Willie’s still alive and kicking

It seemed the closer I got to the coastal town of Miltown Mallbay, the darker and more ominous the backdrop of black clouds became. The weather had been beautiful not ten miles ago and in typical fashion of our great isle, another day seemed to be hampered by the prospect of rain.
The 39th Willie Clancy Summer School, the largest traditional music summer school in the country, was about to begin its fourth day – a Tuesday. Any hope of good weather for my first visit to the festival quickly faded as rain began to batter the car. However, as things turned out, the tempestuous winds and depressing overcast did little to dampen the spirits of a community so infatuated with music.
First stop was the Milltown Malbay National School, where students flock each morning of the summer school for music and dance classes. The rooms were packed with children and adults of all ages.
Break had just begun and the crowd twisted and turned towards a stall selling tea, coffee, food and drinks. Numbers were good but down slightly. Around 800 registered last year; this year around 700.
“The recession obviously is having an impact on us,” explains administrative director, Harry Hughes, “Just like it would anyone”
He maintained there was a good pupil-to-teacher ratio, around one to five.
The spaciousness of the building quickly became apparent as soon as the students returned to their respective classrooms to begin playing once more. Within minutes the large, open hallways were reverberating to the strains of tuned string and wind instruments, echoes of Irish history.
Whistle, fiddle, concertina, banjo, harmonica, button accordion, flute and harp classes are all offered alongside singing and dancing classes.
“The atmosphere is very good in the school, you can see that people are not only learning the music but enjoying the music too. Out and about you have good sessions in the pubs at night time and the céilís are going very well,” said Mr Hughes.
The smile on his face was broad; I could see what all this meant to him. Soon enough, it was time to leave the school and head for town.
Next stop was the céilí with the nationally renowned Tulla Céilí band in the Mill Marquee at the GAA Grounds. About 40 people danced in unison, the rushing wind concealing the clatter of tapping feet until entry. The atmosphere was boisterous; a few of the dancers even stayed on after it was over to tap away to themselves and chat with others. The céilí was indicative of the togetherness and warmth of Ireland’s dancing community, as well as the cultural identity still a big part of the town.
The rasping wind tore at the marquee’s sheets but the noise didn’t seem to bother anyone. I followed the crowd as they doubled back to the town where impromptu musical sessions drew crowds to the pubs, with people spilling out of the doors and onto the pavement.
The tunes were catchy and instantly recognisable, no matter what part of the country you hailed from. Men and women of all ages, armed with a variety of instruments played along in unison.
A great deal of respect is shown, with the room falling silent barring foot-tapping for each individual tune. The odd “Yeow!” from a barstool observer is the only other noise from the audience. Appreciation comes in the form of cheers and a round of pints between songs.
One pub in particular was full to the brim, with 10 or so musicians playing away. The music could be heard out on the street. Inside, the wall was decorated with black and white photos of fiddlers, pipers and guitarists, arm in arm. Several groups of teenage girls and boys tracked the sidewalk in search of
somewhere to play, reinforcing how strongly these traditions are passed down.
Down the road, an RTÉ trailer hosted a talk show where local musicians recorded a track to be played on the air.
Beside it was a caravan owned by two local women. They said they come here each year to hand out Mary Immaculate necklaces for free. I was struck by the benevolence of the two women. Small caravan, big hearts. That encounter brought an end to my day at the
Willie Clancy festival, an event organised by five people, with back-up volunteers.
Though I only came across one céilí and a handful of music groups, the scale of these nine days was unmistakable. Even on a wet Tuesday morning the village was electric, keeping the memory of Willie Clancy alive.