Paddy Fahy Reels

THE TUNE COMPOSITIONS OF
PADDY FAHEY
Maria Holohan
Master of Arts
University of Limerick
Supervisor: Dr Micheal 6 Suilleabhain

Submitted to the University of Limerick, October 1995
'¥l.A. 19q5 UtJIVER.,s/TLf oP L IIYI E. R. I C 1(,
Y(~~
The tune compositions
of
Paddy Fahey
Contents of Cassette
1 Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 1

, ' 7 Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 7
"B Paddy. ,Fahey 's Reel no. t!
10 Paddy Fahey's Reel no.10
IS paddy Fahey's Reel no.1S
?4 Paddy Fahey's Reel no.24
2S Paddy Fahey's Reel no.28
30 Paddy Fahey's Jig no. 1
42 Paddy Fahey's Hornpipe no. 1
43 Paddy Fahey's Hornpipe no. 2
All tunes recorded by Maria Holohan

at Abbey, Loughrea, Co Galway
Abstract of Thesis
Title: The Tune Compositions of Paddy Fahey
Author: Maria Holohan
Paddy Fahey comes from Kilconnell in East Galway. He was

born in this West of Ireland parish in 1926 and has lived
there ever since. He is a farmer, a traditional fiddle-
player and a composer of tunes in traditional style. While
this thesis asks and explores questions that are relevant to
the Irish tradition as a whole, its main subject is the
music and music-making of Paddy Fahey, and more
specifically, his original tune compositions.
Paddy Fahey is essentially a performer of traditional music

and his compositional abilities are but part of his musical
expression. His situation, in common with other traditional
musician-composers " is that of the performer as creator, a
concept which is central to this thesis.
The first chapter is devoted to the presentation of some

concepts and principles relating to creativity in music.
While the processes and products of composition in Irish
traditional music are of primary concern, reference is made
also to other traditions which reflect the Irish experience
in some way. This broad discussion provides a background
for the ensuing chapters which explore the manner in which
the principles behind these concepts are applied by one
traditional fiddler from East Galway.
The world of music experienced by the artist is the subject

of the second chapter. An attempt is made to dig up some of
Fahey's rich musical soil to gain an insight into the world
he experienced both in his local community and within the
social and cultural context of East Galway. The third
chapter is concerned with the ways in which this man's music
is perceived by the composer himself and also by
representatives from his native musical community and the
traditional music community at large. The final chapter
explores the manner in which Fahey arranges musical sound in
time by highlighting the elements which satisfy his musical
aesthetic and instinct.
The appendix of music transcriptions brings together for the

very first time the complete collection of Paddy Fahey's
original tune compositions.
Contents
List of illustrations 3
Acknowledgements 4
Introduction 5
Chapter One: Processes and Products 8
Composition 10
Improvisation 14
Creation and recreation 22

Tradition and change • 37
Chapter Two: People and Place . 45
The Fahey home at Killaghbeg 46
The Aughrim Slopes ceili band 51
The sound of the past 60

The place of music 64
The music of place 67
The musician in community . 72
East Galway: a place and a music? 77
Chapter Three: Perceptions and Perspectives 89
The tunes composed by Paddy Fahey 90

The playing of Paddy Fahey's tunes 107
Paddy Fahey: the voice of East Galway? 117
East Galway music: renewal or decline? 138

Chapter Four: Pitches and Performances 156
Creating new shapes in familiar forms 157

Identifying significant motifs • 177
Transforming the model 189

Rhythm and blues 201
In conclusion 217
Bibliography 225
Discography 231
Tapeography 234
Appendix: The M.usic 239
Paddy Fahey's 29 reel compositions 240
Paddy Fahey's 12 jig compositions 276
Paddy Fahey's 2 hornpipe compositions 289
Tunes by other East Galway composers 291
List of Illustrations
1 Photograph of Killaghbeg House . 47
2 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' 1940s . 55
3 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' 1956 57
4 Map of County Galway • 80
5 Map of the East Galway region 82
6 'Call and response' in Fahey tunes 93
7 A flowing stream of melody 94
8 B-flat and B-natural in close proximity 97
9 Similar motifs in a Fahey reel and a Reavy reel 99
10 Phrase recurrence in Fahey reel compositions 170
11 Melodic cohesion and contour 172
12 Variable notes in Paddy Fahey tunes . 179
13 Similar notes in tunes by other

East Galway composers 180
14 A recurring motif 184

15 Similar motifs at tune endings . 185
16 Scale-like runs contrasting with arpeggio-style
motifs 187
17 Disjunct and crossing string motifs 188
18 Melodic variations in some Fahey reels 190
19 Submerging the 'round' in Reel no.24 209
3
Acknowledgements
My sincere thanks is due to Kevin Burke, Nicolas Carolan,
Liz Carroll, Maeve Donnelly, Anne Fahey, Maureen Fahy and
family, Frankie Gavin, Ian Lee, Liam Lewis, Seamus
MacMathuna, Sr Benedict Moylan, Brendan Mulvihill, Connie
O'Connell, Conor Tully, staff at Audio-Visual Services DCC,
Music Department UCC, Glucksman Centre UL and Irish World
Music Centre UL. A special thank you to my wonderful
parents, sisters and brothers each of whom helped in so many
ways, to my friends who provided support and distraction in
equal measure, to Dr. M{cheal 6 Suilleabhain who encouraged,
advised and always had a kind word, and finally thank you to
the man himself, Paddy Fahey, for his trust and friendship.
Rath De oraibh go leir.
4
Introduction
Paddy Fahey is known as an exemplary exponent of East Galway
fiddle-playing. His fame within traditional music stems
largely, however, from his particular talent for composing
new tunes. Many traditional musicians attempt to compose
tunes but it is a pursuit at which only a select few seem to
shine. It is one thing to put notes together in a new way
but it is another matter altogether to compose a tune which
finds favour with the community of traditional musicians.
Fahey's tunes are widely regarded as being both special and
traditional. Not only has he succeeded in satisfying all
the requirements of traditional style, he has also managed
to invest his tunes with something of himself. While some
of his compositions are very well known throughout the Irish
traditional music community, many are as yet unknown.
Although the name and music of Paddy Fahey are recognised
far and wide, Paddy is not a prominent figure insofar as he
is not a public performer in the manner of well-known
traditional musicians of the present day. Perhaps his
reticence as a performer may even have contributed to the

level of interest in his music. A certain mystique appears
to have developed around the persona of "Paddy Fahey" over
the years. This has quite little to do with the man himself
apart from the fact that his personality and disposition are
such that he was never one to seek the limelight. He has

always chosen to maintain a very low profile.
S
Prior to commencing this work, my knowledge of Paddy Fahey
was based solely on hearsay and what I had heard was rather
discouraging as far as ease of contact was concerned. One
has to find out for oneself, however, so I decided to meet
Paddy with a view to doing some research on his
compositions. I knew a number of tunes that were known to
be Fahey compositions, these being the handful available on
commercial recordings made by other musicians, or in printed
collections of traditional music. I was quite sure that
Paddy had other tunes and so far no one had succeeded in
collecting them.
My first meeting with Paddy took place at his home in
Kilconnell in November 1990 following a brief introduction a
few nights previously at a local session. A~y
preconceptions on my part were quickly dispelled as Paddy
proved most agreeable and welcoming. It was not all plain
sailing however. Having been very conscious of the fact

that my interest in his music did not mean he would be
interested in my work, I was somewhat apprehensive at the
outset, and true to form by our third meeting Paddy said
that he would continue no further. Fortunately, he did

change his mind and my initial eagerness to learn his tunes,
and as it turned out my role in giving Paddy an opportunity
to go to the bother of recollecting and recording them,

proved in time to be very worthwhile. My collection of
sound recordings and the book of speech transcripions are
now located in the University of Limerick Music Archive.
6
In the beginning, the collecting process seemed somewhat
hit-and-miss in its progress as many of the tunes Paddy had
composed were half forgotten and were gradually pieced
together again - not that there was no source at all for
this material if paddy needed assistance. Sometimes his
wife Anne, or son John who also plays the fiddle, were the
most reliable when it came to recalling which second part
followed which first part or some such matter. I had no
idea as to how many tunes there were in all and neither had
the composerl While it is true that Paddy seemed in no
hurry at first to part with his lesser-known compositions,
once he did decide to do the work he was extremely helpful
at all times. Since that initial encounter, I have learned

from Paddy all of his original tune compositions. His
personal repertoire is comprised of 29 reels, 12 jigs and 2
hornpipes. The current collection of 43 tunes, the resul~
of our patience with each other, is indeed rewarding.
7
Chapter One
Processes and Products
This opening chapter seeks to examine the processes involved
in the creation of traditional music and the products thus
created. There are numerous ways to be creative in music
and it is no surprise that wi thin the genre of Irish
traditional music one encounters many different levels of
creativity. The traditional musician has the challenge of
being innovative and original whilst remaining within the
parameters of creativity recognised by the trad~~ion.
Irish traditional music is rarely discussed in a theoretical
or analytical fashion amongst its native practitioners.
This is not to imply that the concepts and principles

relating to musical creativity are not widely understood.
On the contrary, their vital and very active roles are both
recognised and highly regarded but invariably, the music
speaks for itself. Talking about the music is considered a

very poor substitute for the real thing. A number of
musical scholars have sought to define the particular
rhetoric and styles of Irish traditional music. They have
Verbalised the once unspoken rules which together form the
parameters referred to above. The definitions become
blurred, however, if one wishes to distinguish between the
8
various levels of creativity that operate in this music.
The uncertainty with regard to the creative processes
involved arises from the simple fact that it can be most
difficult to ascertain precisely what is taking place in any
individual situation. It may be impossible to identify a
progressive pattern from an original source of inspiration
to a finished product. The notion that traditional music
evolves over years and years belies the fact that within the
tradition there are some individuals who create original
tunes of a quality that makes them immediately acceptable to
other members of the tradition.
The position of the composer in traditional music is central
to this thesis. In traditional music there is a certain

•
dichotomy between the creative force of the mUSl.ca ...1
community at large and the individual creator. The final
section of this chapter notes that in the last century the
literature on oral tradition gave precedence to the notion

of communal creation. At some point, however, a new tune
distinct from all other tunes emerges for the first time and
this in most cases is an individual experience. Despite
this, it is true that in our own tradition the
acknowledgement of individuals as being the original
composers of certain well-known tunes is but a relatively
recent development.
Let us begin then by examining the processes involved in

mUsical creativity and the products thus formed. While
9
terms such as 'composition' and 'improvisation' tend to be
more at home in the verbally articulate context of the
Western art music tradition, they are equally significant in
the context of an oral music tradition. The distinctions
one might make in theory are often not so clear in practice,
however. The case of Irish traditional music is a notable
example as the following discussion illustrates.
Composition
The term 'composition' may describe either the process of

creating a piece of music or the musical product thus
created. wi th regard to the products of compositional
processes, it would seem that certain requirements are
necessary if a piece of music is to qualify as a new
composition. In the New Harvard dictionary of music, a
compositional product is defined as:

a work whose features are specified in sufficient
detail to retain its essential identity from
performance to performance. (Randel: 1986, 182)
In the Irish traditional context there are thousands of
musical products known as 'tunes' which share many common
features in terms of their formal structure and indeed their
melodic motifs. From performance to performance and indeed
within a given performance there is tremendous scope for
flexibility. A standardised musical product is not

sacrosanct by any means. The performer seeks to exhibit his
10
own creativity, and while there is an expectation that a
tune should 'retain its essential identity', the freedom to
recreate a tune is always present.
In the Irish musical tradition, we have a term to describe
the products of the continuous process of recreation and
renewal. The products of our tradition are called
'settings' and each musician has the liberty to create his
individual 'setting' of a tune. While each tune exhibits a
basic conformity to an exacting tradition, the opportunity
for revitalisation is ever present. Since many different
settings or versions of a tune may exist, there may be
confusion as to what exactly constitutes 'a composition'.
This explains why folksongs and traditional tunes are not
usually referred to as compositions. As Mark Lindley stated:
In general, the term 'composition' is applied only

where people engaged in making music consider .
themselves to be following a detailed and specific
scenario created by someone acting in a capacity quite
distinct from that of the performers themselves; and in
Western art music this scenario is conveyed in written
form rather than by personal instruction. Folksongs
are seldom referred to as compositions, not just
because they exist primarily in unwritten form, but
more fundamentally because their creation and the
compositional transformations they are likely to
undergo may be impossible to disentangle from their
performance. (Lindley: 1980, 600)
To emphasise the extent of performance transformations and

new tune settings in traditional music, Bruno Nettl chose
the example of a well-known traditional ballad. Instead of

a single original product, there are a proliferation of
related musical products in existence. These may be
11
referred to as a 'tune family'. Such propagation is also an
intrinsic part of Irish traditional music.
If you look for a song like Lord Randall, you are

likely to find a number of different versions, all
moderately similar, rather than one standard form.
None of these versions or variants is the original.
But all of them are descended from one or a few
original versions which have been changed by all the
persons who learned them or passed them on to others.
Although only one person created the first product,
all the people who have learned and retaught it shared
in recreating it in its present form. Communal re-
creation, the making of variants, is one of the
greatest distinguishing features of folk music as
contrasted with cultivated music. Oral tradition
itself would not be particularly relevant or
interesting if it did not result in this essential
quality. (Nettl: 1976, 25)
There are at least three different levels of creativity
taking place among traditional musicians. The first is when
a musician composes a new tune which is recognised by the
:-es':. of the community as being a new tune or a separate t'J.:1e

from all the others. The second level of creativity
produces a new version of a tune already in existence. Such
a process usually takes place when the musician is alone and

rarely involves the actual performance situation. In the
third instance, innovation occurs during an actual
performance. The performer may make a conscious attempt to
make a particular performance special and the effort is

marked by its spontaneity. In the Irish tradition, most
emphasis is placed on the interaction of the latter two
levels, which tend to combine in accordance with the
temperament of the musician. What is it that differentiates

the role of an original composer in a tradition where all
performers may be involved in the creative process?
12
The composer is essentially someone who sets out to discover
something surprising. Some element beyond what already
exists must be introduced in order to create a distinctly
new tune. Once this key element is identified it becomes
the focus of the composer's endeavours to order the units of
musical discourse in an original way. In his New Grove
article Lindley also points out that:
In many societies this [composition] is regarded as a

vocation requiring expertise, talent and an observance
of implicit or explicit rules to ensure that music will
serve the functions of its genre. (Lindley: 1980, 599)
The importance of 'conscious' effort and application in the
compositional process was highlighted by Alan Merriam when
he commented on the notion of "conscious composition".
This [conscious composition] refers to the deliberate

and planned process of creating new music material,
carried out by individuals who are aware of their
specific and directed actions to the desired end.
While the phrase is understandable when contrasted to
those compositional techniques in which inspiration is
derived directly from, for example, the supernatural,
..• it implies a dichotomy - that is, if there is
conscious composition on the one hand, its opposite
must be unconscious composition, and .•. no composition
is unconscious. (Merriam: 1964, 166)
Composition is not necessarily a self-conscious endeavour
among traditional musicians. At the same time it would

appear to be a distinct process requiring conscious
direction. Since, however, many compositional procedures
are derived from improvisational experience I it can be
difficult to draw a line between conscious and unconscious

decision-making.
13
Improvisation
The process of improvisation is not easy to identify in that

the extent to which it takes place may not always be clear.
Certain problems can arise when one attempts to distinguish
between the concepts of improvisation and composition, or

between improvisation and variation. Merriam felt that:
Improvisation is unquestionably a rich source of new
compositional material, but so little is known of the
process that it can hardly be discussed intelligently.
(Merriam: 1964, 179)
The New Harvard engages the term 'improvisation', while

explaining that of 'composition' noting that the latter word
is most often used in opposition to improvisation
implying an activity carried out prior to performance.
(Randel: 1986, 182)
The idea that composition takes place prior to performance
and that improvisational activity does not take place
outside of the medium of performance is a distinction
Commonly made between the two processes. In his review of
L'improvisation dans les musigues de tradition orale, Jean-
Jacques Nattiez also emphasises this idea:
As a sound fact, an improvisation is a musical
discourse produced at the instant of its performance
or 'a composition in real time'; in this way two
improvisations are never identical. (Nattiez: 1989, 128)
Compos i tion in ' real time' takes place on-the-spot.
Improvisation is seen to describe a spontaneous process.
The other distinction made between composition and
improvisation, alluded to above, is that of conscious versus
unconscious decision-making. The New Grove writer says that
14
etymologically, 'composition' suggests "putting together",
and in turn, 'improvised composition' is described as
"putting together without forethought". The two are not
said to be opposites, but "useful for distinguishing
complementary aspects of musical creation and activity"
(Lindley: 1980, 599).
In the New Harvard, Bruno Nettl seems to offer a clear
definition of the process of improvisation, when he
describes it as "the creation of music in the course of
performance". This is quickly qualified, however, to
emphasise rather the broadness of the term, as follows:
Even though it is tempting to distinguish simply

between composed, or 'pre-composed', music
(determined precisely in advance) and improvisation
(created on the spot), the world of music actually
comprises repertoires and performances in which
improvisation of quite different sorts is present In
various degrees. Thus, music in oral tradition is
normally composed by improvisation of a sort: the
audible rendition of pieces (though usually without
audience), whose components may then be altered and
recombined and finally memorised. The performance of
music in oral tradition, however, mayor may not
involve improvisation. (Nettl: 1986, 392)
The New Grove illustrates a similar hesitancy at providing a
narrow definition of improvisation, in describing'it as:

The creation of a musical work, or the final form of a
musical work, as it is being performed. It may involve
the work's immediate composition by its performers, or
the elaboration or adjustment of an existing framework
or anything in between. (Horsley: 1980, 31)
Improvisation has a role not only in the process of
composition but also in the post-compositional creative
process of variation, as Nettl outlines in the following
observation:
15
The degree to which a musician departs from a written
or memorised work and the extent to which performances
differ from each other may also be considered a
function of improvisation. Thus, the presence or
nature of improvisation is affected by, but does not
depend on, the concept of composition, the use of
notation and oral tradition, and the nature of
performance practice. (Nettl: 1986, 392)
The recurring point above is that composition and
improvisation are sometimes indistinguishable and nearly
always related. While one might imagine them to be at
opposite ends of the spectrum of musical creativity, they
are inextricably linked to each other. Again it is Nettl
who suggests that we would do well to think of them as being
at opposite ends of a continuum. In his essay "Thoughts on
Improvisation: A Comparative Approach", he states:
that the juxtaposing of composition and improvisation

as fundamentally different processes is false, and that
the two are instead part of the same idea.
(Nettl: 1974, 6)
The extract Nettl provides from an early discussion of

improvisation, by Ernst Ferand, is particularly relevant to
the Irish traditional musician, since it stresses the idea

of the performer as creator.
The division - taken for granted in Western musical

life today - that splits the original unity and
simultaneity of creation and reproduction was and is
foreign to the musical usage of the primitive and many
other non-European cultures; the inventor and executor
of a composition, the producing and reproducing
musician, were originally in most cases one and the
same person. (Nettl: 1974, 2)
Some musical traditions do not have that distinction between

composition and performance which seems to be essential to
the concept of improvisation. Nettl refers to musical
systems "in which the improvisatory element is a major
16
component of all performance" (Nettl: 1974, 3). Irish
traditional music is an example of an improvisatory system -
a musical system amenable to improvisation.
There are differences between what the term 'improvisation'
implies in the context of Western art mus ic and its
application in oral traditions. Not all of the

'definitions' hold true in the context of a tradition in
which improvisation is a natural part of the performer's
creative process that is encouraged by his audience. To
illustrate an example of such a tradition, other than the
Irish one, I have chosen Nazir Jairazbhoy' s account of
improvisation in Asian music.
Improvisation is important in several Asian musical

traditions. The extent of its practice and the
techniques used vary with each tradition; but certain
implications of this Western term do not apply in Asian
music, for example the absence of advanced preparation.
An Asian musician usually spends many years memorising
and absorbing traditional models before he improvises,
and his final rendering may well include fragments
composed earlier. Improvisation may also imply the
giving way to natural impulse, without premeditation;
but this impulse is highly schooled and usually guided
by an underlying scheme of development.
(Jairazbhoy: 1980, 52)
In pointing out that it is more usual for music of this sort
to be premeditated than not, Jairazbhoy also comments on the
constraints within which the musician acts, emphasising the
role and importance of the improviser's model. Again the
Asian example is useful since the Irish situation is quite

similar:
In general, improvisation in Asian music requires

imagination within the constraints of a framework in
which particular musical elements are either
obligatory, optional or forbidden. It is largely the
17
manipulation of the optional elements that marks the
excellence of a musician. All forms of traditional
improvised music have obligatory features which must be
referred to in order to preserve the model; the
frequency of these features may be described in terms
of 'density'. A form with a high density of obligatory
features generally leaves less scope for improvisation
than a low-density form; this does not imply that a
musician performing in a dense medium is necessarily
less imaginative than one performing in a sparse
medium. (Jairazbhoy: 1980, 52)
It will be illustrated at a later point in this work that
some of the tune compositions of Paddy Fahey could be
described as being of high-density, while others, being less
dense in terms of their obligatory elements, offer the
performer greater opportunity for improvisation. One of the
suggestions made in the final chapter concerns the fact that
Paddy Fahey's compositions seem to present fewer 'optional
elements' than is usual in Irish traditional music.
While one of the criteria for improvisation is the idea 0:

unprepared, sudden and impulsive creation, one must question
how 'unprepared' improvisatory creativity can actually be.
Nobody can compose out of 'thin air'; and similarly, nobody
can improvise out of nothing. In the same way that a
composer draws upon all his previous musical experience, so
too does the improvising musician, yet another aspect of
the composition/improvisation relationship. In his "Thoughts
on Improvisation", Nettl asks how musicians who improvise
regard the differences among their performances:
A few detailed studies conclude that a musician who

repeatedly improvises upon the same musical model does
so quite predictably. But of course he hardly ever
does exactly the same thing twice. (Nettl: 1974, 8)
This important point is one which the same writer stresses
18
again in the New Harvard piece on improvisation:
Improvised music is not produced without some kind of

preconception or point of departure. There is always a
model that determines the scope within which a musician
acts. (Nettl: 1986, 392)
The New Grove writer also acknowledges the importance of the
model in terms of the traditions the performer is obliged to
observe when he notes the following:
To some extent every performance involves elements of

improvisation, though its degree varies according to
period and place; and to some extent every
improvisation rests upon a series of conventions or
implicit rules. (Horsley: 1980, 32)
What might the model be in an improvisational composition?
It could, for example, be a set of harmonies which determine
the pitches to be selected for a melody or it may be a
melody that is subjected to variation, or a particular
composition may be the model. The musician will tend to
have various melodic, metrical and rhythmic formulae and
certain approaches to tonality from which he can choose in a
given situation. Nettl outlines some of the possibilities:

In those musics which are said to be improvised a
number of compositional techniques and devices at the
microcompositional level appear to be characteristic.
Among them are repetition, simple variation of short
phrases, melodic sequence, the tendency to start two
successive sections with the same motive ••• and
perhaps others. (Nettl: 1974, 9)
There tend to be certain rules governing melodic and
rhythmic movement in every tradition. Whether one is
improvising on a known tune or improvising in an attempt to
compose a new piece, there are limits to what one can do.
In an essay entitled "The Performer as Creator", Ronald
Byrnside outlines the limits of improvisational composition:

19
The improviser works within certain limits, and only by
understanding how and in what ways these limits bind
the improviser can we develop an appreciation of what
he does. The fleeting, impermanent nature of
improvisational compositions has on occasion led to the
faulty notion that the improviser is a sort of musical
free agent who is bound by no conventions and guided by
no logic or canon, and who creates music by allowing
various and sundry bits of inspiration to "pop into his
mind" and out of his voice or instrument at one and the
same time. But this is not what he actually does. In
making his music, the improviser cannot escape his own
musical habits, his previous musical experiences, his
personal performance facility and compositional
procedures. The music he creates while improvising is
conditioned by these things, and is, thus, considerably
more reflective than spontaneous in nature.
(Byrnside: 1975, 224)
Asking whether there is an essential difference between
composed and improvised material, Nettl suggests to us:
should we not then speak perhaps of rapid and slow

composition rather than of composition juxtaposed to
improvisation? (Nettl: 1974, 6)
This allusion to the composer/improviser's timeframe is very
significant in terms of the composers of Irish traditional
music. Some musicians compose instantly, according to
sudden impulse, while others may work on a tune for a
considerable period of time. In Paddy Fahey's case, he
appears to engage in the first type of 'improvisational
composi tion' at the outset of the process but tends to
follow this up with the composer's dedication to well-
thought-out working and shaping which in his case helps to
ensure the tune's unity wi thin i tsel f and also its
originality.
In his paper entitled "Jazz Styles and Improvisation Codes"
Raymond Kennedy concluded that:

20
Improvising musicians and composers alike inherit the
tools of their trade. The differences are more a
matter of time constraints in the process of music-
making. Improvising musicians must make choices
instantaneously, while the composer has more time to
consider, think about and polish his options. Except
for this difference, the performer, improvisor and
composer use identical processes - they create, work
with and shape musical materials - within the dictates
of their inherited styles. (Kennedy: 1987, 42)
The significance of the different timeframe involved in
composition and improvisation was also stressed by Byrnside:
The improviser's decision-making time differs from that

of the composer of fixed music. In composing a piece
of music, the latter ponders the nature, order, and
interrelationships of the musical ideas with which he
is working. He weighs the merits of these ideas and
their musical sense as he moulds and arranges them in
what to him is presumably the perfect order.
(Byrnside: 1975, 225)
While one might argue that Fahey's music is not fixed music,
for the simple reason that it exists within the genre of
Irish traditional music, his process certainly matches the
description above relating to the composer of fixed music.
Certainly in Fahey's case, he reaches a point at which he
'fixes' his music to his own liking. It is up to others
then to make further adjustments if they so wish. The
composer may well add some further variation at a later time
but the initial process of forming and placing his ideas in
a conscious manner over an extended period always reaches a
conclusion and a new composition is finally 'finished'.
While it is difficult to generalise with accuracy about the
degree to which compositional processes in traditional music

contrast with those of art music, one obvious difference is
that traditional music has tended to be composed without
written or otherwise preserved records. Indeed the presence
21
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University Limerick1111'
•
or absence of notation is sometimes regarded as a criterion
for improvisation versus composition. That view, which
might imply that someone like Paddy Fahey is engaged more in

the process of improvisation than that of composition, is
misleading.
The products of oral transmission have existed mainly in
unwritten form and while a traditional tune may have been

recorded at some stage during its history, it would not
generally have been recorded in its original state.

Sometimes an initial version may not really have existed
anyway, if a composer continued to exert a further process
of variation and reshaping upon his own creation. Once an

original composition passes on from the composer and is
assimilated into the traditional music community,
inevitably undergoes further shaping. This process of
change may in time alter the original beyond recognition.

Rather than corrupting the original, these transformations
may exercise the positive role of modification and renewal
that keeps the tune alive and growing within the tradition.
Creation and recreation
In the Irish context, both creation and recreation are

taking place as individual musicians establish their
particular influence on the repertoire. We have noted above
that a traditional tune, once created, is not fixed
thereafter but is instead subject to further transformations
22
within the various contexts of infinite subsequent
performances. Apart from this vital point, however, there
are obviously significant similarities between the manner in
which art music is composed and the methods used to create a
traditional tune for the first time. Due, however, to this
post-compositional process of transformation, the community
at large has in the past been credited with the emergence of
our traditional tunes. Many sources indicate the degree to
which the idea of communal creativity prevailed in earlier
years. One such example, which relates to Irish traditional
music specifically, is the following extract from Irish
Minstrels and Musicians by the Irish American music
collector Francis O'Neill.
Traditional music unlike any other form of modern

composition is not the work of anyone man but of many.
Indeed, it can hardly be said to have been composed at
all. It is simply a growth to a certain extent subject
to the influence of heredity, environment, natural
selection and the survival of the fittest.
(O'Neill: 1912)
The last sentence of the 0' Neill statement quoted is
commendable certainly, in that not all newly composed tunes
will survive. The first two sentences recall, however, the
theory, such as that put forward by the Grimm brothers in
the nineteenth century, which proposed that all aspects of
traditional culture, including music, were the expression of
the entire cultural community and not the work of individual
creators. Jakob Grimm expressed the understanding of that
time in a musical context when he said:
Like all good things in nature, folksongs emanate in

silence from the tranquil strength of the whole.
(Brailoiu: 1984, 6)
23
Bartok also shared this nineteenth century view, although in
the following quotation he shows an awareness of a communal
consciousness that gives a truer picture of reality than the
notion of the community as a whole sharing the role of
creator.
Among those whom identical conditions such as language,
occupation, temperament, close daily contact, and more
or less complete isolation from the outside world bring
together into a compact whole, the instinct for
variation operates in an unconscious manner, and, by a
slow process of unification of the musical elements at
their disposal, gives birth to groups of homogenous
melodies. (Brailoiu: 1984, 8)
Much study into creativity in oral music traditions has been
pursued in the intervening decades and this theory of
communal creativity is no longer accepted as valid, as Nettl
noted thus:
While this theory of the communal origin of folklore is
credible in a rather indefinite and idealistic sense,
it does not give due credit to the individual creators
of folklore; indeed this theory does not recognise them
at all, and it is hardly accepted today. The idea of
communal creation does not credit the individual in a
folk community with creativity.
Referring to "the phenomenon of communal re-creation" in
Folk Music in the United States, Nettl said that the term
was invented:
to counteract the idea of communal creation, which
assumes that an entire people create folklore, but it
is also supposed to indicate that many anonymous
persons share in molding most items of folklore into
the shape they have today. (Nettl: 1975, 24)
The concept of communal recreation represents very
accurately the true process by which music can earn the
description 'traditional'. It is a peculiarity of oral
rather than written tradition. Each musician who performs a
tune may change it to a certain extent and, therefore, any
24
tune present in a repertoire built from oral tradition is
the end result of almost infinite changes since the original
version was composed. Thus, through the process of communal
recreation, a tune becomes the property of the group rather
than of one individual. Again we note that in the Irish
context, the musical repertoire is not static but fluid and
open to change. Both new tunes and new settings of existing
tunes are produced through the creative processes of

composition, improvisation and variation. The inclination
for variation and spontaneity, therefore, assures the

strength, the capacity for evolution, and the life of
traditional music.
The historical background of composition and assimilation in

the Irish tradition, was examined by an American researcher,
Stephen Jardine. At the end of his thesis, A Studv of the
Composition of Tunes and their Assimilation into Irish

Traditional Music, he presented a number of conclusions
which I have paraphrased as follows. Irish traditional
music originates from individual composers and is only
affected by the musical community upon entering the
tradition at large. The compositions which are assimilated
into the tradition are the result of a large number of
composers each contributing a relatively small body of
tunes. While some individuals may appear to be more
prolific in the extent of their output, this has little
bearing on the number of their tunes that will live on in
the tradition. Composers can come from any sector of the
25
tradi tional music community. They undergo no formal
training in the art or technique of composition and are, for
the most part, unschooled in formal theory concerning their
own music. Musical learning and development are achieved
primarily by means of illustration and in the same way, new
compositions in this genre are strongly influenced by the
existing music in the tradition. The procedure of composing
follows the same basic pattern for all composers and a great
deal of the compositional process would appear to be
subconscious in nature. The dance tune i tsel f is,
ultimately, of primary importance and its composer, origin,
and title are secondary in comparison. (Jardine: 1981)
~rom my own research, it is clear that the initial steps 0:

composition in the Irish dance tune tradition occ~r quite
spontaneously. The process tends to progres s in small
bursts of activity and achievement rather than being worked
at continuously. A new melodic motif can sometimes be

developed 'on the spot'. If not, one is advised to leave it
aside, at least for the time being. An idea for a new tune
may continue to linger in the composer's mind until

inspiration strikes again. It is such small segments,
usually two-bar phrases, that constitute the building blocks
of the composition.
A composer may, in the process of improvisation, discover an

idea that he finds appealing. This may spark off a host of
other motivic relationships in his mind which, gradually,
26
fall into place within the predetermined tune structure.
The composition of the tune may be aided by the use of
certain prescribed musical phrases and as the tune is put
together phrase by phrase, the composer will discover the
arrangement that flows in the most natural and musical way.
The very nature of the formal structure of Irish dance music
is a help in facilitating the process of varying a tune,
especially when there is repetition of segments. One might

imagine that it should be just as easy to put together new
tunes but this is not at all the case. The possibility of
composing a tune that is very similar to an existing tune
seems to cloud the compositional process for most
traditional musicians. It is certainly a conscious concern

and would seem to be one of the main reasons why relatively
few tradit:'onal perforrners also succeed as composers.
While not all good performers can be successful composers,
it is essential for the composer of Irish traditional tunes

to be first and foremost a performer. If not, he is open to
duplication and is unlikely to capture the essence of the

style. Since the structural framework of our traditional
dance tunes is so rigid, creativity depends largely on

melodic originality. The composer must, therefore, have a
conscious awareness of his musical process. While his
thoughts may operate in a completely intuitive manner, they
cannot be entirely random.
27
The generation of a new musical idea may begin as a
conscious thought outside of the context of music-making.
For example, Paddy Fahey has indicated that he has come upon
ideas for tunes while out working on the farm, away from the
performance situation. A second scenario is when a musical
thought is created not at first in the mind but by the
fingers at the instrument during play. On an instrument
such as the fiddle, one can understand how the player would
favour certain finger patterns and consequently, certain
intervallic progressions and melodic shapes. On the other
hand, when meandering about in an improvisatory fashion he
may, either by accident or intent, venture beyond his normal
movements. In general, however, the note patterns he
chooses will tend to be in the keys and modes i~ which he is
'J.sed to playing. New ideas and ultimately new tunes come

more naturally ~n a familiar souncscape.
One of the characteristics of Paddy Fahey's music is his use
of keys and modes which are not so common in the tradition
as a whole. It becomes apparent, however, that Fahey is not
interested in being different just to be different. Rather,
his choice of these keys proves to be a signal of their

prevalence and acceptance within his own local tradition and
musical community, which in turn explains the ease with
which he employs them. In the final chapter, examples of
tunes favoured by Fahey and his contemporaries are given to

illlustrate this point.
28
Attention has already been pointed to the role and incidence
of improvisation in the compositional process. In my work
with Paddy Fahey in particular, I have realised the extent
to which a composer must consciously strive to create
something new, if this is his goal. 'Unconscious',
uninhibited improvisation may indeed prove fruitful in this
quest but there is usually far more time and conscious
effort involved. Amongst the vast majority of Irish
traditional musicians there would seem to be little that is

truly original or unexpected, however, about 'improvisation'
in performance. This is from the musician's point of view,

of course, assuming that one's musical surprises have been
worked out in private. From a listener's point of view,
aspects of a performance could be very original and very

~nexpected. In general, a musician tends to have developed
and practically standardised his musical ideas and motifs to

such an extent as to enable him to introduce such phrases
spontaneously in various contexts. While he may hardly ever

do the same thing twice, to what extent may the changes
which occur in the course of a performance be attributed to
improvisation? The answer appears to be quite rarely. The

musician is usually drawing from a set array of variational
Possibilities, all of which are familiar to him. Certainly
he could surprise himself during a performance by the
particular selection he makes, on the spur of the moment,
from the arrray of possibilities available, and one must
allow for a level of originality that can occur even over
and above the work one has put in in private.
29
The fact that so many of the turns of phrase available to
the traditional musician are in fact standard melodic shapes
in the tradition leads us back to the role of the 'model' in
improvisation. In Irish traditional music, the influence of
the tune model is usually quite strong and one cannot
overestimate the level of freedom a performer has, to engage
in improvisation. When improvising upon any traditional
tune, it seems that there are some things which should not
be disturbed. In his study, Jardine asked a number of
traditional composers if they ever reworked their
compositions and he remarked that:

The answer was generally a ~no~. I think this is
because these tunes are composed in phrases and certain
phrases seem to fit naturally together and no amount of
reworking helps. (Jardine: 1981, 85)
While Paddy Fahey has made slight changes to some of his
compositions over the years, he would acknowledge that many
of the phrases need to remain intact. They are, after all,
what make the tune a distinct unit.
The other issue alluded to in the general discussion of
improvisation was that of the 'limits' involved and it would
appear that the limits imposed on the improvisational
process of the Irish traditional musician are quite limiting
indeed. A few innovative musicians do go beyond these
boundaries but the vast majority remain wi thin the
expectations of the tradition. In the performance of Irish
traditional music one generally strives, therefore, to

create an ornamental or variational rendition of the basic
tune model, without changing 'too much'. We have already
30
."
noted that this style of music is based largely on the
repetition of short melodic formulae. Ornamentation and
variation are usually introduced and encouraged in order to
offset the large degree of unity and the types of histories
that traditional tunes experience are usually attributed to
these processes. In general, variation occurs on the level
of the musical section or phrase. Ornamentation, also a
variational process, tends to operate on the level of the
individual note.
The processes of improvisation and variation may overlap but
they are not one and the same. This point was emphasised by
Byrnside as follows:
If a performer retains not only the essence but also

most of the details of a given melody and changes it
only in superficial ways, we will be disinclined to
accept what he does as improvisational, because he is
not really composing something new. More likely, we
will recognise what he does as an ornamental or
variational rendition of the borrowed tune.
(Byrnside: 1975, 224)
Variation is usually understood to be a process in which one
or more segments of a composition are modified in some way
thus extending the degree of variety. The manner in which
the various terms are distinguished is apparent if we recall
Nettl's thoughts as to the implications of 'improvisation':
Yet already we who recognize the notion that there is a

difference between improvised and composed material are
aware that the improviser, when he performs a variety
of versions of one mode is really doing precisely that
- performing a version of something, not improvising
upon something. In other words, he is giving a
rendition of something that already exists, be it a
song or a theoretical musical entity. And its basic
"table of contents" is set. (Nettl: 1974, 9)
31
When the Dublin fiddle-player Tommie Potts incorporated
improvisational procedures into his variational process, he
deviated from the set 'table of contents'. (0 Suilleabhain:
1987). Potts was an exception, however, when compared to
other musicians of his generation, such as Paddy Fahey.
Fahey shows a natural acceptance of the traditional norms
and is quite satisfied to observe them. In choosing to

compose new tunes in traditional style, he is not breaking
any boundaries of course. Composing a new tune involves
going back to the beginning and starting again. Whether one

is engaged in composition or variation, one's creative urge
1.S usually balancing all the time with the rules and
regulations of the tradition.
If one considers the relative importance of creation and

recreation in different cultures, it is tempting to suggest
that the attitude of a tradition towards recreation has a
direct relationship with the level of esteem in which
original composition is held. In the Irish tradition, for
instance, variation is seen as an important aspect of
performance whereas the fundamental role of an original
creator seems to have attracted considerably less attention.
Interestingly, the opposite story is often true also. Music
systems where there is a high regard for the individual
composer tend not to give musical improvisation and
variation the same degree of attention. Where originality
is inhibited in performance there is usually great regard
for the innovative composer. In the Irish tradition there
32
is the possibility of recognising both aspects. On the one
hand, we have thousands of tunes that have no known author,
on the other we have a newly-composed repertoire. Change,
within the set boundaries of the tradition, is allowed and
indeed encouraged in both categories. This does not suggest
any disrespect for the original intentions and musical
wishes of the composer; it simply acknowledges our musical
tradition as one in which creation and recreation go hand in
hand.
The prevalence of anonymity in Ireland may be contrasted
with the recognition individual composers receive, for
example, in the Shetland and Cape Breton musical traditions.
In Cape Breton particularly, composition is the primary
~eans whereby the tradition is renewed and revitalised. As
it is a 'composed' tradition, it is also largely a fixed
tune tradition and one :inds little change in a tune from
performance to performance. It is interesting to note some
comparitive remarks made about Cape Breton and Ireland:
Spontaneous variation, which lies at the heart of the

Irish tradition, has little or no place in Cape Breton
music where the emphasis lies on playing the tune
"correctly". While both traditions do agree that what
appears on the printed page is but a mere skeletal of
the tune, the Irish player feels at ease in varying the
actual melody. This is frowned upon in Cape Breton
Normally, individual impressions on the tune are
limited to the sphere of ornamentation.
(Doherty: 1994, 6)
Addressing the issue of composition in our country, Mrcheal
o Suilleabhain noted that:
The concepts of compose/composer/composition as they

have come to us from the Western art-music tradition
are regarded as carrying little importance among
33
~I
traditional musicians in Ireland. In situations where

a new tune is composed, the rapidity with which it
acquires anonymity as it goes through the process of
assimilation into the current repertoire is an
indication of this low status. The non-literate oral-
tradition music of this country regenerates itself
through creative performance, not through composition,
... a tune with a title like 'Garret Barry's Jig' is
more likely to refer to a performer who creates his own
'setting' of a pre-existing tune-structure than to any
composer. The term 'setting' contains part of the
traditional musician's perception of what music is: a
floating body of melodic patterns which become 'set'
when subjected to the discipline of performance.
(OSuilleabhain: 1981, 59)
Of course, composition is another perfectly valid means of
adding new life to our musical tradition. One could argue,
however, that new tunes simply provide more 'raw material'
for what 0 Suilleabhain calls creative performance. Perhaps
it is no coincidence that in various other genres of music
in Ireland one can come across a similar ambivalence towards
composers and composition. The iack of genuine recognition
awarded our composers whether it be in the field of art
music or traditional music is something which surely
deserves questioning. While there is an inevitable and

necessary sifting process to separate the wheat from the
chaff, insofar as all new music is not .necessarily good
mUsic, it would seem that the status of composers in Ireland

can only improve. In the traditional music context, one
cannot ignore the ease with which some compositions become
aSsimilated into the general repertoire. The number of
composers whose tunes stand the test of tradition and time
indicate the need to regard this issue more seriously.
34
In the contemporary Irish traditional music community there
appears to be an increase in original tune composition. In
reality, however, it may be that the extent of original
composition that exists is only recently coming to light in
a public context. The identification of an individual with
the tune he or she has composed is easier today than it was
in the past. Musical literacy is more widespread and it is
common for newly composed music to be written down at some
stage. A great number of the older tunes in the Irish
tradition have been preserved for future generations on
sound recordings and in printed collections. Although some
individual musicians today are still the only carriers of
lesser known tunes and tune settings, the main role of

mus ic ians lT1 the tradition could be seen as one of
revi talisation rather than preservation. While such
~usicians may endeavour to make a personal con~ribution to
the musical store of their native region, if not the

tradition at large, there are probably an equal number of
solid traditional players who one would not regard as being

innovative in performance and who do not necessarily
contribute to new tune settings. Many musicians are highly

thought of because of the 'lift' and rhythmic vitality they
instil into their playing and this is particularly the case

where music is still linked to the dance culture. Returning
to the Cape Breton situation again points to another
interesting link. Not only is the Cape Breton tradition one
in which tunes are 'fixed' and not open to variation, it is
almost completely dance-oriented.
35
One of the features of the present-day tradition in Ireland
is the interaction of oral tradition with literacy. While
probably far more people learn tunes from recordings than
from printed publications, there is a certain reliance on
wri tten publications as a source of tunes. This, in
addition to the widespread use of commercial and private
recordings has led to the repertoire becoming fixed to a
greater extent than heretofore. Allied to this is the whole
'product' concept within consumer society, a reality that
challenges the very nature of traditional mus ic. The
changes that take place in the music today tend to reflect
conscious efforts and decisions on the part of the
recreators rather than the more unconscious transformations
that are part of the natural reality of oral tradition.
Apart from the various degrees of change whic~ take place
within the tradi~ional repertoire, there is also the broader
~otion that the tradition as a whole may be changing. In
the words of John Blacking:

The laws of nature require that an organism, to
survive, should constantly adapt to its changing
environment, and determine that almost every human
being is genetically unique; and music obeys these
laws, in that it has to be re-made at every performance
and it is felt anew inside each individual body.
(Blacking: 1995, 153)
The next section is concerned, therefore, with the two

interactive sides of our musical language: on the one hand
its stability; on the other, its tendency to change.
36
---..
Tradition and change
The musical adjective 'traditional' has appeared regularly
in the preceding pages. In general, it refers to the style
of a particular music, as well as the fact that it is a
music which is part of, and was created in the context of, a
living oral tradition. The term 'transmission' is used to
describe the means whereby 'tradition' is passed on. It is
important to note that original compositions must experience
the processes of transmission, absorption and assimilation
into the tradition before they can truly be recognised as
being traditional, ie 'the product of the tradition'. This
fact is highlighted by Breandan Breathnach in his lecture on
'The Use of Notation in the Transmission of Irish Folk
~usic' , which he begins by quoting "what may be described as
an official definit.ion of folk music", put fo::ward by the
International Folk Music Council:
Folk music is the product of a musical tradition that

has evolved through the process of oral transmission.
The factors that shape the tradition are:
(i) continuity which links the present with the past;
(ii) variation which springs from the creative impulse
of the individual or the group; and (iii) selection by
the community, which determines the form or forms in
which the music survives. (Breathnach: 1986, 1)
He notes the council's elaboration on this definition of
'folk' when he adds:
In a gloss on this definition we are told that the term

embraces music which, originating with an individual
composer, has subsequently been absorbed into the
unwritten living tradition of the community. It does
not cover composed popular music that has been taken
over ready-made by a community and remains unchanged,
for it is the re-fashioning and re-creation of the
music by the community that gives it its folk
character. (ibid.)
37
Breathnach argues that it is wrong to infer, as the
definition and elaboration above seem to do, that unwritten
music is folk music, and thus arrives at his own derivation
relevant to the Irish tradition:

If we do not stick too rigidly to that definition we
can derive from it a working definition that will serve
our purpose. Irish folk music is the music played in
Ireland by musicians who acquired it from preceding
generations by way of oral transmission. So it is not
its origin that distinguishes folk music but its mode
of transmission and acquisition. It is handed down, it
is traditional. (ibid.)
While Breathnach emphasises that the process of handing down
is itself traditional, the manner in which a musical
repertory is transmitted can have a considerable effect on
~he music. Changes which may occur in original compositions
a ro similar to those which occur in the tradition at large.
They can arise accidentally, rather than inte~~ionally, i~
~he transmission or memorization of a tune.
The types of history that an individual composition may
experience were listed by Bruno Nettl. In his first

example, a composition, once created, may remain more or
less intact. Alternatively, it may be transmitted and
changed but only in a single version, so that it continues,
different from its original, but without the proliferation

of variants. The third possibility is that the composition,
once created, may experience the type of transmission that
produces many variants, some of which eventually are
abandoned and forgotten, while others remain stable once
they become differentiated and yet others continue to change
38
constantly. Nettl also identifies the borrowing type, which
he says is similar to the third type, developing within the
family principle, but borrowing specific material from other
unrelated compositions. (Nettl: 1982, 8-9)
Various possibilities thus exist with regard to musical
change. The community may allow a large part of the musical
repertory to be forgotten. A repertory may remain intact
but in simplified form, requiring less energy to learn and

maintain. The musical population could probably be divided
into those who maintain the tradition but learn little of
newly introduced materials and others who do the opposite.
Al though practically all cui tures have changed quite
perceptibly in the twentieth century, one can still discover
a desire for unchanging survival. Some changes, whether l~
:nusic or other fields of creativity, may indeed be
interpreted as strategies for survival. A composer, or
performing musician, may attempt to change aspects of a
traditional music system, but in so doing, his primary

motive may well be to preserve the very essence of what has
gone before. It may thus be a skilful expression of the
need to balance what one sees as the advantages of old and
new. In general, one might assume that there is a parallel

motion between music and the rest of culture. This would
imply that developments in musical behaviour and style
coincide with changes in other fields. Music, however, by
the very fact that it is music, may do quite the opposite.
It may provide for some people the counterpoint necessary
39
for equilibrium. This is an interesting point which is
significant in regard to Paddy Fahey. The next chapter
observes that in the late 1950s, a time of immense change in
our world, Paddy's way of coping with the confusion and
questioning of the time was to retreat into his own inner
world. This was also the period when he began to compose
his own tunes and to attempt, through music, to express his
feelings for the past.
This leads us to the uses and functions of traditional music
and their role in a changing tradition. Merriam has
outlined the differences between the uses and functions of
music as follows:
When we speak of the uses of music, we are referring to
the ways in which music is employed in human society,
to the habitual practise or customary exercise of music
either as a thing in itself or in conjunction with
other activities ... Music is used in certain situations
and becomes a part of them, but it mayor may not also
have a deeper function .•. "Use" then, refers to the
situation in which music is employed in human action;
"function" concerns the reasons for its employment and
particularly the broader purpose which it serves.
(Merriam: 1964, 210)
The functions of Irish traditional dance music usually
determine the manner and extent of the changes which occur
at any given time. In the past, there was as much respect
for tradition and for tunes as there is tOday but, as we
have already noted, there was little or no acknowledgement
of individual contributors or composers. The older code of
ethics looked upon tunes almost as a commodity, not in a bad
sense, but nevertheless, with a certain disregard for the
human element involved in their creation. Despite, or
40
perhaps even because of, the increasing importance of group
activity and performance in what was essentially a solo
tradi tion, there is tremendous emphasis today on the
contribution and musical idiosyncrasies of individuals.
Traditional music in Ireland received an impetus from the
Gaelic revival of the late nineteenth and early twentieth
century, having been in decline in the decades since the

famine. A society in the grip of modernisation led to a new
decline in the tradition with the move from house dances to
large public dance halls. The next turning-point and the
beginning of present-day trends, is generally recognised as
having occurred around 1950. This simply marks a point at
which Irish traditional dance music began to change again,
moving to a position of revitalisation and renewed strength.
The contemporary tradition has seen Irish dance music take
off as an artistic phenomenon that can sometimes seem quite
divorced from its original function and setting. In older

days, for example, the dancer would have interpreted the
music a fiddler played. Traditional dance and music have

since become a form of performance expression each in their
own right, so that today, to use the same illustration, the

steps are learned first and the fiddler is obliged to
provide whatever the dancer requires. Paddy Fahey has
alluded to his memory of how the old traditional solo reel

was danced long ago and its influence on his own style of
composition and performance. He is recalling a time when
41
music and dance were performed in close collaboration and
intimacy. There was room for manoeuvre, for inventiveness,
for subtlety on both sides. Such oneness between musicians
and dancers is to some extent being renewed today with the
revival in traditional set dancing. The steps are simple
compared to the technical difficulty of modern Irish step
dancing, allowing dancers greater freedom to partake in the
spirit of the music. One musician at the fore of this
revival is West Kerry box player Seamus Begley who has said:
I like playing for dancing, it makes sense for me; I

don't see much point in playing music unless there's
somebody dancing to it. (O'Connor: 1991, 65)
Motives for musical change and motives for musical constancy
may exist side by side. For one example of our respect for
tradition, one may refer to the '78' recordings made by
Irish traditional fiddlers back in the 1920's and 1930's.
Many of the tunes and tun~-settings recorded during this
period have since attained the status of 'classics' or
'standards' in the traditional repertoire. Those particular
musicians are still regarded as all-time greats and many of
their tunes are still played today in the same groupings,
order and setting as they were recorded so many decades ago.
The regard for such standardised versions is a measure of
the esteem in which such musicians are held. The important
point here is that these musicians passed on to us a legacy
from the past in the form of live recordings.
42
On the whole, however, a living tradition tends to be in a
constant state of ebb and flow with each generation reacting
against or conforming to the expectations of the tradition.
Indeed, one of the points made by Merriam his Anthropology
of Music, was that al though one of the duties of
ethnomusicology is to preserve,
the fears for the destruction of the music of the folk

often tend to be over-emphasised, and there is implied
a failure to consider the inevitability of change.
(Merriam: 1964, 9)
The ever-present tendency towards change seems to relate
largely to the individual's desire to be creative, as
alluded to previously. This desire is usually satisfied by
adding some idea of one's own to a tune already in
existence. A musician may alter a tune in order to have it
suit his style 0: playing a ~articular instrument or he may
adapt i~ to the style of other tunes in his local musical
environment. In an article entitled "Style in Irish Music",
Lawrence McCullough emphasised the changing nature of our
musical tradition when he came to the following conclusion:
Style in traditional Irish music, though guided by

certain conventions, is not perceived by traditional
musicians as a rigid, static set of rules that must be
dogmatically or slavishly followed. It is, instead, a
flexible, context-sensitive medium through which an
individual's musical expression can be given a form and
substance that will invest his performance with
communicative values. (McCullough: 1977, 97)
In this particular work, which set out to collect and
preserve the tune compositions of one musician, I found that
while the reasons and motives behind musical expression and
change may not always be clear, this does not imply that
43
individual creativity is a random or arbitrary development.
The processes employed and the products which emerge have
meaning and depth for their creator. In the next chapter I
am concerned with the context of these processes in the case

of my chosen musician. Neither the processes nor the
products of Irish traditional music should be viewed in
isolation. society and culture invariably influence both
the composer' s and the performer' s decisions. It is

difficult to separate creativity at any level from the
social and personal uses or functions of the music.
44
Chapter Two
People and Place
Music involves not only sound but also the human behaviour
which is a prerequisite for producing sound. Without people
thinking, acting and creating, music sound cannot exist. As
indicated in the previous chapter, it can be easier to
understand and appreciate the sound itself than to
understand the total organisation of its production. All
peoples throughout the world make and compose music but
t.heir approach to the music I both psychologically and
spiritually, may differ very dramatically. The connection
between music and society is something which fascinated John
Blacking throughout his life. He was of the opinion that:
The function of music is to enhance in some way the

quality of individual experience and human
relationships; its structures are reflections of
patterns of human relations, and the value of a piece
of music is inseparable from its value as an expression
of human experience. (Blacking: 1995, 31)
It is neither natural nor wise, therefore, to seek to look
at music, particularly original composition, as an object in
itself, without reference to the cultural environment out of
which it is produced. Thus, one of the subjects central to
any discussion of musical creativity is that of the world of

music experienced by the artist.
45
This chapter is devoted to examining my chosen artist's
world, as I endeavour to gain an insight into his musical
experiences within his family and local community, in the
social and cultural context of his native region. Paddy
Fahey's life and music demonstrates, for me, that
composition is a natural process in Irish traditional music
culture. There need be nothing contrived about it. True,
composition is but part of the wide spectrum of creativity
in the tradition, but for Fahey, and for many others, it is
a very significant part.
The Fahey home at Killaghbeg
Paddy Fahey was born in 1926 in Buxtown, abou~ a mile f=om
the village of Kilconnell in East Galway. He grew up in the
Fahey home of 'Killaghbeg House' and at the very heart of a
rich musical tradition. 'Killaghbeg' was a haven for both

local and travelling musicians and the family members
themselves were all musical. Paddy's father, Jack, played
the fiddle very well and his mother was a good accordion
player, both passing on a great love for traditional music.
Their children carried on the tradition so liberally

bestowed upon them.
It would have been difficult perhaps for the young Paddy
Fahey to have avoided becoming so immersed in making music,

such was his background from the very beginning. His
46
-
Illustration no.l Photograph of 'Killaghbeg House' home of

Paddy Fahey. The house has been
uninhabited since Paddy left. He now
lives in the village of Kilconnell.
47
;
musical education was never something he was subjected to or
never a conscious decision or effort on anyone's part. It
was rather a most natural learning process, a labour of
personal choice arising out of his own love for and interest
in the music he heard around him.
Paddy's sister, Jenny, recalled how the many local musicians
gathered into the Fahey house at Killaghbeg every night -
"and you would hear music in every room of the house, even
out in the coach-house".(Moylan: 1977, 83) Their home was
certainly a home for musicians and musical instruments.
Jennie herself played the piano and piano accordion. Paddy's
other brothers Dan and John played the flute and accordion,
respectively, while Anne, the other sister, did not play but
"she could tell you all about traditional music". (ibid) The
fiddle was a popular instrument in the area and nearly every
second house, according to Paddy, had a fiddle. The most
proficient fiddler in the locality was Paddy Kelly from
Ballinue, Aughrim, who incidentally, had been taught the
fiddle originally by Jack Fahey of Killaghbeg. Next to Jack
Fahey, Kelly was probably the musician who inspired the
young Paddy Fahey most.
Al though he would soon become aware of musical styles
outside of his native region and be enriched by the Irish
musical tradition at large, Paddy Fahey's immediate musical
heri tage was truly the music of his family and local
community. In this sense, he would be regarded today as one

of the Old-timers, having grown up in an environment where
48
•
the local musical tradition was both active and rich in its
musical distinctiveness. He learned at home by simply
listening to the music of family, neighbours and other
visitors. Paddy's own memory of those earliest years was
captured in the following comment.
Well, no one ever learned me. I used to hear Dad

playing. I suppose I was fiddling at a fiddle at five
years of age, surely. He used to play you know. He
was fair good. But he never said to me do it this way
or that way or the other way. Never. I can never
remember that he ever said anything.
(Speech transcriptions: 19)
The importance of creative listening, especially in the
earliest years, is as fundamental to music as it is to
language. As Paddy's native tradition was an oral one,
where music was not written down and seldom recorded, the
only means of ensuring its continuity was through informed
and accurate listening. The young Fahey assimilated not
only the local repertoire of tunes, but more importantly,
the manner in which the tunes were played. Before either

musical composition or performance a certain perception of
what sounds good, whether it be innate or learned, or both,

must be in the mind before it emerges as music.
Music was clearly very plentiful when Paddy was growing up,
and the abundance of musicians in his home parish of Aughrim
and Kilconnell was by no means unusual. Most villages in

the area had their own team of musicians in those years and
people could gather for a session at any time of the day or
night. How had this situation evolved? Up to the beginning

of the 20th century, the playing of Irish traditional music
49
b
-
was largely the preserve of the solo performer. In the
1920s, however, there emerged a new and exciting musical
development that would give traditional music a new lease of

life. Group performance gradually became the norm.
One of the first traditional music ensembles in the country,
and one of the most famous, began in Ballinakill in South

East Galway in 1927. This innovative group of five
musicians initially called themselves 'The Ballinakill
Traditional Dance Players'. The line-up consisted of two
fiddlers, Tommy Whyte and Gerry Moloney, with Stephen

Moloney and Tommy Whelan on flutes and,Anna Rafferty on
piano. The group made regular live broadcasts on the newly

established radio service 2RN, and soon became a household
na111e.
The musicians gave professional and conscientious attention

to their performances. The music, being essentially a
single line solo art-form, required great care when placed
in the context of group performance. To ensure that a
perfectly clear melody was created throughout, the players
decided upon and learned all ornamental and melodic
variations in advance of a performance. The success of the
Ballinakill band was influential in the setting up of
another ensemble 18 miles to the north in Kilconnell.
50
...
..
The Aughrim Slopes Ceili Band
As well as providing a meeting place for musicians from near
and far, Killaghbeg House was also the regular practice
venue for a small group of local musicians who first came
together in 1929. This initial trio of players, soon to
become known as the 'Aughrim Slopes Trio', was comprised of
the aforementioned Paddy Kelly on fiddle, along with Joe
Mills, an accordion player from Mackney, Ballinasloe, and
Jack Mulkere, a music teacher from Gort, on fiddle also.
Paddy Fahey recalls very clearly those early days of the
'Aughrim Slopes' and their music making in Killaghbeg House.
When the band was formed, they used to be playing in

the house, do you know, I remember that very well. I
used be outside the door listening, I was always too
shy to come in. When Kelly and Mills and Mulkere used
be playing, practising in the house, I'd be only seven
vears old that time. And I remember we used be
outside the door. There was neighbours' young lads
there too, a Goldrick lad, he was very interested in
the accordion. (Speech transcriptions: 20)
Jack Fahey was organiser and mentor of the 'Aughrim Slopes'
and it was he who applied to the national radio station 2RN
for an audition for the trio. Their first broadcast took

place in 1933. This was the first occasion the name 'Aughrim
Slopes' was used, and soon the three musicians were enjoying
immense popularity. They were then joined by a flute-player

from Sligo called James Drury, who was a guard stationed in
Loughrea, and the 'Aughrim Slopes Quartet' broadcast

regularly on 2RN. Jos ie 0' Halloran, a teacher from
51
Killalaghton, Ballinasloe also joined. He played piano and
piano-accordion. In 1935, the five man ensemble released
three records to great acclaim. Each member of the group
was regarded locally as a musical hero and undoubtedly their
music and success had an influence on the young Paddy Fahey
who would have witnessed all the excitement.
The I Aughrim Slopes I had an effective instrumental
combination comprising of two fiddles, two accordions, one a
button-key, the other a piano accordion, and a flute. The
Ballinakill band, in contrast, had two flutes in their
ensemble of five. Flute playing was uncommon at that time
in the Kilconnell district and in those days local
preference and the availability of instruments were a
natural influence. A more varied instrumental balance
developed in later years.
It must be remembered that the main purpose of the ceili
bands was to provide music for dancing and that dance had an
important role in the musical developments of this period.
There was a strong tradition of set dancing in East Galway
and the local musicians always provided the needful. In
some earlier fieldwork I did as an undergraduate, I was told
by an elderly dancer from the locality that "the old style
of traditional dancing is graceful, and a good set dancer
never shows the soles of his shoes". Usually, the plain set
was danced by the older generations with two couples facing,

and jigs were favoured. In time, this was superseded by the
52
•
East Galway reel set which featured five parts in all. The
five part set also gave the musicians a chance to rest a
li ttle after each part and to decide on the next tune.
Reels were the most popular tunes because of their lively
rhythm which gave a lift to the dancers. Paddy Kelly's reel
compositions were regarded as good dance tunes, and some of
these were performed by the 'Aughrim Slopes'.
Times were changing in Ireland and it was not long before
the Big Band era had an effect on rural communities. The
big dance bands were largely an urban phenomenon and usually
featured trumpets, trombones, saxophone, piano accordion,
piano, bass and drums along with a vocalist. They became a
great attraction and since they performed in the same halls
and with the same amplificatio~ as the ceili bands, the
latter had to compete. In the process, the traditional ceili
ensembles gradually changed their style to accommodate the
new trends, thereby reflecting the more commercial nature of

the new dance bands.
The move to the big parochial halls and similar venues was
already underway as a result of the 1936 Public Dance Halls
Act. This law, which was passed by the State in response to
pressure from the Catholic hierarchy, required that all
public dances had to be licensed. It was the building of
such large dance halls in rural areas that enabled the big
bands to perform, and from then on these events began to
replace the local house dances. While some localities
53
retained the social activity of dancing sets and half sets,
this tradition, so closely associated with the house dances,
declined in many areas.
The 'Aughrim Slopes' of the 1930s had been a natural
reflection of the atmosphere of the house dances from which
they had emerged. The young fiddle-player Paddy Fahey
joined the band in the early 1940s and he was to remain the
one constant member in future years. Having received many
invitations to Britain, the five musicians, minus Drury but
including Paddy Fahey, set off in 1945 touring England,
Scotland and Wales. (See illustration no.2) It was a good
time for the band, although one of Paddy's strongest
memories of that time describes the harsh realities of the
'Nar which had just corne to an end.
All the cities, they were raised to the ground. We

were there very soon after. I remember Coventry now
and it was terrible. Oh you'd see two miles of the
city and not a single bit standing. Just streets
there now, rubble, huge craters and they fenced in.
Towards the end of the 1940s, the 'Aughrim Slopes' like many
other ceili bands, began to increase both in size and in
volume. It was a period of change in the band since
broadcasting and touring with the newly expanded line-up
occupied an increasing amount of time. New players joined
when some were unable to meet the new demands because of
family or work commitments. The revised 'Aughrim Slopes'
had a more dynamic sound than previously and was engaged

practically every night of the week. Paddy recalled that
54
a
Illustration no.2 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' in

the 1940s. Standing: Paddy Kelly,
Paddy Fahey and Jack Mulkere.
Seated: Joe Mills and Josie Q'Halloran.
55
they would receive at least £2 a man for a local dance but
when they travelled a long distance to perform the band
could get up to £40 for the night.
It is clear that Fahey and his contemporaries were at this
time open to a wide range of influences and that the
atti tude to change in their region was not at all
conservative. The repertoire of the 'Aughrim Slopes'
reflected these influences and was extended to include
everything from foxtrots to waltzes. Paddy Kelly is said to
have favoured modern dance music for a while, especially
one-steps and foxtrots. He liked light classical music and

had a special regard for the world famous violinist Fritz
~reisler. In fact, one of the tunes Paddy Fahey taught me
quite recently was a Kreisler waltz.
Another extensive tour of England followed in 1951, with Joe
Mills on accordion, Paddy Kelly and Paddy Fahey on fiddles,

and Pat Corbett, Dan Treacy and Georgie Shanley on piccolo,
banjo and drums respectively. In 1956 the 'Aughrim Slopes'
were invited to make two more records which they did, and
towards the end of the same year six members of the band
embarked on a very successful three-month tour of the East
Coast cities of the United States. The line-up this time
was Paddy Fahey on fiddle, his sister Jenny on piano

accordion and piano, with Pat Corbett, Dan Treacy, Kevin
Keegan and Billy Soden on piccolo, banjo, accordion and
drums. (See illustration no.3) They had intended staying
56
Illustration no.3 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' in
Chicago in 1956. Standing: Paddy Fahey,
Jennie Fahey and Bill Soden. Seated: Dan
Treacy, Kevin Keegan and Pat Corbett.
57
•
for four weeks but such was their success that they
continued touring for thirteen weeks in all. Upon their
return the founder of the band, Jack Fahey of Killaghbeg,
died in Kilconnell. His children Paddy and Jennie retired
from public entertainment after the bereavement.
The departure of the Faheys for personal reasons and the
declining years of the original members along with the
effects of emigration at the time meant that in 1957 the
'Aughrim Slopes' came to an end after almost thirty years.
The old bond with Killaghbeg was broken. In 1973, Jenny
made an effort to revive the 'Slopes', but by that time
ceilis were but a twice yearly event in the area. The real
'Aughrim Slopes', like the old Ballinakill band, was part of
a cultural era in East Galway that no longer ex~sted.
The 'Aughrim Slopes' was a community of musicians in East
Galway who entertained a much wider community throughout
Ireland as well as the Irish communities in Britain and
America. During their career, which spanned three decades,
they always responded to their audiences. Understandably,
various changes were introduced along the way to accommodate
new trends. One of the results of such versatility,
however, was that by the time of the traditional music
revival in the 1960s, the ceili bands were no longer
considered as having a traditional sound and thus did not
win the appreciation of the new generation of traditional

music enthusiasts. While this too is understandable, the
58
•
importance of the ceili bands in keeping Irish traditional
music alive du~ing a period, from the 1920s to the 1950s,
when it might well have suffered a great deal, deserves both

recognition and appreciation.
Many commentators, such as Sean 0 Riada in his booklet
entitled ~Our Musical Heritage~, criticized the ceili bands
for their manner of performing traditional music. Yet these
local bands of musicians not only provided music and
entertainment for people in their own regions and farther
afield, they also served a very worthy purpose in
maintaining the tradition in their local areas. Their value
and their achievement is finally being acknowledged in the
present day as set-dancing enjoys a considerable revival and
the ceili-bands' function of providing lively dance music is

realised once more.
On the subj ect of providing good dance mus ic, it is
interesting to note that most of Paddy Fahey's tune
compositions are not regarded as being very suitable for
dancing to, at least not in the manner he performs them.
When I asked Paddy about this, he was of the opinion that
they could quite easily be 'made' great dance tunes if one
decided to increase the tempo and play them in a manner that
would be suited to dancing. He acknowledged also, however,
that to do this would be to take away from the tunes
themselves. Certainly, one may enforce the strict pulse and

quick tempo of the dance on these tunes but I would agree
59
L
that something of their essence would inevitably be lost in
the process. The fact that Fahey's own renditions of his
compositions do not emphasise the more functional dance
aspect is perhaps unusual considering how accustomed he was
to providing music for dancing. It is understandable,
however, when one considers that at the time when much of
his music was composed Paddy had moved in quite a different
direction.
The Sound of the Past
After the death of his father in the late 1950s, Paddy lived
the life of a hermit - this is his own description. During
t~is solitary existence which lasted up to the time of his
mar~iase in the late 1960s he seems to have had little to do
other than tend the stock on the large farm at Killaghbeg.

