ABSTRACT Title of Dissertation: “AS WE CIRCLE THE WORLD”: A PERFORMATIVE ETHNOGRAPHY OF IRISH STEP DANCE AND MUSIC IN THE UNITED STATES AND JAPAN Julia Elizabeth Broman Topper Doctor of Philosophy, 2018 Dissertation directed by: Professor J. Lawrence Witzleben Division of Musicology and Ethnomusicology School of Music In this dissertation, I examine current practices of modern competitive Irish step dance and feis music accompaniment through case studies conducted in the United States and Japan. More than twenty years after Riverdance significantly heightened the visibility of Irish dance both in Ireland and abroad, what do contemporary transnational practices of Irish step dance and music look and sound like and how do we compare these practices cross-culturally? Through a performance-based methodology, I contextualize the ways local and transnational Irish step dance and feis music (a specialized traditional Irish dance music used to accompany modern competitive Irish step dance) aesthetics and community values interact and construct one another in the “focus locations” of studios, feiseanna and oireachtasaí (local and regional competitions), performance stages, and the body— sites of performance where the modern competitive Irish step dance tradition is presented, embodied, and circulated. By discussing these local and transnational flows in grounded and particular key locations and experiences of performance, I demonstrate how Irish dance practices and ideas related to those practices are in constant negotiation and renegotiation between the major transnational regulatory body of An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (The Commission of Irish Dance, CLRG) and the local cultures of the individual schools and dancers under its purview. As it goes through these processes of negotiation, Irish dance both homogenizes and diversifies, circulating through the transnational cultural cohort that practices it. This study informs several areas of research, including ethnomusicology, ethnochoreology, Irish dance and music studies, studies on processes of cultural globalization, and Japanese performing arts and cultural studies. In this work, I argue for a body- and performance-oriented approach to fieldwork and research for scholars of music as well as dance, noting the crucial role of embodiment for not only achieving a deeper understanding of the performing arts traditions they study, but also unveiling values and aesthetics fundamental to the communities they work with. “AS WE CIRCLE THE WORLD”: A PERFORMATIVE ETHNOGRAPHY OF IRISH STEP DANCE AND MUSIC IN THE UNITED STATES AND JAPAN by Julia Elizabeth Broman Topper Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the University of Maryland, College Park, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy 2018 Advisory Committee: Professor J. Lawrence Witzleben, Chair Professor Michele M. Mason, Dean’s Representative Professor Miriam Phillips Professor Siv Lie Professor Fernando Rios Professor Sean Williams © Copyright by Julia Elizabeth Broman Topper 2018 Preface As we circle the world/With our wandering airs/Gathering here and there/Leaving behind our share/Like the leaves in the wind/They are blown along/Melodies rising from/Home and the heartland Sing out your songs/And ring out your stories and rhymes/Weave from your dreams/The mystical dances that lead us to/Bind in heart and mind “Home and the Heartland” Riverdance, Bill Whelan 1995 ii A Note on Names and Pronunciation All Japanese names are given following the Western convention of given name then family name (rather than the Japanese form of family name first), as this is how the Japanese teachers I studied with identify themselves in their businesses and on social media. To avoid confusion, I follow this name order for all other Japanese names. In Chapter Five, all interviews were conducted in either English or a mixture of English and Japanese. Although I studied Japanese for two years with my private teacher, Chie Hirota, over Skype before coming to Tokyo, I received help in translating from several people throughout my fieldwork. Many thanks to Elizabeth Bremer, Daniel Heffernan, Aya Ito, Curtis Miles, and Yasuko Teramachi for all their help. Any and all mistakes contained therein are mine alone. For English speakers, pronunciation of the most commonly used Irish-Gaelic terms in this dissertation are as follows: céilí is pronounced “kay-lee,” feis is “fesh,” and oireachtas is “oh-rock-tus.” The usage and spelling of all Irish-Gaelic and English Irish dance terms follows common practice in the greater Washington D.C. area (i.e., oireachtasaí instead of oireachtais for the plural of oireachtas). iii Dedication To my father, James, for driving me to piano lessons every Saturday morning and putting curlers in my hair for feiseanna despite my complaints. To my mother, Candace, for introducing me to Riverdance—much of this is largely your fault. And to my husband, Michael, for now being able to lilt the tune “St. Patrick’s Day,” whether he wanted to be able to or not. iv Acknowledgements Throughout the process of researching and writing this dissertation, time and time again I have been amazed and overwhelmed by the amount of support given to me by people from all corners of my life. Although it is not possible to name each individual here (that would be another dissertation in and of itself!), I would like to highlight those people who made this possible. In the Irish dance community, I have found my second family. I am beyond grateful to every teacher, student, musician, adjudicator, and parent who took the time to talk with me and allowed me to spend time with them throughout the course of my research. Many thanks to all the members of my Culkin family. I am especially grateful to Seán and Denise Culkin, Nicki Sack Bayhurst, Mary Page Day, Denise Daniele, Caterina Earle, Lynne Haslbeck, Cierra O’Keefe, Tammy Larson, Kelly McGovern, Maggie McNamara, and Megan Moloney as well as all of the dancers of the CulkinAdult program. Every single one of these people has been of incalculable value to me, both in my work and in my personal life, and I wish I could write more about what each one of them have done for me. To you all: thank you! Special thanks to Tammy, Megan, Denise, Lynne, and Kelly for all the time they spent with me in classes and private instruction, and to Nicki and Seán for the time they spent with me in interviews and observations, and their willingness to answer my constant questions over texts and emails. I would like to specially acknowledge my teachers Phil Stacy and Kate Bole. Phil is a phenomenal teacher who has spent many, many, (many) extra hours patiently instructing and challenging me in private lessons, as well as answering questions during my observations of classes and competitions so that I could not just be a better dancer, but also so I could better understand and research Irish dance culture. Kate has been an invaluable mentor, encouraging and teaching me from day one, and allowing me to experience first-hand what it is like to participate in professional-level shows. I have learned a tremendous amount from Kate’s insights and deep understanding of Irish dance movement and community values. I am indebted to both Phil and Kate for their teachings, and above all, their friendships. I am so grateful to all the members of Tokyo’s Irish dance and music community, who welcomed me with open arms and made their classes and céilí my home away from home while living in Japan. Many thanks to Tomoko Shirasawa and the students of the Ardagh School, Taka Hayashi and his students at THIDA, Satomi Mitera and Daniel Heffernan, Yuika Nakagawa, Kimie Nagahama and the students of JIDA, Koko Miyazawa and her students, and all the musicians and dancers of the Tokyo branch of CCÉ Japan. I would have been lost without all the help and friendship I received from Aya Ito, Yasuko Teramachi, and Takako Tanabe. Special thanks to Taka Hayashi for his generosity in funding my studies at THIDA through the scholarship granted to him by the University of Limerick and the Mucross House Museum in County Kerry, Ireland. v Many thanks to my advisor at the University of Maryland, College Park, Dr. J. Lawrence Witzleben for all his help and insights throughout this process, and especially for his willingness to pivot when my dissertation topic did a complete 180 degree turn! Thank you to my dissertation committee: Dr. Siv Lie, Dr. Michele Mason, Dr. Miriam Phillips, Dr. Fernando Rios, and Dr. Sean Williams. I am appreciative for all your support and thoughtful feedback from the prospective to the defense and beyond. Special thanks to Dr. Robert Provine, who has been an absolute bedrock of support throughout my doctoral education, always ready to help me with any problem (especially if the problem involved needing tea, sushi, and a good long chat). I am likewise appreciative to Dr. Laura Schnitker and Dr. Kendra Salois for their guidance during my time as their teaching assistant. Thanks as well to my fellow students in the ethnomusicology program at University of Maryland, but especially to Nate Silverly and Jennie Terman—I don’t know what I would have done without your friendship. Many thanks to Tokyo University of the Arts for having me as a special research student during my time in Tokyo, and especially to Dr. Minako Waseda and Dr. Yukio Uemura for their considerable efforts in making it possible. I am deeply appreciative to Dr. Catherine Foley of the University of Limerick for her enthusiastic support and encouragement and Dr. John Cullinane for his help in my research. It was only possible to do long-term and intensive research such as this with the support, encouragement, and long-suffering patience of my family. Thank you so much to my parents, James and Candace Broman, for their sacrifices to give me the best education possible and the courage to wholeheartedly pursue my love of music and Irish dance. Thank you to my siblings, Jamie and Jill Jones and Elizabeth Jones, and their daughters who have been unflagging in their support every step of the way, as have been every single member of my Topper and Moran family. I will also forever owe a debt of gratitude to Dr. Curtis Miles, who has done more for me since I met her at Buffalo Seminary than I can possibly put to words here. And last, but certainly not least, many thanks to my husband, Michael Topper. While again there aren’t adequate words to express my love and gratitude for all your support over these last nine years together, I can say that I am truly appreciative for everything you have done to make my dream a reality. From doing a three hour a day commute to and from work for four years so I could live near campus, to creating the Michael J. Topper Foundation for Irish Dance Scholars, to listening to 7am hard shoe practice for years on end: thank you. I also promise that I won’t get any more academic degrees (Irish dance certifications, however…). vi Table of Contents Preface ........................................................................................................................... ii   A Note on Names and Pronunciation ........................................................................... iii   Dedication .................................................................................................................... iv   Acknowledgements ....................................................................................................... v   Table of Contents ........................................................................................................ vii   List of Figures ............................................................................................................... x   List of Media Examples .............................................................................................. xii   PART I: Introductions to Irish Dance ........................................................................... 1   Chapter 1: "The Lead-Around": An Introduction ......................................................... 1   Background and Research Materials ........................................................................ 3   Performance in the Field: Ethnomusicology at Home and Abroad .......................... 5   The Ethnomusicology of Dance ................................................................................ 8   Source Materials ..................................................................................................... 10   Globalization and Transnational Cultural Cohorts ............................................. 10   Performing Foreign Cultural Practices in Japan ................................................. 17   Dance Ethnology, Irish Dance, and Diaspora ..................................................... 20   Overview of the Dissertation .................................................................................. 22   Chapter 2: "Tall and Straight, My Mother Taught Us. This is How We Dance": An Introduction to Irish Step Dance ................................................................................. 26   Voice 2.1: Beginning Steps ..................................................................................... 26   Section I: An Introduction to Irish Step Dance ....................................................... 28   What is Traditional Irish Step Dance? ................................................................ 28   What is Modern Competitive Irish Step Dancing? ............................................. 29   Shoes ................................................................................................................... 31   Céilí Dances ........................................................................................................ 32   Solo Dances ........................................................................................................ 33   Soft Shoe Solo Dances ........................................................................................ 35   Hard Shoe Solo Dances ...................................................................................... 36   Set Dances ........................................................................................................... 37   Body and Effort in Irish Dance ........................................................................... 39   Footwork and Form of Irish Dancing ................................................................. 44   Voices 2.2: Tall and Straight Tales ......................................................................... 46   Local, National, and Transnational Histories ..................................................... 47   Teacher and Adjudicator Examinations .............................................................. 62   Competitions: Feiseanna and Oireachtasaí ....................................................... 65   Costuming and Appearance ................................................................................ 75   “Riverdancing”: Show-style Irish Step Dancing ................................................ 79   Section II: Introduction to the Focus Locations of Irish Step Dance ...................... 83   Chapter 3: "Always Noise at 76": An Introduction to Feis Music and Feis Musicians at the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships .......................................... 91   Voices 3.1: Anthony Davis (Keyboard) and Liam O’Sullivan (Accordion), aka “Anton and Sully” ................................................................................................... 95   vii Heavy and Light Rounds: “Play a Nice Tune for my Dancer”—An Introduction to Feis Music ............................................................................................................... 97   Defining Feis Music ........................................................................................... 97   Voices 3.2: Sean O’Brien (Accordion, Keyboard) ............................................... 102   Feis Music Tunes and Structures ...................................................................... 103   Voices 3.3: Brian O’Sullivan (keyboard) ............................................................. 115   Set Dance Round: “Practice and Magic”—The Feis Musicians ........................... 116   Performing Feis Music ..................................................................................... 118   Challenges and Rewards in Performing Feis Music ......................................... 129   Relationships in Irish Dance ............................................................................. 136   PART II: Transnational Case Studies in Irish Step Dance ....................................... 143   Chapter 4: Teaching Claddagh Values: An Introduction to the Culkin School and Irish Step Dancing in the Washington D.C. Metro Area .................................................. 143   Positioning Myself Within the Culkin School ...................................................... 147   Voices 4.1: Seán Culkin ........................................................................................ 149   The Blackbird: The Legacy of Peggy O’Neill ...................................................... 150   The Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance ..................................................... 155   Voices 4.2: Phil Stacy ........................................................................................... 164   Focus Location: Learning and Practicing in the Studio ........................................ 164   Studio Spaces .................................................................................................... 165   Demographics: Ethnicity, Gender, and Age ..................................................... 167   Program Structure ............................................................................................. 168   The Dance Class ............................................................................................... 170   Between Culture and Sport ............................................................................... 176   Performing the Local and Transnational ........................................................... 178   Voices 4.3: Nicki Sack Bayhurst .......................................................................... 180   Focus Location: The Competition—Feiseanna and Oireachtasaí ......................... 