00:00 The Origins of Four Men and a Dog
03:42 The Heart of Irish Music Sessions
08:52 The Power of Community in Music
14:32 Navigating Session Etiquette
20:12 The Balance of Skill and Inclusion in Sessions
25:53 Introduction to Sketch City and Music Culture
26:41 The Importance of Listening in Music
29:18 Navigating Musical Expectations and Parental Influence
31:21 The Journey of Learning and Playing Music
35:04 Understanding the Tools of Music
39:13 Passing Down Musical Traditions
42:18 The Role of Dancers in Music
44:48 Teaching Adults in Music
48:44 The Rhythm of Music and Its Influence
50:40 Exploring the Dynamics of Music Sessions
52:59 The Journey of Learning and Practicing Music
54:45 Navigating the Social Structures of Music Sessions
58:22 The Importance of Confidence in Joining Sessions
01:03:01 The Role of Listeners in Music Sessions
Conversational Transcript
*[This is an edited conversational transcript, lightly shaped for readability while keeping the spirit of the original conversation]
Where did Four Men and a Dog get its name?
Tara:
Gino Lupari, bodhrán player with Four Men and a Dog.
Before we start into it, where did the dog come from?
Gino:
The story was that Cathal Hayden and Mick Daly were playing in a band called Arcady with Johnny McDonagh. Then it broke up.
Mick saw me playing with Liz Doherty in Cork and said to Cathal, “You should think about getting that boy into a band. He is good craic.”
Then Cathal, Brian McGrath, Donal Murphy and myself went to Cork because we wanted Mick to join the band.
Mick had this big black beard, and in Cork his nickname was the Black Dog.
We were sitting in the corner of a pub, trying to think of names and writing down all these stupid names.
Cathal was at the bar getting the pints. He turned around and said, “I have it, lads. Four Men and a Dog.”
That was it.
Great call, Cathal.
Four pints.
That is the truth. That is how it happened.
Tara:
And were you the dog?
Gino:
No.
For years people thought I was the dog.
Then on Fleadh TV, Mick admitted he was the dog.
It was not me.
What does an Irish music session mean?
Tara:
What does an Irish traditional music session mean to you?
Gino:
It makes my heart sing.
It is the sound, the camaraderie, the music that is made from it, the friendships that are made from it.
It means everything to me.
It is such a special thing.
We as musicians take it for granted because we get to say, “Let’s play a session.”
But we do not always understand how important and integral it is to the music, to our mental health and to our health.
I love playing tunes with Dermot and Tim Edey and those boys.
Sometimes the only thing we know is the first tune. After that, anything can happen.
I did a gig with Tim and Dermot in Derry, and we finished the tune with Disney themes.
Tara:
That is when it is in flow. Anything can happen.
Gino:
That is the session.
When I first started to learn to play, I was quiet behind the door.
Seamus O’Kane told me to tighten up and play.
But you waited your turn.
You watched the other players.
One thing I always tell my students is: listen to music all the time.
Listen to traditional music whenever you can, so you understand the rhythm of the tune.
I try to teach syncopation, but I also try to teach that sometimes not playing is better than playing.
Gino:
You remember when we were younger, two days later the tune would still be in your head.
Before we started this, we were talking about The Glen Road to Carrick.
What a tune.
I was down in the shops yesterday lilting away at it.
Not a sinner near me.
I played it this morning too.
It is such an important part of our culture.
Fleadhs, busking and young musicians
Gino:
There are different sessions now.
There are sessions in Temple Bar. There are sessions at the Fleadh.
I have noticed a lot of people complaining about kids busking at the Fleadh.
It does not really bother me.
People say it is not the real Fleadh.
But if children of nine or ten are playing music, they are not fighting or playing mad box.
Tara:
Sometimes children need an entry point.
They might not yet have developed a love for the music. Maybe the fact that they make forty euro is the hook at that age.
Gino:
I remember street sessions in Listowel, outside the bank.
They were mighty.
I remember playing a tune with Maurice Lennon.
I thought, “That is Maurice Lennon.”
I had only won the Ulster Fleadh or something, and there I was playing with Maurice Lennon from Stockton’s Wing, who later became a friend.
That is wild.
Sessions make friendships for life
Gino:
That is what I notice about sessions.
Before we even talk about young musicians in sessions, they form friendships for life.
They are not on their phones all the time.
Their whole thing is music, sessions, getting together and playing.
Some of them now are getting very cute. They are starting to arrange all the tunes.
But it is the energy and the enthusiasm they have for it.
How Gino found Irish music
Gino:
I came into Irish music through a Chieftains track, A Trip to Sligo.