Money was never a problem and by and large he led an
uninterrupted life marked mostly by the daily counting of
stock and of course the companionship of his fiddle. He
told me that if it wasn't for his fiddle during this period
he is not sure how he would have survived. Musicians such
as Eddie Kelly came to visit occasionally, usually staying
for a few days. Paddy remembers playing music through the
night, gathering bits of tunes, talking about different keys

and the like, and sleeping in the daytime.
While this was a less public period in Paddy's musical

career, it was nonetheless a significant one, especially
60
iEEl!
with regard to the development of his compositional skills.
Although more accustomed to a life of bright lights and
constant travelling from his years with the band, Paddy
seems never to have been fully at ease in that environment.
In any case he had become tired of the dance scene in latter
years and now looked elsewhere for musical inspiration and
fulfilment. It was during these years that he composed many
of his tunes. At a time of uncertainty and insecurity in a
rapidly changing world, Paddy's thoughts often wandered to
bygone days, particularly to the life experienced by the
travelling musicians of old.
There was in the past in Ireland a tradition of travelling
pipers and fiddlers who provided entertainment for both the
?easant and upper classes. The period of the Great Fa~ine
in the middle of the 19th century had a devastating effect,
however, on the music and traditions of these respected
performers. Times and customs changed thereafter, and the
musicians were forced to take to the roads for support, thus

bringing their once honourable profession into disrepute.
In Irish Minstrels and Musicians, the author, Francis
O'Neill gives an account of the period which Paddy Fahey
calls "the hard times when these pipers were out":
To no class in the community did the terrible famine

years prove more disastrous than to the pipers. Those
who lived through plague and privation found but scanty
patronage thereafter. 'The pipers were gone out of
fashion', one of them ruefully expressed it.
(O'Neill: 1913, 205)
For almost one hundred years, the pipers had been
practically the sole custodians of Irish music. Once again,
61
3 at
O'Neill informs us as to the level of esteem in which these

musicians were held. The piper was a respected figure
wherever he went not only on account of his music but also
because:
He was a combination of mail service, news agency and

general entertainer, being a repository of song and
story, while his wit, sharpened by contact with the
world, was a never-failing source of delight to his
audience, young and old. (O'Neill: 1913, 205)
This situation changed drastically with the Famine, and
Chicago, New York and Philadelphia were to become the new
homes for many of the best exponents of the Irish musical
tradition. Those who remained in Ireland did their best to
save what they could of the old pipers' tunes but sadly,
much of this music was lost forever.
Ir. Traditional Music in Ireland, Tomas 0 Canainn pointed to
the huge loss to the Irish tradition caused by the decline

of such a rich musical heritage when he wrote:
Songs and dance tunes that were not buried in the

paupers' graves all through the last century were
transported across the seas and lost in many cases to
the Irish tradition. (O'Canainn: 1978, 58)
County Galway was the birthplace of many famous pipers in
the nineteenth century, the majority of whom emigrated to

America in search of a better life. Some of the pipers,
like Martin Reilly and Dinny Delaney, were blind and
remained at home. The names of at least thirty Galway
pipers are known, (Moylan: 1977, 5) and accounts of their

music and their exploits would have featured regularly when
reminiscing of a musical nature occurred. These pipers were
62
to a large extent responsible for ensuring that County
Galway's musical tradition was preserved for future
generations. While Paddy Fahey's generation did not witness
"the times when these pipers were out", he and his
contemporaries were the next carriers of the tradition
forming another link in the musical chain that continues up
to the present day. It is not surprising, therefore, that
the pipers should be the focus of Paddy Fahey's reflections
on the past:
I probably go back in history, you know to the hard
times. They'd have some influence now. I'd be
thinking of old pipers away back, Dinny Delaney and
all them auld lads. And Reillys, and Patsy Tuohy. I'd
be able to visualise the kind of times when they were
out you know. They were all hard times that time.
That would have an effect on the tunes alright now,
probably on them all. Oh that would effect the tunes
now. I'd be very conscious of the old pipers. 'Twould
go back a long ... I'd be visualising what it was like
a hundred years ago. Express it now what you thought
what 'twas like that time. I'd be a terror for going
back. It's built in. I'd be very conscious of old
pipers. (Speech Transcriptions: 30)
?addy's memory of these pipers exists largely in his
imagination, yet the hard times he knew they experienced was
something he wished and endeavoured to recollect and re-
create in his compositions. Josie O'Halloran, being older
than Paddy, recounted some years ago his special memory of
being allowed to carry Dinny Delaney's case of pipes and

guide the blind piper from the Q'Halloran home to the school
where he was to play for a dance. (Moylan: 1977, 64) The
one travelling piper Paddy can recall is the legendary Felix

Doran who made many visits to the Fahey home at Killaghbeg.
The only traveller I remember now was Felix Doran, on
the pipes. Felix'd land every October, the fair in
Ballinasloe. He used to play in Killaghbeg, above at
63
the house. 'Be forty or fifty collected to hear him.
'Go round with the hat - ah, he'd get nine or ten quid
that time, it would be like a hundred now.
(Speech Transcriptions: 9)
Paddy's sister, Jennie, also spoke of the visits of Doran:
When I was at home in later years, a wonderful piper

came to camp near our house .. He came in one night and
Dad asked him to play a tune. We will never forget
that night. He stayed around for weeks and we had a
session every night with him. He became part of us.
My father dressed him up one night to play with the
band in the Town Hall, Ballinasloe. From then on,
Felix Doran - for that was his name - became famous as
a piper. His music on the uilleann pipes will live
forever. (Ni Bhaoill: 1981 cassette recording)
The music of many of the old pipers was, in fact, lost
forever but the tunes and stories of this long gone era have
enabled many to retain a strong feeling for the past and a
link with the tradition of our musical forebears. The
recordings of pipers in the early part of the century give
~s some vital aural images of the tradition f=om which they
came. It is clear that the sound of the past is something
that Paddy Fahey has wished to conjure up for himself both
i~ composition and performance. It has provided him with a

layer of consciousness which he could try to resurrect in
the creation of his personal repertoire of tunes.
The Place of Music
When I asked Paddy to tell me what I could say about him in
my writing he had little to offer other than "You know I'm a
farmer" • (Speech transcriptions: 19) This simple utterance

displays a contented sense of things being as they are.
Farming is the real world. Music is a special place. His
64
L
--- - --
------ ~-~ - - - -~ ~ - --- - - - -------
personal musical journey, through the years, has enabled him
to develop a soul-oriented musical language of his own. It
is a worthy achievement.
It is difficult to say whether Paddy's music is
indispensable to his world at large. Perhaps his creative
energies would have found some other outlet for their
expression. As he says himself:
You'd nearly want to know what kind you'd be without it

before you could answer what value it is to you, you
know. Well the most thing now is meeting people.
That's the main thing I'd say now. I met a lot of
people that I'd never have met only for music. And of
course travel: I'd probably never go to America or
England or anywhere like that only for music.
Certainly, it is true that music has occupied a very special
place in his life and that it is an intrinsic part of his
person. Music has always been very good to ~~~. Not only
has he met many people and made friends in many places
thanks to music, but his communication through music has

greatly enhanced his human consciousness, and perhaps also
his spiritual otherworldly consciousness. It has given him
a clearer and deeper vision of his relationship with the
world about him.
For Paddy Fahey, music is being rather than having, and i~
is a continuous process of being as much as a state. The
fact of having such a number of original compositions to his

name is not the important thing. It is the process of
music-making, in his case both in composition and
performance, that is valued as much as, if not more than,
65
L
1
the finished product. He does not compose for the sake of
composing, and certainly not for whatever limited tangible
reward it may secure for him, but to satisfy a natural
impulse on his part. When one wonders, therefore, why he
might appear to keep his tunes to himself, one should
realise that parading his achievement is not truly his
concern. What takes place subsequent to the initial
creation of an original piece of music is of lesser
significance, once his role as composer has been fulfilled.
When I asked Paddy if music had a special significance at
any particular time in his life he remained matter-of-fact:
Well I suppose it had an influence the whole time you

know, it's very hard to pin-point. I know one memory
was joining the Aughrim band, you know the first time
ever I played with them; that'd be one memory now. And
of course going to America, and the English tours.
They were big things. Apart from that now, I don't see
any. When you're at it at an early age, it doesn'~
make that much differencei you take everything for
granted. It's if you hadn't it, you'd be wondering now
how much worse off you'd have been. Well it's an
advantage ~he whole time, that's true now, it's surely
an advantage. (Speech transcriptions: 20)
Music is clearly at the heart of Paddy's life experiences
even if this is implied more than expressed in the above
quotation. In relation to Fahey we would do well to bear in
mind Blacking's view that the intrinsic value of music is
found in the human experiences involved in its creation:
Each apparently new idea in music ••. does not really

grow out of previously expressed ideas, though it may
well be limited by them. It is a new emphasis which
grows out of a composer's experience of his
environment, a realization of certain aspects of the
experience common to all human beings which seem to him
to be particularly relevant in the light of
contemporary events and personal experiences.
(Blacking: 1973, 72-73)
66
The Music of Place
What does Paddy Fahey's music say? What does it mean? If
I am asking what does it say or mean for me, or for the
broader us, I might think, not a lot, other than that it is
lovely to listen to, and that on a personal level I have a
deep appreciation of it. The more important question,
however, concerns what Paddy Fahey's music says and means
for him. It is not so much necessary that his music should
function in such a manner for the listener but undoubtedly
it does have meaning for the composer.
:rom where does the inspiration for composition and the
~otivation to compose come from? The main source may ce
:ound in ~he depths of human imagination and emo~ion, a

realm which fal:s well beyond the parameters of precise
definition. Composition, like any creative process, is very
personal. Emotions may be deliberately internalised, but
this does not necessarily imply that they are not intense.
On the surface, Paddy Fahey's music may not appear to

demonstrate any great complexity, yet this is no indication
of the depth of human content in this music.
Paddy Fahey has exposed a little of this depth in his
awareness of the importance of a particular place or
situation in his generation of new musical material. Some
catalyst is usually necessary to provide the stimulus for a

new idea and to give it an identity. An individual' s
67
L
personal reaction to emotion and the extent to which he
allows himself to be moved certainly contributes to his
creative flow. Memories may arouse thoughts and feelings
which in turn seek musical expression and permanence.
Paddy says, for instance, that for each one of his tune
compositions, he has an image of a particular place where
that tune was born. It could be the kitchen or a corner of
a field or the side of a ditch. No doubt the birth of a new
idea for a tune could bring as much satisfaction as the
birth of a baby calf or lamb and its weaning and growth just
as carefully tended.
I'd often connect tunes now with places. D'you know
I'd be thinking of ... it might be a big double ditch
or a drain or something like that. Sand-pits or ... I
could flash immediately and remember the tune. If:
thought of the place, I have the tune. Different parts
of the land now would be different tunes, and they're
nearly all on the farm. Nearly all the tunes now when
I think of it, I can think of this place ... it may be
just behind the house or away up 'round the bog.
There's fields now and I have several tunes I think
of a certain field. (Speech transcriptions: 28)
Although he associates some of his tunes with the field he
calls the "paird:'n greine", it must be said that, in
general, efforts to link particular tunes with specific
images have not been successful. I had hoped for a musical

map of the Killaghbeg lands! At the same time, I greatly
appreciate such glimpses of inner experience, and respect
the feelings that may rest behind them. Certain tunes may
indeed recall certain states of consciousness. Just because
such experiences are expressed in music and thus not seen or

fel t by others does not in any way diminish or render
68
irrelevant either the experiences or their creative
expression.
Paddy's efforts to conjure up the sounds of the past have
already been alluded to. One of the most interesting
aspects of his compositional process is the manner in which
he has been able to create in his music a sense of affinity
with the sounds and experiences of the travelling pipers of
old. It is wonderful to realise that a few bars of one of
his tunes can be so associated and effectively usher him
back into the mood of this bygone era.
Another of Paddy's visual images from the past, which
~nfluences his compositions, is that of the movements of a
~~aditional Irish dance~. This is another interesting point
in that it indicates t~at while Fahey's own music is not
composed or performed with the step dancer of today in mind,
it is still inextricably linked at another level with its
traditional function. The original relationship between
music and dance has not been severed. Paddy does make a
vital differentiation, however, between the old traditional
manner of dance expression and the technical complexity of
contemporary Irish dancers, when he says:
I'd often gear up a reel for dancing, you know. I

could imagine a man dancing it, the old reel, the solo
dance. You know I'd be often thinking of it. I like
the old style dancing, you know the real old style now.
'Tisn't as complicated in steps as the modern thing
now. It's more down to earth.
69
Insights such as these illustrate how difficult it is to
explain the principles of composition and the effects of
music without understanding the relationship between music
and human exper ience. Because of the most intricate
associations we make between art and reality, music is tied
to cuI ture and our sense of place, in a way that the
descriptive capacities of language are not, or at least need
not be. Susanne Langer summed up this idea concisely in
Philosophy in a New Key with the following statement.
Music can reveal the nature of feelings with a detail

and truth that language cannot approach.
(Langer: 1948, 191)
Of course, one may create new sounds or new tunes just for
the sake of it or for the sake of achievement but this is a
rather difficult circumstance to conceive. Personally, the
only time I car. compose 50mething original is when I seek tc
express a specific emotion or intention. '::'he resul tins
piece gains significance not so much for itself but by way
of the initial associations which inspired its creation.
Similarly, if I write a poem and a piece of music in the
need to express or identify a certain feeling, on returning
to it at a later time, the music may succeed in giving new
life to the feeling in a way that the words may not.
In the context of composing in order to express extra-
musical sentiment, one of the values of music over language
is that there is no need to divulge the actual sentiment
itself and yet there is a strong sense of it having been

given complete expression. Language is more expressive than
70
- - -:; -- ~ -
---
--- --- - - ~ -
- -
-
- --
-----
music only in so far as music cannot transmit any extra-
musical intent unless both the experience and knowledge
already exist in the mind of the listener. These ideas are
also expressed by Blacking as in the following quotation:
Music is not so much an immediately understood language

which can be expected to produce specific responses as
it is a metaphorical expression of feeling. It is
primarily sensuous and nonreferential.
(Blacking: 1995, 35)
Music could communicate something quite diverse to the mind
of a person who does not possess the same associations as
the composer. In the sense that this is true one could
again argue that music is in fact more expressive than
language.
For Fahey, music is a language of expression with which he
is very much at ease. I~ is the voice through which he ca~
echo his feelings for the past and the "hard times" of his
forebears. For the German composer Gustav Mahler, music was
a similar voice. He felt the need to express himself in
music only when "indefinable emotions make themselves felt",
in other words, if they could have been expressed in
language, he would have done so. (Blacking: 1973, 61)
Mahler's music and tradition is far removed from Fahey's
relaxed pursuit of a good tune, yet one should consider that
it is not the apparent simplicity or complexity of the music
that is of ultimate importance. From the earlier discussion
of creative processes and products, it is clear that the

divisions and distinctions often made between art music and
traditional music can be quite difficult to 'sustain. They
71
do not indicate in any meaningful way actual musical
differences. They are instead largely related to the
different activities and interests of different communities
in different social and cultural contexts. Modern day
developments indicate that even factors such as these are
beginning to diminish in importance and validity.
'Classical' art music is not intrinsically more worthy than
music of oral-tradition but in many places it has developed
and acquired a high level of supremacy. One could logically
argue that Paddy Fahey's musical ideas are as valid and

interesting as those of any other composer. The vehicle in
which his ideas find musical expression happens to be the

simple format and traditional style of the Irish dance tune.
This is due simply to cultural context. It is the musical·
outcome of Fahey's environment - his people and his place.
The Musician in Community.
Individuality is a consequence of sharing with others, in a

variety of social and emotional situations. In a cultural
context, creativity may be understood as a process of
renewal and rebirth based on one's experiences in community.
Composition is one manifestation of the role of the

individual musician. The composer creates something out of
what he has learned from others and then passes his
contribution back into the community. Blacking's work with
the Venda of South Africa highlighted for him their belief
that "man is man because of his associations with other
72
~
- ~ - -- ~ - -- - ~
-~
- -
men" , (Blacking: 1973, 28) a belief that is reinforced in
their music. He himself expressed this idea when he said:
People do not automatically develop as individuals

because of unique genetic endowment: individuality is
the result of the discovery and development of the self
in community in a series of circumstances and
encounters whose sum is unique for each person.
The premise around which this chapter revolves concerns the
fact that music is not an abstract 'thing' in our culture,
but is inextricably bound up with our social structures.
Since every musical activity is also human activity, the
social context in which musical creativity occurs cannot be
overlooked. The forces of social identity in the emergence
of a musical style and the power of musical style in forcing
recognition of a social identity are fundamental principles.
~he social nat~~e of traditional music and the social role
0: the tradi -:.icnal musician imply that along with ,::he

':'nevi tabili ty of social change there e:{ists a parallel
musical action or reaction.
A mus ical community is made up of both performers and
audience, and consequently, while change in musical style
may express itself as a personal idiolect, such change is
intrinsically connected with the social environment in which

the music is performed. Within any tradition, some simple
pre-existing concepts of music exist and it is these
concepts which shape the direction of new music in the

tradition. Each cultural community thus tends to build a
music appropriate to its values, social structure, aesthetic
and technology, a concept Blacking outlined as follows:
73
- -",-~- - -- - -- ---
-- - - ~
-
-- -
-- -- -
- ~
~-- ~
There is evidence which suggests that, although human

creativity may appear to be the result of individual
effort, it is in fact a collective effort that is
expressed in the behaviour of individuals. Originality
may be an expression of innate exploratory behaviour
with the accumulated materials of a cultural tradition;
and the ability to synthesize, which is often said to
distinguish genius from talent, may express the
comprehensive cognitive organization that is generated
by experience of the relationships that exist between
the social groups who use and develop the techniques of
the tradition. (Blacking: 1973, 106)
The creation of music is something that can only be
discovered through personal experience and the value of
music in a community depends on how it is defined and used.
Some people are presumably willing to expend large amounts
of energy on musical activity at the expense, perhaps, of
another activity. Others keep music to a minimum, engaging
instead in some other pursuits. The practical reality of a
:nus ic ian's culture exerts certain 1 imi ta tions upon his
output and creative style. There will tend to be a specific
purpose to his music and music-making. While to some extent
Paddy Fahey's musical environment allowed and enabled his

creativity to flourish, one could suggest that, to some
extent, the uses and functions of music in the context of
East Galway may in fact inhibit latent musical ability. In
the Irish tradition, new composition seems to result largely
from individual internal motivation as any external demands

to compose or extreme prestige connected with composing are
minimal if non-existent. Apart from personal pleasure and

satisfaction, and a certain degree of admiration and status
attained by creating a personal repertoire of tunes, there

is little else to be gained. The compositions of Paddy
74
'7 -. -- -
---------
--- -
Fahey and his contemporaries may be said to have resulted
quite simply from their innate desire to create new tunes to
add to an already extensive repertoire. The extent of
composition does tend to be greatest, however, in a
community where there is a lot of musical activity. It is
not unusual, therefore, that the East Galway region should
have produced a particularly good crop of composers. In
this community music is not work, it is leisure. It is also
a natural means of personal discovery and development.
Blacking tells us that in the early years of this century,
Percy Grainger argued that the value of music had been
debased because of the ways in which music-making and
:nusicians were defined and used. One wonders at how little
~as changed today. Grainger's view was that:
With regard to music, our modern Western civilisation

produces, broadly speaking, two main types of educated
men. On the one hand, the professional musician or
leisured amateur-enthusiast who spends the bulk of his
waking hours making music, and on the other hand, all
those many millions of men and women whose lives are
far too overworked and arduous, or too completely
immersed in the ambitions and labyrinths of our
material civilisation, to be able to devote any
reasonable proportion of their time to music or
artistic expression of any kind at all. How different
from either of these types is the bulk of uneducated
and 'uncivilised' humanity of every race and colour,
with whom natural musical expression may be said to be
a universal highly-prized habit that seldom, if ever,
degenerates into the drudgery of a mere means of
livelihood. (Blacking: 1986, 103-4)
According to Grainger, the division of labour between
composer, performer and listener is both unnatural and

unnecessary. In response to the objection that music-making
was only available to a chosen few, he chose the complexity
75
of folk music as evidence of a natural propensity for
artistic self-expression. He was also of the view that:
mental leisure and ample opportunity for indulging this

natural instinct ... are the conditions imperative for
the production and continuance of all unwritten music.
(Blacking: 1986, 104)
Certainly Paddy Fahey had both "mental leisure and ample
opportuni ty for indulging this natural instinct p, • His
particular nature and personality is fundamental to his
musical expression. Having got to know Paddy well over the
past number of years, I feel that he is someone who
demonstrates a tremendous amount of latent ability but
almost an equal casualness about its realisation. How much
of his musical ability and resourcefulness has actually been
tapped is difficul~ to ascertain. If he had given more time
and at~ention to his music especially in more recent years,
I have no doubt but that his harvest of tunes could be all
the more bountiful. On the other hand, had he been of a
different disposition, he may not have found the time or
inclination to compose a tune at all. Whichever the case,
there is great value in the store of tunes he has already
bestowed on the tradition.
In some traditional music communities, composition is the
main form of creation and recreation but, as noted in the

previous chapter, it remains on the periphery of the Irish
tradition. This explains how Paddy Fahey appears to be
first and foremost a farmer even though his fame rests with
his musical compositions. When pressed, he does of course
76
reveal a deep well of pride in the sense of achievement his
music has bestowed on him. Mus ic is not, however, his
livelihood and he is under no obligation to produce music
for anyone or any occasion. perhaps music could have
provided him with an alternative career if he had been so
inclined. Farming in Ireland is traditionally characterised
by low productivity but is very much a way of life. Then
again the same may be said with respect to music in the
traditional context.
East Galway a place and a music?
Paddy Fahey is known to be from 'East Galway' and he is also
:-ecognised as a :1lus~cia:'.. ·.... ho exhibits a:, '::as~ Ga'l·,.;ay
style' . Where exactly is this ?lace called "::ast Galway"
a:;.d lS there :-eally a s~y:e of music particular to ~~lS
?lace? Geographically speaking, East Galway is a region
whose situation and extent is quite easy to visualise, but
is the geographical region the same as the musical region?
When musicians speak about "East Galway", they may perhaps
be implying a greater or lesser area than this, or indeed
smaller pockets dispersed within the region as a whole.
If one endeavours to delineate a musical boundary, one soon
discovers that precise divisions are not commonly found.

This is due to the continual process of change inherent in
any living tradition coupled with the intricacies involved
in identifying musical styles. In a programme broadcast on

77
Radio Eireann in 1957, Ciaran Mac Mathuna introduced the
musical region of Ballinakill as being:
in South East County Galway, in the area of the Sliabh

Aughty Mountains, over there where the counties of
Galway, Clare and Tipperary almost meet in one point.
(Radio Eireann Sound Archives: 1957)
It is clear that he wished to identify this place for the
listeners but his task was not so simple as he readily
admitted:
Ballinakill isn't just a town or a townland but an

area. I don't know the exact bounds of the parish of
Ballinakill but it doesn't matter - our concern is
music and this area. One day you'll find yourself
going westwards to Derrybrien on the mountain road to
Gort, another day going southeast to Abbey, Portumna
and Woodford, and you may even follow the reels and
jigs across the Shannon at Portumna and into the county
of Tipperary. For county boundaries may have some .
significance for the administrators of law, for tax
collectors; but tradition and traditional music have a
habit of ignoring them. (ibid)
Mac Matnuna was speaking at a time when musical regions
continued to remain intact, but even then it was difficult
to be specific. Political divisions are irrelevant in the
context of musical regions. One is not trying to confirm

political boundaries.
When I asked Paddy to delineate the East Galway musical
region, he identified a "pocket" stretching from the
Ballinakill area in the South of the county up towards the
border with South Roscommon. He was, of course, speaking in
a musical context, subjectively, from his own experience.
Sure Ballinakill would be East Galway, they're much the

same style, all that area there, it doesn't go beyond
that now. There's even parts of South Galway bordering
Clare too, and they have a Clare style; it comes down
along you know. The boundaries don't count at all as
78
we know them. There would be parts of West Galway now,
sure if you went into Galway city you'd get a Clare
style, they all play it in it ••• Well I'd say now you
could go down a bit North and you know you could go a
little there towards Roscommon. And that'd be the only
size of it now because if you go into Galway and back
Connemara, they're nearly all a Clare style in it.
'Course they can have both styles but they usually play
the Clare style. It's very varied there now around
Gort, 'tis on the borderline, there's a terrible
mixture there now, but the minute you go into here
(south of Gort on map) you're into a different style
altogether .•• And of course down here then (north of
County Galway) 'Sligo' is another, you know the Sligo
style. Really that's only a pocket there now.
(Speech transcriptions: 4-5)
The regionalization of oral-tradition music originally was
due to the existence of physical geographical obstacles
which created natural boundaries and effectively separated
one region from another. For example, it is clear from the
map of East Galway that the River Shannon and the Sliabh
Aughty mountains are the main features which delineate the
area in the south of the county. ~hese features still exist
but they no longer present the same obstacles to travel and
interaction as they did long ago. To the north the boundary
of the musical area of 'East Galway' is more difficult to
determine. As Paddy says it stretches towards the border
with Roscommon, marked on the map by the River Suck, a
tributary of the Shannon, but it does not include the more
northerly areas of County Galway. The area may be put in
context by viewing the map of the County as a whole. (See

illustration no. 4}
In the past it was quite easy to point to the location of

specific communities and individuals who together would
constitute a musical map of East Galway. The Ballinakill-
79
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en
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C"A"~
Abbey-Woodford area in the south of the region, and the
Aughrim-Kilconnell area in the north were among the main
pockets of musical activity. The village centre of each of
these communities is marked on the accompanying map (See
illustration no.S). The Ballinakill area, located west of
Abbey, stretches out from its village centre near 'Carraroe
House', musical home of the Ballinakill ceili band.
Similarly in the North I have highlighted 'Killaghbeg
House', home of Paddy Fahey, and musical centre for the
'Aughrim Slopes' ceili band. It is important to remember,
of course, that practically every parish throughout the
region had its own pand of traditional musicians and musical
activity was by no means restricted to the particular areas
I point attention to above.
The East Galway style of music is still recognised as being
distinct from other traditional styles in the country and it
is naturally associated with the East Galway region. This
sense of a musical region is not nearly as strong, however,
as it used to be. Due to the type of natural geographic

barriers, noted above, rural communities, musicians
included, would generally have been restricted, in the past,
to their own local area. While this situation prevailed, so

too did the musical dialect.
A particular place may exhibit both unity and diversity of

musical thought and expression. It is easy to accept that
Paddy Fahey grew up in an environment where the local
81
musical tradition was rich in its regional dictinctiveness,
with its own repertoire and unique style, but what exactly
is there to suggest that Fahey's native area was truly
distinctive in a musical sense? When I put this question to
Paddy, it was clear that he felt East Galway music to be
quite different from other musical styles. Yet when asked
to be definitive about these differences, he found it
difficult to put words on the feeling. Likewise, he was
somewhat at a loss to describe the qualities special to his
own music and did not really differentiate between his own
style and East Galway style. He does show a strong
awareness of the originality of his tune compositions, and
yet he feels that they are part of the East Galway idiom.
He says that in his music:
There ' s bound to be a bit of both. I'd have a personal

thing anyway in it. I'd probably be influenced by the
East Galway style then. Probably a mixture.
The continued existence of an East Galway musical dialect
implies the continuation of a distinct stylistic tradition

which, though dependent on the idiolectic performing styles
of individuals, displays a particular communal artistic

purpose and achievement. There would seem, however, to be a
considerable diversity of styles within the region at the
present time and the degree of stylistic autonomy is
certainly less among the younger generation than in years

past when the common musical understanding of the local
musicians blended perfectly to produce a very distinctive
sound, representative of the locality.
83
Such a unique sound was achieved in particular by the old
Ballinakill ceili band and also by the 'Aughrim Slopes'. A
musical dialect emerges as a result of musicians playing
together and listening to each other, and while the first
emergence or the first exponents of the East Galway style
cannot easily be traced it is clear that these early groups
of local traditional players had a tremendous role in
establishing the musical style and sound particular to the
region.
Nowadays there seems to be a tendency to associate the East
Galway style with individual musicians rather than with
regionally based communities. This is where the
idiolect/dialect dichotomy begins to assert itself. It
would appear that while the sense of dialect has weakened
somewhat, there is now a greater awareness of personal

styles. One is tempted to suggest, however, that the
regional style is being submerged to such an extent that
soon it will no longer be correct to speak of an East Galway
musical dialect at all. If one uses this expression it will
be with respect to a particular sound but not a particular

place.
Traditional music cultures and repertoires do appear to
depend on individuals and the idiosyncratic performing
styles of these people, yet the individual is essentially

subordinate to the communal artistic purpose. As geographic
location was a strong conditioner of style in the past, in
the same way a personal style was greatly conditioned by the
84
expectations and requirements of the local audience. In
recent times, however, eclecticism and an emerging
uniformity of style are what most characterise Irish
traditional music. This move towards common values and
styles of performance can largely be attributed to the
influence of the media. Paddy Fahey also shares this view

and expressed it thus:
I think television is ru~n~ng the different styles
because it's mixing them all up. One time there was no
television and you had to stick to your own. You'd
hear a Clare style now and you might fancy it, the
young lads would anyway - faster! So I think in time
there'll be only just the one style. Television will
ruin it you know. Course, there'll be individuals
that'll like a certain style and they'll keep it going.
That's the only thing that'll save it.
If one thinks about the features which help to determine a
regional style, and which are necessary for its development,

one can understand that such factors are simply no longer
very important; yet despite the burgeoning of more uniform
styles, East Galway still receives acknowledgment as the
possessor of a certain uniqueness in Irish music. It is
important to remember, however, that when one attributes to

a region or community a particular stylistic description,
one is really saying that the common elements are more
significant than the differences one can detect among
individual players. The truth of the matter is that while a
common aesthetic may operate within the region, and may be

recognised and cherished by most of its musicians, at the
same time, each of these musicians may sound somewhat or
even quite different from the others. As long as each
85
individual continues to bring something of his own creative
process to the musical tradition of his region, any efforts
to delineate a ~usical region and define a musical style
will remain difficult.
A musical community can be any group of musicians, large or
small, who play together or share common musical bonds.
They may not necessarily live in the same region or even
come from the same country. The East Galway musical

community can partly be found in a region called 'East
Galway' but it is not tied only to place. One may well ask
if music is attached to 'place' or to 'people' but the
answer, surely, is to 'people'. In order to feel a sense of
community it may be helpful, however, for individuals to

share also a sense of place. It is the sharing of feelings
and ideas that creates a musical community, what Blacking
likes to describe as a "Sound Community".
One's feelings and ideas regarding music determine one's

preferences and the degree to which one understands,
accepts, or rejects different styles. Music that may excite
or please one person may do absolutely nothing for another.
The being 'turned on' or 'turned off' by music may have
quite little to do with the quality of the music itself, but

can have a lot to do with what the music has come to mean
for the individual as a member of his particular social or
cultural group.
86
Another aspect which relates to the musical style of a
region is that of repertoire. In the past, each musical
region would have had its own repertoire of tunes, with
certain tunes being more popular on a wider scale, due to
the circulation of the travelling pipers and the
availability of printed sources of tunes, such as O'Neill's
collection. A traditional musician's whole repertory, that
is every piece that shelters in his memory, is hardly ever

of equal importance however. The units comprising a
repertoire are like objects in common use, employed more or

less according to individual taste and social significance.
Some may be met with anywhere, others are confined to .a
narrow circle, if not to the memory of a single person. In

other words, their frequency may be greater or smaller. To
draw up a catalogue of tunes that assumes to represent the
repertoire of a region or an individual may produce, in the
guise of objectivity, a false image of reality.
It is true that 'East Galway' has been the focus of

relatively little musical analysis. The questions as to
what distinguishes East Galway style from traditional music
in any other part of the country and what distinguishes the
playing style of individual East Galway musicians from one
another, loom large and have yet to be answered
authoritatively. Such an analysis of the regional style lies
outside the scope of this thesis, which is concerned with
the tune compositions of one of these musicians. Such a
study would help to further define the context of Paddy
87
Fahey's creativity. The descriptions of East Galway music
that are available do, however, provide quite an accurate
account of the folk theory that exists. As this theory is
made up of different peoples' perceptions of, and
perspectives on, this music, these comments remain for the
following chapter which is devoted to presenting such
opinions.
The remainder of this work attempts to isolate and define

the characteristics of Paddy Fahey's music with regard to
both his compositions and his performances. Throughout the
discussion, the context of his musical ac.t ivity should not
be overlooked or its significance underestimated. The
musical expression of a composer or a performer can only be
i dentified or classified in terms of its relationship to the
human elements involved in its creation. The following
quotation from Alan Lomax offers an appropriate reflection

on the material covered in this chapter in that it expresses
what I feel is the reality of Paddy Fahey's musical history
and development.
The child begins to learn the musical style of his
culture as he acquires the language and the emotional
patterns of his people. This style is thus an
important link between an individual and his culture,
and later in life brings back to the adult unconscious
the emotional texture of the world which formed his
personality ••• Thus from the point of view of its social
function, the primary effect of music is to give the
listener a feeling of security, for its symbolises the
place where he was born, his earliest childhood
satisfactions, his religious experience, his pleasure
in community doings, his courtship and his work - any
or all of these personality-shaping experiences
(Lomax: 1959,929 / Baily: 1994, 47-48).
88
Chapter Three
Perceptions and Perspecti yes
Having looked in the previous chapter at the context in
which Paddy Fahey's music has developed, my next step is to
try and comprehend the position and significance of his
music today. To assist me in this aim, I have called upon a
number of fiddlers from the contemporary tradition in order
to discover their different perceptions of Paddy Fahey as

well as their individual perspectives on his music. It is
difficult to evaluate, without such outside opinion and
judgement, the extent of Fahey's influence in the wider
context of the Irish traditional music community as a whole.
The 'folk view' with regard to any subj ect may be
overgeneralised and is not necessarily accurate. It is,
however, a good indicator of how the tradition is perceived
from within. In Paddy Fahey's case, I am confident that
those fiddlers whom I invited to talk about his music are
very knowledgeable and realistic in their appraisal and
understanding of the matters in question. Initially, I am

concerned with what people think about Paddy Fahey's music.
Following on from this I will look at a number of other key
musicians from East Galway and comment upon their position
in relation to what is known as the 'East Galway style'.
89
The tunes composed by Paddy Fahey
In questioning other fiddlers I was concerned with two
aspects of Fahey's music, firstly his role as a composer of
new tunes and secondly, his style of playing the fiddle. I
wondered if people attribute Fahey's distinctiveness to his
tune compositions alone, or if it also relates to his manner
of performance. Almost without exception the comments
focussed attention on the tunes themselves but acknowledged
also the importance of a sympathetic playing style that
would do justice to these particular tunes. The general
perception was that Paddy Fahey composes excellent tunes and
most people felt they would have no difficulty recognising a
Fahey composition. So what is distinctive about Fahey's
compositions and what is it about his music that invites

such fulsome praise?
The most frequently recurring point with respect to the

original compositions had to do with what people perceived
to be their emotional content. While one would imagine this
to relate largely to the way a tune is played it seems that
Fahey's choice and arrangement of notes have in themselves
the power to evoke a certain mood or feeling. Such feelings
are generally those of melancholia and that sense of
'uaigneas' or sweet sadness that characterises so many of
our traditional airs. All of Paddy's tune compositions are

either reels, jigs or hornpipes, yet he manages to instil a
depth of feeling in his music that is not generally
associated with the dance tune repertoire.
90
According to Frankie Gavin, Fahey's main claim to
distinction is linked to this emotive aspect:
The difference with Fahey's music is that it has a

melancholy sort of hint about it, not just a hint but,a
serious measure of melancholy or ..• well sadness ~s
' perhaps a bit too strong but it has a lonesome flavour
about it for sure. (Speech transcriptions: 44)
Frankie refers also to the depth and thoughtfulness inherent
in Fahey's compositions:
It's a very sort of deep music, what I might describe
as 'deep music'. It's very intricate, not from a
technical point of view but from a musical thinker's
point of view. I think there's a lot of lovely thought
put into his music. It's like each tune that he plays
is like a great painting or something, you know what I
mean. Every piece is kind of a work of art on its own.
Although he might use the same sort of style right
tm:ough, which is fine. With a good artist that is
what you would want them to do. There's a certain
style of approach to a tune. (Speech transcriptions: 44)
Although he has had an opportunity to speak to Paddy only
once or twice, Gavin displays some insight into the probable

meaning behind Fahey's music when he remarks
I would say though that his approach to a tune is a

deep-thinking one. He thinks deeply about his music.
He thinks about where ••. he thinks about his
environment. He thinks about things that affect him
when he's playing music. What they might be I couldn't
say because I don't know him that well.
(Speech transcriptions: 4S)
One of the most commendable characteristics of Paddy Fahey's
compositional style, according to the Chicago fiddler Liz

Carroll, is what she describes as the lovely manner he has
of resolving his musical ideas. Liz remarked that in
Paddy's tunes "the answers are always lovely". She feels
that his melodic progressions and overall structures are
very logical and, at the same time, very subtle. Suggesting
91
that he seems to first create a two-bar phrase and then
seeks to provide a suitable response in the next two bars,
she feels that Paddy excels at this type of "call-and-
response" teChnique. (See illustration no.6) Such a manner
of questioning and answering is not exceptional in itself,
of course, but it is interesting that Paddy is seen to be
particularly adept at constructing such balanced musical
phrases. Carroll also pointed to Fahey's tune endings as
being very effective, and deserving of praise. As someone

who has herself composed a great number of tunes, she
commented on the wonderful strength of paddy's melodies and
the fact that his compositions are so "full of notes". This
brings 'us back to the notion of 'high density' as commented
upon by Nettl and Jairazbhoy and referred to in Chapter One.
Li z Carroll spoke of the intensity of melodic activity in
Paddy's tunes compared to the less complex note patterns

found in more regular session tunes. When playing the
latter simpler type of tune, she feels that one has greater
freedom to make variations more or less at will. If she

wanted to do a variation on a Fahey tune, however, she says
it would need to be a note-by-note melodic variation, not an

ornamental variation. In other words, she would have to try
and change the melody itself in some subtle way, as there is
little room to attempt to embellish further upon the pattern

already created. (Speech transcriptions: 58) An example of
a Fahey composition which features the type of strong
melodic line Carroll refers to appears in Illustration no.7.
92
Call and Response feature in second part of Reel no.14
~~~~ erarLer I mar; I tffftm Ir [tFrfr j

~=~ LmerCEr I[rerr' I I r Hfre I@j l
Call and Response feature in first part of Reel no.17
f$:~ JjJtfE
... I J;~aJ cr I Or rar I ~!"""""JJj1Jd !
~~# iJJo_i ~1 i J~';:;j (C I Or JjJi I iJ2J];;

.... I
il
~~~ "lief !CCet8"J i [rr[[rff I cruD': !
:1 5;"
f(h
_ '-
v
~ ~
r~r
-
,-. ,.
I I,
IJ
4). ~ •
=
.....
i-f!:-.
a! F{tJ
~------;!1!1! •••
•
=
0
,
;m-tJ I wr Ef i ifF rrfr 1FrFF·~

Ca ll and Response featu~e i~ :irst part of Reel ~o.21
~:;
~~ J jDJo j~r Ef I err crrr l~fiJJJJJ I
1
~~ rrEfCQr I J ]JJjl 1¢Hr Et I Ef.C!r (C 1

~j# ffTCQr I J ]JJjl I ¢Hr Et IlfflJJJ I
Illustration no.6 "Call and response" in some
Fahey reel compositions.
93
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.14
- -
: ,~~ • ErPf i crag i _•• .oW; •• i.-· -."•.
~ ;
:$' ~ )Jc& IfreEr ' l=rrfEQ{f I ~ i:e. '

1'9 j Jjjc& ! CQr#2?2 I:, ~' $1 £;~ ~ J._ !
~1 ).oC& I ffeU' ~
] l=rrrcQ{f i • jQZL ;i
i:; rriF[rr~ i frrrc' }; i F' Sfrre i -§;