181   Organization of Feiseanna ................................................................................ 186   Students, Teachers, and Adjudicators at Feiseanna ......................................... 188   Role of Competition in the Circulation of Irish Dance ..................................... 193   Voices 4.4: Kate Bole and Denise Olive Daniele ................................................. 195   Focus Location: The Performance Stage .............................................................. 198   Show #1: The CulkinAdults Troupe at the Annapolis Irish Festival ................ 198   Show #2: Lilt and Culkin LIVE at the Washington Folk Festival .................... 199   Show #3: The Culkin School at the Washington Folk Festival ........................ 202   Performing Irish Dance ..................................................................................... 203   Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 209   Chapter 5: Rising Steps in the Land of the Rising Sun: ......................................... 211   Voices 5.1: Yuika Nakagawa ................................................................................ 220   Conducting Fieldwork in Japan ............................................................................ 222   Unique Experiences .............................................................................................. 225   The Irish Iemoto .................................................................................................... 228   Irish Step Dance in Tokyo .................................................................................... 235   Voices 5.2: Tomoko Shirasawa ............................................................................ 237   Tomoko Shirasawa and the Ardagh School of Irish Dance .................................. 239   Voices 5.3: Taka Hayashi ..................................................................................... 249   viii Taka Hayashi and the Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy ................................. 250   Voice 5.4: Satomi Mitera ...................................................................................... 259   Satomi Mitera ....................................................................................................... 261   Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 271   Conclusion to Part II ............................................................................................. 275   PART III: The Irish Dancing Body as Focus Location: Transmission, Gender, and Age ............................................................................................................................ 278   Introduction: Researching Bodies ......................................................................... 278   Chapter 6: “Before We Dance, We Learn to Listen”: Sensational Knowledge and Transmission in Irish Dance ..................................................................................... 282   Aural/Oral ......................................................................................................... 284   Visual ................................................................................................................ 292   Aural/Oral and Visual Together in Transmission ............................................. 295   Tactile and Media ............................................................................................. 296   Sensory Patterns in Transnational Irish Dance ................................................. 300   Chapter 7: Cad é an Dochar: What’s the Harm? Gender and Age in Modern Competitive Irish Step Dancing ................................................................................ 305   Embodied History and Gendered Steps ............................................................ 306   Men’s Experiences in Irish Dance .................................................................... 311   Perceptions of Adult Students and Competitors in Irish Step Dance ............... 318   Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 331   “Finishing Steps”: Conclusion and Future Directions .............................................. 333   Appendix 1: Selection from 2016 Feis Culkin Syllabus ........................................... 339   Appendix 2: Set Dance Tunes ................................................................................... 341   Appendix 3: Frequently Used Terms ........................................................................ 343   Bibliography ............................................................................................................. 346   ix List of Figures Chapter Two: Figure 2.1: Categories of traditional Irish dance Figure 2.2: Irish dance shoes Figure 2.3: Overlooking 2017 Comhaltas Irish Festival in Emmitsburg, Maryland Figure 2.4: CLRG competition structure Figure 2.5: Solo dress, designed by SkyDance Dresses in 2017 Figure 2.6: Views of Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland Chapter Three: Figure 3.1: Set list and instruments at 2017 NAIDC Figure 3.2: Transcription: Miss Thompson’s Reel (Reel) Figure 3.3: Transcription: The Countess Cathleen (Slip jig) Figure 3.4: Transcription: St. Patrick’s Day (Treble jig/traditional set dance) Figure 3.5: Transcription: The Lodge Road (Hornpipe/contemporary set dance) Figure 3.6: Transcription: Culkin School beginner hornpipe step Figure 3.7: View from side stage at 2017 NAIDC Chapter Four: Figure 4.1: The Culkin School at the Washington Nationals 2017 “Irish Heritage Night” Figure 4.2: The author at the 2013 Shamrockfest and 2016 Southern Region Oireachtas Figure 4.3: The Peggy O’Neill Adult Irish Dancer’s Cup Figure 4.4: Peggy O’Neill Figure 4.5: Seán Culkin Figure 4.6: Spanish Ballroom Annex at Glen Echo Park and gymnasium at Hughes Methodist Memorial Church (Culkin School studio locations) Figure 4.7: Review of One More Time from Hornpipe Figure 4.8: A Culkin student at Feis Culkin Figure 4.9: Culkin student Catherine Wraback at the 2017 NAIDC Figure 4.10: Lilt and Culkin LIVE at the 2017 Washington Folk Festival Figure 4.11: CulkinAdults at the 2017 Annapolis Irish Festival Figure 4.12: St. Patrick’s Day meme Chapter Five: Figure 5.1: Entrance to the Meiji Shrine and guide to 2016 I Love Ireland Festival, Tokyo x Figure 5.2: Overview of the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival in Yoyogi Park, Tokyo Figure 5.3: Tomoko Shirasawa and Ardagh School students Figure 5.4: Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy at the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival Figure 5.5: The Ardagh School of Irish Dance at the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival Figure 5.6: Yuika Nakagawa Figure 5.7: In and around Studio Feliz in Hiro-o, Tokyo (Ardagh School studio location) Figure 5.8: 2016 Japan Feis Figure 5.9: Medals from 2016 Hong Kong International Irish Dance Premierships Figure 5.10: Studio Grand Bleu lounge in Koenji, Tokyo (THIDA studio location) Figure 5.11: THIDA school posters Figure 5.12: Starbox Studio in Koto, Tokyo (Satomi Mitera’s studio location) Figure 5.13: Posters inside Starbox studio Figure 5.14: Satomi Mitera performing “Kanjincho” Figure 5.15: Teachers Mary Page Day, Yuika Nakagawa, and Phil Stacy at the reception for TCRG recipients at the 2017 World Irish Dancing Championships xi List of Media Examples The following can be found at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld/, as well as with this dissertation at the Digital Repository at the University of Maryland (DRUM), located at https://drum.lib.umd.edu/. Chapter Three Media 3.1: Miss Thompson's Reel Media 3.2: The Countess Cathleen Media 3.3: St. Patrick's Day Media 3.4: St. Patrick's Day (NAIDC recording) Media 3.5: The Lodge Road (NAIDC recording) Media 3.6: The Lodge Road: Step Media 3.7: The Lodge Road: Set Chapter Five Media 5.1: Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy at the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival Media 5.2: The Ardagh School of Irish Dance at the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival Media 5.3: “Kanjincho” (勧進帳, “The Subscription List”) from Odoru Tappu (踊る タップ, “Dancing Tap”) by Satomi Mitera (video courtesy of Satomi Mitera) Chapter Seven Media 7.1: Three Sea Captains Media 7.2: Rodney’s Glory Media 7.3: Advanced women’s reel step Media 7.4: Advanced men’s reel step   xii PART I: Introductions to Irish Dance Chapter 1: "The Lead-Around": An Introduction Lead-around: The first sixteen bars in a solo step dance. The dancer travels in a circle moving in a clockwise or counter-clockwise direction, or traces a path forward and back to introduce the dance. -Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain, The Terminology of Irish Dance, 2008, page 10 In this dissertation, I examine the transnational culture of modern competitive Irish step dance through the locations in which its transmission and performance take place. Through case studies conducted in the United States and Japan, I present a performance-oriented ethnography that examines the studios, competitions, performances, and musical accompaniment of Irish dance, detailing how it is taught, understood, and performed. By focusing on specific locations in which this tradition is constructed and practiced by community members, I present a way to examine the interplay of local and transnational ideas in a performing arts tradition while demonstrating its constant negotiation and renegotiation within these spaces. As it circulates between the contexts of competition, performance, and learning, Irish dance both homogenizes and diversifies. It is mutually constructed by the transnational values presented and regulated by An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (The Commission of Irish Dance) and local values of individual school communities and their cultures. Additionally, I argue that the body is a crucial site for the production and recirculation of transnational cultural flows, and examine how cultural aesthetics and values may be revealed to ethnomusicologists through a body-centered research methodology. This first chapter serves to introduce this project—its 1 background and the research materials consulted, the differences between conducting ethnomusicological fieldwork at home versus abroad, dance and ethnomusicology— and to provide an overview of the dissertation. In this project, I seek to answer questions regarding processes of transnational exchange and circulation, the connections between dance and music, and practices of embodiment and transmission in performing arts through the lens of modern competitive Irish step dance culture. More than twenty years after Riverdance transformed the image of Irish dance and introduced it to people outside of Ireland and the Irish diaspora, what does the practice of modern competitive Irish step dancing look and sound like in the United States and Japan? Irish dance is a performing arts tradition that is practiced today in countries as diverse as China, Israel, South Africa, and Chile. What is it about Irish dance that has drawn so many people with no Irish ancestry to want to practice this dance form and how has its globalization affected issues related to identity in Irish dance? How has the performance practice of Irish dance music accompaniment—what is commonly referred to as “feis (competition) music”—changed and developed during this period of rapid growth and expansion post-Riverdance? How can we compare and understand transnational practices of Irish dance transmission through embodiment? How do local and transnational values come together, interact, and affect Irish dance and feis music practices? And where can we see these interactions take place? To the best of my knowledge, this dissertation is the first ethnographic work that explores Irish step dance practices in the United States and Japan from an ethnomusicological and ethnochoreological perspective. My training in 2 ethnomusicology—which examines relationships between cultural practices and the performing arts—and in Western and Japanese music performance and Irish dance makes me uniquely situated to bring an interdisciplinary and cross-cultural perspective to this research. My work answers calls in both ethnomusicology and dance anthropology to study music and dance together (Kealiinohomoku 1965; Hanna 1992; Kaepler 2000), and contributes to the scholarship of both these areas of study, as well as that of diasporic and globalization studies through its focus on processes of transnationalism and circulation. Background and Research Materials This project is the culmination of five years of learning, performing, and observing Irish step dance and music practices in the United States and Japan. In the spring of 2012, while taking coursework at the University of Maryland, College Park in preparation for an ethnomusicology dissertation focused on traditional Japanese koto ensembles, I casually began taking adult Irish step dance classes once a week with the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance at Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland. I had studied Irish dance with the Woodgate School of Irish Dance in Buffalo, New York for a year as a child, but had quit due to health concerns. While studying for my M.A. in Ethnomusicology at the Eastman School of Music I had wanted to return to dance, but at the time classes for adults in the Western New York region were not available at any of the local schools. During the short month I danced with Culkin before their school year ended, I fell back in love with the sounds and movements of Irish step dancing. 3 Following a study conducted on the Culkin School for a Fieldwork Methods class project and a preliminary fieldwork trip to observe the 2013 World Irish Dancing Championships in Boston, I discovered that Irish dance was being taught in Tokyo. I was fascinated, and wondered how different the Irish dance practices there might be. I began to increase my participation at the Culkin School during the 2014- 2015 school year through twice weekly classes, private lessons, competitions, and performances in order to increase my understanding of the dance form and music in preparation for fieldwork. Additionally, I took Japanese lessons over Skype several times each week to brush up and expand on my basic language skills, as well as lessons in the Irish uilleann pipes and Irish traditional music for piano to better understand aspects of the music tradition. My intensive fieldwork period—which included a heightened dedication to embodying Irish dance practices through twice-weekly private lessons, classes, and participation in performances and feiseanna and oireachtasaí (local and regional Irish dance competitions); observations of classes; and semi-structured interviews—began in the fall of 2015 with the Culkin School. From January through May of 2016 I lived in Tokyo, conducting participant-observational fieldwork with several Irish dance teachers and school (including Tomoko Shirasawa and the Ardagh School of Irish Dance, Taka Hayashi and the Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy, Satomi Mitera, Kimie Nagahama of the Japan Irish Dancing Association, and Koko Miyazawa). In April, I traveled from Tokyo to Glasgow, Scotland for one week to observe the 2016 World Irish Dancing Championships as well as conduct interviews with competitors and adjudicators. 4 While living in Tokyo, I additionally spent time with and interviewed Irish musicians and set dancers at the Tokyo branch of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (CCÉ), a global organization dedicated to spreading Irish music and dance. I also participated in the Intercollegiate Celtic Festival, a two-day series of workshops and performances of Irish music and set dance that drew over one hundred college students from around Japan. Upon returning to the United States, I continued my research with the Culkin School, assistant teaching in classes and participating in the semi-professional Irish dance troupe Culkin LIVE, in addition to my ongoing participation-observational research. In July 2017, I observed and interviewed feis musicians at the North American Irish Dance Championships in New Orleans, Louisiana. Performance in the Field: Ethnomusicology at Home and Abroad In both Chapters Four and Five, I detail my positioning as a researcher and Irish dancer in two different locations: at home in the greater Washington D.C. area and abroad in the greater Tokyo metropolitan area. My placement on the “insider- outsider” continuum that is often discussed in ethnomusicological research shifted from context to context. Throughout my fieldwork, I often had to codeswitch within a single event—be it a feis or a class—between roles as a student dancer, assistant teacher, and researcher. In each role, however, my active participation was an important component of my fieldwork. I argue that my regular participation in classes, lessons, competitions, and performances “in my backyard” at the Culkin School has been a crucial component of 5 my research in multiple ways, and in fact my research could not have been done without it. Ethnomusicologists have long understood the importance of learning to perform the tradition they are studying, and this same approach is taken in ethnochoreology. As Catherine Foley, Tomie Hahn, Miriam Phillips and many other dance scholars have argued, the body is a core component of dance research. My body is one of the most important tools in my arsenal when it comes to researching Irish step dancing, and embodying steps and rhythms has deepened my understanding in ways simply observing (or casually taking occasional classes) would not achieve. Modern competitive Irish step dancing is an incredibly difficult and intricate form of dance, and in order to understand the way Irish step dancing functions and interacts with music, I have had to spend many hours each week practicing and learning in order to push my skill level to a point where I could begin to dissect and analyze steps and rhythms, especially those choreographed at the high levels of skill seen in championship competitions. Having a solid working knowledge drawn from embodied experience was also crucial in allowing me to effective communicate about the tradition in conversations and interviews with teachers and adjudicators. Additionally, my hard work in classes and increase in skill level led to important new opportunities that greatly benefited