Martin Hayes
The Queen’s Hall
Martin Hayes has come full circle. I was first aware of the Clare fiddler some twenty odd years ago when he would turn up at small folk festivals, giving workshops in which not a note of music would be played, as he expounded his ideas on music and meditation, meaningless technique, and the importance of origins. He would then go on to embody what he had been talking about in concert, charming audiences with subtle, considered playing of depth and power.
Now, after notable collaborations with guitarist Dennis Cahill, the ‘pure drop’ trio The Teetotallers (with fellow Irish music super-stars John Doyle and Kevin Crawford) and the experimentation of The Gloaming, Hayes was back at the Queen’s Hall playing solo in front of a knowledgeable and enthusiastic audience.
A large part of his popularity resides in his ability to play Irish music as opposed to what is satirically known as ‘the Irish tune’, the seemingly indistinguishable stream of high velocity notes that leaves the lay person bewildered as to the attraction. Hayes, on the other hand, is a master of phrasing, able to bring out the natural beauty of a tune like ‘Aisling Gheal’. He outlines its contours, while shaping and re-shaping its content, introducing an element of improvisation, and never losing sight of its form.
In his introductions, Hayes is amusing and informative, casually discoursing on sean nós singing, the uillean pipes, the connections between Irish and Scottish music, but all with the goal of illuminating the music that follows. He is scrupulous about acknowledging his sources, Paddy Tuohy for his version of ‘Rip the Calico’, for example. Nor is Hayes afraid to go to music that some might consider overplayed, such as ‘The Lark in the Clear Air’, or ‘The Star of Munster’, bringing to every selection ripples of variation, deploying all the means of expression in the fiddler’s locker.
Towards the end of the night Hayes called for requests from the audience and put together a string of tunes he wouldn’t normally play in that order. He almost came undone when, finding himself at an unfamiliar junction with regard to key, he momentarily lost the tune. Step forward, his young Scottish acolyte, Ryan Young, to call out from the front row the first four notes and normal service was restored. It was a moment that underlined the sense of community in the room, and the mutual affection between player and audience.
At one point, Hayes stated what might be his whole musical philosophy. ‘It’s already beautiful. Just don’t mess it up.’ With the skills, knowledge and understanding he has at his disposal, there was little chance of that happening.