Billy Clifford (born 1943) is the son of John and Julia Clifford and one of the few Sliabh Luachra musicians whose primary instrument is the flute. He was born in London, surrounded by a large community of Irish musicians, and hearing the music at home as well as in the dance halls at which his parents performed, it was only natural he would pick it up himself.
He frequently visited Kerry on holidays with his mother as a young boy, and at the age of nine he was sent to his grandmother, Mainie Murphy in Lisheen, for an extended stay. It was at this time that he started to learn the tin whistle, and his grandmother gave him his first tune. He was also mentored by the Murphy’s neighbor Art O’Keeffe who played the whistle himself. In fact another local whistle player, who went by the colorful name of Dan Dave Dan Cronin, befriended him as well — it must have seemed to the impressionable boy that the whistle was the predominant instrument of the area! Near the end of Billy’s stay in Lisheen, his uncle Denis Murphy returned from America for a time, and furthered Billy’s musical education.
Not long after, the Cliffords sent for Billy to join them at their new home in Newcastlewest, Co. Limerick. Perhaps upon realizing Billy’s advanced musical ability, John Clifford was inspired to form the Star of Munster Ceili Band in 1955. The core of the group consisted of John, Julia, and Billy, together with Liam, Pats, and Biddy of the musical Moloney family from nearby Templeglantine. The band was soon in demand for dances all over, as far afield as Roscommon and even Dublin. Denis Murphy would sometimes join them for the more prestigious gigs. They even performed on Radio Éireann on a number of occasions, though to his chagrin Billy was disinvited by the producers as they felt the whistle was not a “real” instrument!
Despite the relative success of the band, times were hard, and in 1959 the Cliffords moved back to London to find work. Once more they became fixtures of the vibrant Irish music scene there, and it was around this time that Billy “graduated” from the whistle to the flute, learning from Sligoman Johnny Gorman, among others. His musical development continued with the opportunity to play with the likes of Bobby Casey, Kevin Burke, Raymond Roland, Roger Sherlock, Joe Ryan, and countless others.
In 1969 Billy struck out for himself and moved back to Ireland for good, eventually settling back in Tipperary where he married and began raising a family. He soon became well-known locally as a performer and music teacher. Having lived abroad and traveled so much, Billy’s style and repertoire reflect more influences than just the Sliabh Luachra tradition. Nevertheless, he’s a proud keeper of the flame and a living connection to the previous generation, and as such is rightly regarded as a major figure of Sliabh Luachra music.
Billy Clifford – flute
Matt Hayes – Accordion
Catherine Ryan – Drums
Topic – 12TS312 – 1977
Topic stretched the criteria somewhat in order to make this the fourth in the ‘Music from Sliabh Luachra’ series, but Billy Clifford’s lifetime of exposure to the music of that region is very much evident in the solo material on this album. The solo polkas here feature the best playing of these tricky tunes in the Sliabh Luachra style that I have heard on the flute, and as Sliabh Luachra polkas played on the fiddle mimic the ornaments of the melodeon or accordion, Billy Clifford in turn uses the flute to play the fiddle, incorporating the idiosyncratic and heavily accented legato bowing of his mother Julia’s fiddle playing into his own unique and really lovely style.
The other side to the album is the material recorded with Catherine Ryan and Matt Hayes, featuring the eponymous band music from Tipperary. There are a number of quite outstanding tunes, such as the dubiously titled ‘Michael Coleman’s’, as well as a number of other reasonably well-known but interesting, even slightly unusual tunes. Between the two styles of playing there is some really great music on this album. — Rob Ryan
Maida Sugrue (born Mary McQuinn in ~1937) was raised in the townland of Fiddane, Ballyegan, Nohaval Parish, near Gortatlea, Ballymacelligott, Kerry, on the “Low Road” between Castleisland and Tralee. The McQuinns were a musical family: her father played the concertina and accordion, and her uncle John McQuinn was a well-considered flute, piccolo, and concertina player. Two neighbors, brothers Jim and Matty Sullivan of nearby Maglass, would sometimes visit their home in the evenings to play tunes. Jim saw Maida’s interest in the music and let her try a tune on his fiddle, and upon seeing that her desire to play was in earnest, gave her the loan of his fiddle on which to learn. She soon showed great promise, and when she was about twelve years old the renowned Pádraig O’Keeffe was enlisted to take her on as his pupil.
