QUOTE(Jim Besser @ Feb 24 2004, 03:05 PM)
>What are sessions like where you are?
That WAS the question, wasn't it?
I started going to "sessions" in New York City more than 30 years ago. Some of us weren't Irish, but most who hadn't either grown up in the Irish community or in Ireland itself were at least studying under those who had. (One young piper was a Russian Jew, but had travelled widely to study under all the great pipers of the day, including Seamus Ennis and Willy Clancy.)
The sessions I experienced in those days were all "open" and unstructured. Most were in bars (American for "pubs"), though at least one wasn't. No individual or even group of individuals "ran" the session; instead, a considerate, cooperative anarchy prevailed. There were some unspoken "rules" -- maybe "guidelines" would be more accurate, -- but they were few and generous. Here is my interpretation of the ones I feel were shared by all or most of the sessions:
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1. The session is for listening to music. Loud or extended conversations were to be taken to another room (it really helps to have a session room which is separate from the main bar). Brief, whispered comments among the "audience" were OK, but if they reached the point where it was difficult to hear the music (100 whispers make a roar),
somebody (not necessarily a musician) would stand up and request that it stop. The musicians might occasionally talk about something among themselves, but if so, it would be
brief, and it was
never acceptable for a musician to talk (or tune an instrument) while another was playing or singing.
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2. The music is primarily Irish, but other kinds are welcome if they don't try to dominate. Every once in while, somebody might do a current rock song as a change of pace, but most nights not. Stan Rogers' "Mary Ellen Carter" was a frequent favorite at one session. I've been complimented on my "Gaelic" singing after singing a Russian song.

Scottish was always welcome, and a couple of Scottish songs were standards. The occasional American "Old-Timey" tune was OK, but there were separate Old Timey sessions and gatherings on other nights. Every once in a while I might sneak in a Morris tune.
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3. Variety is important. People didn't all try to play all the time. Taking turns, listening to each other, experiencing something new, even instruments jumping in or dropping out to vary the sound on a single tune... these were all important. Songs were as welcome as tunes. Many numbers were solos or with just a few individuals joining in; others were "all in" numbers Particular tunes were not always strung together in the same order as "sets", but people would often pick a next tune "on the fly".
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4. Everyone is welcome to participate. It was generally considered impolite for the same person to lead off two numbers in succession, unless there was clearly a
request from a majority of listeners. (Even with "requests", a third round would have to wait for others to get their turn.) When "strangers" showed up, they were invited to join in, and not just "tag along". We were as anxious to hear something new from them as to have them play or sing along with us. Once a group from Amsterdam showed up and
tried to just listen, because they didn't know much Irish music. We finally talked them into doing some of their Dutch stuff, and that was one of the nights Larry the bartender had to kick us out at 4 am (legal closing time in NYC). We would often invite folks in the "audience" to do something, anything. Nearly everybody has a "party piece". We heard many great songs that way, and even an occasional recitiation of poetry or a bit of a monologue from an Irish play. Others would surprise us by borrowing a fiddle or whistle, and occasionally someone would ask us to play for a step dance.
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5. Whoever starts a piece, "owns" it. If a singer doesn't want others joining in with harmony or instruments, then they
don't. A shake of the head is enough, or a nod toward someone if (s)he wants to encourage them. Nods toward some and shakes toward others were respected. Whoever leads off a tune sets the tempo, and anyone who tries to play at a different tempo without a clear invitation from the starter to do so is not welcome. Different folks learn -- and like -- the same tune at different tempos; if it's not precisely the way you're used to it, that doesn't make it
wrong. (And if you
can't tell that you're speeding up, that's
not an excuse; it means you're not paying attention.)
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6. Everyone is equal. Of course that isn't literally true, but it means that noone has special status, either higher or lower. The best musicians didn't dominate, and even the worst had their chance to lead something. (Generally, they were beginners, who would start a familiar tune so that others could join in. Gradually they got better and more daring.) Because we took turns -- though nothing as rigid as going one-by-one around the table, -- even a real "disaster" was soon forgotten.
Of course, there were incidents where individuals overstepped these rules. But we had a feeling of community, and if they persisted, the
group would bluntly tell them to stop.
There were a few local sessions in the Irish community which were quite exciting, but largely unknown to oustsiders, and these were great. But the session every Monday night at the Eagle Tavern was the best known; it was advertised in the
Village Voice as a regular event, and folks showed up who had heard of it as far away a Japan and Australia. There were a number of us regulars at the Eagle who had not started playing the music in our childhood, but there were also a number who had, as well as the occasional visitor from Ireland, or Chicago, or somewhere else with a close-knit Irish community. Some of these were big names, though they generally wished to remain anonymous in the session.
One thing to be clear about is that all these sessions were welcomed by the pub owners. Lots of folks would come just to listen, and they would
drink (and eat, if food was available). These were money-making propositions, and musicians were encouraged with free beer (or occasionally something stronger, if the bartender was feeling generous). Nor were we considered an imposition by "the regulars"; we and those who came to hear us
became "the locals".
Well, eventually other Irish "sessions" started popping up (no one was yet calling them "Celtic" or "Keltic") that were a little different. These were generally small, semi-closed groups who got together to play and informally "hold court" before those who came to listen. Strangers and stragglers were not excluded per se, but the "regulars" could decide to be either welcoming or not. I was generally welcome if I mainly just played along, and even a song once in a while was OK, but never close to as many as the "regular" singer(s). One point I want to make, though, is that there was still a good mix of tunes and singing, "all-ins" and solos, and there were no set lists, printed music, directors, or the like. Those -- if they existed -- were for "clubs", not "sessions". And no topheavy concentration on fast reels.
One special session developed in "later" years, and I think it's still going. That was started -- and is presided over -- by flutist Joanie Madden, for the sole purpose of providing music and an opportunity for folks to do the dances known as Sets. (There is barely room in Flanagan's for 3 sets,
if they really know what they're doing. People take turns.) Any musician is welcome to join in, and even to suggest particular tunes, but it's all for the dancers and the particular kind of tune they need for each part of each dance.
I haven't been to a session in New York for nine years now, but on trips back I've been to sessions in Connecticut and Virginia, and they still have the same format I described above. Two sessions in Copenhagen are somewhat different, both from that and from each other, though I've been to sessions in Aarhus (another Danish city) and a few in Sweden which fit the "old" mold, except that in a couple of them the "audience" is
not quiet. I've also been to a few wonderful sessions in England with similar unspoken "rules", and varying proportions of Irish, English, and other musics. And
one where folks took turns doing numbers and a "leader" determined who would be asked to go next.
So, what about the rest of you?