My English teacher made me write an essay on that tune.
I asked, “Can I have that?”
It was a big Chieftains LP.
She said, “Take it home.”
I did not have a bodhrán, so I said, “What is that round thing? I love it.”
I had a phone book and practised on that.
Tara:
So for anyone who does not have a bodhrán yet...
Gino:
Yellow Pages or a phone book.
As long as you do not play a tray.
What makes a session special?
Tara:
You said sessions are special.
What makes them special?
Gino:
For me, seeing ten fiddle players on the same bow.
You see people who are so shy, saying, “Hello, how are you?”
Then they get a fiddle under their chin or an accordion in their hands, and they play the shit out of it.
They become a different person.
It is like, “Look at me.”
Tara:
It sounds like the music is coming from inside and growing when it gets out.
Gino:
There is no messing.
“I know this tune. I am playing it.”
Seeing fiddle players on the same bow, then hearing someone shout, “Again,” or “Hup.”
I get goosebumps from it.
The power it has.
You might have Donal Murphy leading and shouting, “Next,” or “Hup,” and everybody goes at the same time.
It is unbelievable power.
We have become used to it.
But imagine a tourist or a young person interested in music seeing that. It would blow their mind.
To us, it is like breathing or putting on your shoes.
But it is amazing.
The power, the enjoyment and the camaraderie are wild.
The rhythm linking everyone together
Tara:
Do you think part of that power is when we all link together with rhythm, especially from a bodhrán perspective?
Gino:
I have been playing with Liz Doherty, Dermot Byrne and you.
You play with Scottish influences. Highlands and barn dances. I did not hear those for years.
They are not played in County Derry or Mayo. That is the Donegal thing.
The special thing is seeing musicians get that look in their eye.
“Give me that tune. Play it.”
It is nearly like a workout at the gym.
You come out of it and your ears are ringing with tunes for two days.
Being match fit for sessions
Gino:
You do have to be match fit for sessions.
When we were younger, you never worried about whether you had only a fiver or ten euro.
You never worried where you were going to stay or eat.
As long as you had rosin, strings, or sticks for the bodhrán, that was it.
The door into the session
Gino:
A session is a welcoming place if you know your entry point and know when the door is open.
When you know the door is open, musicians will embrace you and say, “Right, let’s play.”
But if you push that button too early, or do not realise you have done it too early, it can drive it the wrong way.
Speaking as a bodhrán player, I always tell students that the bodhrán is the most powerful instrument in a session.
People will disagree, obviously.
But it drives the music.
If you listen to the musicians around you and realise that you can control the rhythm, you can tell people through a syncopated beat, or a rim shot, that we are going again.
But if there are two or three bodhráns in a session, there is a way to play.
Do not just bogey out the whole thing.
Knowing when to play and when to let someone else play
Gino:
There is nearly an unwritten rule now with bodhráns in a session.
You play a tune and let somebody else play.
Or you say, “You play that.”
If we are playing sets of three, maybe you take the second tune and I will sit out.
Some people just do not know that.
How do we tell them without hurting them?
How do you know when the door is open?
Tara:
How do you tell when the door is ready to open?
When is the gateway into a session open, and when is it not?
Gino:
The first thing is to listen.
Ask yourself: am I good enough to play in this session?
Am I still a learner?
Do I know these tunes?
Are they playing too fast for my skill level?
Are they too intricate?
Are the rhythms beyond me?
For example, if we are playing polkas, very few people can play polkas well on a bodhrán.
You have to say to yourself: is my skill set up to that?
If not, you will slow things down.
So you have to listen for a while to understand your skill set and see whether you are strong enough to add to the session.
I always encourage people, fiddle players, whistle players, anybody, to come in and play.
But know where you are at.
The man with the drumsticks on the floor
Gino:
I was playing a session recently in the north.
There was a man sitting on the floor, playing drumsticks on the floor.
Everyone was looking at him.
He was not playing in time, but he was enjoying it.
I thought that in his head, he was thinking, “I am playing Irish music. Look at me. I am great.”
People were looking at me, nodding, as if to say, “What should we do?”
I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “I play a bit of bodhrán myself. Do you want to have a go on this, and I will show you a couple of things?”
He said yes.
I got out the bodhrán, showed him basic strokes, and he was fine for a while.
Two hours later, I saw him sitting on the floor banging away again, out of time and loud.
Then I thought, did I open that door for him by showing him the bodhrán?
I want the music to be inclusive.
I do not want it to be, “I only play with certain people.”
That is rubbish.
Tara:
At the same time, there are times when musicians just want to play with their peers.
I do not like the idea that people should be made to feel guilty for that.
