00:00 The Heart of Irish Music Sessions
07:27 Growing Up with Music in England
13:16 The Journey to Mastery
19:20 Teaching and Learning in Music
25:39 The Role of Listeners in Sessions
29:39 The Balance of Fun and Respect in Sessions
37:09 Navigating Session Etiquette
44:03 The Dynamics of Speed and Rhythm
53:36 Creating the Perfect Session
Conversational Transcript
*[This is an edited conversational transcript, lightly shaped for readability while keeping the spirit of the original conversation]
What does an Irish music session mean?
Tara:
What does an Irish music session mean to you?
Kevin:
I’ve thought about it, and for me it’s the lifeblood of the tradition.
Without the session, we would have a very different tradition. It might become more performative, or more academic. But the session is social. It is about community.
There are so many strands to it beyond just playing the tunes. For me, it keeps the heart of the music in good shape. It keeps the whole thing ticking over and in good health.
Tara:
So it keeps your heart, or the heart of the music?
Kevin:
I was really talking about the heart of the music. It keeps it alive and healthy.
Sessions as community outside Ireland
Tara:
Do you think listeners can feel that connection too?
Kevin:
If you can tap into it, yes. For some of us, we were lucky because the session was simply part of life. We didn’t think about session etiquette, or what was allowed, or what wasn’t allowed.
You were just in an environment where the session was a staple. It was a way to socialise, to listen, to learn, and to be part of something without having a big agenda.
There was also great respect for the generation before us. You knew you weren’t going to act out of school. You would speak when spoken to. That carried into the music too. You waited. You didn’t go in and take over.
Tara:
And you found that outside Ireland as well?
Kevin:
Yes. The session was very strong in England. In some ways, there may even have been more sessions outside Ireland at that time because of the Irish emigrant communities.
In London, Birmingham and other places, the session was vital. It helped people stay connected with the music and with each other.
In England, you had people from all over Ireland mixing together. You might have musicians from Limerick, Clare, Donegal and elsewhere all in the same room. That meant different styles, different tunes and different ways of playing all came together.
I was lucky because I didn’t know that tunes belonged to particular regions. To me, they were just tunes. I had no judgement about it. I just loved being in the thick of it.
Getting bitten by the bug
Tara:
It’s funny, because I remember the early stages too. First, sessions looked like there was great craic. Then there were boys. Then later I realised the music was really good. There were a few steps before getting properly hooked on the music.
Kevin:
Yes, but I was a bit strange. I think I was mostly there for the tunes.
I grew up in England. I was the youngest of four. None of my siblings were into traditional music. My parents didn’t play, although they loved the music. My father was a great singer and my mother was a great dancer. But nobody pushed me into it.
I had to ask for it. I had to say, “Can I play music? Can you get me an instrument?”
I was always playing records in the house, but none of my brothers or sisters were into it. I remember getting De Dannan’s Star-Spangled Molly album and listening to it constantly.
Then I went to a session and had managed to pick out Hey Jude from that album. Somebody said, “That’s the Beatles song.” And I said, “Who the hell are the Beatles?”
I had come to the Beatles through De Dannan.
Tara:
That album was a staple in our car too. It was the soundtrack of our journeys to Dublin.
Kevin:
We both got bitten by the bug without it being forced on us. Nobody gave me rules. I was paddling my own canoe, looking for the music.
The moment Kevin threw away the spoons
Tara:
Can you remember any really positive moments in sessions that were pivotal for you?
Kevin:
I was mainly in it for the craic at first. I loved being in the thick of it.
I could hear things in the music that some of my friends didn’t seem to hear. If somebody played a small variation or did one little thing, I would be buzzing. I knew I could hear the music, but I wasn’t really playing properly.
I didn’t have a good instrument. I didn’t really know what I wanted to play. Flutes were expensive. So I played the spoons.
Tara:
No way.
Kevin:
Yes. Anything to be part of it.
My family are from Clare, and when we came home for summer holidays, we were near Junior Crehan and other great musicians. Junior noticed that I was this young lad from Birmingham who wasn’t off playing football or climbing haycocks. I was always looking for where the music was.
He said to my mother, “You should get him an instrument.”
Through a friend, I got a fiddle. I brought it back to England. It had no strings, no bow, nothing. We got it set up, but I had no idea what to do with it. I was scraping away and getting nowhere.
Eventually the fiddle went under the bed. But there was a whistle in the house that an uncle had left, and that suited me much better. I could find the notes. I could hear tunes and pick them out.