my research. In Irish step dancing—as in every performing art that includes a competitive component—skill is cultural capital: in general, the more skilled the dancer, the more opportunities they have to perform and compete. For example, in the summer of 2016, I was invited by Kate Bole to participate in her semi-professional performance troupe, Culkin LIVE, which consists of current and former Culkin School students and teachers. In addition 6 to learning new styles of Irish dance, this led to many show opportunities and deepening relationships with dancers and musicians I would not have had otherwise. Most importantly, as I demonstrated my commitment as a student of Irish step dance through regular participation, I found I was taken more seriously as a researcher at all of my fieldwork sites in both the United States and Japan, with teachers, students, and parents growing increasingly comfortable with my role and welcoming my presence. Although fieldwork is “just living,” no matter where it takes place (Daniel Reed, in Stock and Chiener 2008: 110), there are major differences between conducting ethnomusicological fieldwork at home and abroad. Conducting what James Clifford has called “subway ethnography” (although Larry Witzleben has pointed out this may be better termed “Beltway ethnography,” referring to the Greater Washington D.C. area’s infamous traffic-clogged highway) at home was at many times far more challenging than my fieldwork abroad (Clifford 1996: 90). At home it was necessary to balance my “deep hanging out” with the Culkin School and book research with not just classwork and teaching and graduate assistant obligations, but also with additional independent language study, other academic obligations such as conferences, operating my piano studio business to support my research costs at home (and save for my eventual trip to Tokyo; see Chapter Two regarding costs to participate in Irish dance schools), and managing my home and family life._ By contrast, conducting research in Japan was a complete luxury in terms of time management—I was able to totally and completely focus on all aspects of my fieldwork in a way I could not at home. I was in a fortunate situation—although it was difficult, the financial capability to do any research abroad was largely thanks to 7 my husband, who was willing to remain at home and work to support me while I traveled and put my own business on hiatus. The phrase “in the backyard” seems to imply a sort of ease and comfort of conducting fieldwork in a familiar setting at home, but it is often anything but that. The Ethnomusicology of Dance Through a performance and body-centered approach to ethnography, I have come to believe that music and dance are two sides of the same coin. Judith Lynne Hanna defines dance in her chapter in Ethnomusicology: An Introduction as: Dance is human behavior composed (from the dancer’s perspective, which is usually shared by the audience members of the dancer’s culture) of purposeful, intentionally rhythmical and culturally patterned sequences of non-verbal body movements other than ordinary motor activities, the motion (in time, space and with effort) having inherent and ‘aesthetic’ value and symbolic potential . . . Dance is a form through which people represent themselves to themselves and to each other. (Hanna 1992: 317) This definition of dance can also define music making if we remove the term “non- verbal” and specify that music making happens with the intention of producing sound. In other words, both dance and music are products of intentional body movements sequenced to produce culturally meaningful patterns. In both music and dance, people locate ideas, aesthetics, and emblems with which they express, identify, and represent themselves (Turino 2008). When I perform percussive dance, it is the same as when I perform piano or koto—I make sound through movement. Irish dance, Japanese koto, and Western classical, blues, or popular piano playing are both reflections of a culture and are themselves a culture. As Miriam Phillips says of dance, which I argue applies equally to music: “Dances are not only ‘visual, acoustic, and kinetic reflections of a culture’ (Morrison 2005), but they ARE culture . . . 8 Simply put, dance IS culture, embodied” (2013: 418). While the primary products of dance and music usually differ (although both are multi-sensory and kinesthetic, typically only the visual aspects of dancing and auditory components of music making are focused on) ideas of performance structure and production, the relationship of text to context, and encoding and decoding meanings are similar. In Irish step dancing, the auditory components of the tradition—in terms of both percussive sounds created by the dancer and the accompanying music—are just as important as the visual, or even more important at times, and it is crucial to study all aspects of the tradition as a unit. Indeed, given the highly interdisciplinary nature of both ethnomusicology and ethnochoreology/dance ethnology, it should not be surprising that there have been a number of scholars who have recognized the importance of studying both music and dance. In the early history of Ethnomusicology, the journal of the Society for Ethnomusicology, it was common to find articles on dance practices alongside those considering music traditions. Gertrude Prokosch Kurath, for example, who was an important figure in establishing the field of dance ethnology, was actively involved in writing for Ethnomusicology during its early years. A number of early anthropologists, comparative musicologists, and ethnomusicologists including Franz Boas, Curt Sachs, and John Blacking examined both dance and music in their studies, as have more recent figures in ethnomusicology such as Joanna Bosse, Adrienne Kaeppler, and Tomie Hahn. In her studies on Hawaiian hula, anthropologist Joann Kealiinohomoku has likewise stressed the importance of including musical aspects of dance performances. Following these examples, I utilize my training in the discipline 9 of ethnomusicology to study all aspects of the Irish dance genre: both Irish dance—a form of dance that is notable for its musicality in both its percussive and non- percussive aspects, structured as it is by the music it is performed to, and taught in such a way as to prioritize timing and rhythm—and its musical accompaniment used in feis music. Source Materials My research contributes to and draws from a number of different fields of study and topics, most importantly among them ethnomusicology, dance ethnology, cultural globalization, Irish dance and music, and traditional and contemporary Japanese performing arts and cultural studies. Rather than presenting an exhaustive review of each, the literature I review here represents a cross section of all of these, confining my selections to those resources most relevant to the current study and highlighting the ones I draw on most prominently throughout the dissertation. Globalization and Transnational Cultural Cohorts The transnational spread of cultural and economic products is not a recent phenomenon. For as long as there have been people making music and dancing—and using those practices to express their cultural and social identities—they have been moving across political and cultural borders, bringing their arts along for the ride. Following similar trends in anthropology and cultural and area studies, ethnomusicology has moved toward exploration of ideas of diaspora and globalization, with a dramatic increase in the literature on these subjects beginning in 10 the 1990s (Turino 2003: 51). The performing arts provide a particularly rich site for research on socio-cultural identity because of the way in which they are framed as “heightened forms of representation for public perception, practice, and effects” (Turino 2004: 10). In particular, studies of affinity and diasporic traditions have become prominent in ethnomusicological literature because of the unique way in which displaced music and dance traditions serve to define and articulate ethnic and national identities (Turino 2004, 2008; Um 2008). By studying the performance, circulation, and interaction of music and dance traditions, we can better understand how people and ideas move and how their identities are articulated on both local and transnational levels. The terms “globalization” and “global” are used to refer to the idea of an increased or intensified interconnectedness throughout the world (Tomlinson 1999; Robertson 2000; Inda and Rosaldo 2002). While many scholars have studied globalization in relation to their own research, some stand out prominently for introducing and furthering those theories for scholars to draw on as frameworks. Arjun Appadurai’s theory of the five dimensions of cultural flows, or “-scapes”— ethnoscapes, mediascapes, technoscapes, financescapes, and ideoscapes—has been particularly influential in anthropological research (Appadurai 1994), and also for ethnomusicologists: Veit Erlmann, Mark Slobin, and Martin Stokes all have drawn on Appaduri’s “-scapes” and contributed to globalization theory in ethnomusicology, with their ideas on global flows ranging, respectively, from one-directional and a result of a global capitalist hegemony, to chaotic and without direction, to somewhere in between. (Erlmann 2003; Slobin 1992; Stokes 2004). Ingrid Monson contributes to 11 this discussion, advocating that ethnomusicologists should be less concerned about attempting to “squeeze their concerns into the vocabulary of these interdisciplinary discussions” but rather taking their works and showing what they may have to offer these larger cultural and social theoretical discussions (Monson 1999: 32). Thomas Turino has developed an alternative set of terminology to use in the discourses on globalism and globalization, as well as for discussing and analyzing cultural groups and how they may be understood in relation to so-called “global” processes._ He notes that the use of the term “global” is problematic, and ought to be reserved for those phenomena that are truly found in every part of the world (such as childbirth or global warming), and uses the terminology “transnational” or “transstate” instead (Turino 2003: 53). He introduces the idea of three different types of transnational or transstate cultural formations as an alternative concept to “globalized” formations: immigrant communities, diasporas, and cosmopolitan formations (Turino 2003; 2008). Within these formations we can identify cultural cohorts, what Turino defines as a cultural or identity unit that is formed around specific shared habits or parts of self of its members (Turino 2008: 235). In this dissertation, I will refer to Irish dance community members as belonging to a transnational cultural cohort. Although Irish dance is widely dispersed, it is not a truly global practice, despite the promotion of commercial Irish dance enterprises such as Riverdance as being a “global phenomenon.” This community exists somewhere in between Turino’s definitions of diasporic and cosmopolitan formations, but it is not fully one or the other. The Irish dance community no longer exists as a cohort solely within immigrant or diasporic formations—the tradition has 12 long spread far beyond being practiced by only those of Irish heritage. The idea of the Irish dance community as a cohort that exists within a cosmopolitan formation is closer—Turino defines cosmopolitan cultural formations as identified by ideas, practices, and habits between groups of people who are widely dispersed around the world (Turino 2008: 118). This would take into account Irish dance’s practice in Ireland and the Irish diaspora, as well as by those who do not claim Irish heritage. Additionally, it acknowledges the wide diffusion of Irish dance without referring to it as “global.” Turino notes that cosmopolitanism is differentiated from globalization in that: Cosmopolitan formations exist across multiple sites in a number of states, and a cosmopolitan group may represent a small minority within a given country. Cosmopolitan formations may have far-flung diffusion, but often do not have deep penetration within whole populations in many locations. Yet it is the broad diffusion of certain forms of cosmopolitanism, especially among elites in different countries, that erroneously leads to the perception of their global status. (Turino 2003: 61-62) While the Irish dance community can be defined this way perfectly, the caveat is in its name: Irish dance. Turino notes that one feature that distinguishes cosmopolitan from diasporic cultural formations is the absence of the idea of the original homeland as a key symbol (ibid.: 62). Although many Irish dancers do not identify with Ireland through nationality or heritage, the idea of Ireland as original homeland and its accompanying symbolism (for example shamrocks, Irish harps, claddagh, etc.) are key components of Irish dance culture and strongly resonate within this cohort. Irish heritage is not a requirement to participate in the tradition: however, Irish dance’s role in celebrating Irish heritage and culture is still a priority. Members—particularly those who are a part of the upper echelons (such as adjudicators) or the regulatory 13 body of the CLRG—are frequently concerned with ideas of “Irishness” and preservation of cultural tradition within competition practices (as evidenced by the presence of the Irish flag and the performance of the Irish national anthem at feiseanna) (Foley 2013). Additionally, performances frequently take place as part of celebrations of Irish culture and heritage, such as St. Patrick’s Day festivities. For these reasons, I refrain from referring to Irish dance community members as part of a cohort existing within a diasporic or cosmopolitan formation, and instead will refer to it as a transnational cultural cohort. Turino’s approach to globalization discourse is in contrast to Appadurai’s idea of “scapes.” He writes, “I find the concepts of flows and scapes too abstract and believe that the actual site of social and cultural dynamism resides in specific people’s lives and experiences. The grounding of analysis in personhoods is especially important when dealing with ideas, products, practices and processes that are geographically diffuse” (Turino 2003: 52). Although I agree that “flows” are too abstract to work on their own, I believe that the visualization of flows is useful when grounded in discussions of how they move through—or “flow through”— specific locations, which is what Ian Condry has done in his work on hip hop music in Japan. Condry has also criticized Appadurai’s “-scapes,” noting that they were very useful as a beginning framework for understanding globalization, but as more and more divisions are found within each, there needs to be a way in which to bring them together and understand the ways in which they interact. He draws on performance theory as a way to understand local and transnational flows: the local and transnational do not exist in opposition, but rather come together and can be 14 examined as texts are performed, consumed, and recirculated in tandem (Condry 2006). My research draws heavily on Ian Condry’s framework of what he calls “genba globalization”: to examine the paths of that transnational cultural flows that move through and are performed within specific genba, or “focus locations.” Although I change terminology to better reflect both Turino’s ideas on globalization discourse as well as to better suit the needs of this study, I believe this approach has much to offer ethnomusicologists and dance ethnologists in their studies of transnational performing arts practices. A more detailed description of the concerns of the ideas of homogenization and heterogenization in relation to globalization discourse, an outlining of Condry’s framework and where it can be placed in the “local versus global” debate, and how I have applied this framework to my dissertation are articulated in Chapter Two. In dealing with transcultural exchange, it is important to look at concepts of nationality and diaspora—two areas that are also important to Irish music and dance scholarship. One of the most influential concepts in defining and understanding nationality has been Benedict Anderson’s “imagined communities”: the nation is an imagined political community and socio-cultural concept (Anderson 1991). This concept not only applies to ideas of nationalism, but also to other types of communities in which the members will never meet one another; the community itself only existing in their minds, such as with members of a diasporic group. Helping to tie together these imagined communities are “invented traditions,” a term coined by Eric Hobsbawm. These traditions are a formalized and ritualized set of practices that 15 serve to establish and symbolize membership to a community, as well as construct continuity with the past (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983). The modern style of Irish dance is a prime example of an invented tradition: it was a result of the collecting, “cleaning up,” and formalizing multiple local styles of Irish dance by the Gaelic League in the early twentieth century. Solo step dance and céilí (group) dances became tied up closely with ideas of national pride and were promoted as the only way that a proper Irish citizen should dance (Burchenal, 1924; Breathnach 1983; Brennan 1999; Wulff 2003; Hall 2008; Foley 2013). These ideas became important not just to people living in Ireland, but also to those Irish immigrants who were part of the diaspora. Diasporas are a critical part of facilitating transcultural exchange and circulation, as has been the case with Irish dance and music, and ideas of nationality are important in understanding diaspora. Although many definitions of diaspora exist—all including multiple, yet flexible, criteria—all require that groups must be expatriate communities with ties to a homeland or nation (Slobin 1993; Turino and Lea 2004; Um 2005). The invented tradition of Irish dance as regulated by the Gaelic League, and later the CLRG, became an important way for Irish emigrants to maintain a connection with the homeland (Cullinane 1997; Gedutis 2004; Casey 2006; Flannigan 2009; Hill 2010). Irish music—both traditional and popular—has also been vital in this regard (Hast and Scott 2004; Miller 2006; Cooper 2009; Flynn 2011; Williams 2010). The Irish diaspora has spread Irish music and dance far beyond the borders of Ireland, and it has come to be enjoyed and