My travel schedule this week allowed me to stop at Stuart and Laura's session at The Tinker's Son on Wednesday night, which makes for a long trip back to Boston, but well worth it. It's always a pleasure to see and play with Stuart, but I did miss Laura (who was reportedly off tending to her students at a school concert). The music was brilliant, I might add, a different sub-set of tunes - new to me, anyway - the tunes, as always, being determined by the ever-changing configuration of musicians and instruments, which on this night included, in addition to the folks I perceived to be the regulars (my brilliant conclusion, based on my attending a total of two times): two Kevins, one on pipes and flute, the other on box, and Rose Clancy on fiddle. I first met Rose and piper/flutist Kevin back at Paddy Barry's, what now feels like many sessions ago, but was actually only last winter/spring, so it was fun to see them again. I love this aspect of the music, the "small world" feeling. I miss Paddy's - kind of a wild and woolly place; loud, with a preponderance of stumbling drunks, but that was half the fun. After all, Paddy's was my first intro to the Irish Seisiun. In some ways, Paddy's will always be my foundation, the standard upon which I measure every other session.
All shot with G12/RAW/manual/f2.8@3o/ISO 3200. I've reached my limit with this low-light/noisy style of photography and will soon be making some changes...
I post the videos, below, not with the idea that I am any kind of videographer (but I would love to learn this medium, not that I need another project in my life - ha ha), but more as an aid to learning the tunes.
Kevin Quinn, Rose Clancy, Stuart Peak, and North American bodhran champ, Peter Smith. With the old pews and the stained glass, it's a little like being in a church-pub, which is as good a combination as any, I suppose. Besides, the playing of music with friends is surely as good as any religion.
I had been wanting to get down to Laura and Stuart's session in Norwell for a while, so a nudge from Laura, coupled with my diminished travel schedule this week, was enough to divert me from my usual Wednesdays at Tommy Doyle's routine. A rumor that David might be in attendance was also a motivating factor.
I don't mind driving, and actually enjoy the adventure of looking for new places. I had certainly heard of Norwell, and have driven past the Norwell/Hanover exit on Rt. 3 many times, but had never actually been there, so I was not sure what to expect. As far as I knew, Norwell was some small town, of no particular note, tucked into the hinterlands south of Boston. I was pleasantly surprised to find the exit (15/Rt. 53) come up much more quickly than I had anticipated, and figured the rest of the drive would be a piece of cake - which turned out to be not exactly the truth. Most people in 2011 would have Google-mapped the directions prior to leaving home, but I guess I'm stuck back in the twentieth-century because my style is more along the lines of: 1. Drive until I get to a sign for Norwell; 2. Keep driving until I come to Main Street; 3. Continue on until I see something that looks like there might be Irish music going on inside.
Okay, it didn't turn out to be exactly that easy - the center of Norwell was not immediately obvious and did require some searching and patience and trust on my part: searching that involved one wrong turn and a little back-tracking, patience to just keep driving down what seemed like a road to nowhere with a dearth of signage, and trust that I would eventually end up in Norwell and that its Main Street would figure prominently in the geography - which all did happen, eventually (yeah, yeah, yeah - I've got a couple of maps in the front pocket of my car, but that would have taken all the fun out). The fact that there were no numbers displayed on the buildings did not make my search any easier (I just love the small-town mentality that assumes you live there and know where you are), but when something - my inner GPS that is often right-on - told me to pull over at the Dunkin' Donuts to inquire as to what number Main Street we were at and the young lady at the counter said, "707," it was definitely one of those "bingo" moments, as that was the exact number I was looking for (I tried this method for finding my d-i-l's apartment in the East Village once, figuring I'd just turn left off of Rt. 95 someplace. It didn't work so well that time, however.).
Lovely session with some of my favorite people - Laura, Stuart, Eric, and David - and made a few new friends as well, including Paul, Peter, Judy, Jack, Stephen, and a banjo player whose name I missed.
As I have come to expect from the Irish pub, The Tinker's Son was quite dark (and why, oh why, do all sessions seem to be relegated to that cold corner next to the door?), so the photography was challenging, to say the least. The G12's Low-Light setting did come through for me (though I so much prefer being able to shoot in RAW/manual - I definitely see either a 5D MarkII or 7D in my future) - though these over-processed JPGs do leave a bit to be desired. But who knows, maybe this style will be the Polaroids (now collector's items) of the future.
Anyway, this was a sweet little pub - great music and treasured friends in a homey atmosphere - let's just call it craic, shall we - and now I know where Norwell is. Hey, I've even been there.
Boys of Ballysdore/Swallowtail/Trim the Velvet (reels).
Pipe on the Hob/Rose in the Heather/Sixpenny Money (jigs).
Ivory Flute/Humours of Ballyloughlin/Choice Wife (a/k/a An Phis Fhliuch)(jigs/slip jig).
Ran out of memory on this one - damn!
I was already planning on going to the session at The Littlest Bar on Saturday night, but a text I received from a session mate Saturday afternoon sealed the deal: "Littlest is gonna be leanin' heavy and should be totally off the feckin' charts..." I supposed at first that "leanin' heavy" must have meant there would be a large crowd, but now understand that this was a reference to the musician heavy-weights who would be in attendance. Having also received a text advising that the Locals would be playing at nearby Mr. Dooleys, I was happy to break free from my shackles and jump aboard the Green Line, inbound from Coolidge Corner, for a downtown Saturday night out.