Then, when I was 15, my mother gave me the green light to go to the Willie Clancy Summer School with friends from Birmingham.
I went to Miltown Malbay armed with the spoons and a tin whistle.
There was a session in Queally’s Bar one afternoon with Jackie Daly, Frankie Gavin, Frankie Kennedy, Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh and others. Absolute top of the tree.
I sat there for four hours.
When I came out of that pub, I said, “Right, I have to get rid of those spoons. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it in earnest.”
On the ferry back to England, I threw the two spoons into the sea.
That was the end of the spoons.
Tara:
What made you realise the difference between the spoons and the tunes?
Kevin:
I knew the spoons weren’t really the instrument people wanted you to arrive with.
But more than that, it dawned on me that I understood the melodies. I had the tunes in my head. So why wasn’t I putting in the work?
I was bluffing. I could sit in a session and have a few tunes, but I didn’t really know what I was doing.
With the tunes, I loved it so much that it didn’t feel like work. It was about doing it right. Listening. Figuring it out. Not glossing over it.
I had to do it myself. There were no lessons.
Tara:
So you focused on learning the tunes properly so you could be more confident in sessions.
Kevin:
Yes. And when people who had only known you as a bit of craic suddenly see you contributing to the music, they encourage you. Then you want more. You soak it up.
I don’t really remember sitting down learning tunes in a formal way. I listened to them so much. Then I played them badly. Then I played them better. Then I had them.
Becoming a better session player
Kevin:
Because I didn’t have formal training, I think I could go with the flow in sessions.
That can be missing sometimes. People play exactly what they do when they’re on their own.
I always loved hearing something and responding to it. Trying to complement it.
When I came to Ireland, I was lucky to play with so many different styles of musicians, people like Tommy Peoples, Tony Linnane and Siobhán Peoples. They all played differently.
I felt I could change my own playing slightly to suit what was happening. I could hear what they were doing in the moment, and I wasn’t tied to one rigid version of myself.
Tara:
You mentioned earlier that when you were younger, it was the little notes, the variations and the buzz that you heard in sessions. That seems still to be there.
Kevin:
It is. But does that make you a better player, or does it make you a better session player?
I think I’m a better session player than performer.
I’ve learned to play in a way that works for gigs and recordings, but sometimes I hear myself in a session and think, “That’s more me.”
The session teaches you to listen more and take chances. It’s not always about getting it right.
In competition or performance, there can be so much emphasis on getting it right. Of course we love getting it right. But there’s also music in not being so caught up in technique.
The dirt is a great thing too. The energy matters.
The importance of great listeners
Kevin:
Some of the most important people in a session don’t play.
They are the listeners.
If you meet up with musicians in a pub and there are no listeners, you can still have a nice tune. But it’s not the same.
If there is even one person there who really loves the music, you dig deeper.
There were great listeners in Clare, people like John and Joan Looney, Marty O’Malley, Len Wilson and Terry Wilson. If they were in the room, it was a different vibe.
At festivals, if someone like Frank McGann arrived into a session, everything lifted. You knew he was listening.
Those people add more to a session than they are given credit for.
Tara:
They are just as much part of the session.
Kevin:
They are. They let you know. They don’t have inhibitions. It isn’t a forced shout. It’s primal. They can’t help responding.
When the whole room feels the lift
Tara:
Do you think it brings out a kind of giddiness, almost like a childlike state?
Kevin:
Absolutely. You forget about being an adult.
You get carried away by something.
When all the elements come together, the right listeners, the right musicians, the right rhythm, nobody interfering with it, and that momentum starts to build, everyone feels it.
Not just the musicians. The room feels it.
That’s when you know it’s a great session.
Tara:
I can hear and see that you’re feeling it now. What is your body telling you?
Kevin:
It’s telling me I’m missing out by not being at Willie Clancy this week.
I’m carried away. There is nostalgia in it, but it was real. That enjoyment was real.
We were lucky to witness it.
If I had come across sessions when I was younger that felt like recitals, I would have moved on. I wasn’t there for that. It had to have everything.
In that Miltown session with Jackie Daly and Frankie Gavin, there was fun, mischief, sparks flying, a bit of duelling, a bit of devilment. But at the same time, the tune was king.
Can beginners be brought along?
Tara:
Some listeners might say they don’t have the technical ability to participate at that level. Can they still be brought along on the journey?
Kevin:
Absolutely.
