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Music

New Local Group Releases CD

Call it the power of sibling rivalry, but John Gallagher reluctantly admits that he’ll be singing on stage and selling his first CD at Molly Maguire’s Restaurant and Pub in Phoenixville on Friday night, April 11, because his younger brother told him he “didn’t have the balls” to do it.

“My brother, Pat, and I were talking about art and writing,” explains Gallagher, an entrepreneur (he owns his own recruiting business) from Ardmore. “He told me I didn’t have the balls to do anything with it.” Pat Gallagher, also a recruiter, has launched a successful side career as a painter because he literally couldn’t stop “doodling,” as he called it. He was discovered in New York by an art dealer who saw him drawing in a bar and convinced him to pursue his talent.

“There’s always been a part of me that wanted to write and sing,” says John. He comes by it naturally. Both his parents, Donegal immigrants, sing; his uncle Vince Gallagher has his own band and an Irish radio show on WTMR. “I always sang for fun. After I decided I was not going to make it to the NBA, this is what my passion was.”

But, like many dreams, this one took a backseat to the practical. Gallagher needed to make a living. “I have my own company, I’m responsible for taking care of my family and my employees. I couldn’t focus on what I left behind. This is where my life took me,” he says like a man who was content with what seemed like fate.

Then, suddenly, fate laid out a slightly different path. A convergence of events—call it serendipity—sounded like a message from the universe to John Gallagher. His brother started painting and selling his work—without quitting his day job. He hired his first employee, Craig Newman, who had toured with the band, Sunflower. And his wife’s cousin is married to Patsy Ward, guitarist with the local Irish group Causeway. He, Craig, and Patsy started playing together as The Pointe. And John started writing songs.

“Last Memorial Day we went into the studio and this CD is what came out of that,” he says.

It’s called “The Other Side of the Tracks”—a reference to the fact that the Gallaghers grew up on the Main Line, but literally on the other side of the Reading line from its manicured mansions. One of the 11 songs, “Piece of Work,” is about John’s relationship with his brother, Pat. It has a distinctly country flavor and, despite the sibling rivalry that might have inspired it, it’s clearly about brotherly love. He’s already sung it a cappella at an open mike night. And he’ll be singing it Friday night at Molly Maguire’s.

“We’ll see how we’re received,” Gallagher says, his voice reflecting that same “what will be will be” attitude that guided his career. “I’m not really thinking about where it might go. Who knows what could happen? I’m doing it because I love it.”

And because, as anyone who has a younger sibling knows, he has a kid brother knew exactly what he was doing all along.

Music

The Chieftains Go Caledonian

The Chieftains, from left: Matt Molloy, Paddy Moloney, Kevin Conneff and Sean Keane.

The Chieftains, from left: Matt Molloy, Paddy Moloney, Kevin Conneff and Sean Keane.

For all of you who have had to make the painful choice between the Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day Parade and the Chieftains concert at the Kimmel—they seem always to happen on the same day—this year there’s no pain at all. The parade has been pushed back to Sunday, March 9, to avoid a conflict with Palm Sunday, and the Chieftains are in town on Saturday, March 15.

Paddy Moloney, leader of Ireland’s pioneering Irish traditional band, couldn’t be more delighted. For one, Philadelphia is a hotbed of Irish traditional music. For another, the Kimmel is just a great place to perform.

“It’s very warm. You look up [from the stage], and the hall is shaped like an egg. It’s almost like the people are with you in your parlor back home—a very expensive parlor, let me tell you.”

Moloney, who is on the board of directors for a new national concert hall auditorium in Dublin, says he hopes that performance venue will take a few lessons from the Kimmel, where the sound is phenomenal, yet the space seems so intimate. “I’ve shown them photographs,” he says.

Moloney and the Chieftains are always mining other genres for concert and recording material—a fact that drives some hard-core traditionalists a little crazy and bothers Moloney not at all. But this time, the Chieftains are not straying too far from Ireland.

“I’m going down the Scottish route,” he says. “I call it the Chieftains Scottish-Celtic connection.”

It’s a logical choice for Moloney, who in 2005 was inducted into the Scots Traditional Music Hall of Fame. He was the first non-Scot so honored.

Joining the Chieftains—Moloney (tin whistle, uilleann pipes), Sean Keane (fiddle), Matt Molloy (flute), Kevin Conneff (bodhran and vocals)—will be Alyth McCormack, from the small Scottish island of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides. “Her singing is just fantastic,” he says. “She’ll come on in the last section of the second half, blending our Irish with her Scottish style.”