The last time I went to Littlest I transferred to the Blue Line and got off at State Street, since it appeared to be the T-stop closest to the bar. This time I decided to walk from Park Street, thinking that the time lost while waiting for the connecting train is about equal to the time it takes to walk a few extra blocks. Besides, I love to walk and I was in the mood for taking in the sights and sounds of the people-filled holiday-season streets of Downtown Boston.
I wasn't exactly sure how to find my way from Park Street, though, and ended up on a somewhat meandering path down Tremont towards Government Center, and then turning right, where I discovered, and saw for the first time in my life, Old City Hall, which was quite grand; lovely, all lit up with Christmas lights.
As I continued to wander through the windy canyons of Boston's financial district - somewhat randomly, in the direction (I hoped) of Broad Street - suddenly I heard what sounded like someone calling my name. I ignored it at first, thinking I was hearing things - certainly nobody in that neighborhood knew me - but I did turn to see, sure enough, Levi - a fiddler I know from Tommy Doyle's - coming up behind me, waving, also on his way to Littlest. This was quite fun to come across someone I knew in the middle of this totally foreign neighborhood. Not to mention, a bit of a relief to have a tall, strong traveling companion through the now-dark city streets.
Levi and I found our way together to Mr. Dooley's - a wonderful, family-style Irish pub. Really, this was such a wonderful atmosphere. People were relaxed and happy and seemed to know each other, and there were even a few children in attendance. Laura and Cormac and Brian sounded great, too; a great combo of voices, whistle, fiddle, and guitar. Eventually, Eric turned up. A funny thought that crossed my mind at the time was, how did my life turn out this way - that at age sixty I would be traipsing through the streets of Boston, bouzouki on my back and fiddle in hand, running into barroom buddies in the middle of nowhere, and also even happening to know someone sitting at the bar (Eric) at an Irish pub I'd never been to in my life? Life is just so, well, interesting. The only downside was, somehow I managed to lose my Charlie Card. Mysteriously, it fell out of my mitten somewhere between Park Street and Mr. Dooley's. I say mysteriously because I double and triple-checked - there was no escape route from that mitten. A drag, especially because I had recently put $20 on it.
Regardless - it was a great night for Irish music in Boston.
Mr. Dooley's
The Locals: Cormac, Laura, Brian.
Steve Earl's Galway Girl
The Littlest Bar
The Littlest Bar: Cormac - fiddler/surfer dude from Dublin; Tara - button accordion; Eric - flute; Brendan Bulger - host fiddler; Larry Reynolds - fiddle; Sean - fiddle; Greg - mando, whistle, and tenor guitar.
The Littlest Bar is actually not very little, though the corner where the session is held is a bit cramped, and delightfully so. This was my second time at The Littlest, and as much as I enjoy it, I don't feel as at home there as I do with the folks I play with regularly every week. There seems to be a different sub-set of tunes, for one thing, many that I've never heard before. There weren't many tunes I could play on my fiddle, proportionately, compared to other sessions I've been to, so I mostly played my bouzouki. I was happy to be the only chordal instrument in the house (for a change), though I tried not to abuse the privilege. At times it was quite enjoyable to just sit back and listen, especially when only the fiddles were being played. And yes, the heavy-hitters were in attendance and the music was brilliant.
Greg; Tony - bodhran.
Laura, right, has dropped in after her gig at Dooley's.
All shot with the G12; still getting to know this little camera and its capabilities. I tried the Low Light setting tonight. This setting doesn't offer much more than my usual Manual/RAW settings, but with no RAW capabilities, and no control of settings, with tiny files, to boot - yes, a little less noise, but I can reduce noise in post-processing in LightRoom, so I think I'll just stick to shooting Manual/RAW, 3200 ISO. I suppose I could have adjusted the WB in the color shots from The Littlest, cooled them down a little, but I rather like the warm pre-Christmas glow.
My friend Laura is in an Irish Trad band called The Locals. Laura, Cormac, Brian, and I had a fun shoot outside of Porterbelly's pub in Brighton a while back.
Still catching up with myself. Here are a few favorites from my birthday party down on the Vineyard back in October. This was an amazing and wonderful weekend - there will be more of these Vineyard Sessions to come. Stay tuned.
Liam
David, Seanny.
David, Liam, Sean
Laura, Stuart.
My favorite photo from the weekend: Sean, Laura, Liam, Eric, and David.
Post-session session, Stuart and Mark.
My house was built on land that was farmed by my great-grandparents. The original farmhouse, next door and shown above, was my great-grandparents', Charles and Mary Isadora Lawlor Shurtleff's home, and is where my grandmother grew up, and where my mother spent summers as a little girl - playing games with her cousins in the glow of kerosene lantern light. Mary Shurtleff''s parents were Mary and James Lawlor, both born and died in Naas, County Kildare, Ireland, really my only biological connection to Ireland. On some level, this party was a nod to the Lawlors. Isn't DNA grand? Who really understands why we follow the paths that we do? Coincidentally, Charles Shurtleff and I share the same birthday, October 22.
Catching up with myself: highlights from a session a couple of weeks ago at Eric's place; a wonderful space - an old schoolhouse converted into a condo with restored oak floors, high ceilings, and the original blackboards on the wall. Eric's birthday. Shot with a combo of 40D, switching between the 50mm/1.4 (great lens for low light)and the 2mm/2.8 (good for small spaces); and the G9 (for video and a few of the stills). A great party, really.
One of my favorites of the day.
The photojournalist in me loves this vignette - a brief and ordinary moment, made extraordinary.
