Kevin Burke MATRIX

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If You Can't Stand the Heat

Image above is from the base of the cross in front of the church of São Francisco do Paraguaçu in the Bahian Recôncavo

Sprawled across broad equatorial latitudes, stoked and steamed and sensual in the widest sense of the word, limned in cadenced song, Brazil is a conundrum wrapped in a smile inside an irony...

It is not a European nation. It is not a North American nation. It is not an East Asian nation. It straddles — jungle and desert and dense urban centers — both the equator and the Tropic of Capricorn. Brazil absorbed over ten times the number of enslaved Africans taken to the United States of America, and is a repository of African deities (and their music) now largely forgotten in their lands of origin. It was a refuge (of sorts) for Sephardim fleeing an Inquisition which followed them across the Atlantic (that unofficial symbol of Brazil's national music — the pandeiro — was almost certainly brought to Brazil by these people). Across the parched savannas of the interior of Brazil's culturally fecund nordeste/northeast, where wizard Hermeto Pascoal was born in Lagoa da Canoa (Lagoon of the Canoe) and raised in Olho d'Águia (Eye of the Eagle), much of Brazil's aboriginal population was absorbed into a caboclo/quilombola culture punctuated by the Star of David. Three cultures — from three continents — running for their lives, their confluence forming an unprecedented fourth. Pandeirista on the roof. Nowhere else but here.

Oligarchy, plutocracy, dictatorships and massive corruption — elements of these are still strongly entrenched — have defined, delineated, and limited Brazil.

But strictured & bound as it has been and is, Brazil has buzz...not the shallow buzz of a fashionable moment...but the deep buzz of a population which in spite of — or perhaps because of — the tough slog through life they've been allotted by humanity's dregs-in-fine-linen, have chosen not to simply pull themselves along but to lift their voices in song and their bodies in dance...to eat well and converse well and much and to wring the joy out of the day-to-day happenings and small pleasures of life which are so often set aside or ignored in the European, North American, and East Asian nations.

For this Brazil has a genius perhaps unparalleled in all other countries and societies, a genius which thrives alongside peeling paint and holes in the streets and roads, under bad organization by the powers-that-be, both civil and governmental, under a constant rain of societal indignities...

Which is all to say that if you don't know Brazil and you're expecting any semblance of order, progress and light, you will certainly find the light! And the buzz of a people who for generations have responded to privation at many different levels by somehow rising above it all.

"Onde tem miséria, tem música!"* - Raymundo Sodré

And it's not just music. And it's not just Brazil.

Welcome to the kitchen!

* "Where there is misery, there is music!" Remarked during a conversation arcing from Bahia to Haiti and Cuba to New Orleans and the south side of Chicago and Harlem to the villages of Ireland and the gypsy camps and shtetls of Eastern Europe...

Kevin Burke I RECOMMEND

CURATION

from this node by: Sparrow/Pardal

This is the Universe of

Name: Kevin Burke
City/Place: Portland, Oregon
Country: United States
Hometown: London by way of Sligo

Life & Work

Bio: I started playing the fiddle when I was seven or eight years of age. My parents decided to send me to a music teacher for formal lessons rather than wait to see if I had either the skill or desire to pick it up on my own. This strategy seemed to work pretty well, because by the time I felt that I really wanted to play, when I was 12 or 13, I had already developed some very helpful basic skills which I could use.

My music teacher was Jessie Christopherson (no relation to Kris!) Jessie lived within walking distance of our house in S.E. London. To my eight year old mind she seemed very old (she was probably in her early sixties), very posh and very intimidating. And her house was like that too – old, posh and intimidating! It was much bigger than ours and very dark – going there for lessons was a bit like visiting Miss Havisham in “Great Expectations”! But she turned out to be a great teacher. Her manner was pretty strict and harsh (I can still remember her shrieking instructions at me – “Up bow!”, “Sharper!” and so on.) but I soon learned that she was a kindly old woman behind it all and, more importantly, that she was very broadminded about music. Up to then I was of the impression that classical people didn’t approve of any other kind of music so I was very impressed to discover that she enjoyed all kinds of things, even some of the new groups of the time such as The Who and The Rolling Stones.

Jessie Christopherson was giving me Violin lessons and at the same time I was learning about the Fiddle at home from my parents’ record collection and from family friends. Most of the musicians I was hearing at home played ‘by ear’ and Jessie was teaching me to read so, to combine the two skills, we thought it would be a good idea to bring Jessie a few Irish tune books and let her take me through them. She was quite happy to do so and before long I had learned several fiddle tunes at my violin lessons. But there was a problem – they sounded strange! And not just because I was a beginner! So we brought Jessie up to the house and played her some recordings of Irish music and asked her why they sounded so different from what I was playing. She explained that what was written in the books was very different from what we were hearing. This was a revelation! I realized that “don’t believe everything you read” does not only apply to newspapers! So, how do you make written notes spring to life and become sounds that could justifiably be called music? This became “the Quest”.

