A Night at the Willie Clancy Summer Festival

The night was dark but not full of terrors. On the contrary, this was one of the best moments of my entire life. Everything you fancy in Ireland was there, and more: beer, Irish music, a packed dim pub and laughs with one-night friends. This could be a summing up of that night, though it would not give a fair account of the overall magical feel.

This actually may be the kind of nights rather common to most people – you know, outgoing, happy, normal people. But to me, the whole context made it a time and place that were in perfect harmony, and that will resonate with me until my last breath. You see, I had been traveling on my own in Ireland for a week then, and I had still a good three weeks ahead. I had left my family cocoon to go explore the unknown (it was neither Iraq nor Siberia, but you know, for 19-year-old me it was already a lot for a first lone travel), so I had still not gotten the knack of the whole unsettling traveling experience, how to endure loneliness in a place you’ve never been to before and quickly make it your own.

This Willie Clancy Festival is held annually since 1973 in memory of the piper Willie Clancy and takes place in the beautiful little seashore village of Miltown Malbay, County Clare, in the more traditional West of Ireland. This festival attracts people from over the world for its renowned traditional music Summer School, Scoil Samhraidh Willie Clancy, the largest of the country. It offers a full program of lectures, recitals, dances, exhibitions and many cultural workshops during that week. So, I ended up in this festival (which I highly recommend) because I was actually carrying out a research on Irish traditional music and its link to collective war memory in the country – so it seemed pretty relevant to go spend a few days over there.

But the night. For starters, that night was also the first time I went into a bar on my own. I plucked up my courage, left my dorm bunk bed and told myself I would have a decent night, even if there was no one I could hang out with in my dorm. Once in the street, I just played it by ear and went into one of the many pubs of the village. I dived into the mass of people already in the Players’ Club, ordered a can of cider, and just listened. It was 7 in the evening, and by 9 the pub was really, really packed. I still wonder how we all fitted in there. But never mind, the music was very entertaining and filling me up with plain, innocent joy.

Then and there I met a little bunch of people, themselves musicians. We started chatting, drunkenly gaily, and we ended up spending the whole evening together. Once we managed to get hold of a booth, they just started playing – me, right in the middle of this, happy and tipsy as ever. Never had I thought I would be at the very heart of an improvised Irish music band!

At three o’clock they left, and I stayed there, in the Players’ Club. You know, people always say how great it is to be able to live and share your experiences with your friends. But you know what? Sometimes it is just as good to be selfishly alone to live them. When you are by yourself, all of your senses are alert, and you really are a 100% in the moment, no “parasite” around you. Of course it also depends on the kind of experience and people you’re with too. But on that very moment, I am just thankful my body and soul were a 100% present, because my memory has now printed it in forever.

The dim light of the pub, in contrast with the loudness of the crowded room’s laughs and cheers, the smell of spilled beer, the damp hotness, the players in the corner playing relentlessly for eight hours… The repetitive and cheerful aspect of Irish traditional music surely played a great part of this transcending night’s feeling. Quite complex to master, it gives the impression of being easily played though. It is a kind of music ever so delightful; its repetitions make it easy to understand it, and to take root in the place and moment you’re in somehow. Recorded Irish music is never half as magical and entertaining as it is live, for it is not made to be a commercial product: it is truly something to be lived.

On that night, everything just made perfect sense. The people seemed to be one with the music, although in a simple manner – no need for an obvious trance or whatever. Transcendence is not just for religious people, pot smokers or Jehovah’s Witnesses. It does not have to be linked to martyrdom or Tibetan-like meditation. I do believe it is also practiced, through another way – and even though they don’t call it that – by down-to-earth people who are just having a beer with friends and enjoying fine music that has been their legacy for generations, in good times and in bad; that very music which is the heart and soul of their country.

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