Awakening the Genes.

I was sitting in a bar in Donegal Town one night back in May ’96. (‘It’s a good craic in there,’ the landlady of my B&B had told me, and she was right.) At one end of the room a local combo was giving a spirited rendition of jigs and reels – and probably a few highlands and hornpipes as well, I expect – as commonly happens in Irish bars. I was sitting at the bar counter tapping out the rhythms with my fingers, and after a few sets an Irishman sitting next to me said: ‘You’ve a good understanding of Irish music.’

Had I? I’d no idea, but maybe some of my ancestral genes were remembering the good old days. At any rate, it was quite a compliment to give to an Englishman.

And so I took it to heart, and when I came home I set about teaching myself to play the spoons (since they’re readily available, cheaper than buying a bodhran, and somewhat less of an irritation to the neighbours.) And for several months afterwards all my Irish music was accompanied by JJ on the spoons. Nobody complained, but thankfully I never got the opportunity to give a public performance.