She recalls Pádraig’s sporadic visits with fondness. Whenever he happened to be travelling through the area he would stop in to the McQuinn home. She remembers him writing out tunes in his own tablature, but he encouraged her to learn standard notation as well. She recalls that he was easy-going and funny and a great teacher. Often he would come late at night when the children were already in bed, and while her mother made him a bite to eat he would play the fiddle. The family all loved his visits and could listen to him playing forever. Lessons with Pádraig continued for about three years.
In her teens, her musicianship was already highly regarded and she took part in many local music and singing competitions. She won the very first “Crock of Gold” competition put on by the Catholic Young Men’s Society (CYMS) in Tralee, and she was briefly a featured singer for the original lineup of the Brosna Ceili Band. However, subject to the economics of rural Ireland at that time, she emigrated Chicago in December, 1952. She was “sponsored out” by a cousin who happened to be a sister-in-law of Cuz Teahan. Neither were playing much music at that time, but upon meeting, they bonded over their shared tradition and both having been students of Pádraig. Cuz was delighted to hear stories of and new tunes from his old teacher. Inspired by this new connection, they struck up a musical partnership.
In Cuz’s book The Road to Glountane, he recalls:
Maida is an excellent musician and step dancer. She can sing anything in any style and she knows the Gaelic. You can really hear O’Keeffe’s style in Maida Sugrue’s playing. You might have four or five fiddles and most of them are carbon copies of each other, but when their bows are going down, hers is going up. O’Keeffe started most of his music with an up, and the way he taught was you had to keep your right hand very close to your side. You had to keep your right elbow almost on your hip, and bow with your wrist pressed firm. You press the strings firmly at right-angles with your left hand so there wouldn’t be any vibrations, and keep your thumb away from the finger-board. You hold the fiddle with your chin – not the wrist. If you were persistent in bowing widely, he’d tie a cord around you to hold your arm in close.
Maida also played and sang with the live band that performed on Jack Hegarty’s Irish Hour radio program each week. For a while, after marrying Denny Sugrue in 1957, she became less active in Irish music circles, but when her children were grown she started to perform publicly again. She and Cuz formed a group with two other fiddlers, Úna McGlew and Mary McDonagh, that played in the Chicago area for some time.
In 1985 she recorded Maida: An Irish Country Girl, an LP of songs, a number of which are her own compositions. Sadly, it was a limited run and nigh impossible to find now.
Though now retired from performing, Maida is currently still involved in the Chicago Irish music community, appearing at local events on occasion. She recently attended the Patrick O’Keeffe Festival in Castleisland, to great acclaim. She spoke and played at the Fiddle Meitheal where Paddy Jones, a fellow pupil of Pádraig’s, was delighted to meet her.
Fiddane as it appeared on older maps of the area
A flyer heralding Maida’s first appearance as a performer in Chicago
Maida with Cuz Teahan, flanked by Úna McGlew and Mary McDonagh
Maida and her husband Denny
Cover of Maida’s 1985 LP
Notes to Maida’s 1985 LP
Two tracks from the album Traditional Irish Music In America: Chicago. She plays The Queen’s Polka (aka The Top of Maol) and sings Táimse im’ Chodladh (I Am Asleep).
Ellen O’Byrne, born about 1875 in Co. Leitrim, emigrated to New York City at only 15 years of age. There she married Dutch immigrant Justus DeWitt and they opened a real estate and travel agent business together in 1900. Ellen was evidently an irrepressible fan of her native music, and the travel agency soon began to retail sheet music, instruments (including high-quality Italian-constructed accordions made by Paolo Soprani and Baldoni but rebranded under the O’Byrne DeWitt name,) and the few recordings of Irish music then available. In 1916, Ellen O’Byrne persuaded Columbia Records to start producing more authentic Irish recordings, starting with Eddie Herborn and John Wheeler, accordion and banjo. In doing so, she is considered to have essentially created the Irish-American recording industry. Soon, the O’Byrne DeWitt shop started offering Irish recordings on their own label.
After Ellen’s death in 1926, one son, James, inherited the New York store, and another son, Justus Jr., moved to Boston to open his own enterprise under the O’Byrne Dewitt name at 51 Warren Street, Roxbury. The O’Byrne DeWitt business flourished in Boston as it had in New York: an unlikely hybrid of travel agent/music shop. Under a new label, Copley, he soon began recording some of the local talent, and in the early 1950s, Paddy Cronin recorded a number of sides (solo fiddle with piano except for a few duets with flute player Frank Neylon) that became very popular and were essential in creating his worldwide reputation as a musician of note.