~:~ rrUfrrE I ~FrrC J I rffrtcd Ir [tiff !
~~~ EEff[erE I [FrrC' )1 I r urge I lJJJj I
Illustration no.7 A flowing stream of melody.
94
Another fiddle player and tune composer is Connie O'Connell
from Cuil Aodha in West Cork. Connie has an interest in the
music of East Galway and he felt that he could recognise any
Paddy Fahey tune. He associates Fahey's music with what he
describes as its "tendency to use a lot of minor keys".
(Speech transcriptions:64) Of course, there are many tunes
in the Irish tradition in minor modes, so this alone is an
insufficient factor. Connie's reasoning was that Paddy's
compositions are:
in minor keys but they're still East Galway

style. Combine the two of those together and you get a
certain kind of a character within the tune that you
don't get in other tunes from different sources or from
different parts of the country.
Connie felt that the distinctiveness in Fahey's music is
solely related to the way the tune is composed rather than

the way it is played. He felt that anyone can express a
tune in a particular way and that the fundamental difference
must lie within the tune itself.
He takes these sequences of notes and mixes them up in

all different directions and comes up with these tunes
but still you've the same runs here and there
throughout the tune, same endings, same startings in a
lot of them, but still very very different tunes.
It is these "little pieces and bits" that Paddy puts into

each tune that make his compositions recognisable instantly
according to Connie; certain things are "typical of what
Paddy Fahey did in all his compositions". While the final
chapter identifies some evidence in support of this
perception, it must be remembered that such sequences of
95
notes are not in themselves unique to Fahey's music. What
is important, however, is that the correspondences some
people perceive amongst a number of Fahey tunes lead them to
associate these elements with this composer. It is also
necessary to bear in mind that musicians are basing their
observations on the Fahey compositions they know. This is
a relatively small number of tunes in the context of the
Fahey collection as a whole, as this thesis has been able to
demonstrate. (See Discography and Tapeography)
The fact that Fahey's tunes are distinctive and yet, as
Paddy himself would wish, not predi~table, is a point also
taken up by Frankie Gavin who commented that:
There is a distinctiveness in the notes of course.

It.' s the. way he. assembles them ... I have to say that
his format is very consistent. I'm not trying to say
that he ' s predictable either. (Speech transcriptions:45)
Another fiddle-player who has attempted to identify the
distinctive aspects of Fahey's music is Liam Lewis.

Although not a native of East Galway, Liam was a regular
visitor to the area and acknowledges the influence of Paddy
Fahey and other musicians in the region. The main feature
he isolates in Fahey's music is what he describes as "the
relationship between B-flats and B-naturals, in close

proximity to each other in a tune" (Speech transcriptions: 85)
Some examples of this are illustrated overleaf. We will see
in the following chapter that Fahey's use of B-flat is

something which the composer himself identifies as being a
significant characteristic and it is true that almost 50% of
his reel compositions have some association with this pitch.
96
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.5, first part, showing B-flat and B-natural
t&~~
u r §] •
c$1J I E ~f [
~
• • • •
I
~ J 3
i
t' F 0 •rr:J
L.
-.J
jI.
i • • • •
-
~9' r j • j : •
,
W
, ,
u I
r r ~F r £;~ J
~ •
eo?
••:
,
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.23, first part showing B-flat and B-natura_
,
r I•
I
--
~
• • • • ;J •
• •
",
t.
• • • • •
III
• • • • • •
~' • J, • • •
'-' E tE r • ,; ~~ • I
E2f
~5gr [1
Paddy Fahey's
rr r r
Jig no.l, first part showing B-flat and B-natural
•
il
I "'--iFr---...F r
IllUstration ~o.8 Examples of B-flat and B-natural in

close proximity in Fahey compositions.
97
Paddy's technique of having B-flat and B-natural in contrast
to one another is also employed in his approach to the .more
common variable notes in Irish traditional music, namely F

and C. Lewis emphasises Fahey's tendency to oscillate
between major and minor modes in his expression of these
variable notes and this important feature of his music will
later be examined in more detail.
One of the questions I put to fiddlers concerned a possible
similarity between some of Fahey's compositions and those of
another well-known fiddler-composer, the Irish-American Ed
Reavy. As someone who is familiar with both Reavy's and
Fahey's tunes, East Galway fiddler Conor Tully agreed that
there is definitely a comparison to be made, to the extent
that one could almost sell some of Fahey's tunes as Reavy ' s,
and Reavy's as Fahey's. While Frankie Gavin felt he was not
familiar enough with Reavy's compositions to make a definite
Comment, other fiddlers such as Brendan Mulvihill and Connie
0' Connell were quick to say that they thought nothing
~hatsoever of the comparison. There would appear, however,
to be some element of truth in the association. One example
is the Reavy reel "Never was piping so gay" and paddy
Fahey's "Reel no.3". Paddy actually plays these two tunes
together on occasion and if one wasn't listening closely the
flo~ into the second tune could go unnoticed. (See Ill.no.9)
1 asked Paddy for his opinion on the association with Reavy,
noting the comments made by other musicians and I pointed
98
Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 3
~.g , '"" i
•
:
~ E- • ~;W. • ••
- -~ I t
:'1
.~. ,
••
51
-
Never YVas p.1ping

H .' . S 0 Gay
~
. • ,... I t
~ :~ f5~~r~ i Li rr~:.·
,
.. T I I I
I
~tQr I gag J JJJIB mJ] jIj I JJJJj :,
Illustration no.9 Example of similar motifs in

Fahev's Reel no.3 and Reavy's reel
.... • • It
"~ever was plplng go gay .
99
out to him a number of ideas in Reavy tunes which coincide
with ones that appear in his own com~ositions. Paddy felt
that Reavy's music did not influenc~ him in any significant
way. He was composing tunes long before he became familiar
with Reavy's music. His "Reel no.3" was one of these early
compositions and it was in later years that he came across
the Reavy reel and recognising the similarity used to link
it in with his own tune. Paddy thought it important to
stress that while it is almost inevitable to find
similarities among various traditional tunes, at the same
time each tune taken in its entirety can be very different.
It is interesting that a number of Reavy's compositions
became popular in East Galway. Not only were musicians in
the area drawn towards composing their own tunes, they also
welcomed newly composed tunes from other sources. Mick

MOloney did considerable research on Reavy which led to an
article entitled "Medicine for Life: A Study of a Folk
Composer and his Music". He tells us that:
Despite interviewing Ed extensively and cross-

referencing the dates obtained, I was unab~e t? find
any individual tune which he was able to p~npo~nt as
having been composed before the 1940s ••. The vast
majority of the 79 tunes in "Where the Shannon
Rises" were composed in the 1950s and 1960s. (Moloney)
This is also the period when Paddy Fahey was composing many
Of his most well-known tunes. While Paddy did not attempt to
Put himself forward as being a possible influence on anyone

he . .
S~mply reminded me that over the years many tapes of h~s
Inu •
s~c were brought or sent to America and that Reavy may
ha~e been aware of his music also. Although Ed Reavy moved
100
to America in 1912, having been born in County Cavan in '
1898, it is clear that he kept in contact with home.
Moloney mentions that Reavy "began to compile [his] tunes
for publication after he came back from Ireland in 1969".
It seems likely that he was interested in and knowledgeable
about musical developments in his native country.
Liam Lewis remarked that he has heard people comment that "a
lot of Fahey's tunes are revamped versions of Reavy's". His
own opinion on the matter is rather different. He feels
that "Fahey is as individual a composer as one can be" and
while he did allude to the similarity between Paddy's third
reel and the Reavy tune noted above he added that:
after about four bars the similarity just falls away.
I mean, I don ' t see how anyone could really say that he
just revamped Reavy's tunes. It's just ludicrous. If
there is a similarity it is because of his association
with Reavy's music just like we pointed out before his
associations with Paddy Kelly(Speech transcriptions:86)
Considering that Paddy's music is so firmly rooted in his
local area, one might well ask where does Reavy fit in. It
is important to point out that Fahey's apparent predilection
for some of Reavy's tunes is not just a personal preference
but something he shares with other East Galway musicians.
For example, Conor Tully had been recording some music with
East Galway flute player Paddy Carty before he died. A tape
~as later produced and it is not a coincidence that a number
Of Reavy tunes appear in this collection. It illustrates
Carty's and indeed Tully's inclination to play tunes that
are slighty more distinctive than the usual session tunes.
Fahey was of much the same mind. As Lewis noted:
101
Reavy liked to compose tunes in minor keys, or not
just minor keys but B flat, F, C keys, and it just so
happens that Fahey likes those keys himself 'cause
they're challenging to play in and they make a
refreshing change from your average G major, D major
tunes. That's the similarity he shares with Reavy.
Analytical notes on the Reavy tunes published in "Where the
Shannon Rises" accompany the recording "Ed Reavy" and this
commentary written by Larry McCullough describes many
features which are directly applicable to Fahey's music
also. McCullough refers to the fact that:
Reavy uses the standard diatonic major/minor scale

framework for nearly all the compositions ... however,
in all but 2Q tunes, chromatic, non-scale tones are
introduced.
He notes particularly the frequent shift to a mixolydian
modality in Reavy tunes. Of course, the ambiguity created
by these type of modal shifts is evident, not only in the
compositions of Reavy and Fahey, but throughout much of
Irish dance music as a whole. What is significant, however,
is that these features are particularly common in Reavy's
and Fahey's music. It would certainly seem that peoples'
perception of a relationship between these two fiddler-
composers can be attributed largely if not solely to this
factor. McCullough says that 36 of the 77 dance tunes in
"Where the Shannon Rises", or 47%, experience an infusion of
mixolydian elements. He compares this to the percentage of
mixolydian tunes in the larger tradition of Irish dance
music, which was estimated by Breandan Breathnach to be 15%.
While I do not go into the same analytical detail as

MCCullough in my discussion of Fahey's music, the following
102
chapter will emphasise that the majority of Fahey's
compositions also rest in this category. Personally, - I
think it is wrong to make too close an association between
Fahey and Reavy other than to say that Reavy seems to have
had an ear and a feeling for a certain character of tune
that found favour among East Galway musicians generally.
Apart from the views of others I was equally concerned, of
course, with Paddy's own perspectives on his tune
compositions. Unfortunately, he is quite at a loss when it
comes to verbalising what he so eloquently expresses in
music. When I wondered if his compositions tended to have
something in common with each other, he replied saying:
I suppose there is a similarity in some of them. The B

flat anyway comes in to them and there's certain notes
connected with that. Something in common? I suppose
they would too. They have nearly all the one run ...
but they're all individuals ..• there's none 'of them
that much alike I hope now. I never put them together
you know. This is the first time now I ever put them
together. I'd be playing them and forget a few of them
and play more of them and I'd come back to them again,
There could be some of them very much alike, though
I don't think so. (Speech transcriptions: 25)
I put it to Paddy that while his tunes are different from
each other, other musicians say that they are able to
recognise a Paddy Fahey composition. Again the only reason
he could -identify for his tunes being attributed with such
distinctiveness has' to do with his use of B flat. While it
is true that many of his tunes revolve around this note,
some of his later ones have departed from this.
Well they're all built on that kind of a B-flat job.

That's the only reason I suppose. I never departed
much from that. The last few now are gone away a bit
from that. (Speech transcriptions: 26)
103
Interestingly, Paddy relates his apparent preoccupation with
B~flat, and consequently the keys which involve this note,
to the sound of the pipes. Speaking about the things that
have influenced his tunes he said:
I'd say history more than anything now and those pipes.
I think the B-flat you know comes in a lot on pipes on
that note. 'A' and 'B-flat'. It's a kind of an old
wailing kind of a note. A lot of them don't suit pipes
though now. A piper was telling me - my tunes - they
have to play them in a different key.
Paddy seems to refer here to the particular suitability of
variable notes in the context of piping technique. The
pipes are an excellent example within the tradition of an
instrument which can manipulate variable notes to a very
detailed degree, particularly through cross-fingering and
partial covering of the holes. That lonesome, wailing sound
as a note tries to go up through a series of microtones, but
does not really reach the point it seems to strive towards,
seems to have effected Paddy considerably. Although he has

commented elsewhere on the importance of "hitting a note on
the head", it seems that his willingness to explore the
nether regions beween B-flat and B-natural has arisen from
some associations he makes with the piping tradition.
Before going on to discuss the playing of Paddy's tunes it
should be highlighted that for all their emotive content
Paddy was never persuaded to put names on any of his
compositions. While this fact was not mentioned by any of
his peers, Paddy himself acknowledged that it would be a
good idea to have titles. It is quite difficult to identify
104
different tunes verbally when one has recourse only to a
number system, especially when there is a significant
collection involved. He feels, however, that should he
attach titles of a descriptive nature to his compositions,
they would lose the title "Paddy Fahey's" and thus, over a
period of time, lose also their association with him. This
reasoning is understandable particularly in the past when
composers were rarely credited. The discography of this
work lists most of the commercial recordings of Paddy's
tunes, and the performers who have acknowledged directly
Fahey's role as composer of the tune in question are noted.

These instances are the exceptions rather than the norm.
The fact that the name "Paddy Fahey" is generally included
in the title of a tune ensures, however, that.. the
association with Fahey is maintained even if there is no

specific indication that he is the composer. Since he is
well known as a composer, it is fair to assume that most
traditional musicians would understand "Fahey's Reel", for
instance, as being a Paddy Fahey composition rather than
simply a favourite tune of someone called Fahey.
Paddy has recounted instances of hearing his tunes performed
on the radio under a different name entirely. (Speech

transcriptions: 27) This is, of course, quite a natural
occurrence but one that may become less common. It can
happen also that a tune, if it is reminiscent of Fahey's

style, or associated with him in some way, may be mistakenly
regarded as one of his compositions. One notable example
105
. from O'Neill's "Dance Music of Ireland" collection is the
hornpipe "Madam if you please" (no.194 in O'Neill's). This
tune had become so associated with Paddy Fahey that it was
actually known as one of his compositions. Another example
is included on a 1979 album by Father Charlie Coen, an East
Galway man resident in America for many years. He plays a
jig on concertina called 'Paddy Fahy's, described as "a
composi tion of the great East Galway fiddler". When I
played the tune for Paddy, however, he did not recognise it
as one of his own.
With regard to the numbers currently assigned to Fahey's
compositions, there is no great significance to the order in
which they are identified. Paddy was unable to indicate
dates of composition for the different tunes, so. on the
whole, this was not a factor in determining numerical order.
The order arose more or less as I began to learn and work on
the various tunes beginning usually with the ones I knew
previously from some other source. Paddy may compose
titles for his compositions in the future. It would seem,
however, that no few words can adequately describe a tune

for him in a manner he feels appropriate and, therefore, I
imagine that he will always choose to leave the music to

itself.
106
The playing of Paddy Fahey's tunes
Within this section there are two areas to be discussed.
One concerns Paddy's own style of playing and how this style
is perceived by others and indeed by himself. It is very

interesting also to hear how other fiddle players approach a
Fahey tune and why they feel a particular approach is best
or perhaps even necessary. Beginning with the latter issue,
once again the main thing people consider is that which
relates to the emotion of a tune. This 'presence' initiates
a relationship of some sort between the performer and the
music. Frankie Gavin emphasised this from his own personal
perspective when he spoke about Fahey's tunes as follows:
I think that they're the types of tunes that you are in

a particular mood at a particular time to play. You
know they aren 't ones that you'd play in the middle of
a rip-roaring session as such. I find that about them.
The style of music that I find myself playing nowadays
is of a sort of more cheerful nature in a way. You
know, if I feel in a melancholy mood, then I pick a
couple of Fahey tunes or something like that and I'd
play those. But they're for the connoisseur of
traditional music~ a musician who really knows mus ic
inside out. I think they're tunes ... they're not kind
of throwaway tunes, you know what I mean, you can't
just dish them out and play them and that's the end of
it you know. They're much deeper than that, you can't
just as I say casually let them off like that and
pretend you haven't played them about a half an hour
later you know. (Speech transcriptions: 47)
Fahey's melodic patterns do seem to require a certain
thoughtfulness in one's playing and a gentle unhurried pace.
This point was emphasised by Maureen Fahy of Ballinakill:
A lot of them are sad tunes, they sound very sad.

They're very nice and they have to be played slowly,
you can't play them lively. They're very soulful kinds
of tunes ••• and if you play them fast they just
don't come across properly. (Speech transcriptions:52)
107
Certainly, tempo is one of the elements of performance that
is affected by this melancholy mood and while some of
Paddy's tunes would be at home in any session, many of his
compositions are not really what one might describe as good

session tunes. As Maureen remarked:
They're lovely in themselves but I think they're more

solo tunes. I mean you wouldn't play them in a session
with people together and in good form and the whole
session swinging. But they sound really nice - I mean
on their own, and they're very kind of close
they're very close to the earth I think.
Another characteristic of Paddy Fahey's tunes is that they
tend to be better sui ted to solo rendition than to
performance in a group context. It is less usual today to

describe a body of tunes as solo music. Although Irish
traditional music is essentially a solo art, new
developments in recent decades have heralded a tremendous
growth in various types of ensemble playing. Of course, if
a nUmber of musicians are closely in tune with each other
both musically and in their emotional attitude to the sound

being created, their shared experience and common goal can
produce a very satisfactory result. It is interesting,
however, to look at the discography of commercial recordings
Of Fahey compositions. In a majority of cases it is solo

performers who have chosen to include a Fahey tune in their
selection.
Although Paddy performs his compositions with the greatest

of ease and fluidity, many of them are not exactly easy
tunes to play. Most agreed that while Fahey's tunes are
108
well suited to the fiddle, some of them are quite difficult
to play. They could present some technical problems for the
less accomplished player as Frankie Gavin points out below:
A lot of them are very awkward tunes to play; there's

flats and so on and so forth ••• I suppose 'tis unfair
to say that 'twas obvious that he was thinking about
musicians that were capable musicians in the first
place that would be playing them. But I suppose behind
it all that would be his wish that good musicians would
play them ••. musicians that would have the ability to
sort of see what he was trying to do and be able to
bring that out when they are playing it you know. I'd
say there's a fair message there in that ••• like the
ordinary Joe Soap should stay away from them maybe a
small bit. Although I don't think he meant that in a
snobby way. (Speech transcriptions: 47)
Maureen Fahy also echoed the general perception that Fahey's
tunes are unusually complex due to the abundancy of flats
and sharps but also indicated that this was the secret to
much of their attraction.

They are mainly fiddle tunes. I mean a lot of
them have very flat and sharp notes and it'd be very
difficult now to play them (on other instruments). I
suppose probably Paddy Carty now would have been able
to handle them when he was alive, but they're fairly
difficult alright to play. But they're lovely, they're
in unusual keys. (Speech transcriptions: 52)
On the subj ect of Paddy Fahey's own renditions of his
compositions, Conor Tully, a fiddle player from the Woodford
area of East Galway, insists that there is a difference not
only in what Fahey does in composing his tunes but also in
how he plays them. Conor says that if someone else was to
interpret a Fahey tune, it could sound like a different tune
altogether. He feels, however, that in the case of some of
Fahey's compositions you would have to adopt Fahey's
particular manner of playing in order to do them justice.
109
On a similar point, Liz Carroll told me that any time she
plays a Fahey tune, she can in fact hear Paddy playing it in
her head. For some reason she feels almost bound to observe
his way of expressing and phrasing the tune although this
may not necessarily be her own style or approach to the
tune. She thus associates Fahey's tunes very closely with
his own playing and interpretation of them. That is why,
she does not feel fully at ease when performing his tunes
herself, especially in a public context. "It's like his
ghost is there present", she said, commenting that "there's
a conscience thing involved" when playing one of Paddy's
compositions. She thus finds it very difficult to put
something of herself into these tunes, another reason why
she might not choose to play them on recordings or at
concerts. (Speech transcriptions: 59)
The fact that American musicians were just as familiar with
Fahey's playing style as his neighbours in East Galway came

as a surprise to me. One of the assumptions I had made at
the commencement of this work was that paddy Fahey's fame
rested largely with his compositions and was, on the whole,
unrelated to his style of performance. My understanding was

based on the fact that he has never made a commercial
recording and that the amount of his music collected in
traditional music sound archives is very limited. I was

also aware that he had performed on his own in public only
on rare occasions. In my conversations with fiddlers, I

discovered the channels through which tapes are passed among
110
.certain circles of musicians. In this way, a few privately-
made recordings of Paddy, either in his own home or the home
of friends or perhaps at a local session, would have found
their way over the years to a far greater audience than one
might expect. It transpires, therefore, that Fahey's name
is not only linked in peoples' minds to his compositions but
also to the particular way he plays his music.
Taking an overall view, Paddy's approach to mus ic in
composition and his approach in performance are perceived as
being almost of equal significance. They seem to carry
similar weight in musicians' private analysis of his
Contribution. The opinion of London-born fiddler Kevin
Burke, who is now based in America, was that he could
recognise both a Paddy Fahey tune and Paddy Fahey p~aying a
tune since both his tunes and his playing are very
distinctive. Kevin told me that sometimes when he is

deciding how to interpret a certain type of tune he might
think for a while about how Paddy Fahey would go about it.
(Speech transcriptions: 61) The fact that he acknowledged
Fahey's influence in this way was for me like coming full

circle as I would have been an admirer of Kevin Burke's
approach to a tune long before I had heard Paddy Fahey play.

From Liz Carroll's earlier remarks, it should come as no
Surprise that she too feels that it is Paddy's playing - in
Conjunction with the tunes - that is most distinctive,

rather than the tunes alone. Again on the subject of
Fahey's dual influence, Liam Lewis commented as follows:
111
I suppose you could split it down the middle. It's
probably hard to put a percentage on it either way. A
bit of both. It's in the way the notes are related to
each other on paper or in the mind and then the actual
emphasis, the technique you know like putting a bit
more physical pressure on the bow on a certain note.
Liam referred also to some of the ways in which he felt
Paddy's style of performance to be especially effective:
He plays it [the fiddle] with a lot of feeling and even

with the use of classical techniques such as vibrato
and now and again unheard of techniques such as bow
slapping, if he was playing a crotchet say, sometimes
he wouldn't play it for the full duration, instead he'd
lift the bow physically off the fiddle and 'slap' it
down on the next note. (Speech transcriptions: 88)
In the same way as when asked about his tunes, Paddy himself
was slow to describe any qualities special to his style of
performance. He did not differentiate between his own style
and that found among East Galway musicians generally. -- When
I asked him then if there is a difference between the way he
plays the fiddle compared to fiddlers in other parts of the
country, his answer was:

That's a six-marker anyway. well the main difference
now I'd say is the powing, you know the treble on the G
now mostly, I do it with the little finger. In Clare
it's all the bow, the four notes .•. I'm no good at that
now, you know that treble with the bow, well I never
practised it. 'Twas always the finger you know and of
course 'tis a lot easier do the bow. If you're
beginning to get stiff at all you see, you'll fail in
the finger but you won't with the bow. Very little
fingering in the Clare style, it's all the bow, and of
course they're great at it. But I wouldn't be able to
do it like them now. That's nearly the only
difference. (Speech transcriptions: 5-6)
I asked Paddy which he thinks is most important about his
music, the tune in its particular arrangement of notes, or

the fiddle style of the person playing the tune.
Interestingly, he felt the latter to be very significant, in
112
order, one may presume, to do justice to the former.
Talking about his own music he said:
Well I'd say the way it's played, I'd say the style,
the way it's played is very important. There's a
certain way of playing them. If you run over them in a
slip-shod kind of way like, I mean they don't mean a
lot. You have to lean on notes here and there.
It is interesting that paddy attributes such importance to
the playing of his tunes even over the tunes themselves. he
reiterates this fact when he says that:
The way you play them of course now has a big

influence. If you speed up some of mine now, they
aren't worth a damn at all. Do you know, if you go
away from the ••. run over it like. They would [be
alright] if you changed keys. You know, 'twould suit,
if you did change a key then, 'twould suit the speed
more. Instead of B flat now, have it in D, and you
can play it speedier then. It's nearly a different
kind of a tune then. (Speech transcriptions: 33)
In other words the tempo and the key can have something in
common, and both are linked to the realm of emotive

expression the performer wishes to journey in. Paddy is
conscious of the lonesome flavour of many of his
compositions but he is equally conscious of the consequent

need to pep them up in performance. This is an attitude
that other musicians do not always demonstrate in their
renditions of his compositions. Indeed Paddy is somewhat
critical of those who "go to town" on this aspect of his
music, as highlighted in the extract from our conversation
below. Since there is considerable melancholy inherent in

the pattern of the pitches themselves Fahey feels that this
needs to be underplayed rather than emphasised. The sense
113
of . 'sadness' is in the notes without it being reinforced by
the performer.
P: They don't want to be made sadder. That's the
mistake now, I hear lads playing and they go to
town on •••
M: They make them even sadder?
P: Yeah, and that's disaster. If anything you'd nearly
want to peppy them up.
M: But are they not meant to be sad?
P: Well, not that sad - I hope! Well, it's just the B-
flat that's making them sad, but you needn't go to
town, you needn't go overdoing the thing. Ah, it's a
disaster to make a sad tune - try to make it sadder.
Even some of them old traditional singers now, you hear
them sliding the whole time, instead of singing a
direct note. Bringing it up and sliding, the whole time
whining. And if they played the exact note, it's sad
already like, in the arrangement of notes.
Paddy pointed out that not all of his tunes are of this
melancholy character, for example, of Reel No 18 he said
That one that I played for you now is not ['sad']i
there's a bit of fire in it. Bit of a 'go' to that!
Tempo is clearly an important consideration for Paddy. He

differentiates between playing that is too fast and playing
that is too slow so obviously there is a happy medium
somewhere! He returns to this essential consideration:
You wouldn't want to pass a certain pace for them auld
tunes. If you speed them, they're gone then. You
have to have a certain good steady ••• not too draggin'
either d'you know ••• they're kind of dragging in
themselves. You want to pep them up but still keep
them slow you know. You know what I mean. I hear some
lads playing them now and I have the name of playing
slow, but I do be fit to give them a ••• 1 They
drag it altogether, they go into a real old lonesome
kind of a thing. (Speech transcriptions: 38)
When I asked paddy if players do anything he might consider
incorrect when playing his tunes, he remarked:
What they all are doing wrong is I'd say speeding them,
you know, not playing them at the proper tempo, is it
tempo we call it now. It's not an easy done thing
114
either. Very hard to hear some people, when they go
play them slow, they make a pure harnes of them
altogether. Pure slow you know. Overdone. I do meet
them at sessions too playing. They'd start off playing
along with you and the Lord save us 'twould be ••• well
they have the high idea that you're playing slow you
know but they exaggerate it of course. You're
supposed to be playing terrible slow. A lot of them
want them slow too. I played them a few places and a
lad asked me if I could play them slower. I'm getting
speedy, he said. Wanted them slower.
Although the main technical feature Paddy differentiates

about his own playing lies in his style of bowing, different
bowing styles are not much of a consideration for him in
terms of his reflections on others' performances of his
tunes:
No, a different bow hand can improve them. I heard the
Woodford lad now, Tully, Conor Tully, he makes a grand
job of them. He has a different bow. You know the way
he bows. Trebles with the bow instead of with the
fingers. That dosen't take from them at all, you know,
that style of fiddling. 'Can even improve them in
places I'd say. Conor does a lot with the bow what I
would do with the fingers, it doesn't take from it now.
It even improves the rhytrllLl of it.
Liam Lewis also commented on this difference between Paddy
Fahey's and Conor Tully's style of bowing. Talking about
musicians 'who reflect the East Galway style he said:
Conor Tully, of course, is very important, even though
he'd be more classified as a Clare musician, you can
see it in his style, his bow-work is completely
different from Fahey's, he's more rhythmic.
When I asked Paddy if he would give any advice as to the way
he would like his tunes to be played, his opinion was:
I wouldn't like to set any guidelines. Everyone has a
different way you know. 'Twouldn't be good for the tune
either. It's grand to hear it done a bit different. Get
some other one's version of it you know. I often
thought it improved. You can improve them too now.
115
Connie 0' Connell expressed the same idea from his own
perspective as a composer of tunes. Like Paddy, he too
acknowledged that another musician might even improve upon
the 'original', saying:
You'd leave out a tune and it'd come back and it's
transformed completely. That happens all the time.
People generally make a good job out of them.
sometimes they can come back and it can sound much
nicer than what you originally thought up yourself.
It is clear that composers of traditional tunes, being
performers themselves, do not expect their compositions to
become assimilated into the tradition at large without
experiencing various changes. As regards his own efforts in
performance Paddy's personal values are stated briefly and
simply:
I try to make it as tuneful as I could. I wouldn't

spoil it with speed anyway. (Speech transcriptions: 6-.)
He would not lay down any rules for other performers because
he does not agree that musicians should be limited by his
way of playing. In stating his own beliefs, he gives a
completely unassuming description of what traditional music
is all about:
Any lad that gets the basic and puts in his own little
bits, that's the proper way I think. A lot of them
wouldn't be able to play it the way I'd play it now,
might be trying, but they'd make a great job of it if
they went their own way. Not to be trying to stick to
my versions. So long as they have the basic frame of
the tune is the whole thing. You can do what you like
after that. (Speech transcriptions: 37)
116
Paddy Fahey· the voice of East Galway?
This section of the chapter 'perceptions and Perspectives'

asks if Paddy Fahey may be regarded as a musical voice for
East Galway. Personally, I consider Paddy Fahey to be an
individual musician in his own right who has developed his

style in accordance with an innate musical instinct and
aesthetic. As stressed in the previous chapter, his
creative voice was nourished by the musical tradition of his
immediate locality and blossomed therein. Fahey never felt
it necessary to venture beyond his native place for
inspiration, and his original compositions were assimilated
and popularised by his fellow musicians in East Galway

thereby enriching this self-same tradition. Any possible
influences people might observe in his music, such as that
of Reavy perhaps, were ones which affected the community in

general rather than Fahey alone. While I have come to
regard Paddy Fahey as the strongest and most constant
presence in East Galway music throughout the twentieth
century, the fact remains that "East Galway music" means
different things to different people. My perspective would

not be shared by everyone and it is necessary to look at
other aspects of the tradition in this region.
One must bear in mind that in East Galway today there is not
a distinct musical tradition shared by all as tended to be
the case in the earlier part of the century. On the one
hand there are many musicians who play in a style that
117
cannot truly be said to represent their area, since their
music is more of a reflection of general fashions in the
tradi tion at large. Alongside this, there exists an
approach to the music, associated with certain East Galway
musicians of the past and present, which public perception
identifies as 'East Galway style' .
The first categorisation, which is linked to the concept of
a universal style, is exemplified by many players in the
contemporary tradition. Maeve Donnelly and Maureen Fahy,
who grew up in the neighbouring parishes of Abbey and
Ballinakill respectively, are two well-known and respected
fiddler players of the present-day. As musicians who come
from South East Galway they are each associated with this
musical place in the minds of musicians from other parts of
the country. Neither of them, however, would identify an
East Galway sty18 in their own playing. Reflecting on how

her fiddle style has developed over the years, Maeve says:
I wouldn't class my music as being influenced by local

style as such though I would like to think that I have
some local style in my music - that I'm not sort of
listening to all the various styles and ending up with
nothing. I think that at the moment what I do is that
I pick out things that I would like in different
styles, for example, I might listen to James Morrison
from Sligo or Denis Murphy from Co.Kerry and I'd pick
out various things that I liked about the music and I
would include them in my own music. That was more
or less the way I learned music and I still learn it
that way. (Speech transcriptions: 54)
In Maeve's view the East Galway phenomenon is associated
~ith what she describes as a 'Paddy Fahey style'. She feels

that Paddy Fahey's unique style has become so readily
identifiable with the region of East Galway, that it is
118
often practically equated with the term 'East Galway style'
and vice versa. In other words 'East Galway style' and

'Paddy Fahey style' sometimes mean one and the same thing.
The question is whether this stylistic overlap confirms the
prominence of Fahey's voice within his community or does it
perhaps suggest some confusion in the public's perception of
East Galway music? It is true that some musicians from East
Galway feel that Paddy Fahey is too much of an individual to
be considered a voice for the entire community.
Maeve singles out the fiddle-player Conor Tully as being the
main exponent, in the current tradition, of what she calls

the 'Paddy Fahey' style. Conor, who comes from the parish
of Woodford, adjacent to Abbey and Ballinakill, refutes this
idea but Haeve 's view is quite understandable if we acqept
her label ' Paddy Fahey style' as implying the distinctive
type of music otherwise known as 'East Galway ' . In his own

way Conor seems to choose and favour what I can only
describe as lovely tunes played in a gentle manner, and
these include Fahey compositions. Conor himself

acknowledges that there is a stylistic categorisation that
comes under the heading 'East Galway', but as far as his own
music is concerned, he would not feel in any way limited by
this. While Tully's personal preferences undoubtedly
connect him with Paddy Fahey, his attitude of developing his

own independent relationship with the music, is similar to
that of his contemporaries Maureen Fahey and Maeve Donnelly.
119
Connie O'Connell, and indeed Paddy Fahey himself, would
regard Conor Tully as the best fiddle player in the 'East
Galway' style among his generation, the 'East Galway' tag
relating not to his simply being from the area, but rather
his favouring a certain style of playing and type of tune.
Conor's own feeling on the matter is that he has never
thought about the local style in a specific way and does not
deliberately set out either to hold on to it or to get rid
of it. As Paddy Fahey commented, the only way a style
continues is through people choosing it naturally, because
they simply like it.
Outside of the region, in the tradition at large, the

musical term 'East Galway' possesses at least a dual
resonance. On the one hand it is used to recall a style
associated with an older generation of musicians in - the
earlier half of the century, most notably those involved
with the old Ballinakill band, the 'Aughrim Slopes' and
similar communities of local musicians. The Clare flute-
player Seamus Mac Mathuna described East Galway flute
playing as "fairly legato playing of quite ornamented
melodies back sixty years ago". (Keegan: 1992) The fact that
he associates it with something from an older era is
interesting, the implication being that it is not so
prevalent today. In more recent decades the term 'East
Galway style' has been used to denote a musical development
which found tangible expression in the composition of new
tunes by a number of leading East Galway players and also,
120
it has been suggested, through a change in flute
instrumentation, brought about to accommodate the keys and
tunes favoured by this style.
The musical tradition in this part of the country was by no
means limited to fiddle playing. There was a vibrant flute
tradition in the Ballinakill area especially. In fact the
existence of a distinctive East Galway tradition is
particularly apparent when one looks at flute players and it
is interesting to note a conclusion reached by Niall Keegan
in his study of traditional Irish flute style:
East Galway is the only place in Ireland where a

substantial group of players have adopted the Boehm
system flute, (or other flutes that are fully keyed and
have a cylindrical bore ... ) namely Paddy Carty, the
two Maloneys, Mike Rafferty, Charlie Coen and many
others who espouse this style. This is because
these instruments are more suitable for the tunes
characteristic of East Galway playing which involve
unusual keys and accidentals, produce a steady, so(t
tone important to the production of a smooth, flowing
effect, and are not called upon to produce the
techniques of articulation and emphasis more suitable
to the manner of Irish traditional performance on the
simple system, conical flute. (Keegan: 1992, 81)
It was noted previously that the flute was not a common
instrument in the Aughrim-Kilconnell area. While the

Loughrea flute-player Paddy Carty was a member of the
'Aughrim Slopes' at one time, the Maloneys and Raffertys
referred to above are both Ballinakill families and Charlie
Coen, resident in the US for many years, is a native of
Woodford. Keegan described the use of the keyed flute as
a style which perhaps is the most immediately radical

in comparison to others as it has allowed for
traditional instrumentation to change at least in the
case of many flute players in East Galway. (ibid.)
121
One individual's attitude to the more recent understanding
of 'East Galway style' and its association with unusual
keys, is that it was something of a 'media invention'.
According to Frank Hogan, whose bouzouki-playing accompanied
Paddy Carty's final recordings with Conor Tully, the modern
perception of 'East Galway' style may have arisen from

certain aspects of the music being exaggerated on the
sleeve-notes of commercial recordings of individual East
Galway musicians. One example is Paddy Carty's first ever
which was released by Shanachie Records. A number of the
tunes on Paddy Carty's album are modal in nature and it is
this aspect which has come to be recognised as part and
parcel of a distinctively East Galway voice. The American
fiddle player Kathleen Collins released an album on the same
label . She was living in East Galway at the time and was
influenced by the local style. Her brother, Daniel Collins,
was the author of the sleeve-notes and he emphasised the
modal and melancholy character of the music as follows:
This is the unmistakeable sound of modal music -
poignant, full of unexpected tensions and releases, and
generally sombre in a way that major keys tend not to
be. By their nature modal tunes lend themselves to a
more contemplative playing style, slower-paced, more
for listening than for dancing .•• All of which in
fact describes the Galway style, in contrast to the
more uptempo, driving intensity of Sligo music with its
insistent emphasis on dance. (Collins)
He also commented upon the importance of Paddy Fahey as one
of the most prominent performers in this style:
"real" Galway music is not easy to find. Unfortunately,
documentation of the historic development of the Galway
style is largely lacking. Unlike the Sligo counterpart
with its spate of much-recorded and popularized
pioneers, Galway music seems to have had no immortal
champions. Certainly one of the main living
122
representatives, is Paddy Fahey, a brilliant fiddler
from Kilconnell ..• Kathleen likens his sound to a
"constantly flowing stream" and indeed his bowing is
so smooth and light that changes in direction seem
barely perceptible, the overall effect being one of
effortless simplicity. (ibid)
Collins highlights certain characteristics of a number of
tunes which appear on the Kathleen Collins recording.
Sergeant Earley's Dream, The Jug of Punch, and Eddie

Kelly's Reel: These three tunes, all reels in the
Dorian mode, are clearly representative of the Galway
tradition, with their infrequency of triplets, (another
distinctive feature of Galway music) and their general
lingering on, and shaping of, a note or phrase. In the
latter two tunes this tendency toward held notes
becomes a particularly striking stylistic feature when
such notes are played with long simple bow-strokes,
devoid of rolls. (ibid)
Again Fahey is awarded a special mention this time in

relation to his role as a composer of tunes in this style:
Among Kathleen's selections on this album are six

original compositions by contemporary Irish musicians.
without a doubt the most prolific writer of the group
is Paddy Fahy, the Kilconnell fiddler. Fahy has
produced an extraordinary output of tunes, a number of
which are in wide circulation throughout Ireland, while
others remain unknown. Most are characterised by a
gentle contemplative quality, well suited to the
distinctive Fahy style of playing. (ibid)
My reason for quoting these comments at such length is that
they provided almost the only written documentation on this
mUsic that was available to the public. Frank Hogan felt
that people began to latch on to these ideas to the extent
that all musicians in East Galway began to be regarded in
this light when in reality such descriptions applied to a
relatively small group of musicians. There is the

Suggestion that people from outside the area who, by
implication, only half understood the music, were trying to

make a simple thing complicated. Of course, such an
123
accusation could be pointed at many in the field of
ethnomusicology who attempt to write about aspects of
musical style and tradition. I think it fair to say,
however, that such commentators were simply verbalising what
most of the musicians who played in this particular style
realised anyway although they may not have expressed it in
specific technical or emotional terms.
In any case, it is not illogical to surmise that comments
made on the sleeve-notes of recordings of East Galway music,
of which there are quite few anyway from this period, did
have a certain significance in establishing peoples'
perspectives on the music. Other recordings frequently made
reference to the influence of East Galway musicians. For
example, a 1979 Green Linnet recording of sean-nos singer.
Joe Heaney of Carna in Connemara, West Galway, and Gabe
O'Sullivan, a flute player from Headford in the north of the

county, enabled 'The Gabe' to tell his own story as follows
About the age of fifteen I went to work in Galway city,

where I met the great fiddler from East Galway,
Tommy Coen, who was a contemporary of Paddy Kelly
from Aughrim and Paddy Fahey from Killabeg, all of
whom played in the very, very slow, very old
traditional style of East Galway. Tommy took me under
his wing and taught me a hell of a lot. Later I became
interested in the old Ballinakill style of playing,
also of East Galway. The Ballinakill players made
their first recordings back in the late 1920s: two
fiddles, two flutes and a piano. It was their flute
players, Tommy Whelan and Stephen Maloney, who made
this huge impression on me. I listened very
extensively to their wonderful old 78 records, so you
see I have always played in what you would call an East
Galway style, not a North Galway style at all. The
East Galway style is very slow, very old, very
traditional, and very, very beautiful. (O'Sullivan: 1979)
124
The above re-affirms that 'East Galway' implies a whole
approach to the music and not just a preference for modal
tunes and the atmosphere these tend to evoke. It was Connie
O'Connell who commented that an East Galway musician would
do certain things to a tune and, in his opinion, improve
that tune in the process. One example which illustrates
this is the well-known reel "The Star of Munster". Paddy
Fahey plays this in what may be described as the 'East
Galway' manner, that is beginning on a long B flat in minor
mode G, rather than on a long C in minor mode A as is common
in the tradition at large. Fahey makes it clear that this
preference was something that evolved in this particular
community of musicians:
Well Paddy Kelly now - I played that 'Star of Munster'

there - Kelly used to play that away back I remember~
'Course that's not my own composition, but I've a few
nearly like it now in the B flat, and it would be very
like it, do you know, the same style.
The change of key down a step to a minor mode on G which
introduces the all-importan't B-flat brings out a different
Colour on the fiddle. This key is certainly favoured among
exponents of the East Galway style. On other instruments
the change might seem purely a technical difference. On the
fiddle it entails a new pattern in terms of the spacing and
Placing of the fingers. Also there is a flexibility in the
execution of the B-flat and F-natural pitches on the fiddle
that cannot be attained on fixed pitch or keyed instruments.
In his article entitled "A Reappraisal of Irish Fiddle

Styles", Caoimhin Mac Aoidh from Donegal provides the
125
following account of East Galway style.
East Galway: The music of this district differs

greatly from that of Sligo. The pace of the music is
greatly reduced which allows the player to concentrate
more on the mood of the music. The tunes in this area
are often highly ornate but the overall impression
always seems to be one of wistfulness. A great
contributing factor to this often eerie feeling is the
common occurrence of playing tunes in keys such as E-
and B-flat which lend themselves to this type of sound.
Excellent exponents of this style are Paddy Fahy, Paddy
Kelly, Mairtin Byrnes, Connor Tully and Liam Lewis.
(MacAoidh)
The flat-related modes involve new fingering patterns that
may seem difficult at first but are most natural to those
accustomed to playing in this style. The tendency to play a
tune such as the 'Star of Munster' on G minor mode,
incorporating the B-flat gradually became a common stylistic
feature among certain musicians in this locality. It may

well have been initiated by an innovative musician like
Kelly only to be taken up by others in the community.
The previous section of this chapter highlighted the
features which other musicians associate with Paddy Fahey's

music. The recurring themes were of melancholia, unusual
keys and a tempo that is slower than is common in a dance

music tradition. In the same way, however, that people
generalise about East Galway music, it is easy to generalise

abou t Fahey. When someone asserts that Paddy Fahey's
mUsical voice is too distinctive to speak on behalf of the
community, one could both agree and disagree. The notion

that his tune compositions present a very personal musical
Voice and should thus be viewed solely as an individual

Contribution rather than being somehow representative of a
126
group is valid enough. Equally valid, however, is the fact
that those very features in his music which together create
a distinctively 'Fahey sound' or 'Fahey feel' are not
particularly special to Paddy's tunes. To discover this,
one need only look at some compositions by other respected
East Galway fiddler/composers such as Paddy Kelly, Tommy
Coen and Eddie Kelly. In his study of traditional
composition Stephen Jardine collected a number of tunes by
these composers. Al though his research did not offer
stylistic analysis the remarks he made are interesting in
that once again they reflect the way this music was
perceived in the tradition.
Paddy Kelly, from Ballinue, Aughrim, and born in 1906, was
introduced previously as one of the original, founding
members of the 'Aughrim Slopes ' . According to Paddy Fahey,
Kelly composed at least a dozen reels and many of these are

well known in the tradition. with regard to Paddy Kelly's
tunes, Jardine said: "Paddy's compositions exhibit qualities
Common to his East Galway style of playing". (Jardine:
1981,282) Another Aughrim fiddler and composer, some years
younger than Kelly, was Tommy Coen who lived in Salthill,

Galway for much of his life and died in 1974. His best
known reel compositions are 'Coen's Memories' and 'Christmas
Eve'. Jardine mentioned that among traditional musicians
Tommy was viewed as one of the masters. He also commented

on the connection people perceived between Coen and Paddy
Fahey, stating that:
127
several close to Tommy mentioned that the East Galway
fiddler, Paddy Fahey, was quite influential on Tommy's
style of playing. (Jardine: 1981,221)
Speaking about the composition 'Coen's Memories', Jardine
again applies the typical comment: "this tune exhibits a

strong East Galway flavour". (ibid.222) The fact that Coen,
like many others, is seen to be a follower of Fahey
indicates how closely associated this particular style was
with Paddy Fahey. Eddie Kelly who comes from Meelick,

Eyrecourt, Co Galway and now lives in Roscommon, is another
respected composer and performer from the area. Eddie

played with Paddy Fahey quite regularly at one time and his
compositions are known to feature a number of
characteristics generally associated with Fahey's music.
Again, Jardine asserts that "Eddie's compositions often

exhibit a strong East Galway feel to them".
In the final chapter of this work some musical examples are
chosen from tunes composed by each of the above composers.

As much of this music would have been composed around the
same time as some of Fahey's, the examples illustrate that
Paddy Fahey is one exponent of an approach to the music that
is linked to a wider community of musicians in East Galway.

In acknowledging similarities between Fahey's compositions
and those of other East Galway musicians, I chose to select
tunes by fiddle players. There are, of course, other
respected composers of tunes in traditional style from East
Galway, including members of well-known musical families

SUch as the Brodericks of Loughrea and the Mulhaires from
Eyrecourt.
128
It is quite clear that it would be most unfair to all of the
other contributors to the development of the East Galway
style to regard it as in some way a Paddy Fahey invention.

Similarly, however, it would be a complete mistake to view
Fahey's music in isolation when it is clear that he was a
key figure amidst many other individual creators and re-
creators. It is all very well to argue that Fahey is too
distinctive to be regarded as representative of the regional
style, but the fact is that he has never strayed from the
region in a musical sense. His voice is a distinctly East
Galway one. In the contemporary tradition, it is names such
as .Paddy Fahey and Paddy Carty and accordion players like
Joe Burke that people tend to associate most with East
Galway music. As to why this is so, it would seem that
1:.hese players were in fact among the most musically
individual in the region. They set stylistic trends which
others could appreciate and in some cases emulate. It is

interesting to note Conor Tully's comment that Fahey and
Carty were themselves two very different musicians. Conor

felt that Carty was always changing his music and always
open to new ideas and outside influences, whereas Fahey "had
his own thing going". (Speech transcriptions: 94) It is true

that one could neither commend nor accuse Paddy Fahey of
always changing or being open to new ideas. Certainly his

Compositions prove his versatility but essentially Fahey's
style has remained strong and constant, unwavering from one

decade to the next.
129
While Maeve Donnelly is also an admirer of Paddy Fahey, the
most important performer for her in the South East Galway
fiddle tradition would have been Aggie Whyte of Ballinakill,
Maureen Fahy's aunt. The reason why Aggie seems to evade
falling into the specifically East Galway mould may relate
to her close association with North Clare musicians with
whom she played regularly, thus keeping up the traditional
contact between Ballinakill and nearby North East Clare
parishes such as Killanena, Flagmount and Feakle. Aggie had
a more gutsy approach to fiddle playing than someone like
Paddy Fahey and according to Maeve Donnelly, the North Clare
style is definitely different to that of East Galway.
Exponents of the North Clare style include Paddy Canney and
Peadar O'Loughlin, both of whom were prominent members of
the TulIa Ceili Band, and of course PJ Hayes who continues

..
to lead the band right UD to the present day. Talking about
the musical link between South East Galway and North East
Clare, Martin Fahy of Ballinakill noted that
The Tulla Ceili Band now would be very much like the
Ballinakill band to a degree. Aggie played with the
Tulla Ceili Band for a long time. There has been a
lot of cohesion between Clare people and Galway people,
for centuries. People from Ballinakill used to go to
Killanena, across to Feakle to fairs and that. They
used to cross over the mountain, especially in Winter
time now for sessions. We had an awful lot to do with
Clare, rather than we had say with Offaly or Tipperary.
Actually we didn't even know the Tipperary players.
While Paddy Fahey felt the music of Ballinakill and that of
his part of East Galway to be similar, Maureen Fahy of
Ballinakill did not think it true to suggest that Paddy

~ould have been influenced by the Ballinakill style:
130
He was completely different, you know, his tunes are
completely different, they don't relate in any way to
tunes the Ballinakill band used to play years ago
anyway. The pace is the same alright; but I think
they're his own, you know. They're lovely, they really
come from the heart. (Speech transcriptions: 53)
It is interesting, however, that Paddy himself feels that
some of his compos i tions are reminiscent of the old
Ballinakill style. He says, for example, that his Jig no.6
reminds him of the playing of the original Ballinakill band.
Again he is conscious of an older layer of sound. Maureen's
parents, Martin and Bridie Fahy spoke also of the real old
traditional style of the area which featured very little
ornamentation in comparison to what is usual today. They
named Paddy Doorhy, since deceased, as having been the
remaining exponent of this old style in their locality.
Paddy Doorhy from Leitrim, a parish on the Loughrea side of
Ballinakill, was one of the focal members of the community
of musicians in that area in former years and one of the
founders of the Leitrim Ceili Band. Martin Fahy says:
The old musicians didn't go in for the amount of

triplets or bowing that Maureen does.
The old style of ornamentation usually featured simple cuts
rather than long rolls and the timing of the music was
always perfect. Maureen Fahy described the old traditional
style of Doorhy and his contemporaries as follows:
It's a very lazy bow-hand really, and it kind of just

glides from one bow into the next. Very relaxed kind
of bow-style, whereas we're kind of all get-up-and-go
now. (Speech transcriptions: 53)
This idea of gliding from one bow into the next is certainly
a feature of Paddy Fahey's playing also. His ornamentation
also is notable for its regularity and is very traditional.
131
There is, however, no indication that the old traditional
style was given to exploiting variable notes in the manner
which came to be associated with East Galway musicians.
\ In general, it seems that the more modern understanding of