If top-class musicians want to play with top-class musicians because they are not challenged otherwise, that is fair too.
Gino:
As a teacher, if you are teaching a class of ten, you teach to the lowest common denominator.
The stronger students can suffer because you are always aiming there.
I agree with you.
When bands like Lúnasa, Four Men and a Dog, Altan or Dervish all end up at a festival together, it is wild.
You are not playing your set list.
You are not performing.
You are in chill-out mode.
And if someone tries to join that, the door is well and truly locked.
It is not open.
Playing with your friends
Tara:
Sometimes you just want to be with your peers and bounce off each other.
You are not in performance mode.
You are in chill-out mode.
Gino:
Exactly.
You are not the bodhrán player from Four Men and a Dog or the fiddle player from Dervish.
You are playing with your friends and peers you have known for years.
That is it.
The door is well and truly locked.
Being made to feel guilty
Tara:
What do you think about people making musicians feel guilty for doing that?
Gino:
If twenty friends are playing in the corner and someone comes in with an accordion, knows two tunes, and does not know them well enough or fast enough or intricately enough, it is like putting oil in water.
It spoils the music.
It spoils our entertainment.
It spoils the vibe for everyone, including the person coming in, because they do not know.
There is a time and place.
If someone is learning and we are in teaching mode, then yes, we can say, “I will play a tune with you.”
For that tune, you are on level par.
That is part of our job too.
But it is not one hundred percent of all tunes, all the time.
Why master musicians need sessions too
Tara:
That is where people can get confused.
It is hard to tell the difference between a session that is open and a session that is really for peers.
Gino:
The majority of musicians we know who play in sessions are not thinking, “Look at me, I am brilliant.”
They just want to dig into it and play.
It is like a sport.
When you are playing with someone like Cathal Hayden and he pushes you into it, it is like, “Come on then.”
They egg you on.
They make you play better.
A newer musician might not hear those little idiosyncrasies yet.
Their ear might not be warm enough.
But to someone watching, it can look as if we have rehearsed all week.
We have not.
We have been doing it for a while, and our ears are warm to it.
We know when a tune change or key change is coming.
The bodhrán should not start at the start and finish at the end
Gino:
Speaking as a bodhrán player, you do not start at the start and finish at the end.
You do not play the whole thing from the first note to the last note without differentiating between the A part, the B part, or the three times through.
I see bodhrán players do that.
As soon as the fiddle, accordion or guitar hits a note, they start playing.
Then they keep going through the whole thing.
Tara:
What would you advise them to do?
Gino:
For me, it is all about dynamics.
I might not play the first tune in a set.
Or I might not play the A part.
Maybe I just play a rim shot.
I slowly work the bodhrán into where the music is going, so you do not really notice it.
The other musicians notice it.
As I dig in harder, they dig in harder.
Then, when everyone is on the same page, it bursts open.
I let the musicians set it up.
They set the timing and the melody.
I sit behind them, maybe tapping, hitting the rim, or playing one note.
I let it build.
Sometimes I do not even play the first tune.
Syncopation and catching the ear
Tara:
When you mention syncopation, you would not be doing it all the time.
You throw it in as something special.
Gino:
You throw it in to make the girls look at you.
Or an offbeat.
But those things only come with the patience to listen.
Know how good you are.
Embrace how good you are.
But be prepared to be better.
That is for every standard.
I cannot hear what you are hearing.
Your idea of the rhythm you hear is completely different from mine, and from the next person’s.
So I try to get students to listen to the music and find the rhythm in the tunes.
Listen for the little signals.
There is nothing better than hearing someone shout, “Again,” or hearing an accordion player hit a note that makes everyone go again.
That is an unwritten language.
It is a dialect we know.
Parents pushing children too hard
Gino:
How do we tell someone starting this journey, maybe a young adult or teenager full of vigour?
You see it at Fleadhs. Jimmy’s mammy and daddy say, “He is brilliant.”
Then you hear Jimmy, and Jimmy is not brilliant.
Tara:
Parents sometimes put children into sessions and say, “You play now.”
They do not realise the people already playing may have been playing for decades and are at the top of their game.
It can be disrespectful if the parents are pushing.
Gino:
I can name excellent musicians who were driven by their parents and now hate music.
They do not listen to it. They do not play. They do not talk about it.
It is too sore.
The child becomes a performing monkey.
Parents say, “Play that. Now get up and dance.”
Then, as soon as the young musician is old enough, they give it up.
I have seen kids pushed into the middle of sessions, nervous because they are sitting with people they have heard about or seen.
They are terrified.
Then they think, “That was awful. What do I know about playing?”
It reinforces negativity.