If there’s one thing to take from this conversation, it’s that this feeling is accessible. You can experience it. Then you can take that feeling away and use it to propel yourself into playing differently.
There is a level of respect and a level of disrespect happening at the same time. At some point, you have to let off the shackles. You will sometimes take it too far, but that’s part of learning. Eventually you understand the parameters.
You need respect. You need to be a good listener. You need an environment where people are welcoming.
But not so welcoming that the session loses what makes it work.
That’s the other thing. Sessions can be too big. Too many people dilute the energy.
Session size and the configuration
Tara:
What would be your cut-off size?
Kevin:
I’m good up to eight. I don’t like going into double figures.
Ben Lennon was very aware of the configuration of a session. He would say, “We can’t have the guitar in here now. The flute should be over there. Sean Smith, you sit here.”
He was right. He was setting up the environment in a way that made it possible for everyone to hear and feed off each other.
Tara:
There has to be a nucleus of core musicians who can gel together. If they can hear each other, they can carry other people along.
Kevin:
Exactly. If the nucleus is right, the session has the potential to be good, maybe even great.
But sometimes on paper you have all the heavy hitters and it still doesn’t happen. That’s brilliant too, because it reminds you that you can’t just roll this out.
There are so many things that make it magical.
You need the right people, the right emotional state, the right room, the right energy.
I think there are “energy bunnies” out there who are great in sessions. Not because they want to be the centre of attention, but because they know how to bring people along.
The craic between the tunes
Kevin:
One big difference now is that many sessions are also gigs.
People are paid. A pub wants music. The musicians leading the session have a job to do.
That can remove some of the freedom I loved, the craic between the tunes, the yarns, the tall tales, the roguery and the madness.
That was part of why I fell for it. It was social. It was fun.
A lot of the chat was musically related. People would talk about Willie Clancy or other musicians. Without knowing it, they were passing on important information.
The tune isn’t everything.
I learned so much from the chat between the tunes. I learned how to bite back, how to be funny, how to take part. If you didn’t, you missed out.
There were great characters. If they were there, you knew there would be craic.
Tara:
If an improving musician wants to join a session where six or seven strong musicians are playing well together, would you advise one or two learners joining rather than a whole crowd?
Kevin:
Yes, absolutely. It is situation specific.
Know your lane a little bit.
At the same time, be prepared.
I was always waiting to be asked to join in. There was never a thought in my head that because I knew the tune, I should just take out the instrument and play.
Even now, if I go into a session, I like to be asked. I have no problem saying, “I want to listen tonight.” But I wouldn’t just tog out.
The big mistake is when people feel they have invested in an instrument, gone to a few lessons, and are entitled to jump in.
There are stages. At one stage, you play with your contemporaries. Then you might be invited in and play a couple of tunes. You improve. Eventually you find your level.
Some people don’t hear the difference between knowing the tune and the thing that happens when the music is really flying.
Knowing the tune isn’t always enough.
Sometimes joining in can stop the thing from flying.
How to join without taking over
Tara:
You try to be inclusive, but maybe every session has a limit to how much inclusivity it can hold.
Kevin:
It’s a tough balance.
When I first moved to New York, I used to play a Tuesday night session with Tony DeMarco. Tony ruled the roost in New York. He ran the session with an iron fist.
I was the new kid on the block. People started coming in because they heard I had moved there. I didn’t know the history, so I was inviting everyone in to play.
Tony said to me, “Dial back the Mr. Nice Guy. You’re ruining the session here.”
He had spent twenty years curating it.
When I ran sessions myself, I would invite people to play a couple of tunes, then if they didn’t know the rest, they could sit with the instrument on their lap. That’s fine.
I did that myself. I didn’t see it as being rejected. I was happy just to be there and sometimes get a chance to play.
Tara:
It’s the process of learning.
Kevin:
Exactly.
Tara:
One question from the SessionEtiquette.com questionnaire was: “I don’t understand who leads the session and when I can start a tune. Sometimes people start tunes too soon after a tune has just ended.”
Kevin:
If you follow basic rules, you won’t come away with egg on your face.
Respect the room. Respect the people. Suss out who leads the session.
There are usually one or two people who are there every week and run the show, whether they are being paid or whether they have simply been going so long that they are the stalwarts.
Small steps go a long way.
Even now, if I go back to Ireland and think I might go for a tune in Galway, I’ll think about who might be there and what tunes they might play. I don’t sit down and learn tunes for them, but I think about what might be appropriate for that group.