Also on stage will be the brilliant Irish harper Triona Marshall. “She’ll do a version of Carolan’s concerto,” says Moloney. “It’s the best I’ve ever heard.” Marshall fills a gap in the Chieftains’ legendary sound left by the death of Derek Bell in October 2002.

Carmel Conway, a superb singer from Limerick with both classical and contemporary influences, will also join the show, as will Cuban-born Philadelphia percussionist Juan Castellanos, also known simply as “Cuco.” Look for the longtime Chieftains players, dancer Cara Butler and those crazy-legs Pilatske brothers, Jon and Nathan, from Canada’s Ottawa Valley, who were such a hit at the Kane Sisters’ Irish Center concert in July. Singer-dancer Maureen Fahey also rounds out the ensemble. (Look for an appearance by some local pipers, too.)

Quite the international cast—but that, too, is just fine with Moloney, who confesses, “I find the world now a very small place.”

It was quite another world when, back in 1963, the one-time accountant laid the groundwork for what would become the Chieftains.

It was a journey that began in 1938 in the northside Dublin suburb of Donnycarney, where Moloney was born and raised—and before then, really. Like so many traditional Irish musicians, Moloney was born into the music. House parties were common. Indeed, he says, “Music was the main source of entertainment in the family.” Moloney’s grandfather played the flute, and an uncle played in the Ballyfin Pipe Band. “He was a great pipe player,” says Moloney. “I grew up with this madness in me head.”

At age 6, his mother presented him with a whistle, purchased for a shilling and ninepence. He began to pick it up right away.

The uilleann pipes soon followed. “Every Saturday night [the world-famous piper] Leo Rowsome used to have a show on the radio. I listened to it all the time,” Moloney says. “When I was 8 or 9 I met his son in my school. The first time I saw them [the pipes] in reality, I was just blown away.”

Moloney implored his mother to secure a set of pipes for him. “Those pipes cost my mother a week’s wages,” he recalls. “She stuck it out and saved the money for them. Fortunately, I had the God-given gift.”

You bet he did. Not long after he started taking lessons from Rowsome (who also built his pipes), Moloney scored a first in the Dublin Feis. Next, came All-Ireland championships.

It was quite the time. “I was very lucky in Donnycarney,” he recalls. “There were five pipers there, including Leo, Danny O’Dowd, and myself. We went to one anothers houses. There was also lots of open-air music playing and ceili dancing, and various traditional concerts. There were a few good music clubs.”

Through it all, he was sustained and inspired by the more experienced pipers in the crowd. “I got tremendous help from the older people,” he says. “They saw in me the continuation of good piping.”

You can see for yourself why the old ones were so encouraging when the Chieftains return to the Kimmel March 15 at 3 p.m. A dinner with the Chieftains follows the concert.

Music

His Life Was Music and Family

Ed Reavy Sr. and Andy McGann at the Irish Center in the '50s.

Ed Reavy Sr. and Andy McGann at the Irish Center in the '50s.

After publishing the Ed Reavy Sr. song book in 1980, the famed composer’s sons, Joe and Ed Jr., sat down with him after a reception in his honor at Cheltenham High School, where a popular ceili band of the time, the Taproom Band, played some of the hundreds of tunes Reavy had written.

“We asked him if he could come up with 100 traditional Irish tunes that were good for listening and for dancing, some that were easy to play and others that were more difficult,” recalls Ed Reavy Jr.

It seemed like a logical request. The elder Reavy, now considered one of the most important composers of Irish traditional music, was known for his computer-like memory for songs. “We had people from all over the world come to Ed Reavy’s house, not to listen to his latest composition, but because he was the greatest man in the world to have in a session,” says Ed. “His musical recall was unbelievable. He would start on a tune, and you’d hear a musician sputter, ‘Ed, how did you bring that up? I haven’t played that since I was 16,’ and he’d say, ‘Oh, I play it every once in a while.’ There was never a point in the session if Ed Reavy was there that he couldn’t plug in a tune or a set of tunes. One would remind him of another, a sister tune or something from the same era. That would charm the musicians in the session and that’s why they flocked to Ed Reavy’s house.”