\
the stylistic term 'East Galway' applies largely to a later
I development among a specific community of players. On this
point, it is interesting to note a suggestion made by
Northern flute-player Colin Hamilton, in the context of the
flute tradition. His opinion is that a distinct local style
rather than a reg10nal style exists in East Galway:
And then you'd have the East Galway style which I
suppose is fairly different but whether or not it is a
regional style or not I'm not so sure, do you know? I
would call that a local style. I would make a
distinction between local style and regional sty~e, and
I would nearly go so far as to call the Galway thing
a local thing more than a regional style, because of
the difference being that when you're talking about a
region, like you're talking about Donegal fiddle
playing, you're talking about that extending over a
county and actually I think you could probably bring it
across into other parts of Ulster. The thing about the
East Galway style, it seems to be restricted to a
fairly small number of players, you know, and the flute
isn't as big an instrument there. So you're talking
about a very limited number of people actually playing
in that style and that's why I would put it down to the
next step down from regional which is local.
(Keegan: 1992, 81)
It is important to realise that regardless of whether we

describe it as being 'local' or 'regional', the 'East Galway
style' is one which evolved within an active musical
community. It cannot be said to have originated from any
One musician although certainly some individuals in this
community were more influential than others in the process
132
of developing the style. When I asked Paddy Fahey how the
style was created he attributed his own role to the
influence of Paddy Kelly and of course that of his father,
the two central figures in those musically formative years
at Killaghbeg.
Paddy Kelly - he was a great man for that style. I
suppose it could nearly start with him. I don't know
where he got it now. He was the first man I heard at
it. (Speech transcriptions: 12)
Certainly it would seem that the 'East Galway style' emerged
in the musical environment of the 'Aughrim Slopes'
community. Many people who have since been associated
directly with the style were involved with this band of
musicians at some time. The slow lyrical style of 'East
Galway ' , has been described variously as music for listening
t o and music for musicians. For many of those actively
involved in the ceili band era this style of music may have
provided a pleasant antidote to the more straightforward
dance music repertoire.
As someone who has been a follower of East Galway music for
many years I asked Liam Lewis if he thinks Fahey's style is
personal or if it is a reflection of the communal aesthetic.
Liam's reply was that it is:
Both. People who know about East Galway music

realise the importance of Fahey and Carty and the
predecessors. Even though Paddy Fahey's style is as
individual as anybody's style can be, I think it has
most likely developed from within the community. He
mixed with people who liked the music, that had to have
an influence on him. I mean, it's not as if he woke up
one night and said I'm going to play like this now. It
had to develop from within the community. If you look
133
at land down there its fairly good farming land and
you could easily imagine, like 30 years ago, the way of
life would be very laid back. I mean work was hard,
but the enjoyment would be there, very relaxed. One
wonders would he play like that if he lived in a city
all his life. (Speech transcriptions: 90)
Similarly, Connie O'Connell sees Fahey's music as having
been bred within his environment. As a fiddler/composer
from outside the area looking in on the music, Connie cannot
identify any features in Paddy's style that are divorced
from his knowledge of East Galway music in general.
I couldn't see any other influences in his music only

East Galway alone, the tradition that is still
living there by the few people that are still playing
East Galway music ... I think that he composed the
tunes to suit that particular style of that
particular area, and no place else.
In his introduction to Masters of Old-Time Fiddling, Miles
Krassen's account of what he describes as the 'master
fiddlers' in a local tradition, seems very appropriate to
the Irish situation and more specifically to Paddy Fahey -and
his musical community in East Galway.
In local tradition master fiddlers existed who

established and maintained a style's characteristics
and standards. The process of becoming a master
fiddler had several stages. First, the novice fiddler
would have to succeed in learning accurate versions of
the local repertory. Next, one would have to become
proficient at playing those tunes in the locally
accepted manner. This stage was usually accomplished
by the age of twenty. If the fiddler continued to
fiddle into adulthood he would at some point, depending
on the degree of his achievement, come to be recognised
locally as one who knew the old tunes. In time he
could himself become a model for others to emulate.
(Krassen: 1983)
Fahey did indeed become such a model within his own circle.
Dwelling on the significance of regional fiddle styles,
Krassen lists various factors which are relevant to Fahey:
134
The real problem is to absorb and understand that part
of the music which transcends mechanics: the aspects of
fiddling which are a matter of expression and taste.
Each particular style encountered is like a new
language or, at least, a new dialect. To fiddle well
in any style, one has to learn the grammar and syntax
of that style: phrasing, bowing patterns, double
stopping, ornamentation, acceptable types of variation,
etc. Then one has to become so fluent in a particular
idiom that all these elements are incorporated into
one's playing effortlessly, without being self-
conscious about it. (Krassen: 1983)
Fahey assimilated all the nuances of traditional style in
his locality, those elements of the music 'which transcend
mechanics'. In the context of the contemporary tradition,
he may indeed be regarded as one of the 'old-timers' who has
something special to pass on.
Regional styles are not magically or permanently

determined by specific geographic boundaries. There
are several factors which help determine a distinctive
regional style; fiddlers of several generations who
have more or less common repertory, fiddlers who have
similar ideas about what constitutes good playing, and
who attribute the basis of their style to a common .,
musical ancestor. (Krassen: 1983)
To return to our original question as to whether we may
recognise Paddy Fahey as the voice of the community, once
again we must ask ourselves who are the community? The
relationship between the voice of the individual and the
voice of the community is such that it may be difficult to
identify if and when an individual idiolect becomes more

prominent than the shared dialect. The fact that none of
the best known contemporary fiddlers from the region would
regard themselves as being exponents of Paddy Fahey's style
makes Fahey's voice seem perhaps more distinct at the

present time than it would have been in the past.
135
It is my own opinion that we would do well to respect Paddy
Fahey as a voice of East Galway, in that he is a true
representative of a distinctive East Galway musical
tradition. While his music could be described as a personal
style it did not develop on its own terms. At the present
time when regional styles and musical boundaries are being
broken down almost to the point of extinction, Paddy Fahey
is the one living musician in East Galway who continues to
ensure that the musical style of his native region will not
be forgotten. His voice is particularly strong because of
the tangible elements in his music which one can pin down
and associate with 'East Galway style'. Also, in playing
his tunes, one is almost obliged to maintain the relaxed
pace favoured in his community. The tunes simply lend
themselves to such a resonance.
It is interesting to note that someone like Kevin Burke

would say that 'E ast Galway' means nothing to him in a
musical sense. He has, however, gained a passage into the

musical aesthetic of the region through his familiarity with
individual musicians such as Fahey. Similarly, Liz Carroll
had never heard of the term 'East Galway' as indicating

either a musical region or a musical style. In so far as
'Galway', in general, was concerned, she said she would
associate the area with flute players such as Paddy Carty.
It is the influence of individual musicians rather than that

of the region as a whole that has travelled.
136
--------------------------------,~
Paddy Fahey's world of musical experience encapsulates for
me both periods in East Galway music: the earliest
expression of the style and then the later developments, the
emergence of which coincided with his years of musical
reflection in the 1950s. Down the years Fahey has continued
to engage in both preservation and innovation. His dual
role brings to mind an observation made by Lortat-Jacob in
his study of 'Community music':
A musician plays in a style that is a kind of variation

on the style of his village. At the same time,
however, he demonstrates a style of his own. He will
not be invited to play in public if he is a mere
imitator, but only when he has sufficient control of
his instrument and can master the music of his village
to the point of leaving his own imprint on it.
(Lortat-Jacob: 1981, 191)
The preceding sections confirmed that the individuality of
Paddy Fahey's musical expression is recognised and admired
within East Galway and further afield. Equally strong is
the extent to which the 'East Galway' factor is perceived to
be the prominent one in his creativity. His family

background at Killaghbeg, his history with the 'Aughrim
Slopes', and the fact that he has lived in his native area
throughout his life all serve to promote him as a genuine
voice of East Galway. Paddy's sense of place and respect
for the past are such that in reality his music is at least
as traditional as it is individual and this is where he
succeeds so well. As noted earlier, it is very difficult to
be original without venturing beyond the parameters of the

tradition. The fact that none of Paddy's compositions
depart from our conception and expectations of the form of a
137
tradi tional dance tune might appear unusual when one
considers that he never performs his music to fulfil a dance
function. His choosing to compose in line with the imposed

limits of the dance is attributable rather to the context of
his compositional process, namely, his deep roots in the
musical tradition of East Galway.
East Galway music: renewal or decline?
In trying to predict the future of a particular style of
music in East Galway, my own experience is perhaps as
relevant as any other. I grew up in the small South East
Balway village of Abbey, and like my neighbours Maureen Fahy
and Maeve Donnelly before me and hundreds of others in -the
surrounding region, I learned traditional music from the

local teacher, Mrs. Lyons, first at national school in
Woodford and later at her home in Tynagh. Mary Lyons was

one of the Donoghues, a well known local musical family.
Although the fiddle was her own instrument, she seldom

seemed to encourage children to take it on, unless there
happened to be one in the house. The understanding was that
the fiddle was very difficult. Since I already played the

piano at home, I began to learn traditional music on the
piano. I was never at any stage made aware of a style of

music particular to East Galway, in fact, it was not until I
began to study music in Cork that I first heard the notion
of an 'East Galway' style.
138
There is the realisation that sometimes one has to go
outside one's area before discovering the value of local
tradition. My interest in the style of my home area was
encouraged in Cork by Connie O'Connell, from whom I had my
first traditional fiddle lessons. Later he would advise

that East Galway tunes were the ones that suited me most. I
think this had a lot to do with the fact that I could afford
to play them at a gentle pace but it is also true that they
were the ones I most enjoyed playing. Maeve Donnelly also
indicated that she was made most aware of the style when
meeting musicians from outside East Galway:
There is a sense of East Galway and I suppose when you

go outside of East Galway, I lived in Dublin for a few
years and now I'm living in Shannon in Co.Clare and
it's really when you go out of the area you realise
there is a rake of music in the area. You grow up with
it and you accept it but actually I became really
conscious of it in Dublin and in Clare where people say
"Oh, you come from East Galway!".
The significance of one's musical identity ~n a regional

sense used to be considerable. In contrast, musicians in
the contemporary tradition often seem unsure as to what

stylistic path they want to follow. A 'universal style',
alluded to earlier, seems to have developed at the expense
of local styles. It is increasingly difficult to recognise
whether a musician is from a particular county or region of
Ireland. While an examination of repertoire can sometimes
help in identifying musical origin, the widespread
dissemination and cross-fertilisation of tunes means that

this is no longer a reliable factor.
139
Acknowledging the reality of such developments in terms of
her own experience, Maeve also realises that there is a
sense of loss implied in the dwindling of local sounds.
I think that my fiddle-playing isn't that distinctive

or different from other peoples' in the country. I
think that nowadays with younger musicians, there is a
uniformity in the music; you find that you listen to
the radio and you hear a musician playing - you
wouldn't necessarily know or decide from listening to
his playing that that person was from a particular
area. That's the way music is going unfortunately. It
is bad that the local style has faded away. The
unfortunate thing is that we're prone to following
trends, you know, that we follow the trends of the
local session or playing in big groups and playing
standard selections of tunes in a standardised way.
While the situation is unfortunate, although perhaps
inevitable, for the moment at least the 'trend' seems set to
continue. The move towards a certain uniformity is not only
confined to traditional music as Martin Fahy of Ballinakill
noted in his observation of similar developments in the
context of local styles of set dancing.
That's the trouble at the moment with set-dancing

especially. I find now that the East Galway set, the
Ballindereen set, Clare sets ... the time will come
when they are all fused more or less together. And
there's also people trying to take a piece out of this
one and put it on to another to improve it, so you
won't get the real traditional set after another while
as far as I see. Competition is responsible for an
awful lot of that, because we see a nice part of some
set and we say, ok, we'll use that in ours and it will
enhance it. And also in the music.
To a large extent dialectic interplay between the
traditional styles of different regions is a welcome
phenomenon but the danger of each region losing its musical
autonomy is quite real. It is natural for repertoires and
styles, as well as learning and performance contexts, to
140
change over a period of time. Indeed, local mus ical
dialects are not necessarily affected adversely by new
developments. What mayor may not survive, however, is that
communal awareness and common aesthetic which so typifies a
true musical region and musical community.
A few years ago a young student in Galway city was doing a
project on East Galway music and asked me to be her subject.
I was unable at that time to identify my place in an East
Galway community of musicians or justify my being associated
with the musical term 'East Galway', that is apart from the
geographical fact that it is my homeplace. I did not feel I
had a knowledge of a repertoire of tunes or a manner of
playing that was specific to East Galway. Of course,
aspects of the local style were inevitably apparent in my
mus ic . For example, years ago when asking Micheal 0
Suilleabhain for comments on my style of playing traditional
music on the piano, he suggested I might vary it by doing

triplet-style ornaments on one note, just as one would
treble on one note with the bow when playing fiddle. My
playing featured the liberal use of 'rolls' but I never used
this essentially rhythmic ornament. I came to recognise

that this latter feature was uncommon in East Galway music.
Like other players of my generation I am open to new ideas,

but I have also developed a real appreciation for my local
style and am beginning to make it my own. Again, Maeve

Donnelly demonstrates that this experience is not unusual.
141
She also was unaware of the richness of the music in her own
region when learning music at a young age and did not come
into personal contact with many local musicians at that
time. Her tendency to choose elements from many different
styles which are then integrated into her own music means
that she does not call herself an East Galway fiddler:
I listen to a lot of tunes and I'd play particular

settings of tunes that I like from various musicians.
I admire certain musicians and I like to pick things
out of their music. With the advent of tapes and
radios and what-not I have become sort of more
influenced by lots of different people rather than the
local. I wouldn't class myself at all as an East
Galway fiddler. Though a lot of people would say that
I have traits of it, it's hard enough to recognise them
myself in the music. I find it difficult anyway.
(Speech transcriptions: 5~-6)
Again there is a sense that local style has an inevitable
influence once one has been exposed to it at all. While
Maeve does not feel that she is an exponent of the real
style of her native place, she hopes nevertheless, that it
is present in some way in her playing.
I'd like to think that I've taken some aspect of the

local sound into account though because I think the
Ballinakill group and the Aughrim Slopes and all that
music, it was so rich in its time. It is an awful
shame to leave it behind and to disregard it,
especially coming from the area, and I suppose I can
take the blame for disregarding it to a great extent.
She is a very good example of a musician who having
concentrated on developing her own style by means of a
variety of influences, has in recent years discovered a new
interest in and enthusiasm for the music of East Galway, as

the following suggests:
I listened to Aggie Whyte and the Ballinakill band and

it is beautiful music. I'm only starting now in the
last few years to see what's actually in their music,
142
whereas before I used to be looking at other places. I
wasn't that familiar with it at all. It seems to have
passed me by completely for some reason and so did the
Aughrim Slopes. I think we have to get back to the
time when you had the Ballinakill and Aughiim Slopes
and each individual in his own right could play. They
were a superb group because there was no hanging on.
They were all individual musicians and they all had a
common bond in their music. They all knew what they
wanted and that was very obvious in their music. It
wasn't a harum scarum, throw together a few musicians
and play. (Speech transcriptions: 54-5)
The Ballinakill tradition demonstrates continuous renewal
with each new generation of young musicians who ensure the
area's continued association with music. The player in the
contemporary tradition most well known outside the region
would be Maureen Fahy. While she recognises and admires
greatly the style of older musicians from East Galway, her
own music embraces modern developments in the tradition at
large which bear scant resemblance to the Ballinakill style
of old. While this is not necessarily a bad thing on an
individual level, it is important to recognise, as outlined
in the earlier piece on 'East Galway: a place and a music',
that the musicians of today exhibit less allegiance to a
sense of place and tradition than was common in the past.
While she has rejected the older style of playing at least
for the time being, Maureen Fahy has continued her family's
rich tradition of fiddle-playing, from her aunt and mother,

Aggie and Bridie Whyte. In a similar way, Martin Hayes, son
of PJ, can be seen to represent the next generation of the
fiddle tradition in North Clare. In contrast to Maureen,

however, Martin seems to be concentrating recently on
personalising aspects of the old style of his native area
rather than moving away from them.
143
On the subject of renewing a dialect that may be in danger
of dying out completely it is interesting to refer to the
notion of young "radical" musicians as described by Marion
MCAuley in her study entitled Aspects of stylistic change
in Irish music. She identified three divisions within the
contemporary tradition, the first of these being the
'mainstream' tradition or "the main body of traditional
Irish musicians ... whose styles are widely perceived as
traditional". The second group she describes as follows:
Alongside this mainstream tradition is the second group

of musicians whom I would refer to as the 'radicals'
within the tradition in that their styles tend to
rediscover an even older layer of 'sound' than that
normally found in the mainstream tradition.
Interestingly enough, while one would probably assume
this group to be comprised of older players, it is, in
fact, associated with a younger generation of musicians
who, on the basis of their attempt to reaffirm an era
of music prior to that which presently exists, would
regard their musical styles as even more traditional
than those of the mainstream. (McAuley: 1990, 194)
Finally she singles out a third group, also associated with
younger musicians. These are the 'innovators':
[those who] concern themselves with discovering an

innovative approach to style based on a solid
traditional framework. (ibid.)
While I would tend to view the 'radicals' as the bright
lights in the future revitalisation of regional styles,
McAuley does not appear to view their efforts so favourably:
While young musicians might participate in a much

older style of music, their styles can be no more than
successful caricatures since they will inevitably lack
something from the music of that era. (ibid. 195)
I cannot agree with this idea of caricature. A relevant
example at the present time is the fiddle style of Martin
Hayes alluded to above. Martin comes from Maghera in North
144
East Clare, near the Co Galway border, over the mountain
road from Ballinakill. Resident in Chicago for many years,
he has played with jazz, classical, folk and rock musicians
but when it came to putting his first solo recordings
together, such influences were none so noticeable, however,
as the tradition of his people and place in North East
Clare. It appears to have been quite a conscious decision
on his part to return to his musical roots, as is suggested
in the biographical notes accompanying his 1993 CD:
Martin's style of fiddle playing comes directly from

the older generation of musicians in his locality, a
part of Ireland known for its slow, lyrical sound. He
began with a desire to capture the styling and rhythm
of the tunes as played by the old people and, where
appropriate, to enhance them with his own personal
interpretation.
Much of the music on this first album is in the G minor mode
or in F major , a nd a number of the tunes alluded to
previously in the ' East Galway' context are featured, suc~
as the 'Star of Munster', played on G in minor mode, (or as

Paddy Fahey says "on B flat"); the Tommy Coen reel
composition, 'Coen's Memories' in the same mode, and the old
reliable, 'Paddy Fahey's Jig no 1'. 'The Morning Star' reel
and the hornpipe 'The Good Natured Man', both recorded by
the original 'Aughrim Slopes' back in 1935, are also

included by Hayes but in a new interpretation that still
recognises the older layer of sound. Hayes's second album
"Under the Moon" (1995) maintains a similar approach.
It is interesting to note the one feature of Martin's fiddle

style that Fahey takes some exception to. Paddy describes
145
it as 'swooping' on the notes and he wonders why Hayes is so
fond of this technique. It occurs particularly in the
slower tunes and produces various degrees of dynamic
intensity to dramatic effect. paddy felt that Martin's
father PJ has a touch of this in his playing but in a far
more subtle and natural way. This issue demonstrates both
Fahey's reluctance to accommodate elements of style that are
not truly traditional and the younger man's desire to add a
personal element to the music. If a fiddler from another
part of the country produced music of a similar nature, it
might appear somewhat contrived but the musical tradition of
Martin Hayes' people and place ensures that there is
something very genuine about his playing.
Returning to Mc Auley's conception of ' radicals ' and musical
' caricature ' , she makes another statement t hat grasps the
vital issue of social context and meaning in I .rish

traditional music.
Whereas the older generation of musicians expresses the

musical tradition which it has inherited in terms of
its own previous environmental experiences, the younger
generation - who has not experienced that previous
environment at first-hand - can only re-express that
same musical tradition in the context of its own
environment. (McAuley: 1990, 195)
I would suggest, however, that such 're-expression' may in
fact be most commendable and most worthwhile. I think there
is much to be gained by looking back to the roots of a style
for inspiration. That is not to imply that the sound of,
say, the old Ballinakill Ceili band should somehow be
recaptured. I do not think it could be even if one tried.
I do think, however, that we can learn from listening to the

146
sound of the past, as Paddy Fahey seems to have done. Older
styles and sounds deserve to be cherished and appreciated to

a far greater extent than they presently are. A renewed
interest in traditional musical dialects may prove far more
rewarding in a creative sense than much of the innovation
for the sake of innovation, that seems prevalent today.

While we may not succeed in capturing the true essence of an
older style, that does not mean that our efforts, our
looking back, and our listening back, will not be richly

rewarded.
Personally, I would feel a responsibility to make young
musicians at least aware of their local musical heritage.

In teaching traditional music I think it is important to
introduce regional styles and different musical aesthetics
to the next generation. The existence of a sound particular

to East Galway is something that the previous generation
understood and could build upon. Today, one cannot assume
that young musicians will experience that sense of tradition
and musical belonging unless they are allowed to feel a part
of it. The fact that what might be described as an East
Galway musical style is largely the creation of a particular

community of individuals at a particular time does not
diminish its importance. It is distinct from other styles
in the country and as such deserves recognition. It is all

very well to be nonchalant about the music but it does
deserve to be taken care of.
147
The type of tune one tends to associate with the East Galway
style is not always the sort one might introduce with young
learners. Many of these tunes are not really ones you can
instruct someone to play either. They seem to require
something more. They demand an interest and an attitude on
the part of the musician to share something of themselves
with the music, to bestow something of the.ir own feeling on
the tune. They are not tunes you can just rattle off. The
'having' of the music is something that cannot really be
passed on, it is something that each individual can only
experience and discover and express for himself. As Conor
Tully once remarked, the goal is to find out your own way of
playing, the way that appeals to you most, and then you will
have a lifetime to perfect it.
The previous sec-r.ion ':'ndicated that dif f icul ties in
recognising Paddy Fahey as the voice of East Galway are
compounded by the musical diversity in the community today.
As noted, many of the more prominent fiddlers from the

region in the contemporary tradition would not see
themselves as being exponents of a distinctively East Galway
style, and the latter group seem to be dwindling in numbers.
Apart from Paddy Fahey and his contemporaries, and younger
fiddlers such as Conor Tully and Liam Lewis who choose to
integrate aspects of the East Galway tradition into their
own style, names do not come to mind very easily. This may
be interpreted as signalling the ultimate demise of a

distinctive East Galway musical style.
148
It is important to remember, however, that the difference
between having lots of people playing in a certain style and
only a few, is far less significant than the difference
between having a few exponents of a certain style and none
at all. The gap between even one percent of the musical
communi ty and zero is wider than any other. It is
interesting to note, therefore, Frankie Gavin' s quite
strongly held opinion that Paddy Fahey is the one person who
could still do a lot to preserve and save the essence of
East Galway music in a public context. Gavin laments the
fact that Paddy has not been more active in a public sense
particularly when one considers his legendary status in
relation to East Galway music:
The sad part about it is, and the major complaint that
most people have is, that they don't hear him playing
and it's driving everybody crazy.
Indeed there is almost a palpable sense of exasperation when
people refer to Fahey's famous low profile. His reticence
as a musician is well-known and some people expressed actual
amazement that he has co-operated so whole-heartedly in this
present work. My own view is that I came along at a time
when Paddy was opening up to the realisation that many of
his tunes could be lost if he did not begin to recall and

gather them. While his performances in public are still
very rare, and even then are amidst the informal and
familiar setting of a local session, I feel that he has
shaken off many of the idiosyncrasies associated with him in

earlier years.
149
For example, when Sr Benedict Moylan, of Loughrea, was doing
research on the musicians of East Galway towards the end of
the 1970s, her description of Paddy Fahey was put together
from comments by other musicians:
because of his very shy, retiring disposition, it was

hard to get information from Paddy about his own many
achievements but I am satisfied with the many
references made to him by others. (Moylan: 1977, 84)
Among the comments were those of Jennie Fahey, who reflected
openly on her brother's personality at that time.
Paddy hates publicity of any kind. He loves his music

and enjoys playing and composing new tunes, but he
"runs away" from any kind of interview or anything that
will bring him 'into the limelight'. Jennie told me
also that he never played solo for any public function
and would very. reluctantly play, even with the group,
in any kind of competition. "He's gone into a shell"
was Jennie's summing up of her famous brother. (ibid.85)
Paddy's hermit-like existence, referred to in the second
chapter, lasted for a lengthy period between the late 1950s
and late 1960s, and undoubtedly had an influence ·· on
subsequent attempts to reintegrate himself into musical
activities of a public nature. It is not insignificant that
another important figure in traditional music, Tommie Potts,
had also drawn into himself completely during this very same
period, a time of uncertainty in a post-war world that
searched increasingly for new horizons. Like Fahey, this
was also a most musically creative time for Potts. If they
did not each have this personal 'timeout', as it were, to
develop their musical talents in a solitary setting, it is
possible that neither man would have gained such subsequent
wide-scale recognition in the tradition at large. While

Paddy Fahey's personality remains self-effacing, I think he
150
is more ready now to take on a certain responsibility with
regard to the music. Recently, for example, he has been
visited by a Korean music student and a young fiddler from
England, with whom he shared his tunes and his time with
greater enthusiasm than perhaps he was known for heretofore.
While he has already been a major force in preserving the
essence of the style in a private and relatively local
context, I think he can continue to have a vital role in
sharing his music with musicians from many parts. Paddy's
ability to express his musical knowledge in language is not
the best, but the tunes he has composed and the way he plays
these tunes more than make up for any verbal deficiency.
Musical eloquence is what others can learn from him.
Paddy's comment, quoted previously, about television ruining
the different styles, (Speech transcriptions: 4), is echoed
in the remarks made some years ago by Leitrim fiddler Ben

Lennon when he contrasted the pre-television era with today:
You see television has taken the secret away from

everything. I can remember hearing about some man who
plays the fiddle. Some day you say I must go and hear
him after a few years. And eventually one day you meet
him •.. There was another man in another direction and
it was a great journey to meet him and play with him.
With television now all this is exposed and there is
nothing left. The mystery is gone. The element of
surprise in meeting a musician is gone. Everybody has
heard everything. There is nothing new or mysterious
left. (Mac Aoidh)
In effect, Paddy Fahey's refusal to appear on television, at
concerts or at various other public events (his attitude

being 11 I'd sooner be playing in some pub ") has actually
succeeded in maintaining a sense of mystery about both the
151
man and his music. Not only has he retained something of
the old style, he ~eems determined to retain also the way
the music was passed on. One could bump into Paddy Fahey at
a good session in East Galway, or even further afield, and
he just might play a tune or perhaps even two. To really
discover his music, however, you have to seek it and him out
for yourself. If you go to Kilconnell, he will possibly be
'gone to the mart' or gone way up the fields out of reach,
but either way he is not very far away and as Ben Lennon
might say, "eventually one day you will meet him" and there
is too the "element of surprise" in discovering that he is a
naturally courteous individual who will most definitely give
you at least the time of day.
I n emphasising F ahey' s particular contribution to Eas"t
Galway music and i n suggesting him as 'the voice of East
Galway', I might seem to disregard the tremendous
significance of scores of musicians in parishes allover
East Galway. In reality, he is one voice of East Galway
among all the others. While recognising that certain
individuals are more prominent in terms of drawing attention
to a style, I am also conscious of the opinion expressed by
Ben Lennon when he said:
I notice that there's a great tendency to talk about

one particular person in any field of the music and the
rest are the "also rans". They have no merits at all.
I think there is too much emphasis on that. In a lot
of people's minds there is just one man and that's it.
I don't agree with that. (Mac Aoidh)
Neither do I, and ultimately the renewal or decline in East
Galway music rests with all of the musicians of the locality

152
as well as those from further af ield who in some way
identify or feel an affinity with the style. The role of
younger musicians has special significance in the breathing

of life and energy into East Galway music, and indeed
innovation is a necessary part of musical renewal in all
eras. The disappearance of traditional styles is sometimes
regarded as an inevitable outcome of the modern-day

situation, but this does not have to be the case. Instead,
we may experience the rejuvenation of traditional styles.
Although Fahey is but one musician in a community, his voice
J.s very significant in terms of such an effort in East
Galway, be it conscious or unconscious. He is a vital link
in ensuring continuity with the past and in helping to
strengthen the likelihood that the musical experience and
aesthetic of this region will live on for future
generations . In his collection of tune compositions Paddy
has managed to distil some of the character of his people
and place. He also seems to have been success ful in
achieving a necessary balance between continuity and change,
tradition and innovation. He has not changed too much, but
neither has he changed too little. Had he not made some
significant individual contribution, he could not be
regarded as a leader. While his tunes constitute the
greatest part of his contribution, his compositions and his
manner of performance are so much one that as mentioned
earlier it is not unreasonable to suggest that a musician
who chooses to play a Fahey composition will also be
expressing something of the East Galway style.
153
In terms of the possible, or even probable, renewal of East
Galway music at some time in the future, the most important
feature of this work has been the putting together of the
complete collection of Paddy Fahey's tune compositions. The
absorption and assimilation of a tune into the tradition at
large depends on the existence and availability of a source
of transmission. The composer is the original source from
whom others may stem. When a tune is recorded by a
performing artist, or written down and published in a
printed collection, a permanent source is created and the
tune may become accessible to all. As I discovered when
compiling a list of such sources for Paddy Fahey's music,
the material presently available in either format
constitutes approximately 25 percent of the total Fahey
repertoire. The fact that this is relatively low has been
Paddy's own decision as many musicians over the years have

tried to learn and collect more of his music from him with
little satisfaction. Mostly, the known tunes were learned

and played by Paddy's friends, and the dissemination and
assimilation of these compositions into the repertoire of

traditional musicians throughout Ireland and elsewhere must
be attributed not to the composer himself but rather to
other more high-profile performers. East Galway musicians,

such as flute player Paddy Carty and accordion player Joe
Burke, were to a large extent responsible for introducing

Fahey's tunes to the tradition. While Paddy Fahey may yet
get around to making a long overdue recording of his music,
it is hoped also that the publication of his tunes will make
154
his music available to all who wish to seek him out, and not
just those who can make their way to East Galway. It
remains to be seen if the many tunes yet unknown in the
tradition will attract the same degree of admiration as
those others already assimilated into the popular
repertoire. Personally, I am confident that the creative
voices of Paddy Fahey and the many other musicians in the
region and further afield, who share a distinctively 'East
Galway' approach to Irish traditional music, are strong
enough to ensure that its essence will linger long after any
individual's lifetime.
The American composer Elmer Bernstein was speaking about
Irish traditional music when he said:
That kind of stuff I think comes directly from life ...

that kind of music springs directly uncensored from the
soul of the people ... it has no intellect that says
I'd better do this or I'd better do that; it's soul
music if you like. (O'Connor, 1991, 9)
The music of East Galway is soul music too. It is a

thoughtful music that can be imbued with a lot of feeling.
Such music comes from faithful tradition and the personal
contributions of its members. As one such member, Paddy

Fahey has contributed to the music of his local tradition,
imbuing it not only with feeling but also with renewed
vitality. Fahey is by no means alone in his field but
deserves recognition as an essential element in the musical

melting pot that is East Galway today. 'East Galway music:
renewal or decline?' The flame is not yet quenched. There
is every chance that it will burn brightly in the future.
155
Chapter Four
Pitches and Performances
-
This final chapter examines some aspects of the products of
Paddy Fahey's compositional process. Since my initial
visits to Kilconnell almost five years ago, Paddy has
continued to be a regular visitor to my home in Abbey. On
most of these occasions we have a tape recorder on standby
to capture a new tune or perhaps some variation that is new
to me. Recordings of numerous performances by the composer
of his original tune compositions have thus accumulated over
the years and many of these were transcribed in the process

..
of this work. In the case of each tune, at least one full
round of 32 bars is notated in the Appendix. Where the

parts of a tune are normally not repeated, two 16-bar rounds
appear. As noted previously, Paddy has developed slight
melodic variations for some of his tunes. These he
incorporates into subsequent rounds of the performance of a
tune since the first round always features the original tune
setting. I have included further rounds of such tunes as
appropriate. The complete auditory parameter of music
cannot, however, be represented realistically on paper and
the written presentation of these tunes does not reflect the

intricate nuances of duration and pitch which characterise
the composer's musical expression in performance. Such
features are best appreciated by listening to the
156
accompanying cassette of Paddy' s fiddle-playing which
includes a performance of each one of his 43 compositions.
The variable notes in Fahey's music created something of a
dilemma when it came to producing written models of the tune
compositions because Paddy is not always consistent in his
playing of these pitches. There is not necessarily a right
or wrong way of interpreting these notes. Certainly their
expression is linked to mood and on an instrument such as
the fiddle it is often on those ambiguous notes which hover
between major and minor that the finger rests. Since,
however, each written transcription presented in the
Appendix was played for Paddy on the piano and adjusted
where necessary according to his ear, the pitches written
may be taken as encompassing the sound he would most favour.
A ' *' symbol is placed over those variable notes in the
transcriptions where Paddy's preferred pitch fell 'between'
the notes available on the piano.
Creating new shapes in familiar forms
The previous chapter concluded that the music of Paddy Fahey
expresses an East Galway musical aesthetic. It maintained
that Fahey has succeeded in being distinctive without
actually deviating from the traditional expectations of his
local musical community. The section 'Tradition and change'

in the opening chapter emphasised that although our music is
157
l.n a constant state of evolution, there are certain
parameters which almost always are observed. For Paddy
Fahey, the composition of an original tune entails selecting
and putting together a new arrangement of pitches and
moulding these new melodic shapes into the traditional form,
be it a reel, a jig or a hornpipe. The heading 'Creating
new shapes in familiar forms' was chosen because it
recognises that the structural aspect of Fahey's music is
completely traditional and remains constant throughout his
original repertoire of tunes. The basic format of a new
composition is always predetermined and Fahey allows himself
,no flexibility in this regard. Never deviating from the
established metrical and structural layout of Irish dance
music, he always preserves the traditional tune layout of an
eight-bar first part, which constitutes the 'tune', followed
by a contrasting eight-bar second part commonly called the

'turn of the tune'. This would give a 16 bar 'round ' .
Usually, but not always, each 8-bar part is doubled which
creates a 32-bar 'round'.
When I spoke to Paddy of the manner in which the Dublin
fiddle-player Tommie Potts used to disregard on occasion the
formal restriction of the eight-bar part, in his individual
settings of traditional tunes, (0 Suilleabhain, 1987) Paddy
was quite nonplused. He expressed the view that if one is
to go beyond the fundamental structure of the dance, the

possibilities would be absolutely infinite. He did not give
his approval, indicating that the whole challenge is to be
158
creative and original within what is ultimately a very
simple and binding . set format. We will note shortly that
Fahey's treatment of melodic form, wi thin the fixed
structure of the eight-bar part, is not always predictable.
It would seem, however, that the strict dance tune format
provides a necessary solid framework in his subconscious
within which he is free to explore the more subtle aspects
of melodic structure.
So how do the new shapes come about? In composition,
Paddy's initial concern is to discover a new melodic idea.
This motif becomes the focus or nucleus in terms of the
subsequent development of two contrasting eight-bar ' parts'.
He explores the various offshoots of this initial melodic
seed through the process of improvisation. .~s he says

himself, he continues to "fiddle about on the fiddle" until
he comes upon what feels right. What is it that makes one

arrangement of pitches feel 'right' and another less so?
From listening to him over the years, there are two vital
considerations which seem to guide Fahey's compositional
process. One is tunefulness, the other is unity.
Although tunefulness and unity are considered in more or

less equal depth by the composer, we will look at the latter
aspect first insofar as it relates to the form of a tune and
the layout of each melodic phrase. The importance of unity

first came to the fore when I asked Paddy if there are any
rules for creating a new tune. His immediate reply was "No
159
rules, no rules in the world". (Speech transcriptions: 14)
There must be certain conventions to be observed, I argued,
if only the basic principle of having exactly eight bars in
each part, something so fundamental that Paddy didn't
consider it worth mentioning. He quickly agreed,
elaborating as follows:
Oh it has to have, that's right, and you have to have

the bars in the way they'll suit each other, and the
finish to suit the .•. you've to finish to suit the
beginning of the first. There's a lot of things there
now alright that's in it. You have to come back on the
right - finish on the right note in the right place -
to be able to come into the first part again. I do it
out of my head and I don't see that there's that much
in it. I never think of anything. 'Comes automatic.
When pressed on the subject, therefore, Paddy makes it clear
that there are many subtle factors involved. Each little
section of a tune is determined with regard to how it will
sound as part of the whole. To the uninitiated such matters
are not at all obvious, but for Fahey it is an 'automatic',

subconscious, intuitive knowledge. The important thing is:
How it sounds. I never put it down on paper. 'Tis all

in how it sounds. No rules. Unless the ordinary rules
that go with reels and that. (Speech transcriptions: 41)
The "ordinary rules that go with reels and that", upon which
Fahey's compositional process is based, are the unsaid
internalised rules that are specific for the Irish dance
music tradition. Al though unspoken, these rules of
composition remain consistent among all tune composers.
They are applied practically unconsciously, in a natural
progression, to such an extent that they are not really

considered rules at all but intrinsic features that make the
160
music what it is. If these features were absent, one would
simply be composing a different type of music.
A musical composition is dispersed over a span of time, and
thus cannot be heard all at once. In order to make sense
of its formal structure, one listens not only to each
musical moment and each succeeding one, but simultaneously
one engages in constant unconscious recall of previous
moments, relating them to the current sound pattern. By
this process a piece of music is felt to possess both unity
and continuity. Since these attributes are vital to the
creation of a single musical entity, form in music is both
necessary and unavoidable. There are, of course, a number
of different structures in music, such that one should
always refer to the form of a specific variable rathey than
to form in general. A piece of music tends not to have _£
form but rather several conterminous types of form. The
form of a tune may, for example, be established with regard
to pitch succession or in terms of its intervallic content.
In this way, the relationships evident among certain
musical segments, such as cadential or opening phrases and
motifs, may be examined. The unity of a musical
composition depends on the way its parts are related to one
another or the manner in which each phrase is subsumed
within the whole. Within each of Fahey's compositions, the
smaller structural units are clearly the melodic phrase
and, on a more intimate level again, the melodic motif.
The process of integrating each melodic motif is an
161
intricate one. Paddy's primary instruction is that "you
have to have the bars in the way they'll suit each other".
It is interesting perhaps that Paddy mentions 'bars'. The
'bars' of a tune are essentially metrical divisions and
tend not to be musical entities in themselves. While it is
true that in dance music the recurring accent has a primary
importance, and this main accent coincides with the first
beat of the bar, I feel that the 'bars' function
particularly as visual symbols in a literate sense. The
traditional musician thinks in phrases, rather than in
bars, and for someone like Paddy Fahey, for whom literacy
is not to the fore, it seems most likely that his musical
u nits are those of the phrase, or motif.
It is important to note that Paddy has a variety of ways of
shaping his tunes in a formal sense and the comments made
by Breandan Breathnach regarding the vast body of
traditional tunes are very relevant in this context.
Breathnach emphasised that small segments or phrases are the
essential units in the make-up of each traditional tune:
With the exception of a score or so of tunes to which

special dances are performed, all these tunes share a
similar structure. Each consists of at least two
strains or parts of eight bars - there are no dance
tunes and only very few airs which have only one
strain. In the vast majority of tunes each part is
made up of two phrases. The common pattern is a single
phrase repeated with some slight modification, with the
phrases falling naturally into half-phrases of two bars
each. A basic element present alike in song and dance
music is exhibited in these half-phrases; the first
making, as it were, an assertion to which the second is
162
the response. The principle of contrast is present to
some extent even between the two phrases of a strain,
although as suggested the melodic differences, if any,
may be only slight. (Breathnach: 1977, 56)
We have already observed in a previous section the aspect of
'call and response' in Fahey's music. As Breathnach points
out, Irish traditional dance tunes usually consist of a
distinct four-bar pattern being practically repeated, with
some modification, to give a unified eight bars in the first
part. Similarly, the eight bars of the second part tend to
offer a four-bar phrase and a development of this in the
remaining four bars. While Fahey follows this basic
technique of tune construction in some of his pieces, others
exhibit greater variety and thus present a less predictable
melodic pattern. In order to demonstrate such structural
unity or diversity, as the case may be, I have drawn up a
simple table for each of Paddy's reel compositions. The
basic format of a traditiona_ tune could be represented by a
basic layout indicating the two distinct eight-bar parts;
ie. the 'tune' and the 'turn of the tune'. Each part tends
to divide naturally into two phrases each of which usually
approximates to four bars of the music. Each phrase may

subdivide further into two shorter sections. For example:
Main phrases Sub-phrases

First part: 'A' phrase a + b
'A' phrase modified a mod + b mod
Second part: 'B' phrase c + d

'B' phrase modified c mod + d mod
Al though the above is a hypothetical example, many
traditional dance tunes do follow this exact structure.
163
There are, however, numerous ways of shaping a tune and when
a composer is concerned with unity i t is likely that, for
example, some motivic material from one phrase will recur
somewhere else. The structure of each one of Paddy's 29
reel compositions is represented in the following pages
after the brief explanatory notes below.
The capital letters A, B, C, D indicate the main phrases and
together describe the basic form of the tune. Lower case
letters, a,b,c,d,e,f,g as appropriate, indicate the sub-
phrases and help to illustrate the recurrence of certain
motifs at different points in the tune. Some material from
a previous phrase may be integrated into a new phrase and
such correspondences are also shown where notable. The
letter "v" after one of the letters above signifies that the
phrase is repeated but with some variation. The letter HZ"
is used instead of "v" where the modification arises from
the need to create a sense of closure at the end of a part.
Thus "z" is only indicated if a melodic phrase comes to a
definite end and the final motif is not a linking figure
into the next part. In the left-hand column of the tables I
have included some further information to which I wish to
refer at a later stage. This includes the tonal centre of
each tune as well as a reference to the variable notes which
the composer-performer incorporates during the course of
each particular tune. I also indicate whether the 'parts'
of the tune are repeated ('doubled'), or played singly.
164
Reel 1 A a + b
doubled A a + b
D tonic
with variable 7th B c + cv
and variable 3rd CIA dlb + a
Reel 2 A a + b
doubled Av a + c
C tonic
with variable 7th B d + e
and variable 4th Bv d + f
Reel 3 A a + b
doubled A a + biz
G tonic
with variable 7th B c + d
Bv cv + e/z
Reel 4 A a + alb
singled Av a + c
G tonic
with variable 7th B d + dv
Bv d + fie
Reel 5 A a T av
doubled B b + c
G tonic
with variable 3rd C d + e
DIB f + c
Reel 6 A a + b
doubled Av av + bv
G tonic
with variable 3rd B c + d
and variable. 7th Bv cv + f
Reel 7 A a + av
singled B b + c
C tonic
with variable 7th C d + e
and variable 4th D f + g
Reel 8 A a + alb
singled Av cia + av/z
C or D
with variable 7th B d + elb
Bv dv + f
165
Reel 9 A a + b
doubled A a + b
G tonic
with variable 3rd, B c + d
var.7th and var.4th Bv cv + dv
Reel 10 A a + b
doubled A a + b
G tonic
with variable 7th B c + c/d
and variable 4th Bv e + f
Reel 11 A a + b
doubled B a/c + d
G tonic
with variable 7th c e + f
and variable 4th C/D ev + g/d
Reel 12 A a + b
doubled Av av + biz
D tonic
with variable 7th B d + e/bv
Bv d + f/z
Reel 13 A a .,.. b
doubled Av a + biz
C tonic
Bv e/c + f
Reel 14 A a + b
doubled B a/c + d
D tonic
with variable 7th C e + f
Cv e + g/z
Reel 15 A a + alb
singled Av a + a/bv
G tonic
B c + d
Bv cm + alb
Reel 16 A a + b
doubled Av a + bv/z
A tonic
with variable 3rd B b/a/c+ d/c/e
Bv b/a/c+ d/c/b+z
166
Reel 17 A a + b
doubled Av cia + bid
D tonic
with variable 7th B e + fie
Bv ev + g
Reel 18 A a + b
doubled Av a + bv/z
G tonic
Bv c + d/z'
Reel 19 A a + b
doubled Av av + c
G tonic
and variable 4th Bv dv + flc
Reel 20 A a + b
doubled Av a + biz
C tonic
wi th variable 4th B cia + d
Bv e + f
Reel 21 A a + b
singled Av a + biz
D tonic
Bv c + d/z
Reel 22 A a + alb
singled Av av + alblz
G tonic
and variable 4th C d + f/bv
Reel 23 A a + av/b
singled Av av' + c/z
G tonic
with variable 3rd B d + dlz
Bv dv + elz
Reel 24 A a + b
singled Av a + bIz
G tonic
B c + dlb
Bv c + d
167
Reel 25 A a + b
singled Av cia + biz
C tonic
Bv d + biz
Reel 26 A a + alb
singled Av a + alblz
G tonic
B c + cld
C e + flz
Reel 27 A a + b
doubled Av a + biz
C tonic
and variable 4th C e + f
Reel 28 A a + av
singled Av a + b
C or D tonic
B bv + b
Bv bv + c
Reel 29 A a + b
singled Av a + biz
C tonic
and variable 3rd Bv d + av
What information may one gain from the above reference

tables? First of all, they illustrate the various
approaches to structural form that appear in the reel
compositions of Paddy Fahey. We see that, on the whole, his
approach is very consistent and very traditional. Once a
tune's distinct identity is set out in the opening "A"
phrase, the formal procedure becomes more developmental.

While some musicians I spoke to felt that ~here W~Q a low
deg r~e c~ ~epe~it~on in Fahey's tunes, we see that there is
168
some element of repetition in the first eight-bar part of
every reel, and only five reels have little or no repetition

of motifs in their second part. Such tunes, notably Reel ,
no.7 and Reel no.27, exhibit a greater diversity of melodic
ideas than we perhaps expect in traditional dance tunes, but
these tunes are the exceptions rather than the norm in the
Fahey repertoire. The fact that the cadential segments are
often the same in both parts of a tune is another
traditional feature. The table also confirms that this
composer follows traditional practice in giving motivic
automony to each part while at the same time including
subtle unifying elements by reiterating motifs from the

first part in the turn of the tune. An example of an
occasion where the opening phrase of a tune is employed
later in another context may be found in Reel no.l. The

return of the first half of the 'A' phrase at the end of the
turn works very well. Another example of this technique

appears in Reel no.20. (See illustration no.lO)
While it is true that the unity of a tune is based to some

extent on the reappearance of certain musical segments, this
is not the entire story. Phrases that are distinct from one
another in terms of their specific pitch content may be
related in other no less significant ways. There are more
intricate but no less logical ways of creating melodic unity
than those outlined by the simple tables above. I am
referring particularly to sequential patterns and melodic
contour in the tunes. These more subtle aspects are also
169
~ ~ .SJjdJ I CfdFrrr I rrrrrttF r .~iL ! :1
t~aerr irrr I Etff;W I err fur I crrrrttr !

~ r trJdJ] I F new... I tiJJj~
... ijEFr ::1
Illustration no.10: Example of phrase recurrence in Paddy

Fahey's Reel compositions.
170
stressed by the composer, the primary concern being
relativity rather than simple repetition, as Paddy notes:
You have to try to stick to the first, whatever you

start with like, it has to be all related to that.
That's the only advice I'd give now, try to stick to
the first. It's very hard to add on, to keep adding
on in the same ••• very hard to do it. Some of my
tunes now, I often wonder how I done it. But of
course it came automatic. But if I went in to do it,
like to say I'll do it this way or that way, I'd
never do it. 'Has to be automatic.
Connie O'Connell, another fiddler/composer echoed this vital
consideration expressed by Fahey, about having the different
parts of a tune relating to one another when he said
Well we'll say the first part would corne reasonably

fast. The second part, there'd be a bit of a delay
then. You know, where are you going to hit the second
part? Where are you going to hit the note and still
have the second part related to the first part? That
is the main delay. Once you hit your first notes then
in the second part you're away. You · know you'll either
finish it the same as you finished the first part or
else have some part in the centre, some phrase or
something, within the first and second part that are
the same, that's going to make it the one tune.
On the following page I have included some tune extracts
which demonstrate Fahey's competence at creating melodic
cohesion. (See illustration no.ll) There is a lot of lovely
detail of this nature in his music. Such melodic shapes
undoubtedly have a unifying role but they also contribute
greatly to the sense of 'tunefulness' alluded to earlier.
One of the characteristics of Fahey's local style is the
value it places on tunefulness, and the attempt to discover
a tuneful melody is at the heart of his creative process.
171
Paddy Fahe~.s Reel no.11 First part
I~:~ Jjl(r4S 1autcctr I 4J4SCfE

....
.
I ¢ffrrr i
contrast~ng contour .
~: Jj;fJW. f, IlJ?o~ I rHFfrcf I Ettrcrrr !I

Paddy Fahey's Reel no.12 First part
~; jjj 2rrrr I rfrrfrrf I frfrr f I mrmo I

little details
~~~ JjJJr fl l F[rr[EIT I fEffler I .Q;gJJ~ I