Note: A number of these discs are labeled with names other than the ones in common use today, and others are entirely mislabeled. I’ve tried to use the correct names on the mp3 files, but can’t make any guarantees!
In 1949 Séamus Ennis was working for Radio Éireann making field recordings of traditional musicians and singers. He recorded Paddy Cronin in a farmer’s house in nearby Ballyvourney. It’s said that Paddy never heard these recordings broadcast as he emigrated to America soon after. These tracks document his playing in his “purest” Sliabh Luachra style. He sounds very much like his neighbor Denis Murphy here, especially in the reel playing. Contrast with his recordings made after he arrived in America and began to incorporate the Sligo style which was prevalent among his peers there.
The Radio Éireann Mobile Recording Unit
Séamus Ennis in 1950
Note: It’s possible that not all of the tracks linked here are from the Ballyvourney session in 1949, but some of them were unlabeled when I received them and as they all have a similar sound and style, I’ve lumped them together. If they are mis-attributed, I apologize.
The tune is strongly associated with Irish traditional music, but actually began life in Scotland. The song sung by Planxty originated with Adam Skivring, who wrote it in 1745 to lampoon Sir John Cope, commander-in-chief of the English forces in Scotland at the Battle of Prestonpans at the start of the 1745 Jacobite uprising, where he was very decisively defeated by Bonnie Prince Charlie. If the lyrics are any judge, he was more than a bit of a coward about the whole thing, although the court martial did find otherwise. There are opinions that the melody was derived from an even earlier tune, rather than composed by Skivring (see the Johnny Cope entry at the Traditional Tune Archive that references Samuel Bayard’s book Dance to the Fiddle). However, for the sake of containing the article, let us put this as the starting point of Johnny Cope’s march from Scotland.
Image 2. Johnny Cope from Aird’s Scotch, English, Irish, and Foreign Airs, vol. 2, p. 19
The trail of Johnny Cope’s passage can be traced to page 19 of the second volume of James Aird’s 1792 collection of Scotch, English, Irish, and Foreign Airs, where a four-part version is found that bears quite a strong resemblance to the current favourite setting. Aird published his collections in Glasgow, and prominence was given to Scottish melodies, and in addition the title refers to an event of significance to the Scottish, so the tune surely started life in Scotland. The question then becomes, how did this Scottish melody become so paradigmatically Irish?
Image 3. Johnny Cope from O’Farrell’s Pocket Companion, vol. 3, p. 51
Image 4. Johnny Cope from the Edinburgh Repository of Music, vol 2 p.30
The melody appears again in Scotland, this time in the Edinburgh Repository of Music,vol 2 p. 30, published around 1818. This is once again a four-part setting, however there are significant differences, and especially the fourth part in this version has changed significantly.
Image 5. Johnny Cope from Howe’s The Musician’s Companion part 2, p. 49
Another setting of the tune is found in Howe’s The Musician’s Companion part 2, p. 49, published in Boston in 1843. This one is a bit of an oddity, and features a whopping eight parts. It’s worth noting this version because it shows that the tune had spread to America. Also curious is the note that it is “A favorite English Air.”
Image 6. Johnny Cope from Ross’s Collection of Pipe Music
Image 7. Hey! Johnnie Cope from Kerr’s Merry Melodies, vol 3, p. 41.
In the 1880s, James Kerr published twelve volumes of music, four of them called Merry Melodies, which include jigs, reels, and other lively tunes. Volume 3 contains a two-part version of Johnny Cope. John Chambers’ has provided abc notation and kindly included a photo of the page on his website.
Image 8. Johnny Cope – Reel from Köhler’s Violin Repository, vol. 1, p. 23
Image 9. Johnny Cope from Köhler’s Violin Repository, vol. 1, p. 57
Two additional Scottish versions are worth mentioning, from Köhler’s Violin Repository, vol. 1, p. 23 and p. 57, the first a two-part reel and the second a six-part tune just labeled “Variations”, published in 1881 in Edinburgh. I should clarify that I have found references to additional settings in other collections, but these are the ones I have been able to verify myself.