practiced by many who do not claim 16 membership in the Irish diasporic cultural formation. These art forms have been influential around the world, facilitating and transforming new and existing genres of music and dance. Prominent examples include Appalachian dance and music as well as Afro-Irish fusions and exchanges in American tap dancing and Irish sean nós (Hill 2010). The producers, composers, and choreographers of commercial Irish dance shows such as Riverdance and Heartbeat of Home are very aware both of the variety of communities that feel a connection to Ireland through dance and music and the types of exchanges that have taken place through those communities. Show creators’ awareness and creative play with that knowledge are some of the reasons for these shows’ successes around the world. Performing Foreign Cultural Practices in Japan The majority of writings on music and dance in Japan have focused solely on local traditional practices, but recent scholarship has come to deal increasingly with non-traditional performing arts. In conducting research on Irish dance practices in Japan, it has been necessary to draw on my background in studying traditional and contemporary Japanese music culture, examining current literature on the processes of borrowing and adaption that are a hallmark of Japanese traditional arts. While at first glance the idea of Irish dance in Japan may seem strange, in reality Japan has a long history of adopting foreign cultural practices, many of which underwent transformations to become considered native to Japanese culture. This process of borrowing and transforming is often best seen and understood through Japanese performing arts: for example, the sacred court music of gagaku (雅楽) was originally performed and taught by foreign musicians of Chinese, Korean, and Indian 17 origin. Through centuries of modification, instrumental traditions such as koto (箏), a zither that originated in China and came to Japan through Korea, and shamisen (三味 線)—a three-stringed lute also of Chinese origin imported through the Ryukyu Islands (today known as Okinawa)—are today considered important Japanese traditions that are potent visual and musical symbols of a traditional, pre-Westernized Japan (Malm 2000: 31-45; Johnson 2004: 20-25). Japan’s interactions with Western classical musics transformed musical practices both locally and globally. The importation of the American education system in the early 1900’s brought with it a Western-style music education, laying the foundation for the rapid spread and growth of European-style classical music in Japan (Wade 2005: 10-16). In turn, the development and exportation of the Suzuki method has influenced generations of Western music learners worldwide. Additionally, some recent scholars of traditional Japanese music have emphasized the importance of transnational exchange in the formation and continuation of performing arts recognized as native (Johnson 2004; Wade 2005). Recent trends in Japanese music and dance studies show the importance of understanding this process of borrowing and transformation, exchange and circulation. Studies of Jamaican reggae, Spanish flamenco, Andean panpipes, and Hawaiian music and dance in Japan are demonstrating ways in which these traditions are contributing to and transforming the Japanese artistic landscape (Sterling 2010; Ede 2010, 2012; Bigenho 2012; Kaeppler 2013). Today, some of the finest jazz musicians in the world are found in Japan, and Japanese hip-hop and Noise artists are making major global impacts in their respective industries (Atkins 2001; Minor 2004; 18 Condry 2006; Novak 2013). David Novak especially emphasizes the idea of circulation in his work on the musical genre of Noise in Japan. By focusing on the way materials are circulated, we can begin not only to understand the paths of movement and exchange, but also to see how materials are performed and processed (Novak 2013). In major cities such as Tokyo and Osaka, there are flourishing traditional Irish music scenes, as has been detailed by Sean Williams (2006), and several musicians and céilí bands in these scenes are garnering international attention for their musical achievements performing and competing in both Japan and Ireland. During my time in Tokyo I also witnessed a rapidly growing set and céilí dancing community among high school and college students. However, Williams’ work is the only English- language article I am aware of that exists on Irish music in Japan—it was her article that inspired me to search for Irish dance schools in Tokyo. The case study presented in Chapter Five is to the best of my knowledge the first English-language research that has been conducted on modern competitive Irish step dance in Japan, and compliments Williams’ work in exploring another facet of the Irish music and dance community in Japan. Tomie Hahn’s 2009 book Sensational Knowledge has significantly influenced my thinking and approach to researching Irish dance in multiple ways. In addition to being inspired by her writing style and choice of language, I draw on her framework and approach in discussing dance transmission as well as look to her discussions of the Japanese traditional dance form nihon buyo as a point of comparison when discussing Irish dance practices in Tokyo. Both Hahn’s and Liv Lande’s (2007) 19 discussions of the iemoto system—a traditional hierarchical structuring system that is described in more detail in Chapter Five—were useful resources in describing the parallels between this traditional Japanese system and the structuring of the CLRG and CLRG-registered Irish dance schools. Dance Ethnology, Irish Dance, and Diaspora Similar to Japanese music literature, what has been written about Irish dance has mostly focused on the development of genre and style within Ireland, although the breadth of literature available on Irish dance is much narrower than that of traditional Japanese music and Irish music. Dance as a serious subject worthy of scholarly investigation was largely ignored by scholars up until the 1960s for a variety of reasons: prior to this point, dance was often seen as an effeminate and homosexual subject, and dance is notoriously difficult to transcribe and notate in an efficient manner. Additionally, a scholarly discourse of mistrust in any and everything dealing with the body contributed to the subject’s neglect (Hanna 1992). However, in the 1960s, there was a greater acceptance in studies of body and gender, an increase in female scholars less likely to disdain the subject, and a significant increase in the number and accessibility of dance forms available for study. Gertrude Prokosch Kurath’s seminal 1960 article “Panorama of Dance Ethnology” is often viewed as the foundational work of the discipline of dance ethnology (also referred to as ethnochoreology) (Kurath 1960). The development of notations such as Labanotation and Benesh notation, not to mention the availability of film recordings, increasingly allowed scholars to produce visible and tangible data for analysis (Hanna 1992). Adrienne Kaeppler’s 2000 article “Dance Ethnology and the Anthropology of 20 Dance” provides a comparison of dance ethnology and the anthropology of dance, and explains how the field and its focus have changed since Kurath’s 1960 article. Catherine Foley’s 2012 article “Ethnochoreology as a Mediating Perspective in Irish Dance Studies” discusses the development of Irish dance studies and the emergence of ethnochoreology in the 1980s in Ireland, and argues for the contributions an ethnochoreological perspective can bring to dance studies (Foley 2012a). Up until the end of the twentieth-century, most of what was published on Irish step dance came in the form of guides or collections of dances, often accompanied by a short history of the form (for example, O’Keeffe 1902; Burchenal 1924; O’Rafferty 1953). The first scholarly publication on step dance came from famed uilleann piper Breandán Breathnach in 1983. Only the most recent scholastic works, such as those by Helena Wulff, Frank Hall, Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain, and Catherine E. Foley, have approached Irish step dance from an ethnochoreological perspective, and these have been very influential in my approach to fieldwork and writing (Wulff 2003; 2007; Hall 2008; Ní Bhriain 2010; Foley 2013). Hall, Ní Bhriain, and Foley include Labanotation transcriptions and analysis of step dances. It is also important to include here the helpfulness of John Cullinane’s collection of books self-published under the series title “Aspects of the History of Irish Dancing.” This primary source from a member of CLRG includes detailed anecdotes and first-hand accounts of the development of modern competitive Irish dancing in both its solo step dance and céili dance forms as structured and regulated by the CLRG; its spread in England, North America, Australia, and New Zealand; the history of Irish dance costumes; and the development of the World Irish Dancing Championships (Cullinane 1987; 1990; 21 1996; 1997; 1998; 2003; 2006; 2013; 2014; 2016; 2017). It is interesting as well to note the increase in publications after Riverdance exploded as a global commercial phenomenon in the late 1990s—the show’s success seems to have increased not only the popularity of the dance form itself, but also its acceptance as a serious topic of study. The publication Close to the Floor: Irish Dance from the Boreen to Broadway (2009)—a collection of papers presented at a conference of the same name edited by Mick Moloney, J’aime Morrison, and Colin Quigley—has been an incredibly useful resource in detailing key developments in Irish dance performances since the creation of Riverdance. Overview of the Dissertation In Part I of this dissertation (Chapters 1-3), I introduce my research, the practice of modern competitive Irish step dancing, and feis music. In Chapter Two, I introduce the background and basic components of the genre of Irish step dance. The first half of the chapter focuses on describing the form of the genre and its history. I begin by specifying that the type of Irish dance studied in this dissertation is modern competitive step dance—typically labeled by practitioners as “traditional Irish step dance,” “Irish step dance,” or just “Irish dance”—which is distinct from the many other forms of Irish dance that exist, such as seán-nós (“old style”) and social set dancing. I briefly outline the types of dances that make up competitive step dance— soft shoe and hard shoe solo dancing and céilí dancing, also called team or figure dancing—and the music types that are used in competition: reels, jigs (single, double, and slip jigs), and hornpipes. Next, I outline the history of competitive step dancing: 22 its roots in the tradition of the itinerate Irish dance master and the formation of the An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (The Irish Dancing Commission or CLRG). I introduce the basic components of local competitions and regional championships, called feiseanna and oireachtasaí, respectively, and use the institutionalization of competitions in Irish dance as a backdrop in which to discuss the growing idea of Irish dance as a sport versus as a cultural tradition. Lastly, I introduce show style Irish step dancing and the impact of Riverdance and other commercially successful professional dance shows on Irish step dancing. The second half of the chapter introduces the key contexts of Irish step dancing through Japanese cultural anthropologist Ian Condry’s framework of genba (現場), a Japanese term that roughly means “place where something actual happens, appears, or is made” (Condry 2006: 89). Different genba, or what I call “focus locations”—the dance studio, feiseanna and oireachtasaí, and performance stages—influence what steps are danced and how they are performed and evaluated. They highlight different interactions between different groups of participants (such as students, their families, teachers, musicians, adjudicators, and audience members) and influence the ways in which those relationships develop. New meanings for Irish step dance are both created and emphasized in these different, though interconnected performative spaces, and as Condry proposes, it is through these spaces that we find both the local and global actualized simultaneously (ibid.: 90). Chapter Three is an introduction to feis music and musicians and their role in the competitive Irish dance scene, set against the backdrop of the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships (NAIDC or Nationals). Feis music is a 23 specialized genre of traditional Irish dance music that has developed and been regulated by the CLRG for accompaniment in today’s competitions. In the first half of this chapter, I introduce the basic characteristics and structures of the types of Irish dance tunes used in CLRG feiseanna and oireachtasaí through examples of field recordings taken at this championship. The repertoire of a feis musician is very particular in terms of both tunes and their tempos—I discuss the requirements of this repertoire and hallmark features of each tune type. In the chapter’s second half, I discuss the development of today’s performance practices of feis music, the people who play it, and the relationships between Irish dance music, musicians, and dancers. Feis musicians are a subset of the Irish dance community rarely discussed in Irish dance literature, and it is my goal in this chapter to prominently feature their experiences through my interviews and audio recordings from this event. Part II of this dissertation (Chapters 4 and 5) introduces my two primary fieldwork sites in the United States and Japan. Chapter Four examines the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance, based in southern Maryland in the greater Washington, D.C. metropolitan area. In this chapter, I introduce the Culkin School as an example of an American Irish dance school that strives to balance goals of teaching Irish dance as both cultural heritage and sport, remaining a vital and active part of the local Irish-American performing arts community while also increasing the school’s competitive transnational presence. I discuss the school’s history, highlighting the role the legacy teacher Peggy O’Neill plays within Culkin tradition; the main teaching staff and school structure; and the focus locations in which Culkin’s Irish dance practices take place: studios, feiseanna, and performance stages. 24 In Chapter Five, I introduce the Irish dance schools and teachers I conducted fieldwork with in Tokyo in 2016, focusing on the Ardagh School of Irish Dance, Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy (THIDA), and teacher and performer Satomi Mitera, and examining what Irish dance practices look like in Japan. After explaining my own positioning as a foreign Irish dancer and ethnomusicologist in Japan, I consider the iemoto system, a hierarchical structure found in traditional Japanese practices, including performing arts. I discuss it in comparison to the structures found in the CLRG and CLRG-registered Irish dance schools. I then examine Ardagh, THIDA, and Satomi Mitera’s studios based on their relationship to the CLRG, discussing the ways in which their ties to this organization affect their Irish dance practices. Part III consists of Chapter Six and Chapter Seven, in which I present the idea that the body is a critical focus location through which we can examine and compare the culturally specific kinesthetic processes that structure different performing arts traditions. The body is a site of performance where interactions between local and transnational ideas come together and shape how music and dance is embodied, understood, and expressed. Using an approach to research that focuses on the body’s role in not just the physical practices of music and dance, but also in how a community’s perception of that body affects the way it practices the tradition allows ethnomusicologists and dance ethnographers alike to unveil new understandings of the cultures they research. In Chapter Six, I examine processes of Irish dance transmission through the body’s sensory knowledge. In Chapter Seven, I explain the way perceptions of gender and age within the community affect how Irish step dancing is practiced. 25 Chapter 2: "Tall and Straight, My Mother Taught Us. This is How We Dance": An Introduction to Irish Step Dance Voice 2.1: Beginning Steps Michael Dillon (ADCRG, Dillon Magh Adhair Academy of Irish Dance, San Francisco): [In the Western Ireland village of Kilkishen] You either played hurling, or you danced. I remember my very first dancing class. I went to Nora Bennis in Six Mile Bridge and I remember crying at the door, not wanting to go in. And she took me by the hand and she was wearing blue bell bottoms with sail boats all over them! And she took me by the hand and I remember thinking, “This is just the coolest thing ever.” I was kind of hooked after that.” Ronan McCormack (ADCRG, Heavey-Quinn Academy of Irish Dance, Boston): I would have danced my first feis [competition] at 4. I vaguely remember that. I have a much clearer recollection of my second feis, which was in Galway. Because there was the whole traveling from Dublin, so it was more of an event, I suppose. Plus I still have the medal I got at that feis, because it was really unusual medal. It was shaped like a shamrock, and it’s enameled in different colored enamel, it has a little dancer in the middle. Almost like a piece of jewelry. Not like the plastic centers, the cheap stuff you have now. So that was back in the early ’70’s—I mean, in my Mom’s day the medals were hallmark silver, so we moved on from that, but it was still something a little bit more special. Sean O’Brien (Feis Musician, Calgary): I have to be honest, I started Irish dance when I was a little bit older, like 14. I mean, the honest reason I started Irish dance is there was a girl who was in the age group above me who I fancied, and I thought, “The only way I’m going to get to meet this girl, probably, is if I start dancing.” Happened to be good at dancing, that was a bonus! Etsuko Hirakawa (Assistant Teacher, Taka Hayashi Academy of Irish Dance, Tokyo): [Riverdance at the Apollo Theater in London] is where I saw [Irish dancing] for the first time. Even when I was in Japan, I'd always liked things from Ireland, was always listening to Irish music and songs. Like Enya and those kinds of [artists]. I used to love [their music], and when I looked them up, they always turned out to be Irish. That happened a lot; a lot of the music I personally liked happened to be Irish. So with that, listening to Riverdance, I enjoyed every single song from start to finish. Lynne Haslbeck (CulkinAdults Dance Captain, Culkin School, Silver Spring, Maryland): I have an Irish heritage—my grandparents came from Ireland on my father’s side—and was intrigued when I was younger but it wasn’t really available to me at that point, so I didn’t take it as a child, which is unusual for a lot of people in the Irish dance world. I took my daughter, Kara to see Riverdance . . . And she was mesmerized. We came home and she would just walk around the house mimicking Jean Butler . . . I signed her up [for classes]. And it was typical of an Irish dance class—it was in a community center, on a linoleum floor, not my current school . . . So I dropped off my daughter and I was waiting outside, and [the teacher’s mother] was out there and she goes, “You know, she does teach adults.”