Becoming Irish or becoming Irish music?

[MarkB]

A very long article but very interesting and I think it addresses several posting such as "I'm not Irish, no Irish/Celtic ancestors etc. etc., but I love to play Irish music. It is from a top journal in its field.

Sorry for posting such a long article, but I got this through a subscription database here in the library, were the hassle of registering would be to much for most of you.

Becoming Irish or becoming Irish music? Boundary construction in Irish music communities; Rapuano, Deborah L

The Journal of American & Comparative Cultures 04-01-2001

Becoming Irish or becoming Irish music? Boundary construction in Irish music communities

Byline: Rapuano, Deborah L
Volume: 24
Number: 1/2
Publication Date: 04-01-2001
Page: 103
Type: Periodical
Language: English

In recent years, Irish traditional music has become the most prominent symbol of Irish national identity around the globe. Among the various activities that can be attributed to its rise to prominence is the recent Riverdance spectacle in which Irish dance and music become a pastiche reflecting a simulated version of Irish culture. This version is widely accepted as "traditional" Irish music and dance, although it bears little resemblance to what one might find in the town lands and villages scattered around Ireland, far from the tourist haunts.

There is no doubt that Riverdance has helped to spawn the recent wave of Irish revivalist activities around the world. Today Irish music festivals, competitions and sessions are not only held everywhere in Ireland, but they can be found almost anywhere in the world. Just as frequently, descendants of Irish immigrants are fervently searching for a connection to their Irish ancestral roots. To further illustrate the growing interest in Irish culture, in the past year alone, there has been an amazing increase in the number of websites connected to everything imaginable that might be construed as having to do with Irish culture. Tourists the world over flock to Ireland to experience authentic Irish culture, especially "real" Irish traditional music, most of them traveling from the United States. Furthermore, musicians (and aspiring musicians) all across the planet, regardless of their nation of birth, are picking up traditional Irish instruments to play Irish traditional music. One could say that "Irishness" is the haute couture of ethnic fashion today. It is trendy to be connected to the Irish.

Although Riverdance, and all of its blossoming offshoots, have contributed to the increased attention to Irish music, it is a recent phenomenon. Probably the more salient and enduring reason for this unexpected turn of events has been the growing number of Irish traditional music sessions, which have helped to spread Irish cultural music around the globe. Today Irish music sessions not only take place on a regular basis in Ireland, but they can be found virtually everywhere. How they have become such important vehicles for the promotion and continuity of Irish ethnic identity in an age where one's identity can be anything one desires, is the focus of this paper.

The ethnography that inspired this paper examines three local Irish traditional music sessions to obtain an understanding of the processes by which session musicians become members of session communities.1 This study focuses on three Irish traditional music sessions held in two different cities located in a Midwestern region of the United States. Participant observations over the course of two years were supplemented with informant interviews and informal conversations. In addition, numerous sessions were observed on three separate visits to the Republic of Ireland beginning in February 2000 and ending in November the same year.

Through observations of sessions and interviews with session musicians, we come to understand how the discourse surrounding the tradition and the musician's participation within the Irish music community serves to instill in the participants their beliefs about "Irishness," the Irish music tradition, and their place within the tradition. More importantly, as we trace how musicians construct their identities within and around Irish music communities, we come to understand how individuals have developed a sense of identity and boundaries different from those constructed between nations, races, and cultures during the modern age.

In addition to recent media-hype, there have been a plethora of books and articles written about various aspects of Irish traditional music over the past several years (e.g., Breathnach 1971; Carolan 1997; Carson 1986, 1996; Coleman 1996; Curtis 1994; Foy 1999; Gillen and White 1990; Mac Aoidh 2000; McCarthy 1999; Mc Manus 1994; McNamara and Woods 1997; O Connor 1991; O Canainn 1978; O Giollain 2000; O hAllmhurain 1998; O Laoire 1999; O'Neill 1973; Shields 1993; Smith and Osdilleabhain 1997: Tunney 1991; Vallely 1999; Vallely and Piggot 1998; and Williams 1996). However, research on Irish music sessions occupies a fairly obscure niche in the secular and academic world. Given their growing cultural importance, it is amazing that there have been only two ethnographies dealing with Irish music sessions to date (McCullough 1978; Moloney 1992). Apparently ahead of their time, both ethnographies were conducted well before the recent worldwide interest in Irish music and Irish culture. Lawrence McCullough's (1978) pioneering work presents both a macro and a micro view of Chicago sessions, while Michael (Mick) Moloney's (1992) research provides a macro look at sessions held in major metropolitan cities throughout the United States.

Sensing something important about the identity of Irish musicians, although never actually theorizing on its importance, Moloney (1992) argues that an Irish traditional music musician who stands outside Irish culture cannot "become" Irish in the sense that they are able to identify with Irish culture. I tend to agree with Moloney, although I would add that outsiders are not always allowed to, nor can they fully identify with the culture in any case. Musicians, who are not Irish, cannot be Irish in the same way that a person born into Irish culture is Irish. However, I would argue that, in the sessions I observed for this study, Irish traditional music musicians do become immersed in the tradition, and by extension, become involved in an important aspect of Irish culture. Their participation in the Irish traditional music scene defines their identity, both within the Irish music community and outside the community. For these musicians, the adoption of such an integral part of Irish culture has resulted in a different mode of ethnic identification than the sort, which Moloney refers to above. Their intense identification with the music allows them to feel allied with an important aspect of traditional Irish culture, while remaining only peripherally connected in reality. In other words, they act the part of the "Irish" musician while also retaining their other cultural identifications. The musicians (most of them non-Irish) in the area of the United States where this study took place adamantly promote Irish national identity through the music they play; yet it is an inauthentic and only partial representation. Nevertheless, their portrayal seems to be accepted by those inside the Irish music community, as well as those outside, as an authentic depiction.