Image 10. Johnny Cope from O’Neill’s Music of Ireland
Image 11. Johnnie Cope from O’Neill’s Irish Music and the Repository of Scots & Irish Airs
We’ll now check back in with Irish music collections, and start with largest collector of Irish music, the Chief himself, Captain Francis O’Neill, collector of music, and Superintendent of the Chicago Police. In O’Neill’s Music of Ireland (published 1903) we find tucked away in the Marches and Miscellaneous section, #1812, p. 340, a curious two-part tune called Johnny Cope. In hisIrish Music (published 1915 and arranged with piano harmonies), we find a reprint of a version published in a mysterious collection called The Repository of Scots & Irish Airs, with a note from O’Neill regarding the Irishness of the tune: “A footnote in Wood’s Songs of Scotland states that this old air originally consisted of one strain. The chorus or burden of a silly song, adapted to it was the first strain repeated an octave higher. The simple air although claimed as Scotch is in the Irish style and known all over Ireland. The above setting without the harmonization was copied from, ‘The Repository of Scots and Irish Airs’ – printed in 1799.” This setting is listed as being in March time.
Image 12. Johnny Cope from Joyce’s final manuscript
Image 14A. Johnny Cope from Treoir Magazine, Vol 7 No. 3, 1975
Image 14B. Johnny Cope from Treoir Magazine, Vol 29 No. 1, 1997
Pádraig O’Keeffe’s setting of Johnny Cope was published in Breandán Breathnach’s Ceol Rince na hEireann, vol 3. P. 95, #208 as notated from Sean Keane and in Johnny O’Leary of Sliabh Luachra p. 163, #285, edited by Terry Moylan. It was also found on the Comhaltas Traditional Music Archive, listed as being published in Treoir magazine in 1975 and again in 1997, and these sources are shown above.
“Johnny Cope [hornpipe]” from The Sliabh Luachra Fiddle Master by Pádraig O’Keeffe. Recorded 1949, released 1993. Track 5 of 16.
That’s enough for published scores, what about recorded sources? The first recording of the Irish version appears to be from Pádraig O’Keeffe, recorded by RTE in 1949. Subsequent recordings from Julia Clifford, Seamus Ennis, and eventually the recording by Planxty mentioned at the beginning of this essay have cemented the six-part O’Keeffe version as the definitive Irish Johnny Cope. Note that there are also many Scottish and Cape Breton recordings of versions of Johnny Cope, but for the sake of this article we’ll focus just on the Irish ones. (Well, with one exception which we’ll get to later.) A good listing of recordings of O’Keeffe’s version can be found at Alan Ng’s site, although he hasn’t indexed Planxty, and a listing of all included recordings of a tune by the name Johnny Cope can be found at thesession.org. Planxty’s recording might be the most widespread of the six-parter. Liam O’Flynn, the uilleann piper in the band, was good friends and roommates with Seamus Ennis, and there is a recording of Ennis playing this version, so it’s very likely that he got the tune directly from Ennis. The liner notes to that record mention that it was collected by Seamus Ennis from Pádraig O’Keeffe, so we can be pretty sure that he got the tune directly from O’Keeffe. This is also what Alan Ward wrote in his Music from Sliabh Luachra. So we can conclude that the six-parter came at least from Pádraig O’Keeffe, but we don’t know how it got to be in the form it is before his recording. There is speculation that O’Keeffe may have got the tune from his uncle Cal O’Callahan, either the full six parts, or a shorter version O’Keeffe then embellished. There also seems to have been a copy of Ryan’s Mammoth Collection and New and Scientific Self-instructing School for the Violin by George Saunders (published Boston in 1847) in the Sliabh Luachra area , so it’s reasonable to assume that there may well have been other collections circulating in the region from which O’Keeffe could have gotten either the full six parts or a shorter version. Unfortunately neither collection includes Johnny Cope (by that name), so they are not the proverbial smoking gun.