. . . So I signed up. 26 Phil Stacy (TCRG, Culkin School, Silver Spring, Maryland): I started doing Irish dance because—I was six at the time—and we had just moved here and Riverdance was coming to Wolf Trap. And so my mom has always been into the Irish culture and she really wanted us to go see Riverdance and we went and saw Riverdance—and it wasn’t me that actually wanted to do it, it was my sister! [laughs] My sister saw it and she saw Jean Butler, and said “I want to be Purple Girl!” That’s what she said, “I want to be Purple Girl!” And my parents were looking for a school and we actually saw a Culkin School sweatshirt . . . They signed my sister up, and I said, “I want to try it too.” And my sister lasted two lessons, and I just stuck it out and here I am. And so, that’s how it all started. Modern competitive Irish step dance, a genre of step dancing that—while rooted in traditional forms of Irish dance—was born out of a period of nationalist sentiment in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This was at a time when local traditional movements and choreographies were collected, formalized, and shaped as a symbol of national Irish heritage. Throughout the twentieth and twenty- first centuries this same style of Irish dance expanded transnationally—largely due to both the Irish diaspora and the touring of professional shows such as Riverdance— progressively becoming more athletic in nature, with practitioners often labeling their practice and performance as a sport as well as (and sometimes instead of) an ethnic art form. My goal in Chapter Two is to clearly introduce the basics of Irish step dancing and Irish dance competitions, while still demonstrating the complex and multi-layered nature of this tradition. I also aim to introduce one of the key frameworks I will be utilizing throughout the dissertation, which is based on cultural anthropologist Ian Condry’s framework of genba (現場), or what I will be calling “focus locations.” New meanings for Irish step dance are both created and emphasized in these different—though interconnected—performative spaces, and as Condry proposes, it is 27 through these spaces that we find both the local and transnational actualized simultaneously (Condry 2006: 90). Figure 2.1. Categories of traditional Irish dance and modern competitive step dance. Section I: An Introduction to Irish Step Dance What is Traditional Irish Step Dance? Figure 2.1 shows the categories of traditional Irish dance and modern competitive step dance. The category of “Irish dance” is broad, and is used to refer to a number of different dance styles originating in Ireland. Adding the word “traditional” narrows this down to those dance styles that typically use traditional 28 Irish dance music, such as jigs, reels, polkas, slides, and hornpipes.1 Set dancing and céilí dancing are two types of social dances characterized by dancing with partners while forming geometric patterns as a group, which can be done to either a specific piece of music or any tune with the correct timing. Step dances are typically characterized as types of solo dances (for example, sean nós from the Connemara region of Ireland, or festival dance from Northern Ireland) that focus on the use of the dancers’ feet to perform a “step.” Step dances use a series of choreographed or improvised rhythmic patterns that may or may not be percussive, depending on the particular dance. What is Modern Competitive Irish Step Dancing? Modern competitive Irish step dancing can be split into two general categories: group dances and solo dances, both of which are regularly featured in competitions at all levels and in school performances. I add the term “modern” in front of “competitive Irish step dance” in order to distinguish this particular style of step dance from the others in this category, which also have competitive aspects. The dances listed here and in Figure 2.1 are those performed in competition, though 1 It should be noted my use of the word “traditional” here mirrors its usage by community members, who typically use it to describe older steps or movements believed to predate the modern competitive style. This can apply to styles outside of the modern competitive style, such as sean nós or set dancing, which are often called more traditional by those communities. The word “traditional” is also used to describe individual steps or movements within the modern style, such as what is called “the rising step” of the jig. Community members may also refer to céilí dances as more traditional, due to their canonization in Ár Rincí Céilí, An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha’s official book of céilí dances. There seems to be a strong connection between the use of “traditional” and Irish cultural identity. Although The Culkin School teaches the modern competitive style of step dance, the full title of the school is “The Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance,” which is reflective in part of the school’s strong connection to the local D.C. Irish-American and traditional Irish music communities. 29 dancers do learn and dance other types. For example, the Culkin School students perform a polka they call the “Silver Spring Set”—the title a nod to the town of Silver Spring, Maryland where most Culkin classes take place—as well as a hard shoe slip jig choreography at their regular Kennedy Center shows in Washington D.C.; neither of these dances, polkas or hard shoe slip jigs, are performed in competition, yet are frequently featured as part of Culkin’s performance repertoire. However, this introduction will focus only on competitive dances. Unless otherwise cited, the information below comes from my fieldwork experiences. It should also be noted that the rules and traditions of dances and competitions described in this section, and throughout the dissertation, refer specifically to schools and teachers associated with the organization An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha, The Irish Dancing Commission. I will refer to this organization by its acronym, CLRG, though the organization also is interchangeably called An Coimisiún or The Commission by community members. Although there are several other Irish dance regulatory bodies, such as An Comhdháil na Múinteoirí le Rincí Gaelacha Teoranta (The Congress of Irish Dance Teachers) and the World Irish Dance Association (WIDA), the majority of the schools and teachers I worked with through my fieldwork were CLRG-registered. The CLRG was the first major regulatory body of modern competitive Irish step dancing and to date is the largest and most influential of these bodies (see history section below). 30 Figure 2.2: Shoes: (from top left to right) Women’s soft shoes (also called ghillies, light shoes, or pumps; this photo demonstrates turn out, cross over, and being high on toes), men’s soft shoes (also called reel shoes, demonstrating starting position), hard shoes (demonstrating “en pointe” or toe stand) Shoes There are two types of shoes used by both male and female dancers—soft and hard shoes—and different dances associated with the shoe type (see Figure 2.2).2 Women’s soft shoes, also called ghillies or pumps, are often compared to a ballet slipper—made from soft leather, they are constructed to fit snugly around the dancer’s foot to show off their point, and make no sound when danced in. Men’s soft 2 Depending on the local vernacular, these are also called light and heavy shoes, or reel shoes and jig shoes. 31 shoes (also called reel shoes) are also made from soft leather and are fit very tightly around the foot; however, they feature a fiberglass heel that allows the dancer to perform rhythms (such as clicking the heels together, digging the edge of the heel into the floor, or stamping the heel flat down on the floor). Hard shoes are constructed the same way for both men and women, being designed with a fiberglass tip and heel that allow dancers to create percussive rhythms while dancing.3 Céilí Dances There are three types of group dances—dances that are performed by multiple dancers at once—that are performed in competition: céilí dances, figure dances, and dance dramas. Céilí, traditional dances that are drawn from the canonized collection laid out in the book Ár Rincí Céilí (originally published until 2015 as Ár Rincí Foirne), are the most common type seen in competitions. These dances are all performed in soft shoes, and can be danced to jigs and reels. Some dances specify a certain tune to go with a specific dance (i.e., the dance “Trip to the Cottage” is danced to the jig of the same name), while others specify the music type—jig or reel—but can be danced to any tune (i.e. the Four-Hand Reel can be danced to any reel music). Ár Rincí Céilí contains dances that call for anywhere from four to sixteen dancers; however, four-hand and eight-hand dances—featuring four and eight dancers, respectively— are most commonly offered for competition. Competitive céilí dances are in many ways comparable to synchronized swimming, in that dancers work together as a team to create precise patterns with no one dancer standing out among 3 See John Cullinane 1996 for more information on the development of Irish dance shoes. 32 the others. Clean lines, correct footwork and movements (basic Irish dance footwork is discussed below), precise timing, and high energy are valued traits that are sought after in céilí competitions. Learning, performing, and competing in céilí have figured prominently in my fieldwork experience with the Culkin School.4 Solo Dances Solo dances are divided into two general categories: soft shoe and hard shoe. The names of the types of dances performed in each shoe type usually correlate to the type of music danced to. This section will provide a general overview of those types and when they are learned by dancers; in Chapter Three, I provide an in-depth description of these musics and the rhythms danced to them. A unit of Irish dance choreography is called a “step.”5 A step in Irish dance has a very specific meaning: it is a sequence of movements that are strung together to form a phrase of choreography. A full step is equal to 16 measures, or bars, of music—dancers count 4 Figure dances and dance dramas are two other types of group dances, but these typically feature original choreographies that are made up by individual teachers and schools. Sometimes, the words “figure” and “céilí” are used interchangeably by community members—in this dissertation, unless otherwise noted, figures will refer to original choreographies and céilí will refer to “by the book” (the common phrase used to refer to dances done according to the directions in Ár Rincí Céilí) dances. Smaller figure dances (such as two-hands, three-hands, four-hands, or six-hands) typically feature more traditional elements that are seen in the “by the book” céilí, and are frequently featured in local performances and feiseanna, while dances featuring more than eight dancers may use newer elements. These larger figures are performed at major competitions and are tied to a theme or story—usually pertaining to Irish history, poetry, or literature—that is read aloud before the dancers compete. Like céilí, figures generally focus on clean, precise movements and teamwork. Dance dramas are competitions featured at major regional, national, and international oireachtasaí, consisting of longer choreographies with costumes and props to tell a story, some drawn from Irish history, poetry, or literature, but others relate directly to Irish dance, such as a “day at Irish dance class.” These are more theatrical in nature, and fewer schools participate in these competitions than in céilí or figures. 5 This is not to be confused with the more common usage of this term, which would refer to the physical action of placing one’s foot on the floor in order to move—there are many steps like this in an Irish dance step! 33 bars by listening for the downbeat of each measure. A step typically consists of two halves: eight bars danced “on the right” (meaning the right foot starts the choreography; this also may be described as “dancing the right foot” of a step) and eight danced “on the left.” The two sides are usually symmetrical in terms of footwork and rhythm, though directional movement on a stage is often different from foot to foot. A step is always danced on the right foot first, and usually immediately followed by the left foot lead.6 Sometimes a dancer may perform a “half step,” typically in slip jig or hornpipe, which means that they only dance the right foot lead of a step (the first eight bars). Although steps are typically choreographed to be performed together with other specific steps, dancers may in theory choose from any of the steps they know, provided they both are for the same type of dance (for example, reel steps are danced with other reel steps), and perform them together. Depending on the competition skill level and dance type, dancers will typically perform either two, two-and-a-half, or three different steps one after the other as one entire dance for both soft and hard shoe dances. Throughout these steps, dancers are expected to keep their feet turned out, crossed, and high on their toes, as well as maintain an upright posture (see below). 6 For example, if a teacher asks a student to dance two steps in a class setting, the student will understand that they are to choose and perform two different choreographed sequences, one right after the other, for a total of 32 bars of music. If the teacher sees a mistake, he might then ask the student to show him the “left foot of the second step,” and the dancer would understand that they are to perform the last half of the second choreography in which the left foot starts the sequence. 34 Soft Shoe Solo Dances Beginning dancers start to learn soft shoe steps first: reels, jigs, slip jigs, and single jigs. “Hop jig” is also a term that is occasionally used for both slip jig and single jigs—to avoid confusion, the more common names are used here. The basics of Irish dance footwork—crossing, turn out, and being on high on the toes—as well as a primary emphasis on correct timing remain the same with hard shoe dances, but beginning in soft shoes allows dancers to embody the basic technique and movements before advancing to the added difficulty of producing sound. Dancers typically begin to learn reels or jigs first, depending on the preference of the school’s teachers. They start by learning the basic movements (such as “skip-2- 3”s, “over-2-3”s , and “sevens”) that are the foundation of all types of soft shoe dancing and appear in both solo and céilí dances. They then move on to music- specific traditional movements (such as the “rising step” movement that is traditional to the jig) that correspond to “traditional,” or fast, tempos. As the student advances to more difficult materials, the music is slowed down to allow time for more embellishment in terms of footwork, rhythms, and movement across the stage in the choreographed steps (see Chapter Three). Additionally, as steps advance in difficulty, the number of traditional motifs dwindles as they are replaced with more contemporary and athletic movements. Dancers may also begin to learn céilí dances after learning the basic reel or jig movements, as céilí are danced to reels and jigs in soft shoes. After learning their first reels, female dancers move on to learn the slip jig—a dance that is often described as “ballet-like” and “more graceful” than the reel, and 35 today is considered a feminized dance. Though it also used to be danced by men, today it is typically only danced in competition by female competitors. While female dancers learn their first slip jig, male dancers will move on to a more advanced reel step, or in some schools will learn single jig (interview with Michael Dillon, February 2017). The differences in steps danced by men and women will be discussed further in Chapter Seven, which focuses on perceptions of age and gender. Hard Shoe Solo Dances After dancers are determined to have sufficient proficiency in the basics of soft shoe dancing—determined either by the student’s advancement in competition level (see below) or at the teacher’s discretion—students move into the basics of hard shoe. As with soft shoe, dancers first learn basic foundational movements that apply to all types of hard shoe dancing, although as with soft shoe, the rhythm of the movement changes depending on the type of music danced. One example of this is what is often called a “rally” —though it may also be called a “batter,” “tip-tip,” “tip- back,” “shuffle,” “di-di,” “1-2,” or any number of other things —in which one foot produces two sounds by pushing and pulling the leg and ankle so the tip of the dancer’s shoe hits the floor in front of the standing foot.7 Dancers perform treble reels, treble jigs, hornpipes, and set dances in hard shoes. The order of dances learned varies from school to school, but as with soft shoe dances, students first learn what are considered more traditional steps, such as 7 Although a local community or school may have words they typically use to describe the movement, it can differ by teacher, or a teacher may use different words to describe the same movement while lilting to help teach a student. See Chapter Six. 36 traditional hornpipe and traditional treble jig, also known as “fast hornpipe” and “fast treble jig.” Traditional dances are performed to music with faster tempos, as opposed to “slow hornpipe” or “slow treble jig,” which have slower music tempos to allow for faster danced