Paddy Fahey ' s Ree l no.lS Second part
~.
;- ~..
=V ~ i
~cct.~.
c l ever contour
:¥~ ~ :~
Stim jjF~~. +
f
~ ~-
~~ SlftfF 1 Q(fWW I JJj ttl eEFrrrg
I II
Paddy Fahey's Reel no , 17 opening phrase of second part
~~ GRer I CQf[fJ I jcrf[rrr I CfaOd

Paddy Fahey's Reel no.22 First phrase of 'turn'
~&rrrf@r Iggrnw Iptrrtp 1%e[[rll

~
Illustration no.ll: Melodic cohesion and conto~r.
172
Paddy tells us: "I concentrate more on the tune, on the
melody". (Speech transcriptions, 4) He uses the term 'tune'
here, in the melodic sense, as one might say 'there's a

lovely tune to that reel'. On the occasions when he talks
about his music, and every time he plays his fiddle, it is
clear to the listener that his main concern is the flowing
melodic stream. He really feels and listens to the 'tune'.
Together, Paddy Fahey's tune compos i tions constitute a
corpus of single-line melodies. Any consideration of
harmonic accompaniment is not part of his creative

consciousness. The wonder of melody lies in the fact that
so much can be created from so little, yet the
resourcefulness necessary to create an original tune in
traditi onal style should not be underestimated,
particularly when one considers the countless tunes already
in existence. The element of originality in melody is rather
intangible in that it usually lies in mere detail. A new
melody does not have to be too different from existing
melodies in the traditional repertoire. Many ingredients
are familiar and yet there must be some element of novelty.
In endeavouring to ensure the newness of his tune

compositions, Fahey seems to follow his natural instincts
above all else. He recognises the challenge to be
distinctive as follows:
It wants to be away from everything else if you could.
Course I'm not sure if some of mine now aren't like
something else, you'd never know. I hear a good bit
now and I can't hear anything like them you know.
173
That's why it's very hard to get something completely
new, but isn't is marvellous what you can do with a few
notes? Eight or ten, isn't that all that's in it?
Course the more flats and sharps you have the more
notes you have. (Speech transcriptions: 24)
Paddy's acknowledgement that the more sharps and flats one
uses, the more notes one has to play around with is very
important. Indeed the musical feature that seems to be most
readily associated with Paddy Fahey's tunes, in the minds of
traditional musicians, is his tendency to presertt a note in
both its natural and sharpened or flattened forms within the
same tune. If one refers back to the tune tables (p.165-8)
the extent to which such variable notes are present in his
reel compositions is immediately apparent. Only four of
these tunes do not incorporate this intrinsic feature of
Paddy's compositional and performance style.
The fact that some musicians have commented that they could-
quite easily recognise a Paddy Fahey composition suggests

that there is indeed something distinctive about Fahey's
material. It is difficult to come up with the musical
evidence that would enable such an assertion considering the

vast number of tunes in the tradition at large. The fact
that people single out Paddy Fahey's music, however,
suggests that while other tune composers may also explore

the variable notes in similar ways, Fahey is particularly
consistent in this approach. Again the summary in the tune
tables would indicate the validity of such an assertion.
The next section, entitled 'Identifying significant motifs',

attempts to locate these particular elements in Fahey's
music which seem to contribute to the perception that he has
174
developed a certain musical language that is recognisable to
those familiar with his tunes. Certainly, I feel that the
distinctiveness associated with Paddy Fahey has much more to
do with the aspect of tunefulness than that of unity.
Before concluding this section it must be said that despite
Paddy's insistence that his compositional process is
"automatic", he seems to put a tremendous amount of care and
craft into each individual tune. Other fiddler-composers,
who described their compositional process, have indicated
that coming upon new shapes may be quite an instantaneous
process. For example, Eddie Kelly remarked to Stephen
Jardine that a new tune comes in a flash or not at all. His
opinion was that one cannot improve upon a tune one
composes, either it comes together properly at the very
beginning or it does not. Jardine noted that:
Eddie feels that the inspiration for a tune comes to

him quickly and it is just a matter of polishing up the
tune after that. He also feels that for the most part
no amount of extra effort results in anything much
worthwhile. (Jardine: 1981, 271)
Connie O'Connell also suggested that a relatively short
timeframe is involved when he said:
You don't get an idea at all. I don't have to think

about it .•. a new tune is something that can come out
of the blue, you're messing around probably with a
fiddle or doing something, and you'll hit a phrase of
notes, and you say, yeah this is probably a good start
and you work from there. I'd compose it in 10 minutes
or I wouldn't compose it at all.
Paddy Fahey seems to differ somewhat in the sense that he is
clearly prepared to take a lot of time and care to ensure

that he can get a new tune "just right". As he says:
175
It's very hard to get a start to a tune you know. It's
very hard to get started. If you do get started, you
can build you know. And then it's difficult to come up
with a completely new tune. You won't do it overnight
anyway. I'll guarantee you that. What happens me now
is I get an idea, maybe one bar or a bit of a bar, and
as time goes by then I elaborate on that. Might take a
month or maybe longer but you won't compose a new
one in just a night. (Speech transcriptions: 23)
While the majority of Irish traditional musicians probably
attempt to compose a least one tune, at some stage or other,
only a few will succeed in creating an original composition
of lasting value. A good tune is not easily constructed. I
asked Paddy if anyone can compose a new tune or does .

1.' ....
require special talent? His reply illustrates clearly that
he has a very real understanding of what sounds good.
Well I suppose anyone can. But I wouldn't say

everyone. It doesn't seem that way anyway! You'd
compose a kind of a thing. I hear them at them now and
you wouldn ' t know what they are. You know the last
part doesn't relate to the first or it's only kind of a
rigmarole, keep playing something you know and come
in at the end. I hear compositions now and they're
pure bloody make-ups .•. a bit of another tune in.
Composition has become a very natural process for Fahey.
There is no gimmickry involved. Most people for whom music
is a large part of their life develop categorisations about
what makes a good 'tune', even though they may not verbalise
this. Fahey's awareness of what sounds good is very acute
and very tasteful, and while he regards many newly-composed
tunes as contrived concoctions with little musical value or
beauty, he is full of praise for those other tunes which
satisfy his high standards of taste and design. His main
point is that it is not sufficient for a tune to be a random
arrangement of notes. It should have something of its own,
176
a unity of purpose that provides it with a certain
independent quality. It should speak to the player and
consequently, in performance, to the listener. It should
not be devoid of thought and feeling. As far as the
composer himself is concerned, it is what a tune does to you
or does for you that is the kernel of the matter. A good
tune is much more than the sum of its pitches. Paddy says:
What does it take to make a very good tune? 'Hard to

answer that. One you like anyway. Something that
turns you on, that's good. You'd get a reel now that'd
turn you on - that's perfect.
Identifying significant motifs
This section seeks to highlight the distinctive bits in
Paddy Fahey's music based on what others think they are, ·
what the composer himself thinks they relate to, and my own
conclusions. We have already noted that although Paddy is
regarded as being a maker of tunes that are recognisably his

own, the extent of his originality is very difficult to
ascertain precisely. There are probably few if any motifs
in Fahey's music that could not be located somewhere else,
if one examined a sufficient number of other tunes in the

tradition. The first question, therefore, is what exactly
do we mean by the term 'significant' motifs? Do we mean the
motifs that sound unusual? Perhaps, but apart from such
less common motifs we must remember that Fahey also utilises

a huge number of motifs and 'turns of phrase' that sound
177
completely familiar in the context of a traditional tune.
It is the shaping of such familiar motifs into new melodic
patterns that is original. In general, therefore, I wish to
emphasise that it is not my aim to demonstrate that Fahey's
music is remarkably different in the context of the
mainstream tradition. Certainly, there are surprises in his
tunes, especially for the musician or listener who is not
well versed in the nuances of East Galway style. At the
same time, his music presents nothing obscure, nothing seems
out of place. He recognised that his local tradition had
something special to offer and he could build on what was
already there because of his very familiarity with it. In
the following pages I will be highlighting examples of those
elements of surprise which put a Fahey 'stamp' on a tune.
The supposed proliferation of sharps and flats in Paddy's _
compos i tions is the feature most people allude to in
connection with his music. Since Fahey's exploitation of
the colour and contrast potential of the variable notes is a
tendency he shares with other East Galway performers and

composers, in itself it cannot be regarded as a trait
peculiar to the Kilconnell man. Some musical examples to
illustrate the frequency of this feature in his music are
listed overleaf as well as references to other similar

instances which may be located in the transcriptions. (See
illustration no.12) I have also chosen some extracts from
tunes composed by contemporaries of Fahey in East Galway
Which illustrate a similar approach. (See illustration nO.13)
178
Paddy Fahey ' s Reel no. 6; opening phrase of first part
Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 16; opening phrase of first part
:...~Jwp3 I rf[WH[r ! r[ftttt !
Paddy Fahey's Reel part
Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 20; closing phrase of second part
~ r Ufar I jjJJ r, DI rfPCrrCr ! rtsrrrr

Pa~Q'-'j-
'-< 7ahey's
- Ree- l •~o
... •• 2f n _ir..g ptr ase of f~ ~ 3~ po.
· ope' _ -_r-
~
•
nfrfrrr
Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 7; opening phrase of first part
~r njJJ] I~r ijJjJJ Ir ~ne I(tJJecrr

Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 9; opening phrase first part
Illustration no.12 Examples of different interpretations

of the v~riable notes within
individual Fahey tune compositions.
179
Tommy Coen's Reel; opening phrase of second part
I' ifF rffr I f £rCEV I We ifF l=cttr¢2 I

Eddie Kelly's Jig; first part
Eddie Kelly's Reel; final phrase of second part
~ddy Kelly's Reel; bars 1 to 32
~
.. - i JI I ' ~ ~! ,.
, ~ . ?~ ·~i
:] ? ~: · • ! . . i.~..~.~
' I ~~~~·
2Ft I' ·w; ?~ Et :'i
~: Fct[rrf I e EEf[rF Ibf dCf$ l~rEEfcrf
~~ FEE[[r[ I FEE[frr IEf nrcru I ;iJJ . 3

I
~i Dr 1JJJ I J tfCQf IqJ nJ)Jg IqJ nnw

Illustration no.13 : Examples of similar features in
tunes composed by other East Galway
musicians.
180
This group of fiddler-composers from East Galway demonstrate
a consistency in approach which may be regarded as
distinctive when placed in the context of the Irish
traditional music community as a whole. The tune extracts
quoted above illustrate their successful exploration of the
melodic potential of variable notes in Irish traditional
music, particularly the two most common of these, F and c.