Some scholars argue that in today's postmodern world we are losing our identities and connections to the past (e.g. Anderson 1990, 1995; Sollars 1989), in part, as a result of our increasing contact with other cultures and our realization that we have constructed our ideas of nationality, ethnicity and identity. The distinct borders that previously structured such things have become less distinct. Nowadays multiple identities are more the norm, especially in the United States with its growing numbers of hyphenated ethnic groups. However, most people need some public identifier and anchor to a historical tradition and group. Often, this new state of being in the world produces a reactionary response. One such response can be found in the world of Irish traditional music sessions.

In the session communities I studied in the Midwestern United States, individuals are re-connecting to their ethnic heritage like never before. Indeed, many non-Irish musicians are making a conscious choice to adopt this aspect of Irish culture as their own, some of them going so far as to invent links to an Irish heritage. Despite the growing evidence that people today are de-constructing boundaries, we find in these communities musicians who are still constructing and maintaining ethnic distinctions and other boundaries around identity. However, these constructions are quite different than identifications of the past, as we will see.

Fredrik Barth (1969) determined that ethnic boundaries persist because they involve social processes of exclusion and inclusion that divide groups based on categories of ascription. Ethnic identity based on ascription depends on boundary maintenance, since groups who maintain their identity when they interact with others need to have criteria for determining who are members and who are not. Therefore, categories of exclusion and inclusion are fundamental to the delineation, maintenance and transformation of boundaries. We can, therefore, say that ethnicity is not a fixed category, but a process. Normally we would not notice the process at all because it is one of the things in life we take for granted. However, through a micro study of session communities, we can trace the process of identity construction by observing how musicians become members of session communities and how they construct and maintain boundaries of inclusion and exclusion which delineate who can become members of their music community and who cannot.

The argument today is that we are no longer tied to ethnicity through bonds of kinship. Individuals can and do choose from any number of ethnic identities, incorporating various aspects of each into their identities. This is especially true in pluralistic, multicultural societies, such as the United States. For this reason, postmodernist scholars consider ethnicity to be nothing more than an acquired sense of belonging (e.g. Anderson 1995).

Seen from this perspective, ethnicity has more to do with the boundaries a person creates and maintains to secure a place to belong in the world than a stable and persistent category. These boundaries are often so impermanent that a person may identify with several different ethnicities at once, or easily switch their alliance from one group to another. Identifying with a group based on a sense of belonging means that an individual may now choose the group to which they want to belong, instead of blindly accepting the identity the were "given" at birth. Generally speaking, the construction of identity creates an achieved identity, not an ascribed identity, as we have known in the past.

As Walter Truett Anderson (199U) asserts, trie human need to belong and to "be someone," becomes more intensely felt, as society increasingly demands that each one of us create our identity. Our "postmodern" world is drawing us further and further away from the old anchors that have structured our identities in the past, leaving us free to create our selves, yet paradoxically burdened by this same freedom (131). Unlike our ancestors, we must create our identity out of the myriad of options available to us. This new way of experiencing the world leaves many of us feeling disconnected to anything stable. Because the modern prescription to forge individual identities has forced us to separate from our traditional cultures, we seem to be facing an increasing feeling of alienation generated by our disconnection to our ancestral past. As our traditional ethnic group bonds have been broken by the need to become individuals, we are pulled in two directions. We feel the need to maintain both our individual and our group identities. Today, this pull appears to have spawned a need for individuals to connect to a traditional past in whatever form they find fits their worldview.

In many ways, our postmodern world has changed the old rules. As we realize we have constructed our social realities, our creations seem like dramatizations to us. Erving Goffman (1959) accurately described in theatrical terms this presentation of "self' in which we become characters representing what we believe we are, or who we want our audience to believe we are. Such representations of "self ' can be clearly observed among Irish traditional music musicians who participate in the Irish music sessions in the Midwestern United States. Many of these musicians derive an extraordinary sense of belonging from their participation in session communities. However, it is as though they have one foot in the past as they cling to tradition, and one foot in the postmodern world, as they create for themselves an identity they can believe and one they want others to believe as well.

As practitioners of the sociology of knowledge, Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann (1966) studied how people go about creating their cultures then routinely forget they have created these beliefs, myths, social roles or laws. The institutional order, roles and identities all may be reified in this way. The culture into which one is born and grows up is never really visible to us because it is always taken for granted and its assumptions appear self-evident. It is only through contrasting one culture with another that one's own culture becomes evident (Anderson 1995). Anya Peterson Royce (1977) has noted that music is an important indicator of identity. As such, studying Irish music communities should illuminate in important ways how various identities are constructed. Particularly, ethnicity seems to be a perfect subject for decoding invented communities, such as those formed around playing Irish traditional music. If we view playing and listening to music as one aspect of culture, then studying music communities can illuminate social and cultural history (Royce 1977). As David Harvey (1990) has written, postmodernism can be seen as a "mimetic of the social, economic, and political practices in society" (113). Therefore, we can ask how social and cultural history is being reflected in aesthetic practices, such as Irish music session communities, which might mirror a "postmodern condition." In the United States, Irish music sessions take on the character of invented ethnic communities in which the members act out various identities. By studying these communities, perhaps we can glimpse a microcosm of the larger social world.