rhythms and more contemporary movements. Treble reels are not split into “fast” and “slow” categories like hornpipe and treble jigs are. At the Culkin School, the students’ first hard shoe dance is a set dance called “St. Patrick’s Day,” a fast treble jig—the reasoning being that dancers are learning both traditional treble jig rhythms and their first traditional set dance all at once. Set Dances Set dances are special pieces in which choreographed movements are performed to a specific piece of music—as opposed to the dances described above, which may be performed with any tune (i.e., a reel step may be performed with any reel music). A set dance is considered a showcase piece for a dancer, particularly in the upper skill levels of competition. In some cases, set dances may be choreographed by a teacher to highlight the strengths of a particular student. Set dances are performed to hornpipe or treble jig tunes and, as with hornpipe and treble jig steps, are split into two types: traditional and non-traditional (also called contemporary or “non-trad”). Set dances consist of two parts: the “lead” and the “set,” which correlate to the A and B sections of the tune.8 In competition, the lead, which can be any number of bars, depending on the music, is performed twice, once on the right and once on the left. The set, which usually contains more bars of music 8 The lead of a set dance is also commonly referred to as the “step” of the set dance. To avoid confusion with terminology, I will use the term lead here. 37 than the step, is only performed once with the right foot leading.9 The piece is played by musicians as AAAB: one A as an introduction for the dancer to prepare, then two As to perform the right and left lead, and one B to perform the set. See Chapter Three for an example of a set dance piece. The traditional set dances approved for competition by the CLRG— “St. Patrick’s Day”, “Blackbird”, “Garden of Daisies”, “Jockey to the Fair”, “Job of Journeywork”, “King of the Fairies”, and “The Three Sea Captains”—are danced to faster tempos. Although there are many variations, these dances generally feature the same choreography, or at least certain key motifs and rhythms specific to that dance, from school to school. Non-traditional sets, which can be danced to the pieces above as well as to a number of other pre-approved tunes (see Appendix) are danced to slow hornpipes and slow treble jigs and feature advanced movements and rhythms. These choreographies are original and are specifically crafted by teachers for their schools, sometimes even for specific students. Although all steps, particularly those meant for Open Championship dancers, are guarded carefully by teachers, set dance choreographies in particular are highly prized. My teachers at the Culkin School have told me on multiple occasions that a set dance can make or break a dancer in competition, so it is crucial to have good choreography. 9 In performance, particularly with traditional sets, dancers may perform longer choreographies. For example, in the performance version of “St. Patrick’s Day” with the Culkin School, dancers may dance the first lead, the set, the second lead, and then the set again, all parts danced with the right foot leading and then the left foot. I’ve never seen a longer version of a contemporary set—probably because it would be exhausting, as competition versions are often very long already—however, it is theoretically possible. 38 Body and Effort in Irish Dance Before discussing the specific key elements of Irish dance footwork and posture, I will briefly describe important qualities of Irish dance movement by utilizing two of the four major categories of Laban Movement Analysis: Body and Effort. Laban Movement Analysis is used in conjunction with the Bartenieff Fundamentals by dancers, dance teachers, therapists, and scholars in order to analyze, describe, and notate movement. Although it is outside the scope of this dissertation to fully employ the LBMS (Laban/Bartenieff Movement System) here, by describing Irish dance movement in terms of Body and Effort (the other two categories of which are Shape and Space), we can begin to get a better picture of how Irish dancers organize their bodies while dancing and what qualities they exhibit in their movement (Konie 2011; Studd and Cox 2013). In Irish dancing, patterns of body organization are often discussed in two different ways: as split between the upper and lower body and split between right and left halves of the body (particularly in regards to the feet). These are similar to the patterns of body organization found in LBMS called Upper-Lower and Body-Half (also called Right-Left), and the images associated with these patterns fit the body attitudes exhibited by Irish dancers. In Irish dancing, the lower half of the body is conceived of as being below the waist, with specific focus on the legs and feet. This is most often the focal point of the body for dancers, teachers, and adjudicators, as intricate footwork is the hallmark of this dance form, as will be explained in more detail in the next section. The expectation for the upper body is to maintain a vertical and upright posture—the 39 focus here is particularly on the arms, shoulders, and head remaining still. Although the core muscles of the body (both the torso and glutes) are critical for achieving a textbook example of Irish dancing, many dancers (particularly those who are not at the top levels of competition) under-utilize and have little to no active awareness of these body parts while they dance, which often results in injury and poor technique. Fortunately, this is slowly changing as Irish dancing becomes more athletically oriented and more sports trainers and physiotherapists become involved in the community. However, in my experience, the connection between the upper and lower body is not often discussed during instruction. In LBMS, some of the images associated with the Upper-Lower pattern fit Irish dancing: being grounded to the earth in the lower half while the upper half is lifted and pulled upwards, as well as motion in the lower half of the body. Ideals of hard work, endurance, and achieving goals are also associated with this pattern of body organization, all of which are fundamental attitudes among Irish dancers and teachers, particularly in regards to competition. (Konie 2011: 4). As discussed earlier, Irish dance steps are divided by right foot and left foot leads. This focus on one half of the body being predominant over the other in choreography is reflective of a conception in Irish dancing of the split between right and left halves of the body. There is a focus on the midline of the body where the split occurs, as a key part of the Irish dance technique calls for dancers to keep their feet crossed over that midline while dancing. The LBMS body organization pattern most closely relating to this conception of the body is called Body-Half or Right-Left. It is not an exact match: Body-Half can be associated with homolateral movement, which 40 is asymmetrical movement of the upper and lower limbs on the same side of the body. This type of movement occurs in céilí dancing, but not in solo step dancing. However, images associated with Body-Half are also associated with Irish dancing, specifically those of militaristic or robotic movement (ibid.: 4). Although Irish dancing can be quite expressive, particularly show-style dancing, the imagery of militaristic movement and training is quite potent in competition dancing. And although different from the LBMS body pattern of Body-Half, another split of the body that is significant in Irish dancing is that of front and back, again particularly in regards to the feet and legs. Because of the way the Irish dancer must cross their feet, the majority of footwork requires an awareness of not just right foot versus left foot, but the front foot versus the back foot. The LBMS category of Effort is used to describe a range of qualities, such as the use of energy, sense of attitude, and dynamics in movement. Robin Konie describes Effort as both functional and expressive, and specifies that it is qualitative, not quantitative (2011: 3). Karen Studd and Laura Cox describe it as expressing the attitude of the mover, how energy is organized and exerted, and also the inner intent of the mover (2013: 137). Four factors are used to categorize the different elements of Efforts: Flow, Weight, Time, and Space. Different elements under these factors can be used to describe motions on their own, or can be placed together in a variety of combinations. Here I will describe individual elements, rather than focusing on the numerous combinations that exist. My interest is using Effort to describe generally the qualities of Irish dance movement; though this can certainly be expanded in greater detail, it is outside the scope of the current work. It should also be noted that 41 these elements of Effort are not static, but can and do change and combine differently within a single step: my selections here are more general in order to paint a picture of overall qualities of modern competitive Irish dancing. Bound flow, rather than free flow, is predominantly found in the modern competitive style of step dancing. Bound flow is best described as a controlled ongoingness, where the dancer is contained and controlled, almost rigid, with strong boundaries in his or her movement. Tight control in and of movement is valued in this style of Irish dancing, whereas Free flow (which exhibits more of an open, light, less- controlled continuity in movement) would be more associated with sean nós or old- style Irish dancing. Weight as a factor of Effort is about presence, intention, and the dancer’s relationship to gravity. In modern competitive Irish step dancing, both Strong and Light elements can be found, with more emphasis on Strong movements. Strong weight is about power and force, which can be seen in the explosive plyometric movements of both hard and soft shoe dances, and especially in the footwork in men’s soft shoe dances (in which the heels are stomped into the ground or clicked together with power) and in men and women’s hard shoe dances. Light weight elements in Irish dancing are seen in the buoyancy and upliftedness of movements, occurring in both soft and hard shoe dances, but especially in women’s soft shoe. Light weight in this case in not necessarily delicate, however: few Irish dancers exhibit any sense of fragility in their movement. Weight is uplifted but powerful. The elements best describing factors of Time and Space—Space in this case relating to thinking and using the senses in relation to the environment—are Quick 42 and Direct. Quick time conveys a sense of urgency, even staccato movement. Even movements that may appear more Sustained, or drawn out, in Irish dance can only be achieved by quickly beginning and ending that movement in order to stay in time with the music. An example of this would be a movement called a birdie, in which the dancer appears to hover in the air for a sustained moment, one leg straight out in front (or even lifted up towards the sky), while the other leg is tucked under the body with a bent knee. While the dancer gives the impression of leisurely and easily floating in the air, birdies are actually quite difficult, and require a quick and explosive one- legged jump to start then immediate movement after finishing in order to stay on time with the music. Direct movement quality is channeled, laser-focused awareness. As Irish dancers move on stage, they are hyper-aware of specific aspects of their environment and how and where they must move their steps. Konie describes Direct space as linear and pin-pointed (2011: 3). This is again a contrast to Indirect space, which is more typical of old-style Irish dancer, in which they seem to have more of an expansive feel to their movement, taking it all in as they dance. The body in modern competitive Irish dancing is both resilient and buoyant, strong, controlled, and explosive. There is a strong focus on linearity in the body and maintaining a stately posture and attitude—strong bordering on defiant. The body must be able to both connect strongly with the floor while being lifted up and vertical, and the expectation in movement that occurs away from the body (such as kicks, or clicks that occur both in place or during traveling movements) is that it will be extended and strong. Above, I have painted a general picture of how the body is 43 understood and quality of movement used in Irish dancing. In the next section, I describe in the key elements of footwork in Irish dance, as well as expand on Irish dance posture. Footwork and Form of Irish Dancing There are three key elements to ideal foot placement in Irish dance: turn out, crossover, and toe height (see Figure 2.2). Turning out the feet means the dancers rotate their legs outward from their hips so that the heels come towards the center line of the body and the toes are pointing out away from the body. Crossing over requires the dancer to pull the feet across that same center line of the body, over to the opposite side of the body—for example, when the right foot crosses, it is pulled over so that it is in line with the left shoulder, as far past the center of the body as possible. Toe height calls for the dancer to perform movements as high up on the toes as possible at all times. Although some elite competitive dancers are able to perform regular movements on the very tops of their toes, dancers generally are up on the side of the ball of the foot or even the side of the big toe.10 Except for some particular movements that require the heel to strike the ground, the heel should not touch the floor. The ideal aesthetic form of modern competitive Irish step dancing calls for a still upper body: no movement in the torso or twisting at the hips or shoulders, arms kept down to the side of the body with hands and fingers held still slightly behind the 10 This toe height is different from toe stands, a movement borrowed from ballet where the dancers go “en pointe” in their hard shoes, standing using the very tip of their toes (see Figure 2.2). 44 upper legs, and gaze focused straight in front of the dancer with no turning of the head or neck. Even “spotting”— a term used in ballet for a technique that requires a dancer to keep their focus on a single area while turning so they might keep track of where they are while moving—is not allowed while dancers perform turns or spins. The stillness of the upper body brings the viewer’s focus to the dancer’s footwork: the placements and movements of the feet. There is a quote from the show Riverdance that has become a favorite line for many in the Irish dance community: “Tall and straight, my mother taught me. This is how we dance.” This is often the defining feature of Irish dance for those with only passing familiarity with the art form. Around St. Patrick’s Day, when Irish dancers seem to come out of the woodwork to perform at parades, festivals, nursing homes, schools, pubs, and on local television programs, audience members and interviewers inevitably ask the same question: “Why don’t Irish dancers use their arms?” There are many stories that get told to answer this, many are some sort of variation on the tale that I was taught as a child taking Irish dance at the Woodgate School in Buffalo, New York: the Irish, being forbidden to dance—either by the British or by the Catholic Church, though sometimes it is not specified—kept their upper bodies still while dancing in their homes. This way if someone, a soldier or priest, depending on the story, peeked through a window or open top of a half-door, it would appear as though they were not moving. Another popular tale involves ladies needing to keep their hands by their sides so their skirts wouldn’t fly up in the breeze while dancing at the crossroads! The truth of how today’s style formed is, of course, more complex, but dancers still love to tell tales about this particular peculiarity of Irish step dancing. 45 Then of course, there is always the explanation Seán Culkin gives to his students: “You keep your arms down because I told you to.” Voices 2.2: Tall and Straight Tales On the “Culkin Adult Irish Dancers Facebook Group” page on March 9, 2017, I asked Culkin students what stories they had been told about why Irish dancers don’t move their arms while they dance: Christie Pondell: “I was told that dancing, especially hardshoe, was a form of communication during wartime so they had to keep their upper bodies still to fool the enemy.” Christina Grant: “I've also heard one about how you needed wood to make sound, and barns typically had dirt, not wooden floors. If you've seen older houses you know the rooms are small and weren't useful for a big crowd. So either the door was taken down (considering most doors had leather hinges this would be a lot more work than it sounds like) or a set of planks nailed together (since plywood wasn't a thing) were used, and more people can fit on the tiny space if you don't use your arms.” Heather Fenton: “Mine was the whole servitude thing. English masters being uppity wankers and not wanting them to dance, but they still had church services in the barn and after church they would dance for fun, but not move their upper bodies so their masters/landlords couldn't tell what they were doing. This, of course, is absurd, because even if I keep my arms down, it's still pretty clear that I'm moving from the bobbing up and down and jumping, but whatevs.” Bethany Rose Fixsen: “I heard that they avoided using their arms so that they wouldn't knock the beers out of onlookers’ hands! And that they were trying to dance in tight spaces on small surfaces.” Lauren Hefferon: “My teacher told us dance was a form of defiance in the face of colonial rule, along with other banned aspects of traditional Irish culture such as speaking Irish. So dancers adopted a defiant attitude and style - when I was a young dancer, we were told to keep our shoulders back, our chins up, and not to smile! And we were told that the entire art of hard shoe initially evolved as a warning message system during British rule: If eight dancers met at a crossroads for a céilí, they used lookouts to keep an eye for British soldiers, officials, or priests - and if those lookouts saw someone coming, they used hard shoe rhythms to relay the news back to the dancers! Not sure whether there's so much as a kernel of truth to any of that, of course, but they are fun stories!” 