The Rambling Pitchfork Tin Whistle Sheet Music
This is a jig in D Major. Recorded by The Wolfe Tones among others. The second tune is Whiskey before breakfast which is a reel. The mp3 of the tune is included along with the mandolin tab.
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The Liffey Banks
Traditional Irish Music Played by Tommy Potts
I was born and reared in the Coombe area of Dublin. My father who came from Bannow, South Wexford, was an ardent enthusiast of Irish traditional music and an accomplished piper. He also played the concert flute and was a very fine story-teller.
Throughout the twenties and into the thirties our home was frequently visited by musicians from many parts of the country. They held my father in high esteem and described him as a player of great taste.
In such an environment it was natural that I took to this music. My appreciation of it was, I think, then, a discernment for taste in playing and for the harmonies; the sound of it, if you like. My father, and most other players of the time, were very clear and precise in their note making; their music was as if they had received specific training, which of course they hadn't. My father stressed continually the importance of having the right basic structure for the tune, or, as it was said then, the right setting. I assimilated further knowledge of the finer points of playing (particularly in respect of the pipes and the fiddle) from discussions and analysis-as was the wont of players and listeners of the time. For all this, when I started to play (at about fifteen years of age) I was not satisfied fully with sheer precision and stereotyped settings. Yes, I certainly did agree entirely with the basic structure but this hard and fast one thing all the time' did not appeal to me.
As I progressed in making sound on the fiddle I found I was stirred in thought and feeling. But shouldn't good music affect this way? Also (and with no musical training either) I was intrigued with the difference in sounds in the alternating keys. I have no recollection of observing anything of like re-action in the players of the time. The nearest on the point of influence on me were Luke Kelly, fiddle (though he was not a great player) Mrs. Sheridan, she was quite distinctive, and Seamus Mahoney. Also if I may say so, my brother Edward who improvised well. The others had what they called very nice touches but they used the same notes all the time without intensity or emotion. The harp-like clumping of notes in slow airs was, in my opinion, the only good feature in Luke Kelly's playing, it appealed deeply to me and I developed it somewhat in my air playing. Mrs. Sheridan's playing was of a sweet plaintive drawling kind.
Seamus Mahoney was serious minded in his playing, I consider this a great thing. Well this covers the fiddle players but there were pipers too. The best of those whom I heard were Jem Byrne of Mooncoin, Jimmy Ennis, the father of Séamus Ennis, Johnny Doran (he was only a couple of years my senior), John Kearney from Longford and, of course my father and my brother Edward (who was better on the pipes than the fiddle).
So I praise God for the gift of playing the fiddle, for I see in it a very poor reflection of the unbroken music of Heaven.
Tommy Potts.
There is an old and wise saying in Gaelic, a play on words, which means 'A song is sung when in the mood and a song is sung when not in the mood'. I know that this applies to the playing of Tommy Potts. It is a great feather in the cap of Claddagh Records to have captured him in the mood and recorded his performance. Tommy is a performer of mind, mood and fancy-so much so that one performance by him can differ from another to an unbelievable
extent.
Years ago, I was told that Tommy would retire at night, alone, with his fiddle to the sitting- room at home and play for several hours to himself. Afterwards, the traces of tears would be found on the floor where he had been playing. I consider that this fact, coupled with his own autobiographical note gives us an insight to the heart and soul of a deeply Christian individual, a man of sentiment and sincerity.
Individualistic' is the term for Tommy's playing; he is the only person I know who takes a melody and sees in his mind's eye its main trend, together with all its moods, side-tracks and tendencies and succeeds in portraying the entire composite in his performance. "Gaibhtear fonn le fonn agus gaibhtear fonn le mi-fhonn".
1. My Love is in America: This is a reel highly favoured by all lovers and exponents of Irish traditional music. As its emigration-inspired title would suggest, it has its sad nuances with the occasional motif of short-lived good hope, all very adroitly portrayed in this rendition by the player in his treatment of the melody.