Ward’s Music from Sliabh Luachra actually mentions that a musician named Joe Conway “played the standard march as a quadrille polka and the last two parts of Pádraig’s version as a barn dance which he named The Doon Roses”, which lends credence to the idea of embellishment. Further, it seems that O’Keeffe only ever wrote down a two-part version for students or as manuscripts, further influencing the idea that perhaps he (or his uncle) used creativity to arrive at the Big Tune. Patrick Cavanagh drew my attention to a recording of North Kerry fiddler Tom Barrett playing a local version of Johnny Cope that consists of two parts, the first of which is fairly similar to O’Keeffe’s fifth part, and the second of which only bears a passing resemblance to O’Keeffe’s second or third part. A very similar setting of Barrett’s tune is included in the reels section of Sliabh Luachra on Parade, p. 86, #166, as “The Far Away Boys”, published 1987. The tunes in this collection come from Cuz Teahan, and this one has the note “This is another very old piece”. It isn’t known when Barrett or Teahan first started playing or heard this tune and so it’s not known if this came before or after or at the same time as O’Keeffe’s version, however Teahan’s note leads me to suspect it is older.
excerpt from “The Grand Ould Man/Johnnie Cope/Wrens Hornpipe” from Lios A’Cheoil by Tom And Kerry Barrett. 2002. Track 18 of 20.
The above are what we can reference from printed and recorded sources, with published data to back it up. In other words, these are, as much as can be said for certain, the facts. So where did O’Keeffe’s version come from? Is the six-part an embellishment of the two-part tune or just a tangentially related version? What kind of a tune is it anyway? What follows is speculation and conjecture, or more favorably an educated opinion based on written scores… And the first thing to do is compare written sources to Pádraig’s setting.
Let’s compare settings found in published sources with our O’Keeffe version, starting with the Aird/O’Farrell (we’ll call this the AF4) setting – these two settings are so close as to not be worth differentiating. This setting is almost in the same key (only lacking the F#), is in common time (4/4), and has quite a few similarities to O’Keeffe’s setting (let’s call it PK6 from now on). Comparing parts, we find that the first and second parts correspond fairly well to the first and second in PK6, and furthermore the third part corresponds pretty well to the fourth part in PK6. The last part in AF4 does not really match anything in PK6. Since there are no markings in either collection to indicate a rhythm, dance, or tune type, it can be guessed, but the melody and structure feel to me to be fairly march-like. Jumping out of order to Joyce, it can be seen that the setting found at his deathbed is note-for-note identical to that found in O’Farrell’s. Both O’Neill and Joyce copied tunes from older collections, so it seems likely that this setting is merely a copy of AF4, and in any case since this manuscript of Joyce was never published, it is not likely to have been the source for O’Keeffe. Moving back in order, to the Edinburgh Repository setting (ER4), we see that the setting has switched to 2/4 time, likely indicating or emphasizing the use as a march, and has some embellishments to make feel to have more of a melodic flow, but otherwise nearly identical to AF4 in the first and third parts, and only a bit more different in the second part. However, the fourth part of ER4 is what becomes interesting: the shape of this part follows very well the shape of the third part of PK6! Also interesting is the addition of some occasional F# accidentals in the second and fourth part.
What about the Howe’s setting (HO8)? Despite having eight parts, to my ear this setting has less of a similarity to PK6. HO8 has a somewhat broadly similar first and second part, but these almost appear to be repeated as variations for the third and fourth part. The fifth part again seems almost a variation on the first part, and the sixth part finally changes to something new (corresponding to the fourth part of PK6 or third of AF4). The seventh part is also new, with possibly a hint of the fourth part of ER4, and the eighth part seems completely new, or maybe a heavy variation on the sixth part. The marking labels this an “English Air”, but this doesn’t really help categorize the tune. As an aside, these last two parts bring another tune to mind, the Drunken Sailor. And to add another (further) aside, the Groves Hornpipe is very close to being a major key version of the Drunken Sailor, and so may also be related to Johnny Cope.
Chronologically, the next setting found was a five-parter in Ross’ Collection (RP5). Ross was a highland pipe major, so by inference the key of the setting is likely to be A mixolydian, as two sharps are assumed, but not written. The setting is essentially one part (the first) and three variations (second, fourth, and fifth) of that part, with a second part (the third) in the middle. The first and third correspond loosely to the first and third in AF4, but otherwise this setting appears to be departure away from PK6 rather than closer to it. The title is actually shown as Johnny Cope, March, and the structure definitely feels quite march-y; indeed certain features of the tune are reminiscent of another Scottish march, The Burning of the Piper’s Hut, if only slightly. Kerr’s Merry Melodies (KM2) is the first two-part setting found, despite O’Neill’s note about the original being one strain, but this may be due to holes in the research above. The KM2 setting is moved up to Bm, but otherwise corresponds reasonably well to the first two parts of AF4 and PK6. The endings of both parts show elaboration, and a similarity to the ending of the fourth part of HO8, which features a rising motif, but it doesn’t appear that this version has influenced PK6 at all.