How musician parents handle it differently
Tara:
What would musician parents do differently?
Gino:
They would wait until there was a lull.
At Belfast Trad last year, there was a young lad whose mother and father are musicians.
Between tunes, while people were getting drinks or coffee, I gave him a bodhrán lesson.
Then I encouraged him to play, and he played a tune with his mam and dad.
But it was not, “Look at me.”
The three of them sat and played.
His parents were telling him to listen.
Irish music is an oral tradition.
You have to be aware of what you are playing.
It is not enough to say a reel is a reel. It is the idiosyncrasies and turns that make it what it is.
That is how you become a better player.
Gino:
When I saw a bodhrán for the first time in Crosskeys in County Antrim, I said to the fellow I was with, “I can play that.”
I had never seen one before.
I was drawn to it straight away.
Could I play it?
No.
I could get a sound out of it.
I was working for my uncle in Bundoran, putting in marble floors. As a present, the man we were working for bought me a bodhrán.
I used to sit on the building site on the hot cement, playing and waiting for The Maid Behind the Bar.
That was the only tune I knew.
Tara:
So as a learner bodhrán player, you waited for the tune you knew.
Would you encourage people to do that?
Gino:
Absolutely.
That is the start of this whole conversation.
Listen.
You have to listen.
Tara:
When you talk about listening, what exactly are you listening for?
The tune? The rhythm?
Gino:
How the tune works.
The guts of the tune.
I have an awful habit of listening for a harmony thing in it.
I am listening for the harmony or the syncopation.
Tara:
So even though you are the rhythm player, you are listening to the melodic side.
If I played The Maid Behind the Bar, what would you listen for?
Gino:
I am listening for your bow going across for a double bow.
Tara:
Are you listening for the space in between?
Gino:
Exactly.
Sometimes not playing is better than playing because you are letting the music out.
Then, when you become confident, you can say, “I know how to make that nicer.”
You can find it in the spaces.
You are not covering the melody.
You are letting it breathe, then slipping in and out.
You catch someone’s ear.
You see players looking around, thinking, “What was that?”
That eggs you on, and it eggs them on.
Gino:
The bodhrán and learning those tunes in Crosskeys, Donegal, Miltown Malbay and Listowel has taken me all around the world.
It is a gift.
My nephew plays, and after his exams in school, he takes out a whistle or a flute and plays.
I hope to see him when he is forty, still playing tunes.
It is an amazing thing we have, and we have to pass it on.
Passing the music on the right way
Tara:
You said we have to pass it on the right way.
What do you mean?
What is the wrong way?
Gino:
The right way is respect for the music.
We have all been in sessions asking, “What do you call that tune?”
Someone says, “I do not know the name, but Liz Doherty plays it,” or “That is a Gino Lupari song.”
That is how it gets passed on.
The wrong way would be treating ten individual pieces of work as if they are just exercises, playing them once through with no dynamic, no enjoyment, no letting each tune breathe.
There are composers now writing new tunes that deserve to be in the tradition.
It is important that we do it right.
It is also our job to pass it on.
Let Jimmy come and play, but on our terms, not his parents’ terms.
We can say, “Listen to this,” or “Listen to how she bends that note on the whistle.”
No matter what instrument you play, you have to learn how it fits with the other instruments.
Dancers
Tara:
What about dancers?
Do you like playing with dancers?
Gino:
I love playing with dancers, although they are cross at me sometimes.
They are so precise.
When I am playing rhythm for a dancer, sometimes I hear a little offbeat, but they are used to having things a certain way.
I tell bodhrán students to watch the dancers’ feet.
They tell you where the push is.
Their stomp, especially for polkas and slides, tells you when to play that beat.
Giving feedback to adult learners
Gino:
Adults are a different kettle of fish.
You have to treat them differently because they are doing something completely new.
A person could be a brain surgeon, but this could be the first time they have ever played a barn dance.
If you say, “That is not right,” they might never open the fiddle again.
But if you say, “I heard it like this,” or “Have you ever heard Joe Bloggs playing it like that?” then you are not saying, “That is crap.”
You are giving them an option.
You are giving them a way to try something.
That is the hardest thing with adults.
I tell adult students: do not play in a session until you are confident enough, because whether you believe it or not, you control the session.
Gino:
A good bodhrán player is a pleasure.
It is an instrument that belongs to the person.
If you play a note on the fiddle, it is a fiddle note. If you play an accordion or guitar, it is a chord.
But when you play a rhythm, it is what you hear.
If you and I were listening to the same tune, I might hear something completely different.
I might put in a rim shot or a big bass note because I hear it differently.
That is how I imagine it.