2. An Raibh Tú ag an gCarraig?: (Were you at the Rock?) This is the beautiful tune of what was ostensibly a love-song (it may very well have been, originally) used as a code in Penal times, when priests were on the run in Ireland in fear of their lives and Mass had to be celebrated on a remote mountain-side, using a natural rock as an altar. The chalice and vestments etc., were hidden in the vicinity of the rock and the first verse enquired about their safety or possible discovery. The next verse, sung by another, replied to the questions asked in the first, either in the positive or the negative and the code-form thus used gave the good or bad news, all unknown to the stranger.
This melody provides some wonderful 'raw material' for Tommy's flights of fancy.
3. The Long Hills of Mourne: I believe this to have been originally a pipers' reel, for technical reasons, but piping on a fiddle does not faze Tommy! It is commonly called The Old Bush' and is not to be confused with a reel named 'The Mourne Mountains' which is published in O'Neill's collection (Lyons & Healy, Chicago 1903) no. 1201. Note that very little deviation from the set form of the melody is made in this instance.
4. Top it Off: The title of this single jig may derive from some trade or handicraft, but I am inclined to be of the opinion that it refers to the step-dancing peculiar to this measure. It is played here with the masterly execution of precision-bowing noticed in Side 1, item 6. 5. Patsy Toohey's Reel: Whether composed by the late Patrick J. Toohey or titled in his honour, this is a fine, lively dancing-reel. I first heard it played by Neil O'Boyle, a Donegal fiddle-player, when I was a lad, in the 1930's. It is included in O'Neill's collection under the title 'Pat Touhy's Reel' no. 1340. Touhy, (a Galway gentleman), spent many years in America and died there early in this century. He was recorded on several '78's and in my late father's opinion and my own, if a better Uilleann piper ever existed he would perforce have been hyper-phenomenal.
6. The Ship Comes Home: Tommy qualifies this title as being a lullaby. I once heard a fiddle- player of Edinburgh in Scotland, named John Mearns, sing a fragment of a child-dandling song with the same melodic and rhythmic structure.
'You will get a fishie in a little dishie,
You will get a fishie, when the boat comes home!'
The title recalled this, but Tommy's melody is in a stricter 3/4 tempo and I can still visualise its soothing lullaby potentiality.
7. Ryan's Rant: Predominantly a Tipperary name, this Ryan probably had his roots in that or a neighbouring county-most certainly a region very rich in good music. This impresses me as being a very beautiful reel and incidentally, is reminiscent in its mood and mode of Michael Coleman's 'Ballinasloe Fair' (O'Neill, no. 1285).
8. The Dear Irish Boy: In this well-loved old air the technique and mood-vagaries of Tommy Potts reach his peak in slow-air playing. It will be noticed that where a phrase of the basic melody occurs plainly, in its brevity it does not receive the prominence of its value as a phrase and some would therefore maintain that his music could be fully appreciated only through an acquired taste. To my mind he is away over some of our heads and has achieved something very well worth-while. This item is the clearest indication of that.
9. The Falcarragh Reel: A small town on the mid-North coast of Donegal, Falcarragh's ears have heard the strains of many good fiddle-players. Small wonder then that Tommy pays them tribute as he draws towards the close of his recital. This reel is highly reminiscent of Michael Coleman's 'Boys of the Loch-more so than my comparison in my note on Ryan's Rant (no. 7, side 2)—though it is certainly not the same reel.
10. Garrett Barry's Favourite: This double jig was named in honour of an old West Clare piper (who died early in this century). Tommy blends it briefly into another: The Gander at the Prattie Hole (or potato-pit), which my father called The Monk's Jig, and ends this triad with a tour-de-force on The Rambling Pitchfork in his own dictates of whim and mood. The latter title would seem to emanate from the era of the Spailpín, or migrant agricultural worker. 11. The Parting Glass: With his gentlemanly respect for the listener, Tommy gives us the tune of this graceful farewell-song, treating us the while to a musical cock-tail based upon it with the 'Sorry to Part' flavour. Then, subtly staying in the mood his final reel rattles The Bunch of Keys in his own musical arrangement prior to locking up. This is one you'd wish would last forever, like the closing stages of an extremely enjoyable party. I, for one, am sorry he stopped, and it is 4.30 a.m. now!