Fahey's liB-flat job", to use his own expression, is the one
feature in his music that stands out somewhat when compared
to the tunes composed by the other musicians mentioned. His
development of this relatively personal musical trait has

helped to ensure the originality of his tunes while still
maintaining the musical aesthetic of his community. We may
recall his comment that a new tune "wants to be away from
everything else if you could" (Speech transcriptions: 24)

Referring to his tunes he says: "there's a B-flat nearly in
them all".(Speech transcriptions: 17) Although this is
quite an exagerration it is clear that he appreciates the

significance of this element in his music.
While the tune structure tables in the previous section

outlined the frequency with which motifs recur wi thin
individual Fahey tunes, we could also look for inter-
relationships that may exist between segments of different
tunes. This exploration was included in the search for the
significant motifs in Paddy's tunes due to the remarks made
by some musicians which implied that he tends to have the
same 'runs' in many of his compositions. This is another
181
perception which is open to questioning. When I asked Paddy
if he thought his cunes had something in common with each
other, he replied:
Something in common? I suppose they would too, ah they

have, nearly all the one run, but they're all
individuals even so ... there's none of them that
much alike I hope now. I never put them together you
know. This is the first time now I ever put them
together. I'd be playing them and forget a few of them
and play more of them and I'd come back to them again,
but I never - you know, there could be some of them
very much alike, though I don't think so.
Insofar as I am familiar with this corpus of tunes, I feel
that the correspondences between tunes are relatively few
and far between. I think that Paddy has been careful to
aVoid such possible repetition. The fact that he can
ac hieve such variety and yet express a simi l ar voice from
':U:1e t: o tune is a measure 0: hi.s c~eat':"ve abili. -:"-1, ?i. .dinc;
'~~e :ittle bi~s and piece s tha~ ?ahey puts i~~o a:l his
t nes ' as one musician expressed i.t, thus proved di.!:icult.
One can locat e certain linking segments tha~ recur in
different contexts and perhaps the most notable of these is
a brief descending motif which Fahey uses in various
transpositions as shown:
The f#-d-c-a descending motif (in G mode tunes)
The shape commencing on F r :J·

The ct-a-g-e descending motif (D mode tunes)
The same shape commencing on C 1&1 f J Jg

'"
The b-g-f-d descending motif (C mode tunes)
The same shape commencing on B
1$ £ j J ~
182
It must be said t hat this figuration is by no means special
t o Fahey ' s music. I t does, however, support t he po int made
in the opening chapter concerning the likelihood that a
mu sician would develop a certain range of standard mot ifs
wh ich he could draw upon in numerous situations. This
particular four-quaver motif begins on a high note, descends
by a third, then by a second, falling again an interval of a
third. It recurs in a considerable number of tunes as shown
overleaf. (See illustration no.14)
I have quoted earlier Conn i e 0 Connell ' s suggestion that
Fa hey ' s tunes are recogni sab l e also by his similar approac h
t o t une openi ngs a nd a ls o to t une endings. It so h appen s
t h at the recurring features noted a bove appe ar almost
exclusively at ~he end of a phr ase . The uniform approach

demons trated in suc h cl os ing p o sition s (See illustration
nO. 15) a n d a l so in some opening moti f s i s s i gn i fi cant t o a

degree but what seems more surprising is that, otherwise,
t here are not many overlapping ideas. Thus the melodic
variety of this music and the individual character of each
tune is ensured.
To recap I wish to return to the point stressed at the

outset that there is much in Fahey's compositional language
that is very familiar. We might note, for example, the
manner in which he incorporates smooth-flowing conjunct
passages into his tunes and contrasts such scale-like 'runs'
with passages in which he lays out the notes in what may be
183
The ft-d-c-a descending motif (in G mode tunes)
Reel nO.4; bars 3 and 4
IrfrfCr
f&= r r r r f r r F Ie f
Reel no.10; bars 11 and 12
..
r hI ~
~eel nO.18;
...
fin al segment
tm·
t:
• •
I
•
:.
Reel nO.19;
r
final segment
,~
tJ
r r~ r •
I t •
I •• j)
Reel nO.19; bars 11 and 12
~S r •
Ir r• r( r
Cr r J· EI II
Reel 19; bars 15 and 16
~~ r r r r r
Illustration no.14 A recurring motif
184
Final segment Reel no.6
i:: • .- • ,. .- • iI
: ,. :;it
it $
"
-
,. .- .-
j J
~
I I
;~
: ,.
: :r :J• G

- -• -
~ : •n
it
it
~ • • J
t,
- •
~
~ r
-J g
t,
: F F~ • I!
it
;
it ...-
1 ~
~ it ,. ~
II
,. I!
-; 1
...-
t, •
I
it
I!
• -5-
?::':l.a: segment R~lo.2
~9" ,. ,. ;. ,. ;
'- "
'E'i:la: segment Reel no.3
- -
• ,. •
T -5-
~- 1
\J
I
:3 ~ i
I
,.
~
I
it
•
J .... j ~
T oa:ooI
- -J J
~ ~ t ~
~.- I
J
41 it
•J
II
J
I !
\J

r ! :J
;- j J
~ t D F ~
r r 3 d :
Final segment
~ J J
tJ
~
F f I s: J J J j j J !I
Illustration no.1S Similar motifs at tune endings.
185
described as a chordal fashion. Although Paddy has no
theoretical knowledge of chords, it is interesting that in
almost everyone of his compositions he lays out chordal
configurations in a linear fashion. Arpeggio-style motifs
are frequent in hornpipes in the mainstream tradition and

examples of this technique in Fahey ' s music are shown
overleaf, particularly where they provide contrast to the
stepwise movement he also favours. (See illustration no.16)
It is also possible to point out a number of uncommon motifs
in Fahey's music which a traditional ear might be attempted
to adjust. A number of uncharacteristic leaps appear in
Fahey ' s music. (See illustration no.17) Paddy's performance
style is such, however, that these elements blend into the
melodic flow in a way that avoids the possibility of a ny
s=eat incongru~ty. I~ genera:, his tunes ~end to express

~is smooth p:aying style and such unusua:;':y GJ.sJu::cc-::
sections are rare . Indeed -::here are quite fetll examples ..
which require him to even p l ay across the strings on the

fiddle other than the extracts from Reels nO.16, no.18,
no.23 and no.27 as shown. (See illustration no.17)
Having looked at the significant distinctive motifs and the
- perhaps no less significant - common motifs in Paddy

Fahey's music, the next task is to look at what can happen
in performance. We move therefore, to the next section,
which examines the transformational processes that may take
place once the music goes from the composer and into the
hands and head and heart of the performer.
186
· Paddy Fahey ' s Reel no.3 opening phrase of second part
f'~ fEcRtQ pjr E! _ffer ! fErrftfi

I I !
1
Paddy Fahey ' s Ree l no.13 opening phrase of second part
f' craGiN I J?JJJj~J

5
~
Paddy Fahey's Ree l no.14
I~ I~
!
opening phrase of
~
LEFfeW !=Of I :P j
f i rs~t
.~ ~ o·
I I I
1$' J net£! I crag I JJjJJjJ: I ~;·Jjjl~
I
I
9 •
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.16 First part
f£ J)Jg Oft I IJjJj@ I rrrWEr[r I r[fcttr I

u
13
• --.-
...
t& ~J +....
-.J
IJ12 I ;JJ;i12 ! I'cU§ : ~ : jJn
.,
17 '" .....
?addy Fahe y ' s Ree l no . l! ope ning phras e of second par~
~:~
21
"rRePi oo[{- :[EeffLEr 'Y1t[{-
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.19 opening phrase of second part
~ ~ ~
cl *
@"
25
Eirrr I rrfrm I carr } I PEEFCQ; I ..
.
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.20 first part
~ J3JJJJJJ I J flJJJJ I [urU rt I rcrrcrrr I

29 •
~ J3JJjJJ] I J flJJJJ I [urcF[f I &oj II

Illustration no.16 Scale-like ' runs' contrasting wi th
arpe g gio-s~yle motifs.
187
Paddy Fahey ' s Reel no. 7 first part
rF[r !
Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 16 opening bars
~ J]JgJ2JW i JJj$l1
.. .
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.23 opening phrase of second part
Paddy FaheY~l no.27 opening phrase of second part
~ r tJL I frfr'4; II
Illustration no.17 Disjunct and crossing-strillg motifs.

188
Transforming the model
This section is concerned with the treatment of Fahey's
tunes in the post-compositional processes so central to our
tradition. Looking at the variations which Paddy and others
have developed for his tune compositions, allows us to
observe firstly, the elements that are susceptible to change
and secondly, how change is effected. On occasion, paddy
includes the different variations he has developed for one
of his tune compositions within a single performance. The
manner in which he differentiates between the main tune
model and a derivation of the original is interesting. 'As
indicated in the opening section of this chapter, he does
not generally award the same value to each. There is usually
an initial version which receives priority in performance.
Subsequent transformations are special in the context of the.
tune model having been played and heard at the outset.
Their role is to add contrast and interest to a performance.

I have included most of Paddy's melodic variations within my
written presentations of the compositions set out in the
appendix. Some of these variations, such as those examples I
have selected (See illustration no.18) have become part of
the tune and would thus be included in most performances,

The less distinct and more ornamental variations tend to be
introduced far more spontaneously, however, and are not
rigidly adhered to. When one begins to replace original
pitches in the melody with new ones, the model undergoes

real change. In comparison, the traditional technique of
189
Paddy Fahey's Reel no.4 ; bars 1 to 8
t_ - I
• • ••• • • • •
• •• !" ;
.........
t
•• • • ••• i •
! . I I '-
?addy Fahey's Reel no .4; b ars 1 to 8 (slight variation)
t:@~.
• I
~ .
r ~ ..
F, ••
I"
I
_
:- ...... _. . ... .~..
, ,. . ...
;:::
~h fljjJi
.
1 pratt! !Up... i ¢too
~ ijh )1 J)Jg]J3J 1rtc! Fer f I Qtj ttU
~tcEl;Jl rr I em Q I cera mf I E ~ijij
~e fref I OOtID i pErri I QtjJ j
Illustration no.1S Melodic variations by Paddy Fahey
190
ornamenting the melodic line is not really transformational
in that it normally implies adding rather than taking away.
Finger-rolling is an intrinsic feature of the East Galway
style and it is a natural occurrence in all of Paddy's
playing. His rolls usually flow on a long bow and do not
receive the rhythmic enunciation that is common in some
other fiddle styles. His ornamentation is always created at
the fingerboard, not with the bow. Contrasting with his
tendency to play full rolls on crotchets and dotted
crotchets, he sometimes leans on a long note, leaving it
completely bare, elongating the sound with a long bow.
Occasionally, he makes little triplet-like runs by including
a passing note between two pitches a third apart. Overall,
his style of embellishment does not impinge in any way upon
the melody, and has a purely decorative function. Indeed
his tunes are usually strong enough to sound good without-
ornamentation of any kind, whereas many traditional tunes
would sound uninteresting without sufficient ornamentation.

While I do illustrate some of Paddy's decorations in my
presentation of the tune models, the written notation does
not give a true representation of the sound. Often the
quick flick of a finger will not produce a clearly audible

note but rather a slight nuance of pitch which is certainly
perceptible but difficult to describe.
On the subject of ornamenting the melodic line, we may

return to an opinion expressed by Liz Carroll which I
referred to previously. She considers that there is
relatively little room for ornamentation and variation in
Fahey's compositions. The reason for this, she says, is
that they are 'so very full of notes', and if one moves away
from Paddy's original melody at all, there is the danger of
wandering too far. She feels that the 'tuqe' is already so
well structured that in adjusting any of the notes, one may
be changing too much. Noting also the relatively infrequent
incidence of repetition in Paddy's tunes, and the logic with
which he constructs each musical phrase, she suggests that
it is really very difficult to try to improve on what he has
done. If one wished to try, one would need to make a note-
by-note substitution ~nd actually change the shape of the
melody in some way. (Speech transcriptions:57) We have seen
that Paddy's own variations of his compositional models
illustrate this requirement and his talent as a composer is
evident also in these subtle performance transformations.
I also wish to draw attention to my transcriptions in the
Appendix of a performance of Fahey's Reel no.l by Eileen

Ivers and a setting of Paddy's Jig no.l by Martin Hayes.
While it is outside the scope of this work to investigate
such approaches to Fahey's music, these young musicians,
both well-known for their individual treatment of Irish
traditional music, exhibit an ability to find something in

Fahey's music which they can develop and make their own.
The point which seems to emerge from the comments of Carroll
and others is that one does not really want to change
Fahey's tunes. It may be that because they have been worked

out in particular detail by one musical mind, they possess a
certain logical unity that is difficult to tamper with.

This suggests, therefore, that the opportunity for wilful
manoeuvre and transformation, taken for granted in many
traditional tunes, is perceived as being less abundant in

Fahey's music. There is not, apparently, the same degree of
liberty to 'mess about' with ornamentation and rhythmic
variation. The density of the melody is such that the
performer must play all of the pitches if he is to create
the true sounds cape envisaged by the composer.
This leads us to the issue as to whether or not an original
tune setting, rendered by the composer in his own particular

style, has more validity and importance than any other
interpretation. Liz Carroll would suggest that it has

insofar as she expresses a wish to respect Paddy Fahey's
musical voice and intention. The manner in which he··
performs his compositions is, for her, a very conscious

consideration and she would be inclined to maintain this
approach in her own rendition. This attitude may relate to

her own role as a composer and the fact that she, like
Fahey, puts a great deal of her creative musical energies
into the composition of new tunes. In original composition,

she can give real life to her individual musical thought.
She is not the only musician, however, who finds it
difficult to separate Fahey's performances of his
compositions from the tunes themselves, an issue which will
receive further attention later. Such a close association
193
may indeed compromise a performer's ability to engage in
self-fulfilling transformation. The recurring point is that
while no one setting of a traditional tune is, necessarily,
more valid than another, a particular setting and
performance may be perceived as being 'better' by the
traditional music community or by an individual within that
community.
On a similar point I wish to refer to the concept of 'set
accented tones' as introduced by Micheal 0 Suilleabhain.
(O'Suilleabhain: 1987) His theory was based on the premise
that many changes can be introduced into a traditional tune
without disturbing the fundamental pattern which sets it
apart from all other tunes. This basic pattern of a tune
relates to its specific arrangement of accented pitches.
These pitches are vital to the tune's structure and contour
since they constitute the focal points of each melodic

segment. The improvisational and variational possibilities
inherent in the music tend to exist in the space surrounding
these set tones and rarely interfere with them. This idea
was later taken up by Marion McAuley who argued that to
observe only the accented tones is not sufficient to
preserve the character of a tune. (McAule: 1990) This stands

to reason in that if one maintains only the accented tones
of a tune, one eliminates much of the melody. While it
would be possible for tunes that are quite different in
other respects to share the same pattern of accented
pi tches, 0 Suilleabhain' s angle is that such tunes are
194
actually regarded in the tradition as variants of one
another. Al though it is true that a tune may contain
pitches other than those in an accented position which if
interfered with could cause the character of the tune to be
changed considerably, it is also the case that in many
simple traditional tunes the main thrust of the melody
comprises little else other than the accented pitches. The
unaccented notes are essentially 'filling-in' notes with
ornamental and rhythmic significance rather than melodic

significance.
Without disputing the set accented tones theory, therefore,
it must be said that in Fahey's case the 'filling-in' notes
seem to be 'fixed' to a greater degree than the 'filling-

in' notes in many traditional tunes generally. In much of
Paddy's music it is the complete melodic stream that is
important. Such tunes tend to be full of pitches that are
almost equally important in their contribution to the

melodic line. While the pitches that coincide with the
'accent' may be of greatest importance, one usually needs to
observe more than these particular tones.
It is important to take all of the above discussion into

account, but in reality of course, one is never restricted
to following the composer's voice. Indeed Paddy Fahey is
the first to acknowledge the necessity for musicians to
follow their own instincts with a tune. He says that it may
well be possible to improve a tune over time and this
195
attitude mirrors his acceptance that anyone may discover
another twist to a tune that will add a new dimension. He
respects the freedom that other performers have to adjust
his compositions to their liking. As far as he is

concerned, they may come up with something lovely and he
likes to hear others' renditions. While he gives no
instructions and places no restrictions, he will, however,
express his opinion on another's interpretation. As implied
in the previous chapter, his comments are not favourable in

every case but this is quite understandable considering the
level of perfection he demands of himself.
The most usual and easily executed variations on Fahey's
tunes involve what may be described, perhaps rather

dramatically, as the exploitation of the variable notes. It
is interesting that the aspect one can most play around wit~.
in the Fahey tunes is that of the variable notes and yet
doing this does not seem to take from the Fahey

'fingerprint'. On the contrary, it seems only to increase
the element of association with him and with his style.
In Irish traditional music, the most common variable notes

are the seventh degrees of the two most common keys, D major
and G major. By flattening the C sharp, or the F sharp, a
tune can gain a new colour and character. Players in the
East Galway style display an equal enthusiasm for the D
minor and G minor modes and as we have seen in the previous
section, Paddy Fahey's music is characterised by its
196
tendency to switch between the minor and major colour
palette within the same tune. This is made possible by
alternating the interpretation of the third degree of the
scale, that is the F sharp or F natural in the D mode and
the B flat or B natural in the G mode. The B flat pitch
which features in the D minor and G minor modes is
relatively unusual in Irish traditional music. In effect it
becomes another variable note and consequently, in those
compositions where Paddy Fahey does his "B-flat job", he may
have as many as three variable notes to play around with.
In the context of most traditional tunes, one cannot just
flatten the third or seventh at random. Often such a move
would sound out of character. Fahey's tunes are constructed
in such a way, however, that this potential is nearly always
present. One can choose either the major or minor mode or a
mixture of both and the tune can still sound well. A Fahey
tune composed in G minor can often sound perfectly 'right'
in G major also. The B-flat pitch is the variable one in

this context and enables one to alternate between major and
minor during the course of a performance. Paddy's
preference is for the latter and he regularly combines the
different expressions of the variable notes thus extending
his scale of pitches. When a Fahey tune enters the

tradition at large, the distinctive key and mood tends to be
retained, but this is not necessarily always the case.
As outlined in the earlier section on 'Tradition and
change', re-creation of a tune may be the result of a
197
tradi tional musician's natural propensity to introduce
variation into his or her performance rather than a
determined effort to improve upon the original. It is
interesting to observe how some of Fahey's tune compositions
are recreated by other traditional players who have
assimilated them into their own personal repertoires.
Players of other instruments may adapt a Fahey tune in order
to execute it with greater ease, or perhaps to achieve a
certain compatibility with the tradition of playing their

instrument. In general, new settings of tunes in
traditional style are influenced by the instruments on which
they are arranged. Among the chief transformations that can
occur in this context is the transposition of a Fahey tune

into a key other than the one the composer favours. This
may arise when a player is more comfortable in the A minor
and E minor modes than those of G minor and D minor ~
Similarly a musician might prefer to transpose a tune from C

to the more common D major key. Such an apparently simple
and logical move may, however, have a knock-on effect in
terms of transforming the original model.
The matter of transposing a Fahey tune up a tone is not

necessarily a simple abstract exercise, at least not if one
follows the composer's example. Why should he emphasise
"the B flat job" if he did not have a special feeling for
this pitch? One may well ask why the B-flat pitch should be
more significant for Paddy Fahey than say the C natural. He
may relate to the actual pitch level of the B-flat note, a
198
difficult concept to explain but not improbable. Another
reason, perhaps more easily understood, has to do with the
physiology of the hand on the instrument itself. When the
same finger lands on the same note all the time a certain
relationship and association develops. There may thus be

some intimate connection between his musical thought and the
physical shaping of the hand. There is also the fact that
Fahey's music is so linked to the idiom of the instrument
itself. It is indeed born out of the fiddle.
In any case, playing in a different key does make a
difference. Reference was made briefly in the previous
chapter to the relationship between the key of a tune and
the tempo at which it might be best expressed, a matter
which receives further attention later. A change to a more
common key often signals an increase in tempo. While one
might suggest that the fingers are more agile in the most
common patterns, the fact that a change of key can affect
the emotional character of a tune seems most relevant. The

other factor concerns whether one would alter the actual
arrangement of notes in the new key. This may happen either
to make the melody easier to play in the new key or perhaps
the original arrangement just does not sound 'right' in

another key. If one decided to treat a variable note
differently in the new key, the modal nature of the original
might not be maintained. The slight changes Paddy implements
when transposing his Reel no.8 from the key of C to D may be
observed in the relevant tune transcriptions in the Appendix
199
In conclusion, when a transcription is an illustration of
Fahey's own rendition of a tune, it may be regarded as a
' blueprint' for that composition. My preference for the

term 'model' stems from the fact that Fahey is as likely to
ornament and vary his tunes, as a matter of course, as are
other musicians who endeavour to exert their particular
influence on one of his compositions. Due to the ongoing
creative process of the traditional musician, all written
accounts of this repertoire are descriptive in nature rather
than being prescriptive. While Fahey's 'model' does remain
constant in most respects from one performance to another,
all of the tunes a~e open to changes of various degrees of
subtlety. Such subtle changes relate largely, however, to
aspects of interpretation more relevant to the next
discussion which is entitled "Rhythm and Blues". The
attempt to identify new shapes and to isolate what seem to

be the most significant motifs in Fahey's music has dwelled
necessarily on the arrangement of notes in each tune.

Equally relevant, however, particularly since we are dealing
with the performer-as-creator, are the aspects of temporal
and emotive expression. If one listens to recordings of

Fahey compositions performed by other musicians, a list of
which is provided in the discography, one can hear many

interpretations. The main difference, however, may be not
so much in the arrangement of notes as in the playing style
of the individual. Different emotional attitudes to the
music and different playing techniques can have a huge
effect on the process and product of a performance.
200
Rhythm and blues
In this final section I wish to consider Fahey's approach to

both the temporal and the emotional aspects of music. My
use of the musical term "Rhythm and blues" which is commonly
associated with the Afro-American soul-music tradition is
not signif icant in that context. The wordplay seemed

appropriate, however, as a means of establishing what I feel
is an important link between Fahey's approach to rhythm and
the depth of emotion inherent in his compositions. Earlier
in this work I have alluded to the fact that Paddy's style
of playing is more fluid than rhythmic. We note also that
although his music originated as a dance music form, it is
not normally played for dancers. It is lis~ening music
rather than music for dancing to. The melancholy mood which
prevails in some of his music has also been introduced. In
the third chapter we noted that East Galway music is
associated with a slow relaxed pace that is very distinctive
when compared, for example, to the Ii vlier and more
aggressive approaches one would generally encounter in the
Sligo and Donegal tradi tions respectively. Fahey's

predilection for the emotive atmosphere created by his
handling of modality is enhanced by the manner in which he
expresses time. The latter implies not only the tempo at
which he plays the tunes but also the specific duration of

particular notes which creates what people might call the
'lift' or 'lilt' in the music.
201
As someone who has developed a personal relationship with
the style of music particular to Paddy Fahey and his
contemporaries, Liam Lewis feels that East Galway style is
not simply a matter of slowing down the tempo, rather it is
the whole approach to expressing rhythm that is very
different.
That kind of lonely thing, and more importantly, very

laid back, the speed is slow. I mean all Fahey's tunes
are played slow at least when Fahey's playing them, but
that's not to say that Paddy Carty plays slow, I mean
he used to play very fast but at the same time
preserved the East Galway stamp on his music. It's not
just speed, it's rhythm. (Speech transcriptions: 90)
When pressed as to how exactly the rhythm is different he
says that "the metre of a tune is toned down". In other

words, the approach to the music is less regimental and an
element of human choice and sensitivity enters in. The
relationship between durations, even that of microseconds,
is of immense significance in terms of the effect which the
music can have on us. Humming the opening bars of ' Paddy
Fahey's Reel no.l' whilst accenting the main pulses, Liam

noted that one could perform this tune in such a 'stressed'
fashion. In contrast, the East Galway manner would be an
almost complete 'flow'. This fluidity is more related to
one's manner of articulating and phrasing the music than to

the speed of the playing. Liam commented that sometimes
when flute player Paddy Carty plays
It's like a 'blur' but it still has the metre, as if he

played it ten times as slow. I mean it's the rhythm
more than the speed. (Speech transcriptions: 90)
The difficulties of verbalising things musical are even more

apparent when it comes to matters concerning rhythm, metre,
202
timing, beat, stress, etc. Often we do not have a clear
understanding of each term's specific usage. Perhaps it is
because we can easily talk about slow versus fast playing,
that the aspect of speed or tempo can sometimes attract
undue emphasis. I agree with Lewis that the East Galway
style is to do with "the rhythm more than the speed" but
what exactly does this mean? Let us look firstly, however,
at the speed variable before approaching the issue of
'toning down' the metre.
Tempo is, or at least used to be, one consideration in the
identification of regional styles and originally the speed
of playing in a particular area would have been determined
by the needs of the dancers, that is at the time when the
main purpose of music was to accompany dancing. Does this
indicate that the old-style of dancing in East Galway was a
more gentle activity than the modern style of today?
Fahey's evocation of a man dancing the old 'slow' reel seems

to suggest so and I think it true to say that the set-
dancing style of the older generation in the area is relaxed
and graceful in a manner that complements the musical
aesthetic associated with East Galway. While the music for

such dancing has great 'lift' it does not have the very
vibrant energy one sometimes hears at set-dancing sessions

in other parts of the country.
Paddy's own views regarding tempo were reinforced earlier by

those of other musicians who asserted that one needs to play
203
his tunes slowly in order to do justice to the music. Paddy
acknowledges, however, that some people who play his tunes
at a faster pace still manage to play them very well:
Well tempo now, not too fast; it depends if you're able

to play them. If you're able to play them you can play
them fast. I heard a few lads playing them now, I
forget who, they made a great job of them, played them
speedy you know. And knew how to play them, they could
speed them. (Speech transcriptions: 36)
It would seem true that a musician's choice of tempo is
influenced strongly by the type of emotion he or she wishes
to communicate in performance. We have noted also a
relationship between the tonality of a tune and the pace at
which it is played. Similarly, the process of 'shaping' or
articulating melody in a rhythmical or 'non-rhythmical ' way
i s affected by the mood one wishes to convey.
An interesti n g a n d relevant concept is that o f ' rhythm-in-
performance ' as described by David Waterhouse. He used it
t o indicate that "which makes distinctive the handling of a
particular metre within some musical culture".(Waterhouse:
1982,29) Under seven main headings he listed a total of
sixteen methods of expressing a metre. A note may be
accentuated, ornamented, lengthened, shortened, anticipated,
delayed, or a silence may occur before or after the note.
Each of these seven scenarios may occur on either a primary
beat or a secondary beat thus giving at least sixteen
options. These are the nuances which the written
transcriptions of Fahey's tunes do not even attempt to
demonstrate but which are an intrinsic aspect of stylish

traditional performance.
204
Paddy's rhythm-in-performance is an integral part of his
fiddle-playing. It is as difficult to articulate this vital
element of expressive timing in verbal terms as it is to
represent it visually. It is a matter of adding and
subtracting from the standard metrical durations in a most

subtle way. The tune models in the appendix indicate rhythm
that is strictly metrical, since the extent of such subtle
rhythmic expression as may occur can vary considerably from
one performance to another. It may be said, however, that
when playing alone without accompaniment, Paddy's renditions
of his tunes are not always metrical. The sense of feeling-
in-performance almost disallows the strict observance of
metre but still the metre maintains a strong underlying
presence. It is the same idea as that expressed above by

Lewis with respect to Carty's flute-playing: ~it's like a
blur but it still has the metre~. (Speech transcriptions:90)
The characteristic of Fahey's fiddle style most frequently

referred to is its fluidity which is attributed to his
flowing bow. An additional feature of personal style is the
occasional punctuation he achieves by making a sudden leap

with the bow. Liam Lewis described this Fahey technique as
~bow-slapping~. In general, Paddy likes to 'lean' on the
notes here and there but such unexpected lifts 'out of the
flow', so to speak, introduce an element of silence which
adds another dimension. The slight pause for attack also
creates rhythmic and dynamic accentuation. On the
accompanying tape, it is easy to hear such instances. It is
205
a relatively minor feature but stands out because Fahey's
bowing is otherwise so smooth.
The fact that rhythmic individuality rests largely with the
bow and bow-hand, means that bowing is one aspect used to
differentiate fiddle styles. In his book, Bowing styles in
Irish fiddle playing, David Lyth' s transcriptions of
traditional fiddle performances, which include bowing
indications, came about through his efforts to "understand
how the magical sound of Irish fiddle playing is actually
produced". (Lyth: 1981). In an introduction to Lyth's book,
the Leitrim fiddler Charlie Lennon stressed the magic in the
music of Sligo fiddlers Coleman, Morrison and Killoran:
When a musician tries to capture this music, however,

in order to play it, he finds often to his surprise,
that it is indeed ephemeral and almost impossible to
capture properly. (Lyth: 1981,I)
.,
The same could be said with respect to Paddy Fahey and the
East Galway style of fiddling. Paddy gives 'point ' to his
melodies in a manner that is very effective and quite

difficult for another musician to reproduce. He emphasises
that you cannot just run over the tunes, you have to "pull
them" here and there. This idea is similar to that of
'rubato' in Western art music.
Talking about Paddy Fahey's 'East Galway style' Connie

O'Connell remarked that:
You can't associate it with bowing because there are

flute players there as well, and they are still playing
in the same style. (Speech transcriptions:??)
In Keegan's study of flute style, the Clare flute-player
206
Seamus Mac Mathuna commented on the East Galway tradition as
exemplified in the playing of the Loughrea flute player
Paddy Carty, saying:
It is interesting that Paddy Carty's approach, which

was legato, not any great emphasis on rhythm you know,
came from the East Galway thing that previously had the
Maloney's, the Ballinakill approach, which was also
fairly legato and more interested in a nicely
ornamented melody rather than the kind of gutsy playing
(Keegan: 1992, 80)
Keegan noted that while East Galway flute-playing tends to

be thought of in terms of:
"long" phrasing, and, by association, little

articulation and emphasis, which is perhaps the most
evident factor when one listens to the commercial
recordings of East Galway flute players such as Paddy
Carty, Vincent Broderick and Charlie Coen ••• the
proposition that the phrases are long is harder to
uphold •.• The effect produced by the adherence to the
natural phrasing and the abandonment of the techniques
of articulation and emphasis is one of "smoothness"
which is part of the essence of East Galway flute
style. (Keegan: 1992, 81)
Similarly, it is the lack of bow articulation and emphasis
that transmits the feeling of 'liquid' music in Fahey's
playing. There is a smooth bowing style in the same way as
there is a smooth blowing style. The 'long bow' and the
'long blow' of East Galway music both exert the same effect
of 'toning down the rhythm'. The subtlety of Fahey's
rhythmic invention is achieved in one sense by his bowing
but because of his tendency to play with a long flowing bow,
his timing in the placing of his fingers to make the notes
is also paramount. His own comment is that:
Well, you want a certain number of notes to a bow like,

you don't want to bow with every note, 'twould spoil
them. You'd want to have a fairly long bow.
207
Paddy Fahey's fluid playing style sometimes seems to push
against the regularity of the round. In the more extreme
instances of this, the usually obvious structure of the
round becomes submerged. This is particularly evident in
his Reel no.24 which is constructed in such a way that the
move from one part into the next is almost imperceptible.
It took me a few months to discover where this tune began
and where it finished. Paddy did not seem to begin on the
first beat of a bar and he used to finish by coming back
into the opening bars of the first part. The illustration
overleaf shows my first transcription of this tune and then
the more 'correct' interpretation. This situation also
arose in relation to Paddy's Jig no.9. Again, Paddy's
phrasing-in-performance was such that my written layout on
f irst hearing the tune, was quite different to the eventual

model we agreed on after much playing and listening.
When examining the case for regarding Paddy Fahey as a voice

for East Galway music, we concluded that musicians such as
Fahey and Carty were among the most musically individual in

their communities. The fact is that these two musicians,
each closely associated with East Galway music, were quite

different. They did of course play together in an informal
setting but while it was always a novelty to hear two of the
most respected players in East Galway duet together, a
number of people have remarked that their music rarely
blended perfectly. Some went so far as to comment that they

would never have put Carty and Fahey playing together
208
First layout of Paddy Fahey's Reel no.24
il l rfffUP I frIrCitt I jJJi1Jg I j ~~flJ

:$; rfPF car I (rrr era I :t)Jj J jf I c' VLi.tF .~
i£~
~
t£f£F' DI EEtrrru \jJ$JlJJ IF EfEfg !
!
! @~ t£ffF' QI irurrrp IirfCPCCF I JJJJfl~

'ti
t. 1
Corrected layout of Paddy Fahey's Reel no,24
"I ~-
,
tV
tJ
J~Jj;ii i I'fWrOO• :~f~
! !!
--~
:rtFstr i ';.~.Q ..
~: JJjJfl~ I rtPfWl I rrfrEttr I1JJJJ jf I

~~ C' VEQr I cr:Uf' 0 I EECrcUr I dJ'JlJJ I
~j fFrFEQr I tcr1f' PIHucrer I tcapcrF I
~# jJjJflJ II
Illustration no.19 Submerging the round in Reel no.24
209
because the two musicians simply did not play 'together'.
The fact is that when you put two musicians who each have a
fluid unaccented style playing with each other, the usual
points of reference in terms of regular phrasing and
accentuation do not tend to line up together. This seems to
support the notion that this particular style of music is
definitely at its best when unaccompanied and solo.
Although I never broached the above issue with Paddy Fahey,
it came up recently when we listened to a 1976 recording of
himself and Carty playing together at a session in Loughrea.
Paddy remarked absently that he used to dread playing with
Paddy Carty at which I expressed surprise. While he greatly
admired his esteemed contemporary the matter of contention
appears to have been that of rhythmic phrasing. The two
musicians did not necessarily flow together because they
would each have had a different interpretation of the
melodic stream. A very large group of traditional musicians
can blend as one if they are all playing with the same sense
of motor rhythm. The internal driving force of the rhythm,
which may be given tangible external expression on
percussive instruments, will influence their execution of
the melody. Music played in the East Galway manner does
not, however, project that same pulsing rhythm.
While Fahey'S playing exhibits a sense of rhythmic flow that
almost belies the dance music origins of his style, one must
not confuse this characteristic with any notion of free
210
rhythm. His desire would be to play with exact unwavering
timing. The fact that he does not tend to succeed in this
is another matter. Conscious of his tendency to be carried
by the melody rather than be driven by the metre, Paddy much
prefers to perform when he is provided with a steady pulse
from some other source. He seems to feel less comfortable,
or at least less secure, when left completely to his own
devices. Referring to performance situations in the past,
he quite readily admits his insistence on having a driving
accompaniment to keep him on the straight and narrow, as it
were. This may even explain why Paddy was so often
reluctant to play in a solo capacity.
I needed the beat, I didn't give a damn what kind

it was! (Speech transcriptions: 37)
His desire to be provided with a relentless motor rhythm is
almost shocking considering the sensitive nature of his
music and the subtlety of expression it involves. While his
playing does not itself emphasise rhythm, a characteristic

he shares with other East Galway players, he really
appreciates being provided with a good steady "thump":
I find it very hard you know to play without the piano.