So it shouldn’t have been hard for the man from Cavan to produce 100 songs, even with all the parameters set by his sons. But two and a half months later, their father still hadn’t mentioned it. “I was working with him in his plumbing business at the time,” recalls Ed. “We were tearing out an old galvanized pipe in the home of one of his fiddler friends, and I asked him, ‘Dad, are you done with those 100 tunes?’ and he said, ‘No, I’m still working on it.’ I said, ‘Dad, a hundred tunes should be a piece of cake.’ And he said, ‘Eddie, you don’t understand. Five hundred tunes is a piece of cake. One hundred is not.’ He had to whittle down the 100 tunes we wanted from 500 tunes he had in his head. Amazing, and he was in his 70s at the time.”

Weeks later, he brought his sons a marble copybook with eleven pages, both sides, filled with tunes. “He threw the book down in front of me on the desk and said, ‘Here’s the cursed thing and I never want anything to do with it in the future!’ I told him, ‘put some of yours in there,’ tunes he loved, and he did include about 7 of his own songs. But the thing was driving him crazy.”

When Ed Reavy Sr. arrived in the US as a teenager in 1912, it’s hard to know how many songs he carried with him in his head. He settled in the part of West Philadelphia then known as Corktown, because of the many Irish immigrants who lived there. It was a serendipitous place for a musician to land because, no matter where in Ireland people came from—Mayo, Donegal, Cavan—there were the old traditional tunes to bind them and give them solace so far from home. St. Agatha’s Parish Hall is where the music lived and thrived, as well as in the local taverns, private clubs, and ubiquitous house parties.

Reavy may have been inspired early on, but he didn’t begin composing himself until the 1930s. Over 40 years, he became one of the most prolific creators of Irish traditional tunes, each one so uniquely handcrafted that defining an “Ed Reavy tune” is nearly impossible. “Louis Quinn, the famed promoter and fiddler, was once asked, ‘How can you tell an Ed Reavy tune,’” says Ed. “Well, he rubbed his chin like he did, and said, ‘That’s a loaded question. Let me put it this way, if a tune does not have a good melody, an original good melody, and if it doesn’t have rolls and runs and triplets and double stops that are actually part of the tune, not ornamentation, and it doesn’t play from the E to G string, it’s probably not an Ed Reavy tune.’”

If you’re a musician, you probably got that. But if you’re not, like me, that’s a little too “inside baseball.” So I asked Ed what he meant. “Always something new every time was what he was after,” he explained. “He often commented that the basic problem with Irish traditional music is that it’s played on the first two strings of the fiddle and none of his tunes played on just the first two strings of the fiddle. He felt strongly about that and it’s reflected in the tunes he composed. He composed in keys no one else composed in, and would sometimes change keys in the middle of a tune.”

In these modern times, when surveys reveal the greatest goals of American children is “fame and fortune,” you might think that Ed Reavy Sr. was a fortunate man. Though there’s generally little money in traditional music, he certainly experienced fame in his lifetime. His tunes were played in sessions all over the world, and his recordings—homemade and otherwise—aired on Irish radio programs both here and in Ireland, turning them quickly into standards.

But it didn’t much matter to Reavy. “He was very humble, he was so humble to the point that he was a pain in the ass,” laughs his son. “He was the kind of a guy who would stand in the back of the room and not blow his own horn. I would say, ‘For God’s sake, Dad. Let people know what you’ve done.’ And he would say, ‘Oh Eddie, you know that’s sinful.’ He was a very devout man, very devoted to his Catholic faith. He was really a living saint. And I would say, ‘Well, you’ve got a lot of sinful people composing garbage and pushing it on us.”And he would say, ‘Well, that’s true, Eddie, that’s true.’”

It was still impossible to compliment him. “I remember that he thought (Limerick-born fiddler and noted music teacher) Martin Mulvihill was a genius because he taught so many champions,” recalls Ed. “ Martin loved Dad’s composition, ‘Munster Grass,’ the hornpipe. He said it was the greatest hornpipe ever written. And Dad said, ‘That’s not true. Martin just says that because it suits his style of playing so beautifully.’ That’s just the way he was.”

He was also a man who loved two things more than anything, says his son. “Music and family—that’s all he ever thought about.”

You can meet some of Ed Reavy’s family, and hear his music played by a group of talented trad musicians, on Saturday, January 20, at 8 PM at the Irish Center in Mt. Airy. See our calendar for more details.

To learn more about Ed Reavy Sr., go to the Web site of the Reavy Foundation, where there are CDs, videos, and song books for sale.