This brings us to Köhler’s settings, KR2 the two-parter and KR6 the six-parter both in G minor (aeolian). The KR2 version doesn’t appear directly related to Johnny Cope all that much, but it does seem similar to the Drunken Sailor. Curiously it’s also marked as composed by W. B. Laybourn. The KR6 setting at first glance also appears to be unique, but in fact is identical, after adjusting the key to match, to the last six parts of the setting in Howe’s. Additionally, the setting found in O’Neill’s Irish Music (ON6), also a six-parter, and also in G minor (aeolian), is almost exactly the same as KR6. This setting was copied from a publication O’Neill said was published in 1799, and it turns out to be The Repository of Scots & Irish Airs, Strathspeys, Reels &c. by John McFadyen, meaning this key and the six parts are older than HO8, strongly implying plagiarism (or copying) on the part of Köhler, but even more perplexingly, making one wonder what exactly W. B. Laybourn arranged. There is no marking for KR6, but O’Neill included the marking “March Time” for his setting. In any case, this setting is definitely from a Scottish source.
Joseph Cormier plays ‘Johnnie Cope’, Waltham, Massachusetts, 1990, recorded by Alan Govenar
You may recall I mentioned there would be one exception to recordings mentioned: Joseph Cormier, a Cape Breton fiddler, recorded a version of Johnny Cope in 1974, and was recorded again in 1990. His recorded version is almost note for note the version found in McFadyen’s and Köhler’s, and I believe this version is still known well in Cape Breton musical circles, as are a couple more. The Traditional Tune Archive includes a note that the setting in Köhler may have been the source or inspiration for Pádraig O’Keeffe, but to my ear they are not similar enough. The note continues and mentions that it may have been the inspiration for the Drunken Sailor – this is believable, as there are definite similarities, as I remarked upon above.
There are two more printed settings to be examined – the curious two-part version tucked away in the march and miscellaneous section of O’Neill’s Music of Ireland (ON2) and the two-part version found in the Roche Collection (RC2). These versions are very different from the previous settings. The two settings are almost note-for-note identical, except that ON2 is notated with a key signature of A and RC2 of G, and the third last bar in the B part is slightly different. Both settings start with an E-A figure not found in previous settings of Johnny Cope and the B part is quite a bit different from anything found in other settings. Otherwise, there are apparent similarities in the A part, especially to KM2. This version is very similar to the polka recorded by Denis Doody (and more recently by Bryan O’Leary) in A dorian, which matches the key signature of RC2. Also of interest, the opening figure, and the shape of the A part, strongly suggest the Battle of Aughrim.
[Editor’s Note: Though I don’t have any direct evidence to support it, I have a strong suspicion that the polka played by Denis Doody is the same as Joe Conway’s “quadrille polka” referenced in the Ward booklet.]
Excerpt from “Johnny Cope’s/Din Tarrant’s [Polkas]” from Kerry music by Denis Doody. Released: 1978. Track 1 of 23.
The setting (or settings) from Barrett and Teahan are different again, but as mentioned above have one part that is reasonably similar to the fifth part of PK6. [Heavy speculation alert: the RC2 setting could be the two-part one played by Joe Conway, and even perhaps written down by O’Keeffe, as mentioned above in Alan Ward’s writing. Alternatively, the Barrett/Teahan setting could have been the two-part barndance. And a third possibility is that this referenced version may be a completely different two-part tune. This setting, and its origins, are even more mysterious than that of O’Keeffe’s, so not much more will be said about it.]
Image 15. A visual representation of similarities between parts of the various settings.
Not much has been said so far about the fifth and sixth parts of PK6. Ward’s booklet makes reference to there being a standalone barndance of these two parts. However, there are similarities between these parts and the other parts of O’Keeffe’s setting.
Image 16. Transcription of some parts of O’Keeffe’s setting.
In the above image, note that the sixth part starts with what is essentially an inversion of the fourth part—A to E instead of E to A. The endings starting at the second half of the second-to-last measure of the fifth and sixth parts nearly matches that of the second and third parts. Finally, the fifth part follows the same general pattern of the first part: both start with two measures of a mode centered on A, followed by two measures centered on G, except that in the case of the fifth part, the notes played are the fifth of the chord, rather than the root. There are enough similarities and differences that to my mind, one of three possibilities (or a combination thereof) exists: 1. O’Keeffe borrowed and modified some or all of the proto-barndance and/or modified the existing four parts of Johnny Cope enough to make the two “new” parts fit. 2. He created one or two new parts completely. 3. Or he happened upon a chance bit of the universe where coincidences happen and the existing tune just fit as-is.