Royce's (1977) study on the anthropology of dance may prove helpful for our understanding of the Irish traditional musicians' constructions of ethnic belonging, identity and their promotion of Irish nationalism through the music they play in the Midwestern United States. According to Royce, "when dance is used as a symbol of identity, it usually differs qualitatively from dance that is used for recreation" (163). That is, the most universal function of dance is to provide diversion or recreation. Its social and recreational use stresses the general participation of all attendees in order that they may enjoy themselves. Therefore, the dances are simple enough to be learned easily and performed without too much effort. If it were otherwise, it would defeat the recreational purpose. However, "dance requiring more technical skill, and therefore limited to specialists within the population serve other functions" (81). Irish traditional music, as Irish traditional musicians play it in the sessions under study, follows along these same lines.

Irish music sessions in the Midwestern United States are in many ways different from the sessions I observed taking place in Ireland. In Ireland the sessions held in rural areas and not marketed for tourism function as recreation for all involved. In contrast, sessions in the Mid-western United States more often function as performance venues, so that they take on an entirely different character and serve a dissimilar function. The sessions under study in both the West of Ireland and the Midwestern United States symbolize a particular group of people. However, the symbolization for each is entirely different. The session rhetoric in the Midwestern U.S. is that sessions are to be recreational, yet they more often resemble performances in which semi-professional and professional musicians are the only participants allowed. On the other hand, anyone can join in the rural, non-tourist sessions in Ireland, provided they can at least minimally play or sing. Moreover, the entire pub is involved in the action at various levels. It is a community affair and thus reinforces a communal bond. On the other hand, sessions in the Midwestern U.S. exclude participants other than the musicians themselves. They reinforce a communal bond as well, but it is a bond that requires inclusive and exclusive boundaries and involves only the session musicians.

Royce writes that associations based on friendship ties sometimes

have dances that in some way symbolize that particular group of people. Ethnic groups frequently use dances symbolic of themselves to set their group off from surrounding groups. (80)

Session musicians also use music, instruments, and discourse symbolic of themselves that sets them off from surrounding groups. Through session discourse the session musicians under study in the U.S. separate themselves from other musicians and from the listeners who come to hear the music they play. Ironically, those who are Irish American one, two or sometimes even many generations removed from their Irish ancestors seem most likely to set themselves off from the listening public and surrounding groups.

To facilitate the delineation and maintenance of boundaries, beliefs about tradition, ethnicity and identity are imbedded in the structure of these Irish music sessions in United States. In countless ways, the musicians who practice the craft are socialized into accepting prescribed beliefs about the tradition surrounding the music, their place within the tradition as musicians and the significance of ethnicity. Their acceptance of these beliefs helps to construct their identity as Irish traditional musicians. For these musicians, the prescribed notions of ethnicity, identity and tradition, handed down from one musician to another, are taken for granted. This is true not only for the Irish American musicians, but even truer for those who come into the fold from outside an Irish cultural tradition. That Irish music provides an identification marker for all of them is quite apparent.

For the most part, they are not participating in a nostalgic recreation of things their parents, grandparents or even their great-grandparents enjoyed (Anderson 144). Their identification is more than "camp." Most of them are quite serious about the music they play. In fact, they are so serious about it that for the majority of them their participation results in an unwavering allegiance to the tradition and all that surrounds it. As a result they become some of the best advocates of the tradition and the ardent promoters of Irish music around the world. But more than this, their identification with the music means they also strongly identify with Irish culture. However, it is an unusual type of identification, since most musicians in the United States, especially in the Midwestern region I studied, are not Irish descendants. Yet, these musicians seem to adhere to the tenets of the tradition in ways that native-born Irish never need to cleave.

Native-born Irish music musicians are raised in a culture in which this music, for the most part, is an ordinary part of their daily lives, whether or not they play an instrument or sing in public. On the other hand, Irish music musicians outside the culture (including Irish Americans) do not maintain the same sort of cultural connection. Regardless of whether or not Irish Americans were raised in a household that adhered to and passed on Irish cultural traditions, they also have been intimately surrounded from birth by the influences of other cultures. Therefore, for most of them, they must become Irish traditional music musicians in ways that Irish-born musicians do not. It involves consciously thinking about becoming Irish. This sort of becoming not only requires learning the basic rules of community membership, but they must also adopt all the tenets of the music tradition without question, which also leads to a pseudo immersion in Irish culture.

I use the term pseudo immersion because it is only a peripheral fetish. That is, it can never become as significant a part of their lives as it is for one who is born into Irish culture. For the native Irish musicians it is more than an important part of their lives; it is an intrinsic part of their identity because it has been interwoven into their daily existence since birth. They have heard it and sung it in schools and churches, at wakes and weddings; family members, neighbors, clergy, lawyers, butchers, publicans and farmers play and sing this music daily (see Glassie 1982 for example). One Irish-born musician illuminated this difference succinctly when she remarked:

Irish music is deeply rooted in the people and their environment and circumstances; things like ceilis, masses, hedge schools where song and music was taught in the face of adversity at the time lives on today.

It is for this reason that, no matter how closely a non-Irish musician identifies with the music and regardless of how many boundaries they construct and maintain to exclude some and include others in the Irish music community, these musicians can never be Irish. They can only become a peripheral part of the Irish music culture.

For non-Irish-born and native-Irish musicians alike, the technical process of becoming a musician is the same. All of them must learn the skills necessary to play a tune and build a repertoire. However, the social and cultural processes are poles apart. Whereas the process for Irish-born musicians is more "natural," that is, native Irish are already socially legitimized by their circumstances of birth; the process for non-Irish musicians involves proving a legitimate right to belong. This necessitates not only becoming a skilled musician, but also learning the socio-cultural aspects of playing the music as well.