I discovered that Irish players had many ways of ornamenting the notes of a tune and that these were often left out of the books. In Jessie’s lessons I had learned that I should play just what is written down – no more, no less. From the Irish players I learned to treat the printed page simply as a guide and to add grace notes and triplets more or less when I felt like it! They also had a list of terms that I hadn’t heard in my Violin classes – shakes, rolls, crans, to name a few and there were other odd words I heard them use quite a bit, strange words like “The Nyaah” and “Corfibbles”. “The Nyaah”, apparently, was very important. Nobody seemed to be clear on what it was but all the good players had it and you were no good without it! This was very tricky. Where would I get “The Nyaah”? Where would I find it? Well, some of the older musicians advised me and encouraged me that when playing I should “lean on it” and “give it stick”. I was told to “twist it and turn it” (and “kick it down the hall” said someone else.) All this was a long way from the language Jessie used when talking about music. But it was helping. I knew I was gradually playing better when one day I heard some old lad say “He has the Nyaah!” I didn’t know what it was, I didn’t know I had it, I didn’t know where I had found it, but I believed him! One of the things which Jessie said that stuck in my mind was about Michael Coleman. We had played her several recordings of great players to listen to but she singled him out and told me “He finds the soul of his instrument”. Nobody had ever told me before that musical instruments even had souls! That was an exciting bit of news – another revelation!

When I was a teenager (about 13 or 14) I started going to music pubs regularly, once or twice a week, usually with my parents or other friends of the family, to hear the sessions and maybe even join in! Most of the people at these gatherings were rural Irish people typically from families that were large and houses that were small. Their conversation and music, their singing and dancing was their entertainment – and I loved it too!

I am sure many of our English neighbors who might have disapproving notions about Irish pubs were surprised that my parents actively encouraged me to go into these places but, when I look back, I see it as a very important part of my education. I met people whose knowledge and use of language (both their own and English) was unsurpassed, their love of music and dance and song was inspiring, and their respect for history, tradition and ritual was a great lesson to a young teenager. It was a great counter balance to the bombardment of commercialism masquerading as “culture” that most youngsters have to endure.
Soon I started to play with a ceili band, the Glenside, and played nearly every weekend at various Irish Dance Halls around London. My favourite nights were when groups of great Set dancers would show up. They were very exciting to play for and really heightened the energy of the music.

In 1966 we took part in the Ceili Band competition at the All-Ireland Fleadh in Boyle, Co. Roscommon. Although very much the “underdog” we were declared the winners. Of course, we were all thrilled at the result but we were especially delighted for the several band members who came from that part of the country.

I started paying attention to some of the music that was being talked about by my schoolmates and became very interested in Blues, Ska, R&B and then I heard about Bob Dylan. There was a great deal made of his song-writing but I was mostly impressed by his delivery – he “told” the songs as much as he sang them. I thought of them more as dramatic narratives, much like many of the traditional songs I had heard. I thought it was very interesting that Dylan was drawing on several traditions for inspiration – Irish, English, Scottish songs as well as American Country and Blues songs. Another of Bob Dylan’s major influences was, of course, Woody Guthrie and I started to pay a bit more attention to Woody’s music than I had in the past. I began to see that songs could be very powerful as social commentary and history and wondered if instrumental music had a similar power.

Obviously a tune is a bit more abstract than a story with words but I was pretty sure that music was very powerful stuff. Around the time that I was pondering all this I heard Jimi Hendrix playing and he confirmed my suspicions about the power of music. I didn’t really think too much about the words of his songs, the sound of his guitar playing is what enthralled me! I immediately thought back to my music teacher, Jessie Christopherson, and what she said about Michael Coleman, “He finds the soul of his instrument”.

In spite of all this great music coming over from the US I never felt driven to visit America. I though it was too big, too many cars, too hot, too cold, no “craic”. Then one day I walked into a pub in Miltown Malbay in Co. Clare and heard some great music being played by a few American visitors. I drew closer and they spotted the fiddle case and asked me to play a tune. So I did. We got talking and it turned out one of these guys was Arlo Guthrie, Woody’s son. Arlo and his friends John Pilla, Gil Gilbeau, Jeffie Outlaw and a few others had been in England, performing, and had decided to come to Ireland for a few days looking for music and ended up in Miltown. The weather was great (i.e. not raining) so we all went went out to the neighboring village of Quilty and sat on the clifftops most of the day enjoying the sunshine, the sea air and each other’s music.

A few days later we said our good-bye’s and went our separate ways, but not long afterwards I got a letter inviting me to come over to the US and maybe do some recording with Arlo. I decided to go. I got off the ‘plane in New York and everything seemed very foreign but I met Joe Burke,the great Galway accordion player and he took me under his wing for a few days. In fact within a couple of hours of getting off the plane I was in an apartment in the Bronx and one of the musicians there was Andy McGann. I couldn’t believe my luck! I had been a huge fan of Andy’s playing for years and never thought I’d have a chance to meet him, but here he was, playing away – fantastic Then, a few days later, I headed up to Western Massachusetts to Arlo’s house.