It’s also possible that someone else, such as perhaps his uncle, did any of those three things.
Here’s where the really heavy speculation starts. To sum up all of the observations above: from Ward’s booklet and the Barrett recording, it seems that it could be possible that O’Keeffe used an existing barndance for one or both of the final two parts of his version. He could also have created one or both of those parts to suite the tune. There are enough similarities between the early four-part printed versions (especially ER4) to suggest that he got the first four parts of his setting either from a collection or transmitted via the oral tradition from a Scottish source. Cal O’Callahan’s sojourn to the U.S. may have been the source, or some other unknown collection may have given inspiration. There are enough differences to conclude that there was definitely an amount of creativity and variation at work, and it is my opinion that it was O’Keeffe’s creativity that made it his own, even while it’s also possible that he didn’t completely invent any of the source material.
The only firm conclusion that can be made at this time is that the version we all know and love can be traced pretty conclusively from Planxty (and Liam O’Flynn), to Seamus Ennis, back to Pádraig O’Keeffe.
One comment on the type of tune: Ward labeled Julia Clifford’s recording of PK6 as a hornpipe, but noted that it “is referred to as a hornpipe for convenience, though if Julia’s performance is anything to go by it would have been more for listening than dancing to.” Seamus Ennis’ and Planxty’s recordings are also classified as a hornpipe, but this may be simply for convenience as well. After listening to some of the other recorded versions I would conclude that this tune falls somewhere on a spectrum, sometimes closer to a march, sometimes maybe a barndance, and other times more decidedly as a hornpipe.
Much information at the Traditional Tune Archive regarding Johnny Cope’s path through history is referenced from Samuel Bayard’s book Dance to the Fiddle. Since this book is a compilation of music from Pennsylvania, perhaps there is a link to be found between the story of Cal O’Callaghan and his stay in Ohio. There are also other collections of music where Johnny Cope may be found hiding that could shed more light (or just add more to the confusion) on the setting from O’Keeffe, as well.
As they say, further research is needed.
Nicolas Brown, Ferndale, MI
Nicolas Brownis “an excellent piper who incorporates smart, subtle touches in his ornamentation and regulator work to yield a smooth, gentlemanly style.” (The Irish Echo) He was born in Illinois and raised in Ontario, and first started playing Irish music when he was in his late teens. A friend lent him a practice set of uilleann pipes, with which he proceeded to torture his extremely patient and understanding parents. Norman Stiff (a student of Chris Langan) started teaching him and gave him two CDs: one of Willie Clancy and one of Seamus Ennis. Nicolas proceeded to listen to these two recordings on repeat for the next year. Eventually, he got his own set of pipes and a flute (and some more CDs!) and set out on his journey down the Irish music rabbit hole. Over the last 15 years, Nicolas has not only become a very proficient musician, but has also developed a vast knowledge of Irish music history, about the old musicians, tune histories, Irish music in America, and more. Nicolas has performed and given workshops at various venues and festivals in Canada and the US. Nicolas plays a hybrid concert pitch “D” set of uilleann pipes, a Joe Kennedy flat pitch “B” set of union pipes, an antique Wylde concert flute, and a John Gallagher B flute (the first modern 8-keyed B flute, as far as he’s aware!)
The Closing of Jimmy O Briens Pub in Killarney, June 18th, 2013, by Weeshie Fogarty
Let me say at the very onset I am very much aware that the closing down of one single public house in College Street Killarney is, in the overall context of events in the great wider world a very minor matter and of little significants to most people. However on the other hand for thousands of others from home and abroad who were fortunate to have frequented this particular house either on a continuous basis or just once in a while during the course of the last fifty two years the demise of this hightly popular institution has left a massive void in many lives. I refer of course to Jimmy o Brien’s renowned football and musical pub which served its last pints last Saturday week, June 8th. Indeed this very newspaper considered the event so momentous that it was granted front page prominence just a couple of week ago.