As part of the rite of passage into the music community, many musicians appear to totally absorb themselves in more than the music. In fact, they seem to become obsessed with everything connected to Irish culture. How they come to feel so connected can be found in the process of becoming a legitimate member of a session community. A musician is legitimized by their own knowledge, expertise and level of identification with the music, their skill and repertoires and by being acknowledged as a legitimate member by other members of the session community. Legitimization, as with other social groups, involves the eventual elevation of the musicians' status. The musicians' status is, therefore, relative to their power in the Irish music community, as well as outside this community. The greater the status, the more authority one can claim both inside and outside the Irish music community.

Being considered "Irish" automatically elevates a musician's status, since the common notion, both inside and outside the world of Irish music sessions, is that an Irish-born or an Irish American musician has an inherent ability to play the music due to their Irish "roots." In other words, being surrounded by the music from birth. Although most of the non-Irish musicians never intentionally relinquish their own original cultural identification, they nevertheless integrate it with vital aspects of Irish culture. To aid the process of dividing the musicians into camps of "us" and "them," which further separates them from everyone not included in the "us" camp, it becomes even more important for the musicians to create, define, establish and maintain exclusive and inclusive boundaries.

An unintentional outcome of this structuring is that it creates a semi-professional class of musicians. In turn, it also alters the traditional nature of the session. This is because the creation of a semi-professional class transforms the session from a purely aesthetic activity into an activity that requires the construction and maintenance of boundaries. The transformation from an aesthetic activity, in which anyone can participate, to an activity that separates performers from spectators means only certain people are allowed to play the instruments and the music. Therefore, not only does it construct and reinforce ethnic divisions, but it also serves as a boundary marker for other identifications as well.

According to the musicians I interviewed and the literature written about sessions, there are three basic principles that govern session activities in the Midwestern United States. These principles originate in the musicians' beliefs about what constitutes "Irishness."2 That is, their beliefs about Irish national identity and Irish cultural practices.

Irish music and the tradition that surrounds the music genre. First, Irish traditional music session musicians claim sessions are democratic affairs in which anyone is allowed, even encouraged, to participate. Second, session musicians play Irish music in sessions merely for their own enjoyment. Third, sessions are events in which traditional Irish music.3 These are primarily jigs, reels, hornpipes, slip jigs, double jigs, polkas, slides and slow airs.

Irish traditional music is played in a traditional manner, which has been passed on from generation to generation over many centuries and played on traditional Irish instruments. On the surface there do not seem to be too many restrictions to inclusion in session communities. However, in practice not everyone is so easily accepted into a session community. In fact, musicians often exclude individuals based on their inability to meet one or more membership criterion. Their insistence on these tenets necessitates that they create and reinforce boundaries that construct a hierarchical order in which membership is restricted to only a few, and one in which those at the top of the order exercise all the authority. Even more surprisingly, they construct and maintain a boundary that excludes an audience. Ironically, they nevertheless continue to play the music in a public forum.

As you might already have imagined, becoming a member of a session community is not as simple as merely showing up at a session. Not only does it often take years to develop skill, expertise and a sizeable repertoire, but also because one is not automatically a member be-cause one wants to be. Simply picking up a traditional Irish instrument, such as the bodhran for example, after visiting the "auld sod," is a pipe-dream for most who are inspired after hearing the music being played live. Strategies, tactics and negotiations among the participants are involved from the very beginning. The primary gatekeeper, and the person considered the foremost authority on Irish music and sessions, is generally the session host.

In most cases, the host claims some connection with an Irish ancestry, thereby automatically affording him or her the most authority at the session. As the "owners" (interview with musician Liz Carroll in Moloney 184) of the session, hosts initially determine who will be included and who will be excluded from their session. Their most important role is to ensure that the "tradition" is upheld, although other musicians also may serve in this capacity. All the other musicians look toward the host for validation and guidance. As legitimate members, their knowledge of the tradition is rarely challenged. In some cases, personal beliefs and preferences are co-mingled with factual cultural information that gets disseminated as "the way the Irish are." Consequently the other musicians' beliefs about Irish ethnicity and cultural practices are sometimes informed from erroneous information and notions, often becoming stereotypical representations, which are reinforced over time.

For example, Mick, the coffee shop session host, informed me "Only the Irish can hear and play Irish music. Irish music is particularly difficult for non-Irish people to learn." Actually, many native Irish cannot play Irish music, nor do they want to play it. Furthermore, there are Japanese-- born Irish music musicians, not to mention the musicians from many other cultural traditions, for instance, who expertly play Irish music in sessions. What might seem to be a difference in an ability to "hear Irish music" may actually be a disparity between cultural orientations to the music.

A comment from an Irish-born musician regarding the presence of Japanese-born musicians at Irish sessions may be illuminating in this respect. She explains that, while Japanese performers are quite skilled in playing Irish music, they do not seem to fully understand the cultural aspects of its performance in a session environment. Therefore, seen in this context, we might hypothesize that for non-Irish musicians, a session experience might be entirely unlike the experience of Irish-born musicians.

During another conversation with Mick, I was instructed to learn a tune known as "The Butterfly" because "for whatever reason, Americans hear that tune well." Statements like these indicate the session musicians' need to draw various boundaries of inclusion and exclusion. They also serve to construct and reinforce certain notions about ethnicity, which distinguishes one group from another.