Séamus Ennis.
Traditional Irish Music Played by Tommy Potts
I was born and reared in the Coombe area of Dublin. My father who came from Bannow, South Wexford, was an ardent enthusiast of Irish traditional music and an accomplished piper. He also played the concert flute and was a very fine story-teller.
Throughout the twenties and into the thirties our home was frequently visited by musicians from many parts of the country. They held my father in high esteem and described him as a player of great taste.
In such an environment it was natural that I took to this music. My appreciation of it was, I think, then, a discernment for taste in playing and for the harmonies; the sound of it, if you like. My father, and most other players of the time, were very clear and precise in their note making; their music was as if they had received specific training, which of course they hadn't. My father stressed continually the importance of having the right basic structure for the tune, or, as it was said then, the right setting. I assimilated further knowledge of the finer points of playing (particularly in respect of the pipes and the fiddle) from discussions and analysis-as was the wont of players and listeners of the time. For all this, when I started to play (at about fifteen years of age) I was not satisfied fully with sheer precision and stereotyped settings. Yes, I certainly did agree entirely with the basic structure but this hard and fast one thing all the time' did not appeal to me.
As I progressed in making sound on the fiddle I found I was stirred in thought and feeling. But shouldn't good music affect this way? Also (and with no musical training either) I was intrigued with the difference in sounds in the alternating keys. I have no recollection of observing anything of like re-action in the players of the time. The nearest on the point of influence on me were Luke Kelly, fiddle (though he was not a great player) Mrs. Sheridan, she was quite distinctive, and Seamus Mahoney. Also if I may say so, my brother Edward who improvised well. The others had what they called very nice touches but they used the same notes all the time without intensity or emotion. The harp-like clumping of notes in slow airs was, in my opinion, the only good feature in Luke Kelly's playing, it appealed deeply to me and I developed it somewhat in my air playing. Mrs. Sheridan's playing was of a sweet plaintive drawling kind.
Seamus Mahoney was serious minded in his playing, I consider this a great thing. Well this covers the fiddle players but there were pipers too. The best of those whom I heard were Jem Byrne of Mooncoin, Jimmy Ennis, the father of Séamus Ennis, Johnny Doran (he was only a couple of years my senior), John Kearney from Longford and, of course my father and my brother Edward (who was better on the pipes than the fiddle).
So I praise God for the gift of playing the fiddle, for I see in it a very poor reflection of the unbroken music of Heaven.
Tommy Potts.
There is an old and wise saying in Gaelic, a play on words, which means 'A song is sung when in the mood and a song is sung when not in the mood'. I know that this applies to the playing of Tommy Potts. It is a great feather in the cap of Claddagh Records to have captured him in the mood and recorded his performance. Tommy is a performer of mind, mood and fancy-so much so that one performance by him can differ from another to an unbelievable
extent.
Years ago, I was told that Tommy would retire at night, alone, with his fiddle to the sitting- room at home and play for several hours to himself. Afterwards, the traces of tears would be found on the floor where he had been playing. I consider that this fact, coupled with his own autobiographical note gives us an insight to the heart and soul of a deeply Christian individual, a man of sentiment and sincerity.
Individualistic' is the term for Tommy's playing; he is the only person I know who takes a melody and sees in his mind's eye its main trend, together with all its moods, side-tracks and tendencies and succeeds in portraying the entire composite in his performance. "Gaibhtear fonn le fonn agus gaibhtear fonn le mi-fhonn".
1. My Love is in America: This is a reel highly favoured by all lovers and exponents of Irish traditional music. As its emigration-inspired title would suggest, it has its sad nuances with the occasional motif of short-lived good hope, all very adroitly portrayed in this rendition by the player in his treatment of the melody.