46 Local, National, and Transnational Histories As Lauren says in Voices 2.2, these stories of what Frank Hall (2008: 13) has termed the “puzzle” of posture in Irish dance are fun, and these particular myths provide an example of storytelling in Irish dance communities. Stories of steps, dancers, teachers, judges, musicians, practices, competitions, performances, and travel are constantly told and re-told; memories and the stories crafted from them a key type cultural capital (Bourdieu 1984). Helena Wulff discusses the importance of storytelling and loquaciousness as a central characteristic in Irish culture (2009: 72). Some version of the phrases “I remember when…” and “Do you remember how…?” or “Well, this is what I was told…” frequently introduce some bit of cultural knowledge or shared experience. The histories of Irish dancing—at every level from individual dancers to the transnational governing body of the CLRG—are constructed from these memories and stories and are kept alive and in the present through their telling. This section briefly introduces the history of the development of modern competitive Irish step dance, drawing on Catherine Foley’s structure of local, national, and global perceptions of Irish step dance as a way to introduce this history (2001).11 As Foley explains, examining Irish step dance through each of these stages of development—its local development, followed by its nationalization and 11 What is offered here is but a brief overview. There are several excellent resources that detail different aspects of the history of Irish step dance in-depth. See Foley 2013; O’Connor 2013; Wulff 2009; Flanagan 2009; Hall 2008; Cullinane 1987, 1990, 1996, 1997, 1998, 2003, 2013, 2014, 2016, 2017; Brennan 1999; and Breathnach 1983. 47 transnational spread—allows us to understand these processes both diachronically and synchronically. Local Origins Prior to the formation of the Gaelic League in 1893 and its subsequent formalization, Irish step dance practices were highly localized. As is the difficulty with attempts to trace most genres of dance back through history, in some part because of the difficulties associated with recording and reproducing movement (see Chapter One), few records prior to the eighteenth century exist to help us understand what these dances looked like and how they were practiced. However, what records that do exist—mostly from English travelers’ records— point to the importance of dance in everyday life in Ireland, and its predominance at celebratory occasions. Some even mentioned the type of music (jig, reel, or hornpipe) that was used (Brennan 1999: 15-28). The number of records available increase in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries; Arthur Young’s account, A Tour of Ireland (1776-79), is the first to refer to the role of itinerant dancing masters, as well as dance being an “absolute system of education” among the peasantry, related to the “civilizing process” (Young in Foley 2013: 63). In addition to several other contributions, Foley’s historical and ethnographic study of step dance in North Kerry sheds light on the lives of these itinerate dance masters and their role in transmitting a step dance style t focused on obtaining a repertoire of pre-choreographed steps associated with specific teachers. This contrasts with other regional styles, such as the sean nós style 48 of dance from Connemara, which features a loose upper torso and arms and improvised steps. Foley contributes the lack of itinerate dance masters in the Connemara region to why sean nós focuses less on dancers obtaining a repertoire of specific steps than the North Kerry style (Foley 2001: 42). These are just two examples of the differences that could be found between local styles of solo dancing. A great deal of variety and localization took place with group dances as well, particularly as imported dances from Europe—such as cotillions and quadrilles— were absorbed and transformed by local styles of movement and music (Brennan 1999: 28, 63-72). Solo and group dancing took place in a wide variety of contexts, both formal and informal: from house dances which often spurred impromptu competitions in friendly rivalry to the barn dances (which took advantage of the barn loft’s wooden floor) held by a farmer and his family for the neighbors who had helped bring in the harvest. American wakes—also known as convoys or living wakes—were dance occasions that were held the evening before a family member was set to emigrate. This context for dance and music mirrored the rituals that would surround an actual death and would last all night, ending with family and friends escorting the emigrant to the port of departure at dawn. And as Brennan notes, although the image of the Irish “dancing at the crossroads” may be cliché, crossroads dances were another important context for dance and music, their open-air locations providing an opportunity to dance the larger group dances, such as what are now called eight-hands and sixteen-hands. These events marked the physical locations they were held at— 49 several now preserve the image of the dancing in their names, such as Ballinrink— Baile an Rinnce, “the town of the dancing” (ibid.: 103-119). In explaining the perception of step dancing to people in North Kerry, Foley writes, Step dancing was seen as a skill to be mastered: a skill that showed that individuals had control and mastery over their minds and bodies. This was contrary to the negative reputation that English colonizers generally spread about the Irish as ‘uncivilized’. Thus in controlling their movements through step dancing, dancers were endeavouring to illustrate that they, like their colonizers, could also be controlled and ‘civilized’, but in an Irish way…The controlled upper torso placed emphasis on this notion of control and uprightness, while the light stepping and soundings of the feet to traditional music accompaniment emphasized a visual and auditory domain. I suggest that the step dancing body with its soundings of the feet gave ‘voice’ to the colonized history and culture of the people. (Ibid.: 75) In addition to the perception of both céilí and solo dances as being more “authentic” in rural West Ireland, this emphasis on posture and controlled footwork led to the selection and adoption of this local Munster style of step dancing for the Gaelic League’s nationalist project. Nationalization 1893 saw the beginning of the politicization of Irish cultural forms such as the Irish-Gaelic spoken language and literature, sports, music, and of course, dance. It was this year that Conradh na Gaeilge—the Gaelic League—was formed, and the year that, according to Hall, step dancing became Irish step dancing (2008: 27). It was during this period of Irish nationalism and cultural revival—through the “de- anglicization” of Ireland and promotion of cultural forms as native and uniquely 50 Irish—that today’s genre of modern competitive Irish step dance took root. This period is often referred to as the “Celtic Twilight” (Williams 2010: 69). Although the main goals of the Gaelic League were concerned with preservation and promotion of Irish as a spoken national language and its literature, it was also concerned with the music, singing, and dancing traditionally associated with rural people. It appealed mainly to people of the middle-class who identified with the nationalist movement, and aimed to construct an “Irish” community through an educational program that taught Irish (both as a spoken language and through reading and writing) and traditional music and dance in classes, public lectures, and céilithe (plural of céilí, referring to a social dance event).12 The Gaelic League’s impact on the shaping of Irish culture in the early twentieth century cannot be overstated. Five years after its inception, 43 branches of the League were in existence, seven of which were in America. By 1901, there were over 600 branches both in Ireland and in the Irish diaspora (Foley 2013: 131-134)13. The Gaelic League recognized the power of music and dance to shape and express particular notions of Irish identity and community. Events such as the céilithe, feiseanna, and oirechtasaí—and the dances performed at them—are excellent examples of what Hobsbawm has called “invented traditions” (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1985: 4). These social dances and competitions were institutionalized, formalized, and ritualized events that used dance and music as their link to the 12 Note the potential confusion with yet another dance term: céilí can refer to either a specific dance or to a social dance event in which céilí are danced. Unless otherwise specified, such as here, céilí will refer to the dance itself. 13 For more in-depth information on the Gaelic League’s roots in Ireland, see Foley 2013, 131-141. For more on the Gaelic League in the United States, see Ni Bhromeil 2001. 51 “authentic” Ireland that existed prior to English colonization. The dances that were selected to form the Gaelic League’s—and eventually the CLRG’s—canon of céilí dance came from publications of Irish social dances that were collected from the countryside, in particularly from County Kerry.14 These were considered to be authentic Irish dances by the Gaelic League (although in reality they had their origins in English country dances that had been adapted by itinerate dance masters), who eschewed group set dances, which were perceived as foreign. As Foley points out, many of the selected dances were relatively easy to learn and teach, and had names associated with Irish history and culture, such as “The Siege of Ennis,” “The Walls of Limerick,” and “The Haymaker’s Jig” (Foley 2013: 136-137). The Gaelic League’s creation of the feis and oireachtas as cultural nationalist events also required establishing links to the past—in these cases, those links were created not just by fostering the competitive spirit that was inherently a part of the tradition of step dancing, but also through the terms selected for these events and what they represented. Both had loose ties to ancient Gaelic Ireland: the feis was an ancient assembly in Tara at the residence of the high King of Ireland which was focused on politics and law-making, but also featured entertainment and sporting events. The oireachtas was inspired by the Welsh eisteddfod (an annual national performing arts and literature competitive festival that began as a modern tradition in 1861), and was based on the idea of the ancient Gaelic cultural festival (ibid.: 138- 14 A Handbook of Irish Dances (1902 [1944]) was published by James J. O’Keefe and Art O’Brien, two London Gaelic League members who traveled to Irish dancing masters in Ireland and Glasgow to collect these dances. Two other publications released around that time were J.J. Sheehan’s A Guide to Irish Dancing, also published in 1902, and Peadar O’Rafferty’s The Irish Folk Dance Book (1934). Foley 2013:136. 52 139; Anglesey National Eisteddfod 2017). Both feiseanna and oireachtasaí held different types of competitions in the traditional performing arts and literature, including step dancing. The Gaelic League’s goals of incorporation of the Irish language and culture can be very strongly seen in these early competitions. Irish was the official spoken language at these events, even to the extent that at some, dancers had to pass an Irish language examination in order to compete. Even the use of Irish fabric and materials in dancing costumes were required in order for competitors to be awarded a prize after dancing (Foley 2013: 139). It is through this emphasis placed by the Gaelic League on the creation and promotion of an Irish identity at these events that we begin to see how winning at these competitions was not simply a matter of being the better dancer—it was a matter of being the better Irish dancer (Hall 2008, Foley 2013). Although feiseanna and oireachtasaí have changed dramatically in their production and regulation over the past century, ideas of “Irishness” in connection to how Irish step dancing today is practiced, competed, and presented is still a primary one that is scrutinized, particularly by An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha. In 1922 the Irish Free State was formed following the 1919-1921 War of Independence. Establishing an Irish national identity that was separate from English influence continued to be of utmost importance. The Gaelic League, while continuing to promote Irish language and literature, continued to focus on cultural products that constructed a sense of Irishness, and Irish step dancing became primary among them. A primary concern was regulation through a central body: although the Gaelic League promoted step dance competitions, up until the 1930s, the dance was still taught primarily through itinerant dance masters and step dance teachers who were 53 independent, though they would teach at some Gaelic League branches. There were concerns that some step dance teachers were also teaching other forms of dance, such as jazz, or were neglecting to teach céilí dances, instead focusing primarily on solo step dancing. Additionally, there were increasing numbers of disputes at competitions—primarily by teachers who were unhappy with competition results— that pointed to the fact that anyone who was a Gaelic League member could adjudicate competitions whether they were a dancer or not (Foley 2013: 141-143). Whether or not competitions were fair and debates about categories of evaluation led to “fisticuffs and grudges,” a source of embarrassment to the Gaelic League, which was supposed to be civilizing influence (Hall 2008: 37). As Hall writes, The concept of nation creates a point of view above the local, from which local customs can be criticized and found wanting. The logic goes like this: if the nation is one distinct community conceived according to the model of one individual, one body, then isn’t there also one Irish dancing, one unified movement symbol? By implication, shouldn’t there be one set of rules by which Irish dancing is to be adjudicated? The authority of local approaches can be called into question by this appeal to a higher- level arbiter of identity. This is precisely the conclusion a disappointed competitor might reach when losing at a feis in the next parish or county. The local organizers and adjudicators can be accused of favoring their own neighbors and not rewarding the best dancer, even more, the best Irish dancer. (Hall 2008: 37)15 In 1930, Coimisiún an Rince was created under the auspices of the Gaelic League as a centralized institution that would regulate and promote Irish step 15 Of course, it is often repeated today in the community that Irish dance adjudicating is highly subjective (despite the examinations put in place in order to create and regulate standards of judging as well has having multiple adjudicators judge at major competitions), and there are always grudges and complaints regarding fairness and how dancers are judged at competitions of all levels. For example, at the Worlds, adjudicators are often accused by competitors and their families of favoring dancers from the host country or from the adjudicator’s home country, or even of favoring particular dancers (such as those who won the Worlds the previous year). Fortunately, resorting to “fisticuffs” is not something takes place today—usually. 54 dancing. In the original regulations passed in 1931, teachers and adjudicators were required to register with the Coimisiún an Rince, and were only considered qualified to register if they only taught Irish dances (Foley 2013: 143). As was the case with the Gaelic League specifically selecting a repertoire of group dances for their social céilithe events, Coimisiún an Rince also specifically selected a style and repertoire of dances to form a canon that would meet their needs: symbolically representing Irish identity as well as identifying and creating a standard style that could be judged in competition (Hall 2008: 114-115). The style that was created for solo step dancing was built from the movement style typically found in the Munster counties of Kerry, Cork, and Limerick. Because of its emphasis on deportment, technique, and repertoire, this style of dance could be more easily standardized for both teaching and adjudication, and it projected the image of control and moral “uprightness” (literally seen in the upper body, held tall and straight) that was in line with both Catholic moral teachings and the nationalist project that aimed to project an image opposed to the English image of the “Irish barbarian” (Foley 2013:144-145; Hall 2008:18- 19,114). The group dances were also considered of utmost importance and were taught along with solo step dancing. Three volumes of books were published as Ár Rincí Fóirne (“Our Group of Dances”) (1939, 1943, and 1969, with multiple updates and edits to these, the latest being in 2014 and published as Ár Rincí Céilí [“Our Social Dances”]; an accompanying DVD is also now available), resulting in the 30 céilí dances that became the canon for performance and competition. Coimisiún an Rince became An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (CLRG, also referred to as An Coimisiún or The Commission) in 1943, the same year the teacher 55 and adjudicator examinations were introduced as a requirement for registration with the organization, which continue to be required today of those who wish to for their students to compete at CLRG-sanctioned competitions or to be a judge at these competitions. Once these exams are passed, teachers receive the designations of TMRF (Scrúdú Teastas Rince Céilí) or TCRG (Teastas Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha) and adjudicators receive the designation of ADCRG (Árd Diploma Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha). In order to compete at a CLRG competition, students must belong to a teacher who has obtained the TCRG designation (or TMRF if only competing in céilí). In order to receive the ADCRG, the TCRG examination must have first been passed (see below for more information regarding these examinations). These exams standardized what was being taught and how it was being judged. In addition to the regulation executed through the certification process, solo step dancing competitions began to be categorized according to the type of dance and the age, gender, and skill level of the dancer. It was through this standardization and regulation that a national style of “Irish” dancing emerged, eliminating most of the local and regional varieties that had previously existed. As Foley writes, An Coimisiún declared itself ‘the core’, while other dancing styles and practices were considered to be peripheral to its ideological agenda. Therefore, in its re-configuration and institutionalization of a particular step dance aesthetic, An Coimisiún constructed and projected a unified image of Ireland through the medium of step dance. This project, embodied by step dancers, assisted in emphasizing the cultural unity of Ireland as a nation-state. (Foley 2013: 146-147) As we will see, this is not to say that the same dances are being performed everywhere in the same manner, or that Irish dancing has fossilized into a static relic of early twentieth century Ireland. Modern competitive Irish dancing today is very 56 much a living, dynamic tradition that contains a great deal of variety and creativity— today’s style of Irish dance has changed dramatically in many ways from what was formed in the 1930s and 40s, not to mention the changes in the music it is danced to. However, this style is still highly regulated, the canon of céilí remains the same, and the importance placed on the main tenets of Irish step dance (timing, posture, crossing, turn out, and high on toes) is still of core importance—these main features of Irish dancing trace their origin to and remain today because of the formation and regulatory actions of the CLRG.16 The Gaelic League and An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha’s regulation of what Irish dance was and who was qualified to teach it strongly influenced how, where, and to whom it was taught. This, in turn, further influenced the development of the dance form and movement vocabulary itself. As new contexts for dance were created, so too did its meaning and function (Foley 2013: 148). In the 1920s, schools of Irish step dance began to emerge in urban centers—where the Gaelic League’s influence was strongest—and in the 1930s these schools and teachers were registering with CLRG, with new schools continuing to be established, eventually replacing the itinerate dance masters. With this shift from a rural to an urban setting, dancing became viewed more as a leisure activity and less as an integrated part of everyday life. As a leisure activity, the focused age group changed from adults—who started learning at around age fourteen and older, and would continue to dance throughout 16 The CLRG is not the only regulatory body in existence, though it remains the largest. For more information on the event referred to as “The Split” by community members—in which the teacher’s organization An Comhdháil na Múinteoirí le Rincí Gaelacha split from the CLRG—see Cullinane 2016. 