òran mór

Having grown up in a town with neighborhoods nicknamed Little Galway and Kerry, it would have been a surprise if I didn’t have some affinity for Irish music. But mostly I blame my parents.

First of all, there was my dad’s fondness for folk music in general. The Weavers, Joan Baez, The Kingston Trio, and, yes, The Clancy Brothers all had a place on the record player while I was young. Heck, to this day it still isn’t Christmas until we play The Kingston Trio’s Last Month of the Year. Listening to these recordings, I was exposed to the stories, ideals, humor, and flat-out fun of folk music.

And then there was the role of my mother. She is daughter of Irish immigrants, both of whom came from the Gaelic-speaking region of Connemara in Co. Galway, and they lived across the street from the school that my brother, eight cousins and I went to. Every day we’d go there to play and wait patiently until our parents got out of work. My grandparents’ friends from the old country would stop in for a cup of tea, they’d chat in Gaelic and only break into English to tell us kids to stop running around the house.

In the background, though, a record of the Clancy Brothers would be playing or the radio would be tuned to the Irish Hit Parade.

When I was about six years old, I remember hanging over the side of the big cabinet record player, singing along to the chorus of Nancy Whisky. I think this was the first song I knew the chorus to – other than something from Sesame Street. Nancy Whisky?!

Looking back now, I realize those early influences shaped my taste in all music. In middle school, I was hooked on the vocals and melodies of The Beatles. In high school, I loved The Clash and the rebellion they represented. In college, it was the stories in Elvis Costello’s lyrics told that captured my imagination.

But when the extended family gathered, we’d sing Wild Colonial Boy and the adults would dance The Siege of Ennis.

What chance did I have?

All joking aside, being from such a close family did give me tremendous pride in my Irish heritage. I always enjoyed the Clancys and Tommy Makem, and still do. But when my brother and I first visited family in Ireland in 1990, he picked up a set of cassette tapes to play in the rental car. It was a collection of Christy Moore’s early stuff.

Listening to those tapes as we drove the countryside shined a light on a side of Irish music that I hadn’t experienced before. While Christy remains one of my greatest influences, his music opened the door to others like Luke Kelly, Jez Lowe, Dick Gaughan and Richard Shindell. They may not all be Irish, but I love any song with a story…and these guys tell great stories.

Pete, his mullet, and Shillelagh

After that trip, I didn’t want to be an audience member anymore; I wanted to play the music. I got a bodhran and penny whistle in 1992, and started hanging around The Wild Rover in Manchester, NH. There, Marty Quirk and Kevin Dolan at would occasionally let me sit in. They were very patient and encouraged me greatly. Around that time, I also got to play one St. Patrick’s Day gig in a five-piece band that featured three guys of Greek decent and “us two Micks.” These guys were all accomplished musicians and their encouragement kept me going. A couple years later, I got my first guitar and started noodling.

It wasn’t until I moved to Portsmouth, NH in 2005 that I reached the next level. I started participating at Tom Hall’s trad session at The Press Room and, later, the Irish music session hosted by Dave Hallowell at McMenemy’s. I became a sponge, soaked in as much as I could, and found a few supportive mentors who helped me develop my skills. Now, I get to recount the stories, tell the jokes and sing the songs that I heard growing up, while introducing people to the new tradition material as well.

Best of all, I have the pleasure of playing with my friend Dave on the traditional tunes that can still get my mother to dance, or the songs that will get my dad to sing along.