People

One More Honor for Jack McNamee

By Kathy McGee-Burns

Add a new laurel for Jack McNamee, a 30-year board member, past president and past treasurer of the Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day Observance Association. This year, he will march up Broad Street as the parade’s grand marshal.

With 235 continuous years of marching in honor of St. Patrick, the Parade is the 2nd oldest in the country, outdone only by New York.

Jack started out as a parade marshal. He is first-generation Irish-American, with roots to be found in County Donegal. His parents, John McNamee, of Glenties, and Catherine Murray, of Creeslough, came to Philadelphia at separate times. They met at (surprise) a dance.

John worked for SEPTA for 38 years, while Catherine was a stay-at-home Mom. There were three McNamee children, Margie, Mary Jo and the youngest, Jack.

There was company every Friday night at the McNamee house with singing, dancing and great conversation. Margie would play the piano and family and friends would congregate. Jack loved the Irish music and his favorite song to sing was and still is “Four Green Fields.”

The children attended St. Benedict’s School, which was predominantly an Irish parish. Each year there would be a St. Patrick’s Play and Jack was always in it. Jack also remembers that each Friday, they would go to the post office and send money back to the Murray family in Donegal.

Jack graduated from Cardinal Dougherty and began to work with the Williamson Family and eventually was general manager of their City Line restaurant. Jim Williamson had nothing but praise for Jack. He had total faith and trust in his general manager. They were disappointed when they lost him but were thrilled at his success. Jim said a lot of people gave Jack advice and he took every bit of it. He took it to heart, filed it away and used it to make his own restaurant a triumph. This career spanned 29 years.

Jack decided to strike out on his own and opened CJ McGee’s, in Springfield, Delaware County. The C was for Catherine, J for John and McGee was his father’s nickname. With his excellent business skills he turned this into a highly successful venture. The family; Jack, wife, Loretta and Son, Sean, have worked this Irish Pub/Restaurant together for 16 years. They recently sold it.

Jack McNamee is a 30year member of the AOH Joseph E. Montgomery Division 65 and a member of the Donegal Association.

Jack McNamee’s generosity knows no limits. He is not showy about it and would never want anyone to know about it. He is a donor to his alma mater, Cardinal Dougherty.

During times of hardships to various organizations, he kept them afloat with donations and fundraisers. To the St. Patrick’s Day Observance Committee, he is the most giving.

His entrepreneurial skills are behind every event that is held. Jack McNamee has hosted virtually every committee and marshals meeting including the Annual Golf Outing. To Jack, being honored by your peers is an incredible experience

When association president Michael Bradley nominated Jack for this honor, he listed 10 reasons for why he was a worthy candidate. The first nine listed his accomplishments. The tenth summed up McNamee the man. In Bradley’s words: “While doing all the above quietly, he has never tooted his own horn, jumped in front of the camera, looked for recognition, accepted accolades, never complained or even once asked what’s in it for me.”

This, ladies and gentlemen, is Jack McNamee.

Kathy is 2nd vice president of the Philadelphia St. Patrick’s Day Observance Association.

Music

Interview With Harpers Gráinne Hambly and Billy Jackson

When you listen to the scarily good Celtic harpers Gráinne Hambly and William Jackson, you might assume that they both started playing before they were out of nappies.

In reality, the Claremorris, County Mayo-born Hambly and Jackson, from just outside Glasgow, were both late bloomers … and their magnificent careers never might have begun at all were it not for a chance bit of window shopping.

“It was my sister who saw the harp,” Gráinne remembers. “She (Róisín) was 7 and I was going on 15. My sister saw it in the shop window and said she wanted to play.”

At the time, Gráinne wasn’t interested. She had started out on tin whistle, and had moved on to concertina, and really wanted no parts of harp. One day, though, the girls’ parents surprised them with a week-long school taught by famed Celtic harper Janet Harbison. It was one of those awkward surprises—like getting pajamas instead of a toy for Christmas. “When I found out, I wasn’t enthusiastic,” Gráinne says. But her apathy didn’t last long. “As soon as I started to play it, I loved it right away.”

For William “Billy” Jackson, the story was not quite the same. “I had started on piano when I was 11,” he says. “I ended up being a bass player in a band. I was in London in the ‘70s, and I saw a harp in a (shop) window.” Jackson had spent a lot of time in Ireland—his parents are from County Donegal—so the music of the harp was not new to him. But on that street in London, something clicked. “Just getting to see a harp up close … I sold my bass, and all my friends said I would never work again.”