In addition to their function as gatekeepers, hosts are the primary carriers and disseminators of the tradition and the session members who establish notions of ethnic boundaries. Because their physical position among the other musicians is most likely to be in some pivotal point in the circle, their location indicates to both outsiders and insiders that they are "in charge" of the session. The host is usually the first musician a newcomer to the session encounters.

The host subtly grills the unsuspecting newcomer, asking for their musical and ethnic pedigree. While this appears to be a welcoming gesture on the part of the host, it is also a way for the host to determine the musician's level of expertise. Moreover, not only does the host glean information about the newcomer's skill level, but one's surname also figures into the equation. Although asking a person for their name is a sign of welcome, the host is also using this information to determine whether or not to include them in the session in a meaningful way, and if so, at what level they will be included. It becomes clear that the vast majority of Irish music musicians presume that a person with an Irish-sounding surname, or one who speaks with an Irish accent not only already knows the rules, but also are already expert Irish music musicians. In contrast, newcomers whose names are not identifiably "Irish" and do not speak with an Irish accent are assumed to have little or no understanding of the Irish music world.

Sometimes musicians will attempt to Gaelicize a non-Irish-sounding name so that a newcomer will fit into the prescribed ethnic mold. For example, when one newcomer was asked his name, he replied, "Gaff." The other musicians bounced around various Irish-sounding versions, converting it to "O'Gaff," and "McGaff." When he responded with, "No, just Gaff. I'm not Irish," his assertion was met with the customary declaration, "This is an Irish music session; we play Irish music here."

Although boundary delineation and maintenance is usually not overt, the musicians' comments, gestures and other behaviors do communicate the notion that most Irish sessions are specifically for Irish musicians, or at least, for those who claim an Irish ancestral connection. It is always presumed that, regardless of the length of time a musician has been playing Irish music, those with Irish links are always more skilled. Interestingly, both the musicians and listeners alike hold this view.

These notions are reinforced by the comments that claim only those with some degree of Irish ancestry have Irish music in their ancestral bones. This is a curious notion, since it appears that one does not have to be born in Vienna, for example, to play a Viennese waltz. Interestingly, many of the musicians nowadays do not claim any Irish ancestry whatsoever. Furthermore, most of those who do claim a link to an Irish heritage are often several generations removed from their Irish ancestors.

Once a musician enters the session community, their indoctrination period is not over. Indeed it is only beginning. Beyond the regular attendees and other holding higher status are those who occupy the lowest rungs of the status hierarchy. Neophytes who have no experience with Irish music are afforded the least status. In fact, they cannot actually be considered members of the group at all. Since they are "beginners," they are often treated with little respect as they are relegated to the seats on the periphery of the session group, if they are included at all.

In some instances they are shuffled off to what is known as "slow" or "beginner" sessions where they presumably learn the rudiments of the tradition. Until their skills become more developed and their repertoires are sufficient to play the music with more advanced musicians, beginners are typically not very welcome at sessions. However, even though they separate beginners in this way, the more skilled players feel a responsibility to impart their knowledge of the tradition to them and they do so in various ways. One of the most prevalent is to insist that Irish music is very difficult to learn and that it takes years of listening to the music being played live before one catches on to its subtleties. This implies that the beginner may not catch on at all, and certainly not too soon.

On the next rung of the ladder are the newcomers who may have aquired the rudiments of the tradition and are able to play "the bare bones" of the music, but who have limited repertoires. Unlike the neophytes, they are welcome at regular sessions, but they are usually not invited into the heart of the musicians' circle where the regular and more advanced players sit. Their place in the group is on the periphery where they are instructed by the more skilled members to sit and listen to the music "as it should be played" until they "understand it." Until they have spent a significant amount of time on the outskirts and have built their repertoires, they are not considered legitimate members of the session community.

Next in the hierarchy are the newcomers who are knowledgeable about the tradition and who are skilled players with sizable repertoires. They are almost always accepted into the session community once the other players have assessed their level of expertise. However, although they are invited to join the group, they are sometimes not invited into the heart of the regular playing circle until they have regularly attended the same session.

Once a neophyte builds his or her knowledge base and a significant repertoire so that they are able to participate in a good portion of the session, he or she is eventually accepted as a newcomer and is invite to join the session. Their role, however, still remains marginal for some time to come. They are not fully accepted into the community until they have demonstrated their right to belong. In addition to their skill level, this demonstration involves an intense immersion in the tradition; they must accept everything associated with the music. More than merely subscribing to the tenets of the tradition, they feel compelled to promote them as well. These newcomers speak with authority on Irish music and Irish culture. In many cases, these newest experts are not Irish, yet what they say about Irish music and culture holds as much weight as that of the older, more experienced musicians both inside and outside the Irish music community. Surprisingly, in the majority of the cases and regardless of their status within the session community, what they intimately know of Irish culture they have learned from other Irish music musicians, and not through kinship ties or extensive contact with Irish nationals or their culture.

In the sessions I observed, the underlying question of ethnicity seems to rest on the presumption that Irish traditional music musicians must be directly connected in a meaningful way to Irish culture. Ironically, for the first time in the history of Irish music sessions, many musicians who play Irish traditional music are not Irish-born, first or even second-generation Irish descendants. Yet, for some, clear boundaries need to be drawn that emphasize an ancestral link to Ireland. The boundaries automatically negate the authenticity of anyone who does not have this association. Through discourse they imply that those outside the ethnic boundaries they have drawn will be only marginally accepted into the session community. The musicians must constantly prove their loyalty to the tradition in order to remain in good standing among the other musicians.