Regular callers to Jimmy’s did not regard the house as just a pub, no; it was so much more than that. It was for many an institution, a place of refuge, a meeting place, a drop off and pick up point, a post office where mail was collected and left, football matches and musical weekends were advertised. GAA clubs weekly lotto cards were always available. It was in essence a home from home, a place where one could while away the hours participating in conversation where the troubles of the world but in particular Kerry football and traditional music were generally the main topic of conversation. To others it was a refuge from the hustle and bustle of Killarney life. Step inside the brown paneled door and you entered a totally different world. Just a couple of steps from the pavement and you had entered a sanctuary of peace and calm far from the madding crowd. I have even heard mutterings that a preservation order should have bee slapped on the place.
And yes, two topics of conversation dominated morning, noon and night here! The first is football, mainly of the Kerry variety. References to Cork or Dublin football are endured only if spoken of in jest or ridicule but despite that a genuine and warm welcome awaited GAA players and followers, past or present, here. This little watering hole has become a place to where many Kerry exiles regularly made a pilgrimage in search of spiritual renewal and sustenance to help them survive in lonely outposts far from the homeland. They returned to their homes in Cork and other strongholds of the enemy fortified with hope and resolve and with a steely glint in the eye after assurances from the several icons of the game who are regulars in Jimmy’s that the Green-and-Gold will rise again! The other passion and topic of discussion here is traditional music and the pub is regarded as the unofficial embassy in Killarney of Sliabh Luachra, an area unusually rich in traditional music and song.
But the real secret, the real treasure, the heart and soul of this remarkable establishment lay not with its wonderful furnishings, magnificent creamy pints or the stunning collection of photographs and memorabilia which adorned the walls. Indeed no, the real essence, that special character of the place was inspired by its exemplary owner and landlord Jimmy and his lovely son Jim, or as he is known affectionately to us regulars as “Jim Bob”. It was always for me their forever warm welcome, their cheerfulness, optimism and brightness even during those dark, dreary, gloomy winter days or following demoralizing Kerry defeats which drew the faithful into its comforting embrace.
Jimmy o Brien as he often told me “was born on the side of a bog”, Lyretough bog to be precise in the eastern part of Kilcummin parish. His home was a house of music and song and it was here that his tremendous love for all things traditional was engrained into his life. He qualified as a mechanic in Culloty’s garage in Killarney, immigrated later to America with his future wife Mary Cronin who sadly was to die as young woman in later years. They both worked hard far away from their native land and at the first opportunity after two and a half years Jimmy as he remarked to me once “faced the horse for home”. He answered an add in The Kerryman, rang Killarney solicitor Con o Healy who was selling a pub, the deal was struck over the phone and the price was agreed at 2,750 pounds. Mary and Jimmy returned in 1961 opened the pub and as they say the rest is history.
I have met callers from all over the world in Jimmy’s from both the musical and sporting world. Legendary musicians have all either performed or called to worship at the shrine of Jimmy o Brien’s renowned establishment. Ciaran Mac Mathuna recorded there, Sean o. Riada, Con Houlihan, The Dubliners, Johnny o Leary, Denis Murphy, Jimmy and Paddy Doyle, Johnny o Leary, Liam o Connor and many more too numerous to mention. I have been privileged to have presented two memorable Radio Kerry Terrace Talk shows live from there and was honored to have a galaxy of GAA and Sliabh Luachra legends take part in the programs. When packed with the faithful on such occasions as this it generates this amazing atmosphere which is rarely experienced anywhere else.
But of course Kerry football and indeed hurling dominated everything else within those hallowed walls and this message, Jimmy’s all consuming passion for his county was announced loud and clear to one and all in the most blatant manner possible. The building sandwiched between The Royal Hotel and McSweeney’s is painted in the county colors, a beautiful vivid green and gold from top to bottom. Enough said. And boy would you want to know your football from a to z when you venture inside. Frequent visitors included Kerry greatest such as Tom Long, Mick Gleeson, Donie o Sullivan, Ambrose o Donovan, Paudie o Mahoney, Din Joe Crowley and the late Garry McMahon whome I often heard regaling the crowd with one of his fabulous Kerry football songs. On one memorable occasion following some big victory I counted thirty eight All Ireland senior medals having been won by men scattered around the bar. I could literally have written another two thousand words in honor of a man and his place that was for years a massive part of my life. So finally our dearest wish is that Jimmy and his son will have a happy and long retirement and enjoy special times with his family and close friends from the world of the GAA and Sliabh Luachra. No two people deserve it more.