February 17, 2011
By Staff Reporter
Martin Hayes has long since beaten those odds. Lightning seems to strike the Clare-born, Connecticut resident fiddler virtually every time he performs with Chicago guitar and mandolin partner Dennis Cahill.
Celebrated as a supremely soulful player, Hayes is also one of the most cerebral and insightful musicians alive. (For proof, read his lengthy essay about “the lonesome touch” in his 1999 album of the same title.) He explores music not just for its melodic properties but for its effect on player and listener alike. Yet he avoids the analysis-paralysis trap of overthinking about music, which can ensnare any artist in self-consciousness that inhibits improvisation or risk-taking. Each performance by him refreshes a tune by reinterpreting it, and his audiences happily settle in for the ride, sometimes trancelike and other times rousing, and both often blended within the same medley.
When I interviewed Hayes for my Wall Street Journal article on him in spring 2008, he explained his approach: “I try to conjure every technique I have to make the journey interesting and varied while never losing my emotional tie to the melody. Technique for me has to occur in meaningful sequences. It can’t be its own excuse for being. I want emotions to move in patterns that make sense: wave, crests, pullbacks, etc.”
Expanding on the subject of technique and expertise, Hayes told me this: “The danger of excessive virtuosity is recomposing a melody so that it is not interesting in a new or old way. The goal of music is to draw out the embedded or perceived feelings of composer, player, and audience at the same time so that the collective experience soars above mere showmanship, which too often is the safety net of the highly skilled. That said, the more chops and facility you have with an instrument, the better it is for you. Technique should be an avenue to feeling, not a substitute for it. The greater the effort you exert in reaching that elusive state, the more effortless it seems when you do reach it.”
Martin Hayes reached that state in the inaugural concert presented by Studio Woodstock, a new Hudson Valley organization led by Nancy Austin and her husband, Dave Doud, that specializes “in the finest authentic music in intimate local atmospheres.” Their first “intimate local atmosphere” was St. Paul’s Lutheran Church Hall in Red Hook, N.Y., where Hayes and Cahill performed on a rainy Saturday evening, Nov. 14. Officially seating 140 people in folding chairs, the venue was overflowing with more than 170 attendees, including Msgr. Charlie Coen, the Galway-born concertina, whistle, and flute player and singer who is the former pastor of St. Christopher’s R.C. Church directly across the street. The muse, or Jarrell’s lightning, was certainly present this night in St. Paul’s.
After Doud introduced them, Hayes and Cahill walked out on stage, sat in their chairs, and began playing. The duo opened with the poignant air “Easter Snow” and then moved into a slew of tunes that included “Finbar Dwyer’s,” “Beare Island Reel,” “The Night Poor Larry Was Stretched,” “Rising Sun,” “P. Joe’s Reel,” “Mountain Lark,” and “Tom Doherty’s.” With uncanny instinct and discipline, Hayes varied the attack and tempo in that medley to keep himself and his audience fully focused. Afterward, the crowd responded with thunderous applause.
The jigs “Hungry Rock / John Naughton’s” followed, and they were followed (with Cahill on mandolin) by a medley featuring “Cook in the Kitchen,” “Humors of Ballyconnell,” and Cahill’s own tune “Jimmy on the Moor.” Hayes played them all with exquisite detail, matched by Cahill in close complement.
The first half of the concert concluded with “Grove’s Hornpipe,” Paddy (Offaly) O’Brien’s “The Poor Man’s Fortune,” and Liz Carroll’s “The Fiddler’s Key.” The latter two tunes were learned from the 1995 album “Trian II” by Billy McComiskey, Liz Carroll, and Daithi Sproule. In his introduction for this medley, Hayes intimated that Carroll had another, grittier name for the tune she called “The Fiddler’s Key,” which was inspired by and written for him.
The second half of the concert began with another long medley of tunes, followed by an even longer medley featuring “Port na bPucai,” “O’Neill’s March,” and at least seven more tunes. At one point in that latter medley, Cahill played melody while Hayes plucked and played rhythm. Tendrils of jazz occasionally threaded through their playing. The gigs they did in Ireland two years ago with jazz guitarist Bill Frisell may have rubbed off, although in fairness to Hayes and Cahill, their musical interests have always been eclectic. In the past Hayes has told me he’s listened to John Coltrane, Keith Jarrett, John Scofield, Erik Satie, Arvo Part, John Adams, Shakti with John McLaughlin, and Radiohead.
For the concert encore, Hayes asked the audience if they had any requests. “Coleman’s March,” “The Good-Natured Man,” and, as a joke, “Danny Boy” were shouted out.
Hayes started the encore with “Danny Boy,” eliciting chuckles from the crowd. But even in that hackneyed melody, his artistry began to get the better of him, and there was a moment when he was treating the tune with a depth of tenderness that made him switch quickly and effortlessly into “Coleman’s March.” In that same medley he also tucked “Dowd’s No. 9,” which he dedicated to Dave Doud, and a concert-ending “Bucks of Oranmore.”
For more than 13 years now, Martin Hayes and Dennis Cahill have toured and recorded as a duo, and they continue to perform almost telepathically. The ease these years have earned them allows each to play more challengingly without leaving the other in mystified expectancy. It’s hard to imagine, but the two are striving to surpass the already high standard of performance they’ve set for themselves.
No wonder they get lightning to strike every time they stand out in a thunderstorm.
Kudos to Nancy Austin and Dave Doud of Studio Woodstock for organizing a stellar, sold-out evening of Irish traditional music for their own organizational launch. Visit www.studiowoodstock.net to learn more.