Billy Jackson is doing just fine, thank you. It was a rough go at first, though. He took six lessons with a classical harpist. (A Celtic traditional player is a harper; a classical player is a harpist.) After that, he says, he couldn’t afford any more lessons for a time. He took a few more lessons much later on as a student at the Guildhall School in London, but finding someone to teach him specifically about Celtic harp was impossible. “Some (classical harpists) regard the Celtic harp as a toy, not the ‘real thing,’” says Jackson. “They’re reluctant to teach it. I was never taught to play triplets on the harp. Nobody taught me any of it.”

But Jackson, who also plays uilleann pipes, fiddle, bouzouki and tin whistle, somehow managed … and then some. In 1976, he became a founding member of Ossian, the famed Scottish traditional band. As a solo performer, he has played for audiences all over the world. He has recorded numerous CDs and is also the winner of the 1999 “Song for Scotland” competition for his composition “Land of Light.” (Listen to it here.)

Hambly’s early experience on the harp was more nurturing than Jackson’s. In Harbison, she found both a teacher and an ardent advocate for doing things the old-fashioned way. In traditional harp, there is no sheet music. Instead, the student watches and listens to the instructor as he or she plays a line. Then, the student repeats the line, and then another line, and so on, until the whole tune is committed to memory.

“That’s the traditional way to learn in Ireland,” says Hambly. “That’s how I learned, by ear. Janet brought harp teaching back to the roots.”

Age can work against you when you’re starting out on a musical instrument, but for Gráinne, it was a powerful incentive to learn. “Generally children do start learning early,” she says. “I was in a class with 7-year-olds. That was great motivation to learn quickly. Parents often ask me, ‘Is my child too old to start?’ I don’t think any age is too old, especially if you played another instrument first.”

Like Jackson, Gráinne also tours extensively throughout Europe and the U.S. She was a member of Harbison’s Belfast Harp Orchestra, as well as the Irish National Harp Ensemble and the National Folk Orchestra. She too has recordings under her belt. (Listen to An Draigheann, or “The Blackthorn.”)

Over the last couple of years, Jackson and Hambly have been touring together, giving audiences a sampling of harp music from both sides of the North Channel. You can hear them on October 29 in their “Masters of the Celtic Harp” concert at Trinity Church in Cherry Hill. The performance begins at 7.30 p.m.

Like their musical careers, their decision to tour together was a happy accident.

They were playing a concert in Asheville, N.C., two years ago, when, Jackson recalls, “at the end of the performance, “the organizer asked us to do a couple of tunes together.” They did, and the audience loved it. At the end of the concert, Gráinne says, “people came up to us and said ‘you should do more things together.’”

Gráinne, who knows so many players in the small village that is Irish traditional music, asked her friend and fellow harper Kathy DeAngelo of Voorhees to set up some concerts. Jackson and Hambly have been playing steadily together ever since.

And the sound is pretty wonderful—but it isn’t necessarily as effortless as it seems. “It’s difficult to play two harps together,” Jackson explains. “They have to be perfectly in tune, but there are so many more strings, it’s difficult. It’s not like playing fiddle together.”

Fortunately for Hambly and Jackson—and for us—they’re both skilled multi-instrumentalists.

“I’ll play concertina while Billy plays harp,” Gráinne says. “And sometimes, I’m playing the harp while Billy plays bouzouki. It’s a bit livelier.” (Listen to Hambly and Jackson play “Celia Connellan” and “Rectory Reel.”)

Editor’s Note: Gráinne’s new CD, “The Thorn Tree,” will be released Nov. 28. But you can get a sneak preview. A CD release party will be held Saturday, Oct. 28, at 7 p.m., at the Cooper River Yacht Club. For details, call Kathy DeAngelo at (856) 795-7637.

People

Step Into the Virtual Pub

CelticLounge.com founders Larry Kirwan, left, and Mike Farragher.

CelticLounge.com founders Larry Kirwan, left, and Mike Farragher.

It may shock some faithful Irish Voice readers to learn that columnist and music critic Mike Farragher grew up hating–he puts the word in capital letters–Irish music. It was because “my parents rammed it down my throat,” he explains. You know, like Brussels sprouts and the need for deodorant–those parent things that you don’t appreciate till you get older.

Then Farragher heard Black 47, the New York City Irish band that wove Irish music with rock, reggae and hip-hop. Suddenly, he says, here was Irish music that appealed to his modern-day Celtic soul. “Finally the beautiful Celtic culture made sense. It was as if Black 47 was an interpreter that translated my culture back to me. I think they’ve been turning people onto their own roots for years.”