One night Arlo asked me if I had any ideas about recording and I mentioned that I often wondered how a slide guitar would sound with the fiddle (I had heard Robert Johnson on “Mike Raven’s Blues Hour” on the BBC.) He played some recordings of his friend Ry Cooder (of whom I had never heard at the time) and sure enough when we got to LA I had the opportunity to meet and play a little with Ry and several other great LA musicians. When Arlo’s new album “The Last of The Brooklyn Cowboys” was released I was delighted to find out that there were a couple of tracks of my playing on there.

Through Arlo I met many musicians, but more importantly, I had the chance to see them work. They inspired me to devote my life to playing music. One of my first “Professional Engagements” (I had to sign a contract!) was a Danish production of Brendan Behan’s play, “The Hostage”.

John Faulkner, now of Galway – then of London, had been asked to suggest some musicians and he put my name forward. The flute player chosen was a great friend of mine from Moyasta in Co. Clare, P.J. Crotty, so the two of us headed off on a six month adventure together. We had an apartment in the middle of Copenhagen where we stayed when we were not travelling throughout Denmark. “Det Danske Teater” (The Danish Theatre) is a National Theatre situated in Copenhagen but it also brings its major productions to all parts of the country. We discovered that life in Denmark was very different from what we were used to!

The language was strange to our ears and difficult (this was a problem because the play was in Danish! We had to learn all our cues in Danish! Luckily, I was very familiar with the play so in the early days I was able to get some of the cues from the action of the play itself); the food was strange and difficult – pickled fish, raw eggs, smelly cheese (Esrom); the weather was colder than we had ever imagined cold could be (we arrived in mid-December) and so on. But we soon adapted. The pubs stayed open late, there was lots of great music (mainly jazz) and we made great friends there.

At first the rehearsals were very difficult because there was disagreement on how the music should sound. We tried to play as we were asked but we knew it didn’t sound right. There were some tense discussions between the Director, the Cast and the Administration which we couldn’t really follow because of our inability to speak Danish but we knew there were problems! Finally we were asked for our opinions and a day or two later the Director and his assistant were fired (we presumed it was because of what we had said!).

We were asked to re-fashion the music to something more traditional and, in an unexpected development, PJ became the Choreographer. One day during a break he was showing some of the actors how to dance a Set. In an impromptu demonstration, he danced around the stage using a chair as his “dancing partner”. Several of the actors clapped and cheered as he danced with his chair and before long he had taught them all a few steps. Eventually the Set was incorporated into the play as one of the opening scenes – and every night PJ got to dance with his chair!

When I had returned from the US I started playing around folk clubs and Irish music pubs in England, Ireland and other parts of Europe, at first with a group called “Lazy Reel” with Tom Madden and Chris Andretti. When that group broke up I got a call from Christy Moore who had left Planxty and was forming his own band. Would I like to join? This involved moving back to Ireland so I was thrilled. I moved to Dublin and played as a member of Christy’s band for a couple of years. Jimmy Faulkner and Declan McNelius were the other members of the band. They would usually play acoustic guitars but sometimes we would “go electric”. Jimmy would put on his Stratocaster, Declan had his Fender Bass and we’d get Robbie Brennan in to play the drums. We had some great nights some of which I can remember! Christy and his wife, Val, and his sister, Eilis, all looked after me very well while I was there and then one day I had a visit from Donal Lunny and Matt Molloy asking if I would play with the Bothy Band.

Christy had told me about the Bothy Band not long after I had arrived in Dublin. After seeing them a couple of times I became a great fan so I was a bit taken aback when they called on me! At first I was under the impression that I was just going to “fill in” for Tommy Peoples for a few days but then I realized Tommy was leaving the band permanently and that there was a position available if I wanted it. I said I’d be delighted to fill in for a few days but if it is to be any more than that I’d have to talk to Christy. Before I had the chance however, Christy called me and told me I’d be daft not to join such a great band and wished me all the best. So, I joined up.

Over the next four years, Micheal O Domhnaill, also in the Bothy Band, and myself started playing a lot together so when the band broke up at the end of the 70’s, Micheal and I continued to play as a duo. We recorded an album, Promenade, which met with some very encouraging critical acclaim and decided to try a few concerts together in the US.

One of the places we played in the US was Portland, Oregon. On my first trip to the US I had met, through Arlo, another well-known songwriter, Hoyt Axton and Hoyt often used to tell me that I should go to Oregon because he thought I would really like the place.

At the time I didn’t pay too much attention to his suggestion but when Micheal and I arrived in Oregon we did indeed like the area and the people very much and finally about a year later we moved over. We recorded our second album there, named it “Portland” and then, after another few years playing together, we decided to call it a day and Micheal formed the group “Nightnoise”. Over 30 years after first setting foot in Oregon I am still living here and often think how right Hoyt had been.

Contact Information

Management/Booking: Ruby Hoy:
[email protected]
+ 1 540 · 487 · 0382

European Booking:
Adastra Agency
2 Star Row, N. Dalton,
Driffield, E. Yorkshire,
Y025 9UR, England
[email protected]
(phone) 01377 217662
(fax) 01377 217754

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