You and Me and All The Live Music in Ireland

Late October. We sat in a small Istanbul café, him and me, four years after our last meeting.

The conversation was a tentative waltz, re-learning each other’s quirks, reacquainting with speech cadences, remembering why we were friends.

Rewind briefly to two months earlier. I was surprised when he told me he’d be spending a night in Istanbul—he had passed through in March, but we were out-of-touch then, and I only found out when he was gone. He didn’t know I’d moved to this mad city. But now he knew, and he’d be back, and we would have much to catch up on. He was here on a layover, on his way back from a trip in Ireland.

Ireland!

When he told me this, I laughed out loud, for I was also headed to Ireland (for TBEX!), though I’d be there the week before him.

Life is so strange, sometimes.

That night in late October, as our conversation weaved and spun, we did talk about the magic of Ireland—the lush green of the countryside, the truly breath-catching epic scope of the Cliffs of Moher, the giddy charm of Dublin. But mostly, we talked about the music.

The lively and boisterous traditional Irish music had left us both smitten.

He spent his time seeking out all kinds of live music in all parts of the country. I encountered most of mine through my Limerick trip.

I told him about the Folk Park behind Bunratty Castle, where there were a handful of roving bands; I never got tired of hearing the harmonies before I turned a corner, knowing I would soon be lingering, listening, and savoring. While many of the people populating the Folk Park dressed in traditional costumes, the musicians were defiantly contemporary. Most of the music was guitar-driven Irish folk, though while listening to two cowboy-hat-sporting musicians, I spotted an abandoned sousaphone.

Our tour of the University of Limerick involved a surprise “impromptu” hallway jam session by the music students. (It brought me back to my summer booking and promoting bands, wandering the streets of Boston and approaching the ridiculously talented Berklee students busking on sidewalks.) The music was BY FAR the best part of our University visit, and was only made better when Kerry of Planes Trains and Plantagenets stole a fiddle and joined in.

During our Limerick 2014 welcome reception at King John’s Castle, we were treated to live harp-music played IN COSTUME, which added a nice ambiance to the already-swanky soiree. I drank a lot of champagne and felt rather bubbly and classy.

And back in Dublin, I spent a sunshiney day skipping through side streets and stumbling upon live music in Temple Bar. The vibe there was undoubtedly touristy, but the music was wonderful regardless.

Weeks later, as we sat in that Istanbul café on a late October night, it was beautiful to find we’d had these parallel music hunts, this shared affection for Irish tunes. He and I hadn’t been in the same place for four years. But now we had Ireland, and its laughter, and humor, and good beer, and music. We reminisced as though we’d been there together, weaving in and out of music jams in Temple Bar side-by-side.

I visited Bunratty Castle and Folk Park, University of Limerick, and King John’s Castle as part of the Limerick 2014 City of Culture tour, arranged and sponsored by Failte Ireland. All opinions are my own.