2. An Raibh Tú ag an gCarraig?: (Were you at the Rock?) This is the beautiful tune of what was ostensibly a love-song (it may very well have been, originally) used as a code in Penal times, when priests were on the run in Ireland in fear of their lives and Mass had to be celebrated on a remote mountain-side, using a natural rock as an altar. The chalice and vestments etc., were hidden in the vicinity of the rock and the first verse enquired about their safety or possible discovery. The next verse, sung by another, replied to the questions asked in the first, either in the positive or the negative and the code-form thus used gave the good or bad news, all unknown to the stranger.
This melody provides some wonderful 'raw material' for Tommy's flights of fancy.
3. The Long Hills of Mourne: I believe this to have been originally a pipers' reel, for technical reasons, but piping on a fiddle does not faze Tommy! It is commonly called The Old Bush' and is not to be confused with a reel named 'The Mourne Mountains' which is published in O'Neill's collection (Lyons & Healy, Chicago 1903) no. 1201. Note that very little deviation from the set form of the melody is made in this instance.
4. Top it Off: The title of this single jig may derive from some trade or handicraft, but I am inclined to be of the opinion that it refers to the step-dancing peculiar to this measure. It is played here with the masterly execution of precision-bowing noticed in Side 1, item 6. 5. Patsy Toohey's Reel: Whether composed by the late Patrick J. Toohey or titled in his honour, this is a fine, lively dancing-reel. I first heard it played by Neil O'Boyle, a Donegal fiddle-player, when I was a lad, in the 1930's. It is included in O'Neill's collection under the title 'Pat Touhy's Reel' no. 1340. Touhy, (a Galway gentleman), spent many years in America and died there early in this century. He was recorded on several '78's and in my late father's opinion and my own, if a better Uilleann piper ever existed he would perforce have been hyper-phenomenal.
6. The Ship Comes Home: Tommy qualifies this title as being a lullaby. I once heard a fiddle- player of Edinburgh in Scotland, named John Mearns, sing a fragment of a child-dandling song with the same melodic and rhythmic structure.
'You will get a fishie in a little dishie,
You will get a fishie, when the boat comes home!'
The title recalled this, but Tommy's melody is in a stricter 3/4 tempo and I can still visualise its soothing lullaby potentiality.
7. Ryan's Rant: Predominantly a Tipperary name, this Ryan probably had his roots in that or a neighbouring county-most certainly a region very rich in good music. This impresses me as being a very beautiful reel and incidentally, is reminiscent in its mood and mode of Michael Coleman's 'Ballinasloe Fair' (O'Neill, no. 1285).
8. The Dear Irish Boy: In this well-loved old air the technique and mood-vagaries of Tommy Potts reach his peak in slow-air playing. It will be noticed that where a phrase of the basic melody occurs plainly, in its brevity it does not receive the prominence of its value as a phrase and some would therefore maintain that his music could be fully appreciated only through an acquired taste. To my mind he is away over some of our heads and has achieved something very well worth-while. This item is the clearest indication of that.
9. The Falcarragh Reel: A small town on the mid-North coast of Donegal, Falcarragh's ears have heard the strains of many good fiddle-players. Small wonder then that Tommy pays them tribute as he draws towards the close of his recital. This reel is highly reminiscent of Michael Coleman's 'Boys of the Loch-more so than my comparison in my note on Ryan's Rant (no. 7, side 2)—though it is certainly not the same reel.
10. Garrett Barry's Favourite: This double jig was named in honour of an old West Clare piper (who died early in this century). Tommy blends it briefly into another: The Gander at the Prattie Hole (or potato-pit), which my father called The Monk's Jig, and ends this triad with a tour-de-force on The Rambling Pitchfork in his own dictates of whim and mood. The latter title would seem to emanate from the era of the Spailpín, or migrant agricultural worker. 11. The Parting Glass: With his gentlemanly respect for the listener, Tommy gives us the tune of this graceful farewell-song, treating us the while to a musical cock-tail based upon it with the 'Sorry to Part' flavour. Then, subtly staying in the mood his final reel rattles The Bunch of Keys in his own musical arrangement prior to locking up. This is one you'd wish would last forever, like the closing stages of an extremely enjoyable party. I, for one, am sorry he stopped, and it is 4.30 a.m. now!
Séamus Ennis.