Tara:
How do you get that rhythm?
Gino:
I do not know, Tara.
I am not being coy. I really do not know.
I have rhythm in my head all the time.
When I was working on building sites, I used to sing all the time.
Heavy machinery, earphones, high-vis, singing away to myself.
Tara:
I think a lot of it is to do with singing.
When I am learning a tune, I lilt it or whistle it.
That is how variations and rhythm come.
It has to be in your head first.
Gino:
Exactly.
The more tunes you have in your database, the more you are flicking through them.
Practice, stamina and tools
Tara:
How does someone improve their bodhrán playing?
Gino:
Practice.
I learned reels and jigs listening to Status Quo and other music, because they are timings.
I would play along.
But you have to know the limits of your playing.
To improve, I go through phases of practice, trying different things: one-sided triplets, double marks, all that.
I do not have names for everything.
Sometimes you just do it.
Sometimes it falls in flames.
But sometimes it works.
Practice helps your stamina.
It helps you become loose.
It helps you become match fit.
Tara:
I tell my students that five minutes a day can change everything.
I was learning concertina and kept it beside my desk. When I was annoyed or fed up, I would play it for five minutes.
After two months, I was way better.
Then I put it on a higher shelf, and that became a barrier.
Gino:
That is why my bodhráns sit in front of the fire.
It becomes part of you.
Joining a session when you do not know anyone
Tara:
One questionnaire response asked:
If you do not have the luxury of knowing the musicians in a session, what is the view on joining a session where you do not know anybody, even if you ask first?
Gino:
Again, the power is yours.
By listening to the session, you have to realise whether you are strong enough to be in that session.
If you feel confident and strong enough, go for it.
Only you know that.
Musicians are welcoming.
But it falls at your door to make sure you are strong enough to play in that session.
Nobody knows that except you.
Finding where the door is
Tara:
We need to say, “Do not rush the decision, but do not delay it forever either.”
Gino:
Find where the door is.
If you do not take the step, you will never take the step.
But you have to feel confident enough that you can do it.
It is easier if you know one or two musicians in the session.
Be seen.
Talk to someone during the break.
Say, “I play a bit of music myself,” or “I am learning the fiddle.”
Nine times out of ten, somebody will say, “Have you it with you?”
Then the door is open.
Tara:
The mystery question from the previous guest is:
If a group of trad musicians are playing in the forest and no one is there, do they make any sound?
How important are listeners and having the craic to a session?
Gino:
If we were playing with our peers, we would not care where we were.
We would just play.
Listeners are important for the vibe and the atmosphere, but they are not the reason we play.
We are not performing.
We are playing to play tunes with each other.
In a session, I do not feel under any obligation to perform for listeners.
That would be different if they had paid to hear me play.
In a session, if I do not feel like playing for half an hour, I am not going to play.
That will not affect the session, and it will not affect them either.
Tara:
But listeners can absolutely add to it.
Gino:
Sometimes it is lovely.
The vibe, the atmosphere, the joy.
I really love Irish music.
Gino Lupari’s episode is full of jokes, stories and throwaway lines, but underneath it is a serious argument for listening.
For Gino, the session is not just a place where people play tunes. It is where friendships are made, where musicians grow up, where rhythm becomes a shared language, and where the music gets passed from one person to another.
His bodhrán perspective is especially important.
The bodhrán can lift a session, drive it, colour it, wake it up and bring it roaring back to life. It can also flatten the music, overpower the tune and wreck the whole room.
That is why Gino keeps coming back to the same point: listen first.
Listen to the tune.
Listen to the rhythm.
Listen to the spaces.
Listen to the players.
Listen for the moment when the music needs you, and also the moment when it does not.
One of the strongest ideas in this conversation is the door.
A session may be welcoming, but that does not mean the door is always open in the same way. Sometimes it is wide open. Sometimes it is open for one tune. Sometimes it is open if you listen first. Sometimes, when musicians are playing with their peers and feeding their own musical hunger, the door is closed.
That is not cruelty.
It is part of the ecology of the session.
Gino is clear that musicians with experience have a duty to pass the music on. But they must pass it on the right way. Not by turning children into performing monkeys. Not by allowing parents to push them into spaces they are not ready for. Not by flattening the music into exercises. And not by pretending every session is for every person at every moment.
The right way is slower, subtler and more human.
Listen.
Wait.
Know where you are.
Find the door.
And when you do play, do not half-play it.
Play it with your whole heart.
*Produced & recorded by Tara Connaghan and edited by Anita Alvarez Santos
http://www.fourmenandadog.net/
https://ginolupari.com/about/
www.sketchcity.co
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