Just as Celtic art seems to contain inspired complexity, so various types of Celtic music seem to contain inspired complexity and vigorous life. I have wondered at the source of both for some time, and have thought, at times, that they were related. It almost seems that they might both derive from some single source. Alas, the pattern is allusive.
In different regions there sprang up different strains of Celtic music, different, but to the listening ear somehow related. Some forms of Celtic music are quick and happy, compelling any person moved by song to get up and dance a jig. Some are more repetitive, or softer, or more plaintive, but they all contain that thing which moves people to name them Celtic. And they stir what seem to be ancient longings, deep within a person, to laugh or to cry or to dream.
My fiancé and I were recently at a very large St. Patrick's celebration, which is held every year at a nearby Irish Catholic Monastery. Celebration of St. Patrick not-withstanding, it is a very fun and lively event, with at least 500 people every year, all dressed in various greens, drinking Guinness, eating bangers, watching 50 or more girls and boys doing traditional Irish dance in fantastic costume, listening to 2 or 3 Irish bands, playing tug-of-war, soccer and other sport. Besides, we're always up for a big Spring Equinox celebration, which is basically what St. Ps day is, wouldn't you say?
In any case, there we were watching some of the girls doing traditional Irish dance, listening to the strains of Irish music lilt across the field, the multi-colored dresses of the curly-haired girls flouncing to the rhythmic clogging, when suddenly I noticed that I recognized some of the notes in the music they were dancing to. But it wasn't a song that sounded like another song, and they weren't notes from an old song replayed - they were notes from a bird-song I had once heard!
Suddenly I was listening closer, but the part of the bird-song I had recognized was gone. I listened closely and it came back again. The rest of the song strongly resembled the bird-song, and was either from a bird from a different region in a country I had visited, or the musician had developed a song from the inspiration provided by the bird-song.
Here was the answer I had been seeking for many years - why is it in different regions there sprang up different strains of Celtic music, different, but somehow related? If the musicians songs were inspired by songs of birds of different regions, then the flute and violin music would sound somehow similar, but would have totally different qualities in every region.
Harkening to nature, especially to the songs of birds, for inspiration, seems to be such a simple and subtle answer. This sounds so much like the sentiment of the Irish, the Welsh, the Breton, and every other type of Celtic persona that it is hard to not be compelled to think it must have been the case. I must say that at this time I have no real evidence Celtic flute and violin music is inspired from song-birds, except what evidence my ears and my heart tell me.
However, doesn't the tin-whistle lend itself particularly well to reproducing the music of a song-bird? There is no way to sing bird-song without straining the vocal cords, and whistling with the lips limited in range. But the flute and the whistle can play the songs of birds admirably.
Just think of the staggering quantity of songs that are out there to be played, inspired by the song-birds of every region. The song-birds need not be copied note-for-note. But the complexity and vibrant nature of their songs could be a source of inspiration for as many years as I would care to count.
Copyright © J. G. Jones