More than a decade ago, Farragher met Larry Kirwan, front man for Black 47, and found a kindred spirit. They’ve been friends ever since, and recently became collaborators on a new website, CelticLounge.com, a “virtual pub” where artists can come to play and meet and fans can come, like Farragher, to hear music that will connect them to their roots.” But it’s more than just about music, as Farragher explained to us recently. In fact, in the beginning, it wasn’t really about music at all.
How did you come up with the idea of Celtic Lounge?
I had been kicking around the idea of doing a social network for Irish writers. I had written a novel called Collared (www.collared.net), which was a suspense novel set in the church scandals. I discovered that writing was a very lonely life. You never know if what you’re writing is on target or not,
and I thought there was a need to put a quasi-support group together. At the same time, Larry Kirwan from Black 47 was considering doing something similar for musicians. Celtic rock and ethnic music in general is a difficult thing to get played on the radio, so he thought it would be a good thing to put a network together to promote the genre. We discussed this over a pint and decided to create something together, which has turned out to be bigger than either of us imagined!
 
What do you hope to accomplish with the site?
Nothing short of the rebranding and reimagining of what it is to
be a Celt in general and an Irishman in particular. You Google images of “Irish” and you get shamrocks, drunken leprechauns, and Aran sweaters. It is a narrow,  slightly insulting view of what we are. Celts are vibrant, wildly creative  people, and that is what we are hoping to put out there. A cultural revolution! On a smaller scale, it is a place for Celtic artists and fans of that art to come together. I was speaking with a very well known NY-based band today, and the leader was lamenting how the smoking ban and other factors have really killed the Irish bar scene in the Big Apple. “People now get their music on an iPod instead of on a barstool,” he said with a sigh. Well, that trend plays into our “online pub” concept very well when you think about it!

What kind of response are you getting?
Overwhelming. It’s twice as much fun and four times the work than what I was expecting. Reaction is great….we have Irish Americans in the military guarding the Korean border who log in to get a slice of home and their culture. We have young writers getting the rush of having their very first story published on our online magazine. I even heard of some hookups that have been facilitated by our social network. So, people log in for different reasons and we have something that will interest most people who click in and grab an “e-pint.” On another note, we are working with a liquor company on a writer’s contest that will award $1000 for the best short story or essay writer. Wouldn’t it be great if the next Joyce or Behan was found hanging out at CelticLounge? A record company is working on a compilation CD featuring some of the artists  that are featured in our radio player. We have people buying t-shirts with our logo on them. So, you start creating an online community, minding your own business, and before you know it, you’re a clothing designer and a record producer! I can’t wait to see where we take CelticLounge next!

What are your biggest challenges?
Getting the word out is a challenge. We have 70,000 visitors a
month with 46 million people claiming to be Celts or coming from Celtic roots of some sort on both sides of the Atlantic. So, we have our work cut out for us! While the site is making enough money to sustain it, there is always the problem in most businesses of a million ideas and not enough cash to launch them. I think that keeping the content fresh is always a challenge, wehave loads of writers and musicians contributing to the site.

How are you handling the extra workload? Neither of you has given up your day (or night) jobs, I take it.
Sleep? What is that? Right now, Larry and I manage the content.
Our technology partner is WebSignia (www.websignia.net), who really brought our vision to life digitally. They do amazing work. When you are doing something you love, the time flies by. I’m blessed because I LOVE my day job and I love playing with CelticLounge.com. I am both a left brain AND a right brain
guy, so I love working in the business world by day and then creating on CelticLounge and writing by night. On top of that, there is a lovely and understanding wife and children in the mix. It’s a hectic lifestyle, but a balanced one.

How do you and Larry work together?
It is amazing to be working with such a creative spirit. Rocker! Author! Playwright! Sirius Radio DJ! You learn a lot orbiting his solar system. We have had plenty of disagreements as we create CelticLounge.com, but they are minor and resolved quickly because our creative vision and passion are evenly matched for the most part. It’s been a blast working together and I hope it continues to be this fun!

Music

The Best of the Best

Patrick Street

Patrick Street: From left, Kevin Burke, John Carty, Ged Foley and Andy Irvine.

Think about the bands Andy Irvine has been associated  with—Sweeney’s Men, Planxty, De Danaan, Mozaik and Patrick Street, to name but a few.