The following examples illustrate some of the ways musicians challenge insiders to demonstrate their loyalty. One especially skilled American female musician, who speaks with a slight Irish accent, is often ridiculed for what the other's regard as an affected accent. Because she is a gifted musician, they cannot dismiss her through her musicianship. Instead they deny her total participation by saying, "She isn't really Irish you know" or, "She just puts on that accent. She'd like to think she's Irish." Perhaps not surprisingly, these backbiting remarks come from musicians who affect other Irish cultural traits which are not their own. Another gifted female musician, who claims no Irish ancestry, was faulted for her fondness for diverse types of music. One day I mentioned that I thought she was an uncommon musician for her age. To my comment, a critical musician solemnly responded, "Yes, she's very talented, but she needs to make a decision what she's going to be. Either she's going to play Irish music, or she's not. She can't be loyal to all of them." This unbending criticism came from a musician who often plays music from other music genres as well and is typical of the subtle ways the musicians indoctrinate the neophytes and newcomers into the session community and the world of Irish traditional music. In addition to these type of statements and criticisms there are also many other ways the musicians restrict membership.

Often a non-Irish musician will correct another musician's pronunciation of Irish words. This appears to be a common occurrence among session musicians. On at least three occasions, one self-described Dutch descendant corrected my pronunciation of Irish place names. I have no idea whether he was right on two of them, but at least one of his corrections was wrong, according to the native Irish speakers I know.

Werner Sollors (1989) argues that language and rhetoric are important for uncovering the textual strategies individuals use to construct identity. Therefore, the rhetoric one uses to speak of ethnicity is a language which itself constructs ethnicity (Anderson 1995; Hobsbawn and Ranger 1992; Sollors 1989). Based on my observations and interviews with session musicians, those who feel they have the highest stakes in the Irish music world, are more likely to use discourse to delineate ethnic boundaries which restrict membership in the session communities to a select few. Americans claiming Irish ancestry appear to have a greater need to assert their ethnic identity and to create and maintain ethnic boundaries. However, they are often not the staunchest supporters of the tradition. In two of the session I observed, the hosts who loudly proclaim their Irish ancestry allow nontraditional instruments and nontraditional tunes and songs in their sessions. While one of these sessions is held in a coffee house and the other in a pub, as is generally the custom, there is little about either session venue that reflects Irish nationalism. In fact, in the pub setting a British flag and a flag of St. George, the patron saint of England, hang on the walls. The musicians in these two settings strive to assert their Irish connections in ways the other more traditional session musicians do not need to do. This is especially true for the musicians in the coffee house setting. I suspect that this may be due to their feeling less confident about their right to belong than those in the other two session venues. The more traditional session is filled with Irish-born and first and second-generation Irish descendants. A native Irishman owns the pub in which it takes place and there are many Irish national symbols adorning the walls. No one in this session makes a point of either mentioning it is an Irish session nor do they ask a person's surname. Furthermore, they are less likely to exclude musicians who do not have ancestral links to Ireland.

Based on my observations and interviews with these musicians, it seems that those who have the highest stakes in the Irish music world, and who also have the least connection to an Irish past, are more likely to use discourse to delineate exclusive and inclusive boundaries as well. That is, the musicians claiming Irish ancestry, who also hold an elevated status in a small Irish American community, appear to feel a greater need to assert their ethnic identity. This appears to be because asserting one's identity is relevant to their belonging as legitimate members of the Irish music community. This seems especially true for musicians who live in a more provincial setting.

By and large, the musicians in this study become the vital proponents of the tradition. However, more than their local influence, they are important links that perpetuate the Irish music community worldwide. Beyond their role as disseminators of the music tradition, they are also the disseminators of Irish culture and many of its traditions, beliefs and much of its history. While being an Irish music musician for most of them is only one of many identities they may claim, their intense identification with the music makes them important transmitters of Irish culture. Ironically, in most cases, the American musicians have never been to Ireland. The "facts" they circulate are sometime erroneous. Yet they consider themselves important carriers of an authentic tradition.

The musicians who champion the tradition embrace these notions, and seem oblivious to the idea that they are transmitting much more than just the music they play. This was especially notable in the responses I received to a question asking them how they thought the Irish music they play contributes to Irish and American culture. Over eighty percent of the respondents said they had no idea how it contributed to either culture. Furthermore, they considered themselves unqualified to answer the question.

It seems that Moloney need not worry too much. Irish traditional musicians, unless they are Irish-born, can never be Irish. However, their intense identification with the music, and by association Irish culture, does produce an intentional ethnic identification in which they pick and choose various aspects of Irish culture that fit into their cosmology. In this way, it is a postmodern phenomenon, similar to the Riverdance spectacle. I would argue that their identification is, in every way, with Irish music regardless of how much they talk about other aspects of Irish culture or the other ways they attempt to identify with it. In essence, they have not become Irish; rather they have become Irish music.

