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The Bristol born, Galway based poet, author and playwright Pete Mullineaux knows his way confidently around traditional Irish music. His poetry collection, Session, (Salmon Poetry), dedicated to his mother, with artwork by Fran McCann, is guaranteed to leave his readers wanting more.
The poetry, like the regional variations in the music, varies in style and tone, the common link being the poet’s voice as a silent observer. Mullineaux uses evocative images, insightful observation, humour, playfulness and nostalgia. He is a scrutiniser of intricacies, a watchful eye, someone who listens to the tunes and observes the people who play them. The reader sees the players’ eyes, fingers, their bodies, the body language and the resulting inter-personal and inter-musical relationships being formed. Mullineaux also explores the emotions and psychologies of his subjects with curiosity and admiration.
One of this writer’s favourites
is A Piper Prepares, where the speaker intimately describes the uileann piper’s
preamble. It is a tantalisingly visual poem with so much anticipation in the
opening lines that the reader hopes the preamble goes on: It’s almost like
shooting up; a captivating ritual / as the belt is looped around the forearm;
the buckle/ notched, blowpipe joined to leather bag; a shard/ of cloth, folded
between elbow and rib for comfort.
Mullineaux has the speaker in this poem
watch the piper assemble the instrument and describe it in slow motion detail. ‘Drones
are attached like pistol silencers, regulators poised,’ and while acknowledging
the tune of the same name, ‘the piper’s apron,’ he remarks on the leather patch
across the lap which provides ‘protection from the crazed jabs of the chanter, /
its manic hypodermic dance.’ As the tune begins, ‘a primal hum vibrates,’ and
‘a gasp/ for air as the bellows fill and suddenly there’s life/ in the lungs
and wind in the reeds...’
‘The Five Mile Chase,’ is
a tribute to Patrick Street. Traditional musicians Andy Irvine, John Carty, Kevin Burke and Jed Foley have their individual stage movements
noted and matched to rhythm, playing styles and character nuances. ‘A tilt of
the chin for the pigeon on the gate/ a bend in the waist for the stack of
wheat/ a wink in the eye for the blue eyed rascal/ a slip in the hip for a trip
up the stairs.’ It’s a twelve line piece that could be sung in jig time. Hup!
Mullineaux uses a
coupling motif throughout the collection. In ‘The Lads of Leitrim,’ an
accordion and a flute player meet up regularly to play a session in a snug in
Manorhamilton. The poet compares their ease and joy in the music to a long
standing marriage. ‘Could there be a love closer to their hearts/ than this –
something to cherish for a lifetime -/ never to part, for better or worse/ in
sickness and in health.’ As they launch into the Fermoy Lasses, he declares ‘these fellas are wedded to the music.’
Another couple, Paddy Canny and Frankie Gavin, have their musical communion told with slow lyrical ease in ‘Cave Music II.’ Canny, ‘the elder statesman has eyelids drawn / tight like a mole,’ while the younger Frankie, ‘allows the older man the lead, follows the set tone/ finding his own empathetic touch.’
Another couple, Paddy Canny and Frankie Gavin, have their musical communion told with slow lyrical ease in ‘Cave Music II.’ Canny, ‘the elder statesman has eyelids drawn / tight like a mole,’ while the younger Frankie, ‘allows the older man the lead, follows the set tone/ finding his own empathetic touch.’
Mullineaux provides the
snapshot, watching the young Gavin who could have closed his eyes, but chose
not to. Gavin, who was ‘a generation apart’ at the time, kept watch of the
older man, ‘aware how much this moment must be fixed, / treasured deep in his
own vaults.’
Watching Dermot Byrne and
Floriane Blancke’s playing compelled the poet to write ‘Tabhair Dom Do Lámh.’ Byrne’s
accordion sits ‘like a sleeping child in his lap,’ and Blancke ‘leans forward,
the harp/against her cheek, listening/ for a heartbeat...’ The poem moves
swiftly from the womb analogy, to a child one, when Byrne ‘tickles and squeezes’
the accordion, and like an infant, growing with the pace and momentum of the
tune, together, the duo, ‘fast forward, to courtship, / dancing, making crazy
love / through music.’
This aptly titled
collection, Session, by Pete
Mullineaux is a gem. Encore, si’l vous plait? It is available from www.salmonpoetry.com,
bookshops and music stores.
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