Think about the names he could drop, people he’s rubbed shoulders with at one time or another, all of them stars in the Irish traditional firmament: Kevin Conneff, Davey Spillane, Frankie Gavin, Bill Whelan, Kevin Burke, John Carty, Joe Dolan, Johnny Moynihan, Paul Brady, Jackie Daly, Christie Moore, Gerry O’Bierne, Matt Malloy, Dolores Keane, Arty McGlynn … and now I’m just plain running out of breath.

Sure, we’re blessed with relatively new, young Irish traditional supergroups like Teada, Solas, Cherish the Ladies and Danu—but probably none of them ever would have sprouted up at all, were it not for the likes of Andy Irvine and his small but influential circle of friends. They really started Irish music along on its current path to worldwide acceptance and popularity, bridging the gap between the unquestionably influential Clancys and the bands of today.

“We all kind of grew up together,” says Irvine of his many friends in the Irish music scene of the early ‘70s. “Thirty-five years ago, there was another generation of musicians that were in charge. We were young pups, but gradually the mantle decended upon us.”

When Irvine first started to appear on the scene, Irish music was in the throes of a “ballad boom,” probably best personified by the Clancy Brothers, whose music Irvine liked—but whose sweater-clad on-stage personas, he did not. The Kingston Trio also was quite popular at the time, and Irvine was not a fan. What sprang from his discontent was a band called Sweeney’s Men, which he founded in 1966 with Moynihan and Dolan. With Sweeney’s Men, the ballads continued unabated—though the band apparently took a kind of perverse pride in not singing ballads the crowd could sing along with—and polished instrumentals moved to the fore.

Not long after the dissolution of Sweeney’s Men came Irvine’s next big band—Planxty. For Irvine, that’s when the “ballad boom” breathed its last. “The real breakthrough was in ‘72 when Planxty started playing,” he says. “It was like a moment in time that was waiting to happen.”

Fast forward to Patrick Street, conceived of as a band that showcased “the best of the best.” It sounds like promotional hyperbole until you consider the musicians who have wound up in Patrick Street. The current lineup includes founders Irvine, singing and playing bouzouki and mandolin, along with fiddler Kevin Burke, formerly of the Bothy Band. John Carty plays fiddle, banjo and flute, and Battlefield Band vet Ged Foley plays guitar. In previous incarnations, the band included button accordion wizard Jackie Daly, a De Danaan alum, and guitarist Arty McGlynn (Planxty). “Best of the best” accurately sums it up.

Now the band is on the road again, in support of a new CD, “On the Fly,” from Burke’s Loftus Records. (Jackie Daly also makes an appearance on the recording.)

Some things about the band are clearly new and different, but at its core, the sound is the same, Irvine says.

“We played a bit in Ireland over the summer with Jackie,” he says. “And then we did a couple of gigs without him. It’s really quite remarkable the difference in themusic. The music had a lot more air in it without the accordion. You could hear everything a little bit better. We all noticed it. I’m not saying that it’s better … it’s just different.”

Also a bit different is the addition of Carty, who has been with the band since 2005, mostly as a result of a comment by Ged Foley.

“He said, maybe we were getting into a bit of a rut, and we should do something about it,” Irvine says. “It was Ged who suggested having John play with us. It seemed like a real good idea to me.”

Carty’s presence also led to the new CD. Members of the band saw it as a great opportunity to record his unique contribution to the band.

You can hear Patrick Street for yourself Wednesday, Nov. 14, at 7:30 p.m., at Calvary Centre for Culture and Community, 801 S. 48th Street in Philadelphia.

Music

After the Fall

Seamus Kelleher on lead guitar.

Seamus Kelleher on lead guitar.

He learned guitar at 14 and at 15 he was playing gigs around his native Galway. Then it was onto the local band circuit and eventually, to a 14-year stint with Sean Fleming in New York. In 1995, he joined the hot Philly-area Celtic rockers, Blackthorn, as lead guitarist.

He’s been in the music business since Nixon was president, so why, at the age of 53, is Seamus Kelleher just getting around to putting out his first solo CD? “I just wasn’t ready,” says Kelleher, whose independently produced “Four Cups of Coffee” is getting both critical claim and airplay.

“I just didn’t have all the tools to say what I wanted to say,” he tells me over his cellphone while he’s driving home to north Jersey after a Blackthorn gig a few weeks ago. “I didn’t feel my voice or my songwriting was in the right place. I’m highly developed as a lead guitar player. It took me a while to get the confidence in all the rest. I didn’t want to do a CD where there were five or six good songs and all the rest junk.”