In these communities boundary construction leads to a stronger maintenance of identity, an intense collective consciousness and an unusually high degree of solidarity, just as Royce (56) has claimed. We can see that these musicians still persist in creating boundaries, as we have done for hundreds of years, but they are constructing them in a postmodern way. That is, their constructions lead to an entirely different mode of ethnic identification. While they are not being Irish, they nevertheless promote a version of "Irishness" through the music they play, and their identification with it, which is not entirely an authentic representation of Irish culture. The "tradition" they disseminate is more the idea of tradition, rather than the actual tradition itself. Despite the fact that they play other kinds of music at "Irish" music sessions and play many instruments not considered "traditional," or that most of them are several generations removed from their Irish ancestors if they have any link at all, they all insist that what they do is "traditional." Furthermore, many of them insist that only those with Irish blood coursing through their veins can do it best. Their boundaries persist because they are constantly constructing dividing lines between "us" and "them." The sessions under investigation in this study indicate that these are created communities based on created ethnic identifications, at least the sessions located in the more provincial American towns. Ironically, despite this practice, Irish music has found its way into virtually every corner of the globe from Israel to Taiwan and does not seem to be in any danger of disappearing in the near future.
FOOTNOTE
Notes
FOOTNOTE
1This study focuses on three Irish traditional music sessions held in two different cities located in a Midwestern region of the United States. Participant observations over the course of two years were supplemented with informant interviews and informal conversations. In addition, numerous sessions were observed on three separate visits to the Republic of Ireland beginning in February 2000 and ending in November the same year.
FOOTNOTE
2That is, their beliefs about Irish national identity and Irish cultural practices.

3These are primarily jigs, reels, hornpipes, slip jigs, double jigs, polkas, slides and slow airs.

4The basic notes of the tunes without stylistic ornamentation and embellishments,
REFERENCE
Works Cited
REFERENCE
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REFERENCE
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Last Night's Fun: In and Out of Time with Irish Music. New York: North Point P, 1996.
REFERENCE
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Curtis, P. J. Notes from the Heart: A Celebration of Traditional Irish Music. Dublin: Poolbeg Enterprises, Ltd., Knocksedan House, 1994.
REFERENCE
Foy, Barry. Field Guide to the Irish Music Session. Boulder: Roberts Rhinehart, 1999.

Gillen, Gerard, and Harry White, eds. Irish Musical Studies #3: Music and Irish Cultural History. Dublin: Irish Academic P, 1990.

Glassie, Henry. Passing the Time in Ballymenone. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 1982.

Goffman, Erving. Presentations of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Doubleday Anchor, 1959.

Harvey, David. The Condition of Postmodernity. Cambridge: Blackwell, 1990.
REFERENCE
Henry, Jacques M., and Carl L. Bankston Ill. "Louisiana Cajun Ethnicity: Symbolic or Structural?" Sociological Spectrum 19.2 (Apr.-Jun. 1999): 123-49.

Hobsbawm, Eric, and Terence Ranger. The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge, NY: Cambridge UP, 1992. Mac Aoidh, Caoimh'n. "Caoimh'n Mac Aoidh on

Regional Fiddle Styles." Originally published in Vol. 1 An Fhidil Ghaelach (out of print) on www.standingstones.com. 2000.

McCarthy, Marie. Passing It On: In and Out of Time in Irish Music. Cork: Cork UP, 1999.

McCullough, Lawrence. Irish Music in Chicago: An Ethnomusicological Study. Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation: U of Pittsburgh, 1978.

McManus, Kevin. Ceis, Jigs and Ballads: Irish Music in Liverpool. Liverpool: Institute of Popular Music, U of Liverpool, 1994.

Mc Namara, Christy, and Peter Woods. The Heartbeat of Irish Music. Niwot, CO: Roberts Rhinehart, 1997. Moloney, Michael. Irish Music in America: Continuity

and Change. Unpublished PhD. Dissertation: U of Pennsylvania, 1992.
REFERENCE
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O Connor, Nuala. Bringing It All Back Home: The Influence of Irish Music. London: BBC Books, 1991.

O hAllmhurain, Gear6id. A Pocket History of Irish Traditional Music. Boulder: The Irish American Book Company, 1998.

O Laorie, Lillis. "Big Days, Big Nights: Entertainment and Representation in a Donegal Community." Irish Journal of Anthropology. Vol. 4 (1999).

Royce, Anya Peterson. The Anthropology of Dance. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1977.

Shields, Hugh. Narrative Singing in Ireland: Lays, Ballads, Come-All-Yes and Other Songs. Dublin: Irish Academic P, 1993.
REFERENCE
Smith, Theresa and Micheal 6 Suilleabhain, eds. Blas: The Local Accent in Irish Traditional Music. Limerick: Irish World Music Center, U of Limerick, 1997.

Sollors, Werner. The Invention of Ethnicity. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1989.

Tunney, Paddy. Where Songs Do Thunder: Travels in Traditional Song. Belfast: Appletree P, 1991. Vallely, Fintan, ed. The Companion to Traditional Irish

Music. New York: New York UP, 1999.

Vallely, Fintan, and Charlie Piggot. Blooming Meadows: The World of Traditional Irish Musicians. Dublin: Town House, 1998.

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AUTHOR_AFFILIATION
Deborah L. Rapuano received her Master's in Liberal Studies from Indiana University and is currently a doctoral candidate in the Department of Sociology at Loyola University Chicago.

Copyright American Culture Association Spring/Summer 2001

MarkB

[Bloomfield]

I find it so difficult to read an article that has the word "pastiche" in the first paragraph. It's like the author jumping up and down with a red face and a sign saying "Hi-Brow, Hi-Brow!"