A bit of a ... a bit of a thump is great you know, the
rhythm. (Speech transcriptions: 37)
He is not concerned so much with having a stylistic harmonic
accompaniment or the use of sympathetic chords to complement

the emotive quality of the music. Indeed his seeking a
steady thump is apparently to avoid any tendency to be
swayed by this very aspect. The main requirement of a piano

accompanist is, incredibly, to act as a sort of colourful
drum! Paddy's instruction is:
211
(:
Pound away. Don't worry about keys or anything just
hammer away! (Speech transcriptions: 37)
The main role of the piano for Paddy is to make audible the
underlying pulse of the music. While in one sense it keeps
him in check it also provides him with something to push
against. It both drags him back and allows him freedom. At
home in Kilconnell, his wife Anne is invariably cajoled to
the piano. Perhaps if he had not always had such a helpful
accompanist he may have proceeded more in the direction
taken by Tommie Potts who effectively broke out of the
strict format imposed by the traditional round. It would
seem, however, that Fahey is not interested in exploring the
vast scope beyond this framework. An obvious starting point
for such a journey would perhaps be the composition of slow
airs. Although Paddy occasionally fiddles about with some
ideas that would suit a slow air, he has not yet succeeded
in freeing his voice within a looser structure than that of
the traditional dance tune. As far as he is concerned,

phrasing is always linked in with a specific metre. The
formal structure of the dance places a tune into a certain
space in time. The emotive content of Fahey's music,
however, is such that the temptation to drift away from the
dance metre does exist. His compositions are eminently

suitable for engaging in rubato and for experimenting with
different approaches to rhythm and tempo. The results of
such meanderings can be very pleasing in that his tunes are
strong and coherent enough to move beyond the traditional

structure. Paddy himself is not given to experimenting in
212
such a fashion. The fact that he has not explored even the
full complement of dance forms prevalent in the Irish
tradition is also notable perhaps. He chooses to remain
within the musical tradition of his community engaging the

dance metres he has been accustomed to since childhood. The
reel, the jig and the hornpipe are the forms he works with.
The irresistible rhythmic drive of Irish traditional dance
music tends to evoke a physical response, even in the most
sedentary audience. Some of paddy Fahey's original
compositions possess that type of inbuilt motor rhythm one
associates with dance music. Many of his compostions,
however, are listening tunes rather than dance tunes as
noted previously. The composer's own opinion is that these
tunes could be made good dance tunes if one increased the
tempo and played them in a manner suitable for dancing. He

acknowledges, however, that to do this would be to take from
the tunes themselves.
Such tunes sound best when poured out gently and they tend
to evoke more of an emotional response than a physical
reaction on the part of the listener. Does something lie

within the notes of these compositions or is this feeling
caused by playing the tunes in a certain manner? As
suggested in Chapter Three, the pitches chosen are to some

extent responsible. Ultimately, however, the creation of
feeling in music is in the hands and heart of the musician

performing the tune.
213
While Paddy's capacity to express sentiment in music is
something he seems to play down rather than emphasise, it
remains a strong characteristic of his style. Lewis notes:
The haunting and lonely sound of East Galway music,
that's been around an awful long time, most probably
before Paddy Fahey and Carty say, and what Paddy
Fahey did was just to develop that to his own personal
taste, with his own peculiar brand of 'eccentricities',
his own 'stamp', which includes, of course, his tunes
which have become part of East Galway music over the
past 40 years. (Speech transcriptions: 91)
As noted in the previous chapter, when people refer to East
Galway music, the characteristics to which they allude most
frequently are of an emotional nature. While descriptions
such as 'wistful', 'mournful', 'lonely', 'melancholy' are
perhaps exaggerated sometimes, this realm of expression has
been dwelled upon to a considerable extent in East Galway.
It seems to have been part of the communal consciousness
shared by Paddy Fahey's circle of musicians and it is indeed
relevant when related to Fahey ' s visual images of hard times
gone by and the lonesome sound of the piper's tune. This
emotional sense is something he successfully transmits in
his music. The intimate origins of traditional music are
often forgotten in the commercial environment of the present
day but such qualities are not easily eliminated in Fahey's
music, such is the craft of the composer.
The attribution of emotion producing qualities to music

conceived strictly as sound is one factor which contributes
to the core of assumptions in Western aesthetics. Although
music can be abstracted and regarded as an objective entity,
there is a tendency to credit sound itself with the ability
214
to move the emotions. For example, a song in a minor key is
sad and consequently can make the listener sad. Certain
kinds of music can be cheerful or pathetic or produce any
one of a number of other emotions. In other words, music by
itself is able to create emotions or something like emotions
and the emotion created is closely bound up to the cultural
aesthetic. The aesthetic person who is moved by art is
moved not by the context in which the art is perceived but
directly by the art itself.
In the context of Fahey's compositions as much as any other,
music may be described as a language of emotions. Fahey is
conscious of various visual images which convey to him a
certain mood. The transmission of such feeling to others is
not so straightforward since relationships between musical
intervals and human feelings are not universal. Paddy does
differentiate between happy tunes and sad tunes and he is
able to bring out these various nuances in his compositions.
He made an interesting point when he assured me that just
because his music might be sad in mood does not mean that he
was sad at the time of composition. Indeed he does not
necessarily associate with sadness in this sense at all.
His tunes are at some deep level related to thoughts and
images which he may never have verbalised or expressed in
any other way. Reid spoke of this idea that sadness in
music is not the same thing as 'life-sadness'.
Taking the example of music which is called (or

miscalled) 'sad', it does not appear to be true that
there is a projection of subjective feeling, fused, or
'suffused', into the music The so-called sadness of
215
( music is something quite new, which is not just an
existing feeling of sadness projected and fused in the
music. Sadness is a psychological life-condition and,
although, we certainly do apply the word to music, it
is not that kind of sadness which belongs to music;
life-sadness indeed with all its extra-musical
implications, is - at least in part - alien to the
enjoyment of pure music. The word 'sad' may have some
sort of relevance but it does not exactly fit even if
there be some underground connection with life-sadness.
The 'sadness' of the music is not like sadness in any
other sense, it is a new character, a concrete
character of the music itself, a musical character. It
is important to insist that it is a concrete character,
not some sort of extracted, or abstracted essence of
life-sadness which gets in. (Reid: 1969, 47)
Returning to my title "Rhythm and blues", it seems clear

that the melancholy ambience created by emphasising the
minor colour palette in music, and the style of rhythm-in-
performance which best expresses this emotive quality, are
complementary traits. When traditional musicians praise
Paddy Fahey, they commend equally his original tune
compositions and his style of playing the f iddle. Many
consider the two facets of the East Galway man ' s creativity
to be closely linked and this is indeed the case. Paddy's
tools of composition are not paper and pencil but fiddle and
bow. The following lines written by Yeats in his poem
'Among School Children' are for me an eloquent expression of
the intimate connection between the composer, the performer,
the tunes and the playing of the tunes.
o chestnut tree, great-rooted blossomer,
Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole?
o body swayed to music, 0 brightening glance,
How can we know the dancer from the dance?
216
In conclusion
The 'issues' tackled in this work have included those of
composition and improvisation, creation and re-creation,

tradition and change, and the role of the individual in a
musical community. Among some traditional musicians,
expressions of creative energy give rise not only to
individual settings of existing tunes but also to the
composition of new tunes. This dual creative .process re-
energises that traditional musician's repertoire on a

continual basis.
Although musician/composers in the Irish .tradition do not

usually articulate their creative process in verbal terms,
it is clear that they have a thorough knowledge of their
native musical style. This expertise evolves through years
of performance experiences and intelligent listening. The
I rules I observed in the performance and composition of
traditional music are internalised by means of a gradual
process of aural osmosis. The intui ti ve knowledge that
innovative players and tune composers possess is illustrated
in both their musical behaviour and their verbal comments.

They distinguish between those things in a tune which may be
altered or recombined and those features which define a
particular tune and therefore remain largely untouched. The
composer of tunes in traditional style seeks to be original
without being unduly different. He has a subtle
understanding of the important balance to be achieved
between the familiar and the new.
217
Individual settings of existing tunes emerge through a
process of variation which is occasionally improvisational
in nature. While such developments can occur spontaneously
in the midst of public performance, new tune settings tend
generally to be worked out and learned in a private context,
in much the same way as a composer would set about
composition. The composer engages in these same processes
in his attempts to seek out new ideas, but such initial
exploratory activity is, at least in Paddy Fahey's case,
followed up by detailed and thoughtful working out.

1
Irish traditional music has long been recognised as a solo
art form. While this understanding is justifiable, one
cannot be sure if the emphasis on the individual was a
continuous feature of our musical tradition or if it evolved
as a result of social conditions or pressures. In any case
one cannot deny the significance of the individual ' s
position within a musical community. One's sense of

community and indeed one's sense of place are important
factors in the context of traditional music. When John
Blacking remarked that he was "convinced that any creative
effort is the synthesis of an individual's responses to all

the good things that others have given him",(Blacking:1987)
he underlined the fact that each of us is influenced by many
experiences and inspired on many levels. We gain our
intuitive knowledge in and through our communities and can
then make our own personal contributions.
218
As a composer Paddy Fahey is fortunate in that his musical
steps have been very sure. The traditional tunes heard
throughout his childhood formed his musical mother tongue.
He knew and played all the music in the local traditional
repertoire long before he ever began to compose. This gave
him a thorough knowledge of all the characteristics of a
tune in traditional style and a real understanding of what
was required of him in terms of originality.
At present, 'East Galway style' tends to be perceived in
either of two ways. The term is used by some when referring
to an older tradition long past. Others associate it with a
development in more recent decades which may have grown out
of the older style. Paddy Fahey seems to satisfy both the
old and the new. Apart altogether from his desire to draw
images and sounds from the past, he seems to have held on to
and perhaps even ' saved' the essence of the old style. He
has maintained a pace and depth of feeling that is more in
touch with the past than with the ever faster tempos and
developments of today. One could venture to suggest that
this attitude has also been exemplified to some extent in
his practice of farming which he also carries out in the old
style. Although times have changed considerably, Paddy's
music seems to continue to epitomise his traditional
cuI tural identity. Apart from being an outlet for his
creative ability, music acts as a focus for the expression
of his visual, aural and sensory imagination. His memories
are of pipers, of a man dancing the old reel, and of an

environment of music-making long ago.
219
Fahey shows an awareness of the importance of many elements
which modern society seems to be losing sight of. His
tendency to dwell on the past, be it in daydreams or musical
imaginings, is not a lonesome or wasteful experience but
rather a creative and progressive exploration that
encourages him to voice inner feelings and correspondences.
As well as acknowledging the central place music occupies in
his life, he also recognises the fact that music can be
associ~ted with the place a person is at, physically and/or

psychologically, at any given time.
1
Of course, the context of Paddy Fahey sI learning and
consequent development of a personal repertoire is in marked

contrast to the current situation. Young musicians can now
b ecome very competent traditional players, withou t
experiencing that sense of belonging to a musical community
or that sense of place, both so evident in Fahey ' s
recollections. They do not necessarily come into contact

with older musicians in their native region or realise their
own vital role in forming the next link in the musical
tradition of their area. Paddy himself is very conscious of
the fact that the present generation of performers is

witnessing a collapse in regional styles. While it is true
that media coverage and the widespread availability of
recordings and printed music may have encouraged a move
towards common values and styles of performance in
traditional music, modern methods of communication have a

vital and necessary role in the contemporary tradition.
220
Paddy's personal opinion is that every musician must follow
his own inner voice and make his own choices. Asserting
without any misgiving that everyone should do one's own
thing, he expresses no fear that the local style might
decline completely. He does not advocate that others should
be guided by his style, or indeed that of anyone else in the
region, arguing that a style will live on if people like it
and choose to come to it in their own good time. Even when
it comes to defining what makes 'a good tune' Paddy's
attitude is whatever "turns you on", reminding us again of a
potentially infinite number of preferences.
It is evident from the comments quoted in this work that the
individuali ty of Paddy s
1 musical expression is both
recognised and admired within his own region and farther
afield. He is also generally regarded as being one of the
very best exponents of the East Galway style of playing.
The important factor with regard to his tune compositions

particularly, is that he has succeeded in being innovative
and original without ever actually deviating from the
musical aesthetic traditional to his locality. Even though
he has added something of himself he has not moved away from
where he is coming from. The features of his style which

may distinguish him from many musicians in the tradition at
large, are not really out of place when viewed in the East
Galway context. These characteristics are the very ones
implied when either of the descriptive terms 'Paddy Fahey'

or 'East Galway' are applied to musical style.
221
While a composer may not be bound by any rules whatsoever if
he is answerable only to his own musical desire, he is often
creating music for a specific audience or for inclusion in a
particular tradition. The more innovative aspects of his
imagination may thus be constrained in his effort to
accommodate the expectations and conditions of his social
and cultural environment. While acknowledging the communal
role insofar as it may influence musical decisions, it must
be said that the creative process rests, ultimately, with
the individual. The voice of the individual is evident in
1 every musician's particular conception of a traditional tune
and it is the subtle transformations which result that
highlight the importance of idiolect over dialect.
Examining the formal construction of the tunes in the final
chapter allowed us to observe their structural unity as well
as the degree of variety achieved. Paddy's remark that a
new tune "wants to be away from everything else if you

could" shows his awareness of both the need for originality
and the difficulties encountered when one attempts to
realise this ambition. By and large, his own endeavours
have been successful in this respect and yet there is much

in his music that is quite typical of traditional dance
tunes generally. There is another side to his creativity,
however, that gains him special recognition, namely his
ability to express feeling in music. Other musicians speak
of the emotional intensity his tune compositions manage to

capture because of the particular choice and arrangement of
222
pitches. Allied to this is his ability to transmit a
certain mood in performance.
Again we may wonder at what lies ahead. One possibility for
the future is that the Irish perception of composers and
composition may change. Current trends indicate that the
prominence awarded traditional composers is set to increase.
The notion of respecting the aesthetic, style and wishes of
the composer is a consciousness that may become a part of
Irish music as more and more composers have their tune
collections published and many previously anonymous tunes
are acknowledged as having ~n individual author who came
from a particular musical region and community.
On a more speci f i c point, i t is interesting to n ote Frankie

Gavin ' s comment that Paddy Fahey is the one l ivi ng mus i cian
who is capable of saving East Galway music. While this

opinion is undoubtedly something of an exaggeration it is
nevertheless understandable. The sleevenotes of an album
made more than twenty years ago bemoaned the fact that thus
far Galway music had "no pioneers or immortal champions" but
looked forward to this situation being redressed shortly

wi th the playing of Paddy Fahey which would "soon be
available on a forthcoming Shanachie LP". (Collins) Not
surprisingly, due to Paddy's reticence at that time, this
recording never took place. Now that the tunes and his
playing style have at last been recorded, many years on,
there is a need for a compilation of both audio and written
223
I
~
material to present this collection to the traditional music
community at large. Paddy wishes sincerely to make a
recording of his music in the near future and to have his
tune compositions published. Regardless, however, of when
this next stage is reached, one truth remains. Paddy
Fahey's music, by virtue both of its simplicity and its
depth, has a timeless quality that, like every good tune in
the tradition, will long outlive its composer.
As a final thought I wish to quote an extract from Victor
Zuckerkandl's book entitled "Man the Musician" which
emphasises the fact, so often expressed by John Blacking,
that music is an essential attribute of the human species
and as such should be the concern of all, not just a
privileged elite. In his childhood, Paddy Fahey experienced
an environment where music was as natural as breathing.
The wholeness of this experience bestowed on him a belief in
his own musicality that has remained with him ever since.
As legend has it, music was a gift of a god to mankind.

What this means is quite clear. It could not have been
that a god intoned a song for people to sing after him.
Gods do not give in this way, from the outside. A
god's gift comes from the inside; he opens men's hearts
and unseals their lips. Another legend is even clearer
on this point: men first raised their voices in song
~hen they witnessed the death of a divinely beautiful
young hero. At the beginning, music comes from men,
not to them - or, rather, also to them but on the
rebound. The singer or player cannot help hearing what
he sings or plays: the circle must be closed. Here the
notion of a confrontation between listener and work
makes no sense. Music is both the gift and the giving,
the musician both giver and recipient.
(Zuckerkandl: 1973, 12)
224
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Continents, 2nd Ed, Prentice Hall, New Jersey.
(1974) "Thoughts on Improvisation: A comparative
Approach" ,The Musical Quarterly Vol.LX, pp.1-19.
(1976) Folk Music in the United States, an introduction,
Wayne State University Press, Detroit.
(1982) "Types of Tradition and Transmission", Cross
Cultural perspectives on Music, edited by R.Falck
and T.Rice, University of Toronto Press.
(1983) The Study of Ethnomusicology : 29 Issues and
Concepts, University of Illinois Press.
(1986) " Improv is at ion ", Don M Randel ed., The New
Harvard Dictionary of Music.
Ni Bhaoill, Fiona
(1981) A Social History of the Aughrim Slopes Ceili Band,
undergraduate research, Music Department,
University College Cork. Unpublished.
o Canainn, Tomas
( 1978) Traditional Music in Ireland, Routledge and
Keegan Paul, London.
O'Connor, Nuala
(1991) Bringing It All Back Home: The Influence of
Irish Music, BBC Books
o Neill, Francis
(1907) The Dance Music of Ireland, Chicago
(reprint, Dublin)
(1913) Irish Minstrels and Musicians, Chicago,
(reprint edition, Darby,Pennsylvania, 1973)
(1903) The Music of Ireland, Chicago,
(reprint edition, New York, 1964)
o Suilleabhain, Micheal
(1982) "The Art of Listening", The Crane Bag, Vol.6 (1) ,
pp.59-6l.
(1987) Innovation and Tradition in the Music of Tommie
Potts, PhD thesis, Queens University Belfast,
(unpublished)
(
OSullivan, Gabe
(1979) Sleevenotes to album Joe Heaney and The Gabe,
Green Linnet Records
Randel, Don Michael (ed)
(1986) The New Harvard Dictionary of Music, Harvard
University Press, London.
Reavy, Joseph M
(1984) The Collected Compositions of Ed Reavy
Reid
(1969) Psychology of Music
Stokes, Martin
(1994) Ethnicity, Identity and Music, Berg Publishers
Wallin, Nils
(1991) Biomusicology, Pendragon Press
Waterhouse, David
(1982) "Towards A New Analysis of Rhythm in Music",
Cross Cultural Perspectives on Music, edited by
R.Falck and T.Rice, University of Toronto Press.
Weber, Max
(1958) The Rational and Social Foundations of Music
Zuckerkandl, Victor
( 1976) Man the Musician, Sound and Symbol: Volume Two,
Translated from German by Norbert Guterman,
Princeton University Press .
.:230
Discography
Tunes composed by Paddy Fahey

on commercial recordings by other musicians.
"*" indicates that Paddy Fahey is acknowledged in the notes
accompanying this recording as being the composer of
this tune.
Album Tit.le Side! Tune Tune

Track Tit.le Ident.it.y
Na hAncairi: Cois 114 "Fahy' s" Reels
Fharraige Cois Cuain
GTD ANC CAS 003
The Battlefield Band "Paddy Fahey's
Topic 12TS 313 Reel" PF Reel no.1
John Bowe and ·l/lb "Fahy' s" Reel PF Reel no.S
Mary Conroy
Inchecronin INC 7417
Galway's Own: 2/la "Paddy Fahy's" PF Reel no.1S
Joe Burke 2/3b "Fahy's" Reel PF Reel no.20
Outlet COX 101S
Kevin Burke: If l/4a "Paddy Fahy's
the Cap Fits Jig" PF Jig no.l
Mulligan LUN 021
Martin Byrnes A/2a "Paddy Fahey's
Leader LEA 2004 Jig" PF Jig no.l
Paddy Carty A/4a "Paddy Fahy's
Shanachie 29001 Jig" PF Jig no.l
Paddy Carty, Conor 2/Sa "Paddy Fahey's"
Tully, Frank Hogan Reel * PF Reel no.l1
GTD HC 002
Cliffs of Mohir "Fahy's Jig
Outlet SOLP 1012 Number 2" PF Jig no.1
Kathleen Collins B/6b "Fahy' s Reel" * PF Reel no.l
Shanachie 29002
Seamus Connolly: A/6a "Fahy from
Notes from my Mind Killybeg
Green Linnet CSIF 1087 House" * PF Reel no.2S
Z31
Album Tit.le Side/ Tune Tune
Track Tit.le Ident.it.y
The Donagher 2/3b "paddy Fahy's

Family Jig" PF Jig no.1
GTD HC 112
Best of Finbarr 2/2a "Paddy Fahy's

Dwyer Jig" * PF Jig no.l
(Outlet OLP 1011)
Finbarr Dwyer: 1/6a "Paddy Fahy's

Star of Ireland Reel" PF Reel no.IS
Silver Hill PSH 106
Kieran Fahy: A/2a "Paddy Fahy's"

Midnight on the Water Reel
Fisherstreet: Out 1/4 "Paddy Fahy's"

in the Night: Music Jigs
from Clare
Mulligan C LUN 057
Five Hand Reel "Paddy Fahey's

RCA PL 25066 Reel" * PF Reel no.1
Four Men and a Dog: 1/3 " Wrap it Up" PF Reel no.1
Barking Mad (instrumental)
Kevin agus Seamus l/2b "Paddy Fahy ' s "

Glackin:Na Saighneain Reel * ?F Reel n o. 5
Northern Lights
Gael Linn CEFC 140
Vincent Griffin: lila "Paddy Fahey's

Traditional Fiddle No 1" Reel * PF Reel no.l
Music from Co Clare l/lb "Paddy Fahey's
Topic 12TS 338 No 2" Reel * PF Reel no.2
1/2a "Paddy Fahey's"
Jig * PF Jig no.1
Martin Hayes 2a "Paddy Fahy's

Green Linnet GLCn 1127 Jig" * PF Jig no.l
Tommy Hayes: An Ras 2/5 "Paddy Fahey's

arr. M O'Suilleabhain Jig" * PF Jig no.l
Mulligan
The Irish Tradition:A/la "Paddy Fahey's"

The Times We've Had Reel * PF Reel no.20
Green Linnet CSIF 1063
Irish Traditional 2/4b "Fahy's"

Accordion
Outlet COX 1027
( Album Title Side/ Tune Tune
Track Title Identity
Eileen Ivers, 10 "Paddy Fahy's" PF Reel no.l

A River of Sound
Hummingbird/Virgin
Josephine Keegan: 2/5a "Paddy Fahy's
Fiddle Reel" PF Reel no.l
Outlet SO LP 1033 1/4a "Fahy's Jig" PF Jig no.l
Vinnie Kilduff: B-2a "Paddy Fahy's"
The Boys from Jig PF Jig no.2
the Blue Hill
Mulligan C LUN 05)
Muintir Lewis: Weeds "Paddy Fahey's
in the Garden Number 3" Reel * PF Reel no.3
Tara 2003 "Paddy Fahey's
Number 4" Ree 1 * PF Reel no.4
"Paddy Fahey's
Jig" * PF Jig no.2
Lord Mayo Le Cheile "Paddy Fahey's
Standfast Jig" PF Jig no.l
Brendan McGlinchey "Paddy Fahey's
Silver Hill PSH 100 Reel" PF Reel no.2
Paddy O'Brien: A/9 "Paddy Fahey ' s
Stranger at the Gate Reel" *
Green Linnet CS1F 1091
paddy in the Smoke "Fahey ' s Jig" PF Jig no.1
Topic 12 TS 176
Planxty : Words lila "Paddy Fahy's
and Music Jig" PF Jig no.l
PumQkinhead 1/6a "Paddy Fahey's
Mulligan LUN 001 Reel" * PF Reel no.l
Seamus Tansey "Paddy Fahey's
Leader LEA 2005 Jig" PF Jig no.l
John Whelan: Pride 1/5b "Paddy Fahy's"
of Wexford Reel PF Reel no.15
Outlet SOLP 1024
~33
Tapeograpby
1 Recordings of Paddy Fahey performances made by

Maria Holohan at Paddy Fahey' s home in
Kilconnell and at Maria' s home in Abbey.
A comprehensive collection of recordings of Paddy Fahey's 43

tune compositions, performed by the composer, is now located
at the Music Archive, University of Limerick.
The dates of the Kilconnell recordings are: 2 November 1990,

13 December 1990, 16 January 1991, 20 February 1991,
24 February 1991, 3 March 1991 and 6 March 1991.
The dates of the Abbey recordings are: 28 February 1991,

26 April 1991, 3 May 1991, 6 September 1991,
17 September 1991, 20 September 1991, 29 November 1991
6 December 1991, 6 January 1992, 7 February 1992,
23 July 1993, 6 August 1993, June, July and August 1994
September 1995.
I have also made copies for the University of Limerick Music

Archive of any earlier recordings of Paddy Fahey's playing
which were available. These include items from the Irish
Traditional Music Archive in Dublin, the Traditional Music
Archive at University College Cork and the Sound Archives of
Radio Eireann. I have listed these items below because they
give some indication of the extent of the Fahey material in
circulation prior to this present work.
2 Earlier recordings of Paddy Fahey' s
fiddle-playing in Irish traditional music
archives.
Irish Traditional Music Archive

63 Herrion Square
Dublin 2
A recording of paddy Fahey, fiddle, in Ballinasloe on 6

October 1972 by Breandan Breathnach.
Breathnach collection: Tape AT 29
Side A Tune Identity

Item 1 Jig: "The Irish Washerwoman"
2 Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.2"
3 Jig: "Paddy Fahey's Jig no.1"
9 Discussion of Fahey's process of composition
Side B
Item 1 (Song sung by Sean 'ac Dhonnchadha)
2a Reel: "The Ewe Reel"
2b Reel: "The Star of Munster"
3 Reel: "Paddy Kelly's"
4 Discussion of local pipers.
5 Jig: "The Connachtman's Rambles"
6 Jig: "The Rakes of Kildare"
7 Reel: "The New Road"
Note: A copy of this recording has been produced for the

Music Archive, University of Limerick.
Traditional Music Archive

Music Department
University College Cork
A recording of Paddy Fahey, fiddle, at his home in

Kilconnell on 28 December 1975 by Sr.Benedict Moylan.
Sr Benedict Collection: Cassette no. 18
This tape includes performances by Paddy Fahey, fiddle,

recorded by Sr.Benedict at a session in Loughrea on 18
September 1976. Paddy Carty, flute and paddy Conway,
bodhran also play on this recording.
Side A Tune Identity

Item la Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.3"
Ib Reel: "The Morning Mist"
~3S
4 Jig: "The Irish Washerwoman"
5 Hornpipe: no name
6a Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.5"
(Called "Paddy Fahey's No 1" on the tape)
6b Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.6"
(Called "Paddy Fahey's No 2" on the tape)
7 Reel: "The Flogging Reel"
8a Reel: "The Ceilier" (an Ed Reavy composition)
8b Reel: "The Star of Munster" ( g min)
9a Jig: "Both Meat and Drink" (Reavy)
9b Jig: "Paddy Fahey's Jig no.3"
10 Hornpipe: "Madam If You Please" (O'Neills no.944)
(Called "Paddy Fahey ' s" on the tape)
lla Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.9"
lIb Reel: "The First House in Connacht"
l2a Reel: "The Heather Breeze"
l2b Reel: "The Morning Mist"
l3a Hornpipe: "The Groves"
13b Hornpipe: no name
RTE Sound Archives

Donnybrook
Dublin 4
Recording o f Paddy Fahey, fiddle, with Kevin Keegan,

accordion,
in Kiltormer , February, 1956 .
Ciaran Mac Mathuna collection :
1 "Jim Shiel's Favourite " Hornpipe
2 "Dinny O'Brien's Reel"
Note: On such old recordings as the above, Paddy's bowing
and finger ornamentation seems to produce a sound strangely
like that of the pipes
3 "The Freize Britches" Jig
(with P Carty, flute, & J Campbell, piano accordion)
4 "Paddy Kelly's Reel" (with P Carty, flute)
A number of other recordings of Paddy Fahey were made by

Ciaran Mac Mathuna in the 1950s. These were not to be found
in the RTE archives, however, and all other attempts to
locate them unfortunately proved unfruitful.
3 Recordings of Paddy Fahey's fiddle-playing in
private collections.
Some private recordings of paddy Fahey's performances have

been made over the years. Copies of such recordings would
have been passed around carefully in certain circles of
musicians. The examples listed below are from a private
compilation kindly loaned to me for the purpose of this
study. Since Paddy never made a commercial recording,
despite numerous requests of him to do so, private sources
such as this were very important in making known his tunes
and his style of playing to the many musicians who would not
have an opportunity to hear him in person.
I have used my tune identity numbers in each case. Such
private collections give us some idea as to which Fahey
tunes were in circulation in earlier years. The following
21 items have been compiled on one cassette.
A recording of Paddy Fahey, fiddle, in Moylan's Bar,
Loughrea on 26 March 1983.
Item 1 Jig: "Paddy Fahey's Jig no.4"
2 Hornpipe: "Paddy Fahey's Hornpipe no.2"
A recording of Paddy Fahey, fiddle, in Ennis circa 1980
Item 3 Reel: "The Pigeon on the Gate"

4a Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.S "
4b Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.6 "
A recording of Paddy Fahey, fiddle, at his horne in
Kilconnell, 1978.
Note: When I played this recording for Paddy, he commented
that some items must have been speeded up at some
stage since he would not have played at that speed.
Item 5 Reel: "The Ewe Reel"
6 Reel: "The Contradiction Reel"
7a Reel: "Paddy Kelly's" (composed by Kelly)
7b Reel: "Paddy Kelly's" (4 part reel by Kelly)
8 Set dance: "The Blackbird"
A recording of Paddy Fahey, fiddle, at Paddy Carty's home,
Loughrea, in the 1970s. (Paddy Carty joins in on flute on
the items numbered 13 and 15.)
Note:The recording begins with the same "run for tuning"
Paddy uses today.
~37
Item 12 Jig: "Paddy Fahey's Jig no.1"
13a Reel: "The Star of Munster" (g minor)
13b Reel: "The Traveller"
1Sa Reel: "The Pigeon on the Gate"
1Sb Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.6"
16a Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.3"
16b Reel: "The Morning Mist"
17 Reel: "Paddy Fahey's Reel no.1S"
(also called "Carty's Return"!)
20 Jig: "The Irish Washerwoman"
21 Reel: no name

Previous written accounts of Fahey's music.
Boole Library Archives

University College Cork
MA thesis in Music by Stephen C Jardine, UCC 1981 :
A Study of the Composition of Tunes and their Assimilation
into Irish Traditional Dance Music.
Jardine presen~s 14 compositions by Paddy Fahey: :9
Tune Title Source of tune Current tune

identity
"Fahey's Jig No 1" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Jig 1
"Fahey's Reel No 1" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF R' e l 1
"Fahey's Reel No 2" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF R ~ l 2
"Fahey's Reel No 3" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Rpel 3
"Fahey's Reel No 4" John Lewis (flute) PF Reel 4
"Fahey's Reel No S" paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Reel 7
"Fahey's Reel No 6" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Reel S
"Fahey's Reel No 7" paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Reel 8
"Fahey's Reel No 8" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Reel 7
"Fahey's Reel No 9" Paddy Fahey (fiddle)PF Reel 6
"Fahey's Reel No 10" = "Madam If
Paddy Fahey (fiddle)
You Please"
Hornpipe in O'Neill's Collection no. 944
"Fahey's Reel No 11" Paddy Fahey (fiddle) PF Reel 9
:,
Note: Attempts to gain access to the recordings of Paddy

Fahey's playing, from which the above settings are said to
have been notated, unfortunately proved unsuccessful.
238
Appendix: The Music
The Appendix of music transcriptions in the following pages
contain;- the complete co ll ectio n of Paddy Fahey tune
compositions. The reels app ear in numer':'cal order,
~ollowed ~v ~he jigs and ~':'nally the hornp':'pe s. On ~te
~ccompanyi~g cassette/which conta':'~s ?addy 's per:ormanc~~ of
all of this music, the tune s appear in the same running
order.
At the back of the Appendix I include those other tunes
referred to in this work: the "Madam if you please"
hornpipe, as played by Paddy Fahey, along with the setting
found in O'Neill's collection, some compositions by East
Galway fiddlers, as well as the transcriptions of two recent
interpretations of Paddy Fahey's most well-known reel and
jig.
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Note: This tune which I got from Paddy in 1995 is, I have
just discovered, either a simplified setting of the Eddie
Kelly Jig which I have included (see p.297) or perhap:
Eddie's tune was a development of a Fahey idea years ago.
Paddy Fahey's Jig no.12 This is the only tune of which the origin is as yet unclear.
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Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 1 as played by Eileen Ivers
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300

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THE TUNE COMPOSITIONS OF

Supervisor: Dr Micheal 6 Suilleabhain

1 Paddy Fahey's Reel no. 1

All tunes recorded by Maria Holohan

Title: The Tune Compositions of Paddy Fahey

Author: Maria Holohan

Paddy Fahey comes from Kilconnell in East Galway. He was

Paddy Fahey is essentially a performer of traditional music

The first chapter is devoted to the presentation of some

The world of music experienced by the artist is the subject

The appendix of music transcriptions brings together for the

Chapter One: Processes and Products 8

Creation and recreation 22

Chapter Two: People and Place . 45

The Fahey home at Killaghbeg 46

The Aughrim Slopes ceili band 51

The sound of the past 60

The music of place 67

The musician in community . 72

East Galway: a place and a music? 77

Chapter Three: Perceptions and Perspectives 89

The tunes composed by Paddy Fahey 90

Paddy Fahey: the voice of East Galway? 117

East Galway music: renewal or decline? 138

Creating new shapes in familiar forms 157

Transforming the model 189

1 Photograph of Killaghbeg House . 47

2 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' 1940s . 55

3 Photograph of the 'Aughrim Slopes' 1956 57

4 Map of County Galway • 80

5 Map of the East Galway region 82

6 'Call and response' in Fahey tunes 93

7 A flowing stream of melody 94

8 B-flat and B-natural in close proximity 97

9 Similar motifs in a Fahey reel and a Reavy reel 99

10 Phrase recurrence in Fahey reel compositions 170

11 Melodic cohesion and contour 172

12 Variable notes in Paddy Fahey tunes . 179

13 Similar notes in tunes by other

14 A recurring motif 184

My sincere thanks is due to Kevin Burke, Nicolas Carolan,

Liz Carroll, Maeve Donnelly, Anne Fahey, Maureen Fahy and

family, Frankie Gavin, Ian Lee, Liam Lewis, Seamus

MacMathuna, Sr Benedict Moylan, Brendan Mulvihill, Connie

O'Connell, Conor Tully, staff at Audio-Visual Services DCC,

Music Department UCC, Glucksman Centre UL and Irish World

Music Centre UL. A special thank you to my wonderful

parents, sisters and brothers each of whom helped in so many

ways, to my friends who provided support and distraction in

equal measure, to Dr. M{cheal 6 Suilleabhain who encouraged,

Rath De oraibh go leir.

Paddy Fahey is known as an exemplary exponent of East Galway

fiddle-playing. His fame within traditional music stems

largely, however, from his particular talent for composing

new tunes. Many traditional musicians attempt to compose

tunes but it is a pursuit at which only a select few seem to

shine. It is one thing to put notes together in a new way

but it is another matter altogether to compose a tune which

finds favour with the community of traditional musicians.

Fahey's tunes are widely regarded as being both special and