And this is the spot in the story where you find out that he succeeded. There’s not a clunker in the dozen tunes on the CD, from Kelleher’s touching “My Friend Ben,” a tribute to his late friend, Brendan Glyn, to the direct-to-trad “Nashville Ceili Band” on which he’s accompanied by musicians who usually sit behind Garth Brooks, Vince Gill, or LeAnne Rimes. In fact, the CD was produced in the home of country music by Pete Huttlinger, 2000 national finger pick guitar champion who played with John Denver and can be seen and heard on YouTube backing up Rimes. Huttlinger also arranged some of Kelleher’s tracks.

“I was so intimidated having someone of that skill producing my CD, but I felt it was a chance to really open my eyes and it did,” he admits. “Pete elevated my playing and I came back a better musician, not just a guitar player.“

In fact, Kelleher was awestruck by the caliber of the musicians Huttlinger assembled, most of them Grammy winners. “And not one of them was ego-driven,” he says. “I was talking to one guy who never told me he plays with The Dixie Chicks. We talked about how he has this new house in the woods that he loves and oh, he goes out on tour every once in a while. ”

And he was totally blown away when Huttlinger invited him to a birthday party for one of Huttlinger’s friends, country megastar Vince Gill. “It was toward the end of the week and I put on my one remaining shirt, a silly Hawaiian thing, and we get to Vince’s house and this beautiful lady answers the door,” he says. It was singer Amy Grant, Gill’s wife. “She smiled and put her arms out and said, ‘Congratulations on finishing your CD!’ I was speechless.”

There was a tent set up in the Gills’ backyard and Kelleher mingled with people whose work he’d long admired from afar–songwriters whose credits included “The Gambler” and “Mr. Bojangles,” singers like Janis Ian. “One guy got up–he looked like a tramp–and started singing. I never heard a voice like it. He sounded like a 90-year-old blues guy. Then Vince and Amy sang together. I said to someone next to me, ‘If the Lord were to take me, this probably wouldn’t be a bad time.’ Six weeks later, he almost did take me.”

“Four Cups of Coffee” was just five days old when Kelleher, drinking with some friends at Kildare’s Irish Pub in King of Prussia, tumbled down a steep flight of stairs as he was leaving to go home. “Someone called me, I looked back, and the next thing I remember I was in a chopper. I had fractured my skull, several ribs, and hurt my back,” he recalls. He was taken in critical condition to the University of Pennsylvania Hospital where he remained in the intensive care unit for three days.

Once he was weaned off morphine, the pain hit him with a vengeance. But that wasn’t his biggest concern. “The hard part was wondering if I would get better,” he says. “I had a brain injury and not everyone comes back from that. These were very tough days, to be honest with you. I even had trouble remembering my kids’ names. I covered it up because I didn’t want anyone to know. I knew I was fighting a battle.”

When he came home, he was besieged by constant headaches and excruciating back pain, and for a time was mostly bedridden, though he would force himself to get up and walk back and forth in a hallway with the aid of a cane. “I was determined to get better,” he says. He realized he had so much to live for — “four lovely kids, a wife, my CD and a great band” — that he just couldn’t quit. “It’s amazing what you can do when you want to do it,” he says.

One thing he did quit was drinking. The title track on his CD–a bluesy riff on addictions both harmless (coffee) and not (3 shots of gin and two Irish whiskies)– turned out to be a little more autobiographical than he intended. “I was poking fun at myself, my own demons, and I’ve battled alcohol to some degree, I don’t mind saying,” he admits. One line goes, “Lord I’m all alone, I don’t know where I’m going. Can you help me so I can see.” Kelleher now considers it an unwitting prayer.

“I haven’t taken a drink since my fall,” says Kelleher. “This was my ‘come to Jesus’ meeting, though,” he adds with a wry laugh, “I wish he’d put his arms out before I hit the concrete.”

Kelleher was back on stage with Blackthorn six weeks after his accident. The first gig, he admits, was a little shaky. “I was really scared driving up to the gate, petrified really. Was I going to be able to do this or that? Could I bend down to pick up my guitar? Would I remember the songs? I was still in a lot of pain and I knew it could be deadly if I moved the wrong way. And standing next to McGroary (button accordionist John McGroary) you never knew when you were subject to attack.” He laughs. “But after one song, I knew everything was going to be fine. I still had a ways to go, but I was back.”