And worse, I don't like an academic gloss over gossip and useless pratter:

The following examples illustrate some of the ways musicians challenge insiders to demonstrate their loyalty. One especially skilled American female musician, who speaks with a slight Irish accent, is often ridiculed for what the other's regard as an affected accent. Because she is a gifted musician, they cannot dismiss her through her musicianship. Instead they deny her total participation by saying, "She isn't really Irish you know" or, "She just puts on that accent. She'd like to think she's Irish." Perhaps not surprisingly, these backbiting remarks come from musicians who affect other Irish cultural traits which are not their own. Another gifted female musician, who claims no Irish ancestry, was faulted for her fondness for diverse types of music. One day I mentioned that I thought she was an uncommon musician for her age. To my comment, a critical musician solemnly responded, "Yes, she's very talented, but she needs to make a decision what she's going to be. Either she's going to play Irish music, or she's not. She can't be loyal to all of them." This unbending criticism came from a musician who often plays music from other music genres as well and is typical of the subtle ways the musicians indoctrinate the neophytes and newcomers into the session community and the world of Irish traditional music. In addition to these type of statements and criticisms there are also many other ways the musicians restrict membership.

And a third thing: Berger/Luckmann were great (at the time), but they were not "practitioners of the sociology of knowledge" and if you are going to tell me that playing at sessions (and wearing green?) is a social construction of reality in Berger/Luckmann's sense, it will take you more than three fluffy lines.

[Pat Cannady]

What a steaming load of

[The Weekenders]

You know its real when a scholar describes it....yikes. There is enough interesting observations mixed with the formalized verbiage that makes me skim, then read, then skim then read.

Thanks for posting it, I think!

[peeplj]

A well-written and well-researched article. It'll be interesting to see who validates it by objecting the loudest.

--James

[Bloomfield]

Validate me! Validate me!

[jsluder]

My voice is my passport; validate me.

[Caj]

Thanks for posting that article. I know some people who'd be very interested in reading it.

But man, snobs galore at those sessions! Stories like this remind me to treasure the local session, where the musicians are just fun-loving people who are just plain Americans, rather than 3rd-generation Irish on yer mother's father's side; and these kinds of sniping and snobbery just don't happen here.

You'd never hear anyone here ask someone's last name or genetic background (like that somehow equals cultural exposure,) or criticize someone for not sticking enough to IrTrad. Holy crap, we have traditional music too, you know. Now I have this burning desire to track down one of those sessions in the article, start a tune, and then break into "Camptown Ladies."

Caj

[colomon]

What Pat said. Though I admit that reading things like

Simply picking up a traditional Irish instrument, such as the bodhran for example...

lead me to wonder if this is perhaps an elaborate parody? Especailly with the "O'Gaff" reference, as that is the name of a well-known jig....

[Cayden]

Caj, the snobs will probably ask you 'did you mean Camptown Races?'

[colomon]

"Camptown Races" makes a great polka, you know, and I've heard it claimed (though I definitely am dubious -- there's the Foster family reputation to uphold, after all) that Foster borrowed the tune for his song from the original Irish source.

[Cayden]

"Camptown Races" makes a great polka, you know, and I've heard it claimed (though I definitely am dubious -- there's the Foster family reputation to uphold, after all) that Foster borrowed the tune for his song from the original Irish source.

It does go well and a polka version of Brighton Camp is good too.

[ChrisLaughlin]

Hmmm...
I don't really know what to think about this article after a first skim. I guess she's got some valid points in many respects, but she runs into the same problem I ran into when writing my undergraduate thesis (on a very similar subject) - it's impossible to write objectively when you yourself are directly involved in that which you are writing about. I'd like to know more about the author. Is she a good musician? What's her background? What's her ancestry?
Ultimately, I think this paper is just one more perspective. It's a well researched and written perspective, but without knowing a fair bit of personal information about the author it's pretty difficult to interpret what it all means.
For me one of the telling moments in the article was the section where she recounts be told to learn "The Butterfly" because "it's a tune American's hear better". The Butterfly is the classic beginner Yankee tune and I wonder if that she was told to learn it betrays a little bit about how deeply (or shallowly) involved in the music she is. I'm not sure however whether the article would be better if she were more immersed or less immersed. It's a tricky situation.
What I would really like to read is a healthy, self-critical article of this sort written by someone who has really immersed themselves in the music. I'd like to see that article published somewhere where other musicians and scholars could respond to it with their own articles, criticisms and insights. Anyhow, I give her credit for writing the thing.
Chris

[BrassBlower]

Thanks for posting that article. I know some people who'd be very interested in reading it.

But man, snobs galore at those sessions! Stories like this remind me to treasure the local session, where the musicians are just fun-loving people who are just plain Americans, rather than 3rd-generation Irish on yer mother's father's side; and these kinds of sniping and snobbery just don't happen here.

You'd never hear anyone here ask someone's last name or genetic background (like that somehow equals cultural exposure,) or criticize someone for not sticking enough to IrTrad. Holy crap, we have traditional music too, you know. Now I have this burning desire to track down one of those sessions in the article, start a tune, and then break into "Camptown Ladies."

Caj

With my surname (Edwards), Brythonic nose, and penchant for playing "The Ash Grove", I would probably be more ethnically connected to Trisha's neck-o-the-woods, but so what?

I would like your session. I would probably pick or pass most of the time when it came my turn to call, but I wouldn't enjoy myself any less.

[Nanohedron]

So, "The Butterfly" is a tune that Americans hear better? I have to question that. That's like the ongoing Japanese assumption that the katakana syllabary is more easily learned by Westerners than the hiragana, as the former is more angular. Odd. All the Westerners I talked to when studying that language mentioned that they found the hiragana to be easier to learn, myself included. Yet the stereotype continues. It may be, though, that the above tune is easier to hear for those who've had little or no prior exposure to the music, whatever their nationality.

FWIW, "The Butterfly" is a tune not among my favorites, and that from the start. If someone strikes that one up, I'll put all I can into it and try to do it justice. Gotta do that.