Gerry O’Connor – Last Night’s Joy
Lughnasa Music – 1 October 2018
Fourth-generation fiddle player Gerry O’Connor grew up in Dundalk, Co. Louth in a musical family under the tutelage of his mother Rose, who by all accounts was no mean fiddle player herself. His own playing style has been shaped in the form of the fluid, lyrical playing of the great Sligo masters such as Michael Coleman and John Joe Gardiner. It follows, then, that Gerry’s been described (by Mick Moloney, no less) as “a musician’s musician”, equally brilliant at playing tunes and accompanying songs but above all this denotes that he relishes the tune itself and fully appreciates its value as a shared experience, harbouring no desire to showcase his own virtuosity just for the sake of it.
Gerry’s first actual solo record, the unduly-modestly-titled Journeyman, came out in 2004, which was a surprisingly late occurrence considering that his career had already included the winning of numerous All Ireland awards in a range of playing permutations (from solo, duet and trio to ceili band), as well as the founding of, and participation in, the bands La Lúgh and Skylark. Journeyman gave the finest possible demonstration of Gerry’s distinctive technique, to be sure, and he was supported by a crack team of musician friends amongst whom his son Dónal figured largely. So there’s no reason for Gerry to change his approach (I’d not wish to call it a winning formula, since use of that phrase would tend to imply a certain lack of inspiration or freshness) for his second solo album, too many years later, and once again he’s recruited a handful of excellent musicians.
Gerry’s (quite literally) breathtaking (in the sense of when does he ever rest his bow?!) playing is in evidence right from the outset, wonderfully lyrical yes, but also exciting in its strong sense of purpose and its seemingly effortless control and, most of all, his intense delight in the tunes themselves and the musicality that brings them so alive. He enjoys some miraculously filigree guitar backing from Niall Hanna on the deft opening set of reels before Niall’s more percussive rhythms (and Dermot Moynagh’s bodhrán) kick in for the third tune. And naturally, the listener is left breathless at the close of this three-and-a-half-minute set, pondering on how Gerry manages such an unstoppable, flowing continuity of line and yet virtually dances along, the veritable embodiment of the tune itself and the sheer unbridled joy of its execution. One can only describe Gerry’s playing as immensely assured and almost unnervingly fleet-footed, and yet even this seems an understatement!
The album then proceeds along its merry way in a quietly dazzling sequence of medleys comprising tunes from all manner of sources. On which subject, Gerry packs a stack of information and erudition into his liner notes, generously and meticulously crediting his sources and, where relevant, also placing the tunes in the context of his own performance history. The Old Dash Churn is a set of three magnificent double jigs (learned from recordings of Co. Louth fiddler Peter McArdle who played for house dances), which in Gerry’s hands are replete with vibrant simplicity. There’s possibly something of a feeling of strict-tempo, albeit of a particularly bouncy variety, to the short set of reels at track 3 and the trio of Cape Breton reels at track 8, both featuring animated and complementary piano from Dónal (who, it happens, is also responsible for the commendably clean, crisp production of the album). There’s gentle and sensitive guitar accompaniment from Seán Óg Graham on the gorgeous air-and-hornpipe combination Corratistune Rose, one of three tracks to also feature the cello playing of Neil Martin.
Limpid piano and cello also accompany Gerry’s beautiful rendition of the song Bádaí na Scadain, which he got from his late wife Eithne Ní Uallacháin, whereas the nifty Mixing The Porridge set combines three scintillating, yet surprisingly rarely-heard jigs (from blind Tyrone fiddler Johnny Loughran, the aforementioned Peter McArdle and Fermanagh’s James MacMahon respectively). In the company of his former Skylark colleague, ace accordionist Maírtín O’Connor, Gerry revisits the tricky jig The Hawk And The Hare (which they’d previously recorded on one of the band’s albums), then ingeniously caps it with a polska penned by Swedish nyckelharpist Erik Sahlström (this is one of a brace of tracks on which Gerry’s helped out by Séamie O’Dowd on guitar).
The punningly titled StereO Connor set is a fabulous pairing of two polkas that features Gerry in duet with his “eponymous musical friend” and banjo-playing namesake – now if that doesn’t get you up on your feet! (and the delectably sprung rhythms remind you that Gerry was himself a step-dancer too…). Gerry and Dónal get to both fiddle away together, and in fine fashion too, on a brace of tracks including the aptly-titled slip-jig set Dads And Lads. The disc’s final set is a spectacular “reel connorbation” (what a wonderful phrase!) involving all four O’Connors (although in an uncharacteristic lapse the guitarist is not credited… any guesses?).
This disc is so much more than just another album of tunes outstandingly well played. The sense of total immersion in the music-making and the joy that brings is communicated par excellence. The album title may seem to betoken that it’s but a memento of Last Night’s Joy: well this may be, but it’s joy for this night too, and indeed for any time this sparkling disc remains on the player. And, I may say, in abundance!
A track from the album also features on the Folk Show – Episode 41 here https://klofmag.com/2018/10/folk-show-episode-41/