If someone asks you to play a tune, don’t immediately play your showpiece. Start something people can join in with.
It isn’t cool to play new tunes just because you think nobody will know them.
When someone starts a tune too soon
Kevin:
One thing that really irks me is when a set has built beautifully and reaches its natural end.
Everybody knows it’s done. There’s the release. The thing has finished.
Then someone doesn’t read that and jumps into something else.
It’s the wrong moment. The wrong tune. The wrong everything.
They saw it as their chance to play that tune, but they’ve ruined the gorgeous set that just happened.
Hold off.
Tara:
We have probably all done that at some stage.
Kevin:
I know. And I’m very vocal here in the safety of my living room, but I’m not good at calling the shot in a session.
I let nearly everything go.
I’ve seen respected musicians destroy weaker musicians, and that cruelty stayed with me. I never want anybody to feel like that.
You hope people have cop on. You hope they notice when something didn’t fly and make a note to themselves.
Tara:
You still have to treat people with dignity and respect.
Kevin:
That has to be the first thing.
I teach a lot, and I am always amazed by the number of people who have fallen in love with this music, even with no direct connection to it. It has become their life.
You can’t walk all over that. You have to tread carefully and steer them as best you can.
Speed, rhythm and getting up to pace
Tara:
Another challenge from the questionnaire was changing speed or tempo mid-set, and learners trying to get up to speed with more experienced musicians.
Kevin:
There is a pace, rhythm and pulse that even seasoned musicians might not be comfortable with.
Some musicians are better at accommodating the person who starts the tune. If somebody starts a set, you go with that. You don’t push them to speed up.
That’s their comfort zone. Go with it.
But if they change into another tune and suddenly bring the speed down a gear, that can be difficult. You can’t really do that mid-set.
Speed comes up all the time. Why do people play so fast?
Sometimes we have to recognise that we aren’t being inclusive if we go full throttle. If everybody is at the same level, fine. But if there is a mix of players, go for the common denominator.
You can still get a kick out of the music without going flat out.
The value of slow sessions
Kevin:
In America, there are often slow sessions, and I think they can be great.
I’ve hosted some in New York. The point isn’t just to play tunes slowly and flatly. It’s to help people feel the rhythm, swing and pulse inside the tunes.
Irish music has swing. It isn’t flat.
Sometimes people think they need to play faster, but what they really need is bounce. They need to know where the emphasis is.
Momentum comes from fingers and muscle memory, yes. But it also comes from falling into a pulse.
It’s like running. If you don’t breathe properly, it’s a struggle. Once you learn how to breathe, you can run faster and with more stamina.
It’s finding that rhythm.
When the thing is chugging along, you almost can’t go wrong. Everyone is carried along with it.
Tara:
Sometimes it’s not that people are playing faster. It’s that they have the bounce.
Kevin:
Exactly. They know where the emphasis is.
Some players have incredible rhythm. Playing with Martin Hayes, for example, there is always beautiful rhythm. Paul Brock had that too. Rock solid, musical and bouncy.
When someone has that, it makes it easier to play your own music. You know where to breathe and where to pulse.
Tara:
The question left for you by the previous guest is: describe your perfect session.
Kevin:
It would be the right space. A good room.
The right number of people. Not too big, but not just two or three either.
There would be nice energy. A couple of good listeners.
And we wouldn’t be tied to playing it safe. We would be willing to go with the flow and explore the tunes a bit deeper.
That’s a good session.
Fiddle and flute would always be at the heart of it for me. But a good box player is a great thing too.
If I had my time over again, because of that session with Jackie Daly and Frankie Gavin when I was young, I’d love to be Jackie Daly in my next life.
This conversation with Kevin Crawford gets to the heart of what makes a session work.
It is not just the tunes.
It is not just the musicians.
It is not just technical ability.
It is the room, the rhythm, the listeners, the craic, the respect, the timing, the shared instinct and the willingness to know your lane.
Kevin’s story also shows something important for learners. You don’t have to arrive fully formed. You can sit, listen, absorb, wait, learn and gradually become part of the music.
But there is a hard truth too: knowing the tune is not the same as contributing to the session.
A good session needs generosity, but it also needs care. It needs people who can hear when the music is flying, and who know when not to interrupt it.
Kevin’s advice is simple but demanding: respect the room, listen deeply, do the work, and don’t mistake entitlement for participation.
That is session etiquette in its rawest form.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kevin_Crawford
https://www.lunasamusic.com/
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