a set dance event on Sunday.

    We were there for mostly everything, as these photos will prove. If you couldn’t make it this year, mark it on your calendar for next year. It’s a party, and everyone is invited.

    Relive the festivities here:

    Dance

    Dancing on Air

    Riverdance lead Marty Dowds

    Riverdance lead Marty Dowds

    The great Riverdance finale—dancers strung across the stage, shoulder to shoulder in a single line, each one ramrod straight, heels hammering into hardwood, the whole line moving as one. If you have ever danced, it’s hard to attend a performance of the high-stepping spectacle and not imagine yourself in that line, filling the concert hall with that great noise.

    For just under a dozen local dancers—some of them schooled in the Irish traditional form, a few of them students of tap—the fantasy came a bit closer to reality in a small church hall on Sansom Street in Philadelphia on Saturday. Marty Dowds, lead dancer of the Riverdance Boyne touring company, led them in a demanding hour-long master class sponsored by the Tapography dance school.

    Dowds, dressed in a white t-shirt and drawstring jazz pants, showed up a bit late. His cab had gotten held up in traffic. He needed a shave, and his hair hadn’t been combed. Any normal human being would take a while to come up to full speed.

    Dowds was raring to go in the time it took to change from his street kicks to his big, clunky hard shoes. And in less time in that, Dowds was putting two short lines of young women through their paces.

    There were a couple of brief water breaks, and then on they went. It all came together in the end, as Marty urged the two short lines into one long one. Tapography’s Dave Pershica cued up the music to that big closing number.

    With Dowds out in front, the students got a chance to live the Riverdance dream—if only for a few short moments. Was it perfect? No, far from it. But judging by all the smiles, it was close enough.