57 their lives—to young children and teenagers, many of whom stopped dancing after the age of eighteen. At this time, there was no career path for an Irish step dancer beyond teaching and adjudicating, and this would not change until the popularity of Riverdance introduced a need for professional show Irish dancers in 1995. Irish dance in many ways became viewed as an activity for children, a view that strongly affects the reception of adult Irish dancers in today’s competitive scene. The predominant gender changed as well—the urban view on dance was of it being an unmasculine activity, and many boys chose to participate in Irish sports instead of the dance classes. Additionally the Gaelic Athletic Association that oversaw sporting activities such as Gaelic football and hurling was not welcoming to girls, who instead took dance classes. This was a shift from the rural step dance tradition, which was male- dominated (Foley 2013: 147-151). The changes in age and gender influenced the way in which the movement changed. As Foley explains, These traditional step dances [from rural North Kerry] were earthy in style, and emphasized movements and beats created with the feet making contact with the floor…Spatially, the required aesthetic was earthy and confined. However, the young age group and the athletic ability of younger dancers assisted in the development of…a more elevated and sharped style of step dancing. (Ibid.: 149) Additionally, the ability of female bodies to generally have more flexibility than male bodies influenced kinetic vocabulary as well, and moves that required a great deal of flexibility (such as high kicks and slices) would become incorporated into the dance style as well. In general, the style of Irish dance shifted from one that was “close to the floor” (more earthy and grounded) to a more heightened, athletic style. Another factor influencing the shift to an athletic style was the change in competition venues: 58 instead of small stages outdoors, more frequently competitions were held in large indoor halls with larger stages for championship dances. Larger spaces meant dancers could move the dances more, and traveling movements became a part of the vocabulary (ibid.: 149). The twentieth and early twenty-first centuries saw a continued increase in the required athleticism of dancers in order to perform larger and sharper movements; and the last three or four years of my fieldwork, there has been a new focus on training and nutrition for competitive dancers, a response to the high rate of injury among Irish dancers. This new focus on the health of the dancers will likely lead to increased fitness levels, and perhaps further propelling the use of athletic movements within Irish step dancing. Today, Irish step dancing no longer carries the political and nationalistic meanings for its dancers that it once had. However, these nationalist origins cannot be ignored, as they significantly influence how Irish dancing is taught, performed, and perceived (ibid.: 193). When a student dances without crossing their feet or keeping their arms by their sides, their teacher does not say that they are not dancing well, he or she scolds, “That’s not Irish dancing.” When audiences outside Ireland watch Irish step dance performances, they often ask the dancers afterwards if they are Irish or have Irish heritage.17 The Irish language is still used in the globally distributed official CLRG materials and at major international competitions, teachers attempting to pass the TCRG exam in Ireland are required to demonstrate language competency through an additional Irish language exam, and the Irish national anthem is played at 17 When informing people that one of my fieldwork sites was in Japan, the fact of there being Irish dance schools in East Asia often completely baffled people into a moment of stunned silence, followed by the question, “Are there Irish people there?” 59 feiseanna outside of Ireland. Despite the fact that the history of the Gaelic League, its early nationalist agenda, and the formation of the CLRG is of little interest to the majority of dancers, the notion of Irishness has been made into a key component of Irish step dancing. Transnationalization As with the local and national histories above, it is impossible to give a comprehensive overview of the transnational spread of the modern competitive style of Irish step dancing here.18 However, it is important to note two of the key factors in this spread as background to the ethnographic case studies presented in Chapters Four and Five: the influence of the Gaelic League and Irish dance regulatory bodies such as An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha as institutionalizing and promoting their form of Irish step dance within Irish diasporic communities in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries and the transnational commercial success of Riverdance at the end of the twentieth century. The institutionalization and promotion of the competition system that required schools, teachers, and adjudicators to qualify and register with the CLRG not only worked to centralize Irish dancing in Ireland, but throughout the diaspora where Irish dance practices took place. And although dancers not of Irish descent took part in Irish step dance classes and competitions prior to the era of modern Irish dance show, the explosive popularity of Riverdance and the professional shows that followed it 18 There are many excellent resources that discuss aspects of the spread and development of Irish step dancing in the Irish diaspora, such as Casey 2006; Cullinane 1990, 1997, 2013, 2014, and 2016; Morrison 2001, 2003; Flanagan 2009; Foley 2001, 2013; McManus 2016; Moloney, Morrison, and Quigley 2009. 60 starting in the mid-1990s promoted Irish step dancing to new communities in new locales, and competitive Irish step dancing saw a dramatic increase in participants. In my research, the majority of my informants who grew up outside of Ireland came to Irish dancing because of seeing Riverdance. Below, I discuss the certification process required of teachers and adjudicators by the CLRG as well as some background information to Riverdance and show style dancing. As Foley writes of today’s Irish step dancing practices, Currently, Irish step dancing is no longer confined on the grounds of ethnicity or geography (including Ireland and the diaspora). Step dancing has become a transnational dance form, and sits on the global kinetic palette of diverse moment systems to be selected, or not, by individuals who embrace whatever movement systems they choose to avail of, based on matters of self-interest, self-expression, identity or the meaning it may hold for them. Today, step dancing is practised, enjoyed and studied by thousands of step dancers, not only in Kerry, Ireland and its diaspora, but also in Japan, Russia, Norway, Eastern Europe, Africa and further afield. It is performed within social, competitive, theatrical and third-level academic contexts, and is practised by young and old, amateur and professional step dancers. There are those who do it, those who actively watch it, those who research it, and those who combine all of these. (Ibid. 2013: 231) Through the case studies in this dissertation, I explore how transnational and local aspects of the Irish dance tradition come together and structure one another in various contexts in the United States and Japan. As Foley has done with her ethnographic studies of Irish step dancers in North Kerry to chart the trajectory of local, national, and transnational Irish dance practices in Ireland, I detail American and Japanese Irish step dance practices and communities so that we may begin to understand how these different levels of practices synchronically come together in studios, competitions, and performances outside of Ireland. 61 Teacher and Adjudicator Examinations The Scrúdú Teastas Rince Céilí (céilí teacher certification, TMRF), Teastas Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (teacher certification, TCRG) and Árd Diploma Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (adjudicator certification, ADCRG) examinations were instituted by the CLRG in 1943, and are still required by teachers and adjudicators today, although the form of the exam has changed over time (Cullinane 2013: 16).19 As Foley notes, “In establishing these examinations, An Coimisiún proclaimed itself to be a validating body and authority on Irish dancing” (Foley 2013: 145). Additionally, through the requirements of the teachers’ examinations, the CLRG establishes a core repertoire for its teachers, establishing a precedent for what is considered most valuable and worthy of study and performance as part of the Irish dance tradition. For example, both Foley and Cullinane note that in the 1970s there was a marked decline in the performance of traditional set dances (see below for description). Cullinane remembers, “Sets such as The Blackbird, Garden of Daises, Job of Journeywork and St. Patrick’s Day were rarely performed. They were considered unfashionable and shunned by the more completed dancers. The Commission decided to try to preserve these by making them compulsory for the TCRG and ADCRG exams” (Cullinane 2013: 43). There was an association of traditional set dances with old-style Irish dancing, and many dancers simply preferred 19 Additional certifications are the Associate Teacher title and SDCRG (Scrúdaithoir Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha). The Associate Teacher exam is a limited version of the TCRG exam that if passed grants the instructor association with the CLRG for five years, allowing their students to compete at CLRG competitions. The teacher must then take the full TCRG exam within five years to continue their membership with the organization (Cullinane 2013: 70). The SDCRG diploma began in 2013, and is granted to ADCRGs who are accepted as qualified examiners by the Udarás Scrúdaithe (examination authority) (ibid.: 100). 62 the heightened and more athletic slow-speed hard shoe steps and contemporary set dances, thus the decline of traditional sets among modern competitive Irish step dancers. However, by requiring teachers and adjudicators to perform these dances, the CLRG managed to keep the traditional sets from fading out of their repertoire completely.20 CLRG also required certain versions of these traditional set dances be danced, and when taking her own TCRG exam in 1977, Foley was required to learn these institutionalized versions (Foley 2013: 179).21 This is an example of how through this examination process (as well as the competition system) the CLRG has a great deal of power over the types of dances taught and how they are performed. In order to sit for the TMRF and TCRG exams, candidates must be twenty years old and recommended by a current TCRG or ADCRG. ADCRG candidates must be at least thirty years old, and must have been actively teaching for a period of five years. The 2015-2016 syllabus required TCRG candidates such as Mary Page Day and Yuika Nakagawa (introduced in Chapters Four and Five, respectively) to take five total tests as part of the examination process: two written tests on music and the céilí dances as outlined in Ár Rincí Céilí, two teaching tests in which they demonstrate their ability to teach different levels of solo step and céilí dances, and a 20 Today, traditional sets have enjoyed a resurgence in popularity, in large part due to the addition of traditional set competitions for non-championship competitors at regional oireachtasaí. 21 It should be noted that although these versions are very similar from school to school, they are not the exact same choreographies, however they are accepted by the CLRG for exams and competition. In 2013, CLRG announced that other traditional versions of these dances would be allowed (Foley 2013: 179). Foley has been instrumental in introducing itinerant dance master Jeremiah Molyneaux’s traditional set choreographies to today’s Irish step dancers—the ones she learned from informants during her fieldwork—and these versions are now permitted in competitions. I had the opportunity to learn Molyneaux’s “St. Patrick’s Day” from Taka Hayashi in Tokyo, who learned it while studying with Foley at the University of Limerick. 63 practicing examination demonstrating the candidates ability to perform steps as well as traditional and non-traditional sets (An Coimisiún le Rincí Galeacha 2015b).22 ADCRG candidates must retake these same five parts for their exam with the addition of an adjudication test, which consists of judging a mini-feis specially held for the exam, followed by an interview with the examination panel to discuss the results (An Coimisiún le Rincí Galeacha 2015a). The TMRF exam is a shortened version of the TCRG in which candidates demonstrate their knowledge of the dances in Ár Rincí Céilí through the writing and teaching tests (An Coimisiún le Rincí Galeacha 2015c). For all of these exams, if the candidate wishes to teach or adjudicate in Ireland, they must also take an oral Irish language test—a requirement that harkens back to the Gaelic League’s original agenda of Irish language preservation and promotion. Until the advent of Riverdance, becoming a teacher and adjudicator was the only career path available to competitive Irish dancers who wished to continue to be a part of the tradition once they no longer took part in feiseanna. However, as evidenced above, the examination process to follow this path is intensive, and not for the faint of heart. In 2017, the pass rate for those candidates who took the examinations in Washington D.C. was only 57% for the TCRG and 44% for the ADCRG (personal communication, 2017). It is rare to pass these exams on the first try, particularly in the case the ADCRG exam. Candidates may attempt each exam up to six times, but are required to wait at least six months in between each attempt. 22 Beginning in January 2018, candidates will be required to have completed all twelve levels of grade examinations in order to be eligible for the TCRG. The grade examination scheme was created at the same time as the teacher and adjudicator examinations in 1943 to provide dancers an alternative to competitions where they could develop and receive feedback on their dancing skills. Due to the new requirement for the TCRG, grade exams have enjoyed a surge in popularity. 64 Through these examinations, the CLRG maintains tight control of not just the repertoire, but also the standard of teaching and judging that takes place in its organization. In the next section, I outline the competition schema that guides what materials are taught and performed within Irish step dance schools that participate in feiseanna and oireachtasaí. Competitions: Feiseanna and Oireachtasaí “May the Feis Be With You”—T-shirt quote from the Irish Dance T-Shirt Company Figure 2.3: Overlooking the 2017 Comhaltas Irish Festival (commonly referred to as CCÉ Feis) at Mount St. Mary’s University, Emmitsburg, Maryland As noted above, the competitive spirit has long been a key aspect of Irish step dancing, even prior to the formation of CLRG, and today taking part in formalized competitions is a major focus for many schools and their students. As Hall writes, “It is nearly impossible to separate Irish solo step-dancing and competition. As far back 65 as memories, records, and legends go there have been competitions of one sort or another between dancing masters, their pupils, or simply people with clever feet” (Hall 2008: 35). It is out of these events that today’s highly ritualized and regulated competitions evolved, and have played a crucial role in both maintaining tradition and well as pushing the art form to new heights as dancers and their teachers strive to create new winning steps and rhythms within the competition system’s rules and regulations. Both solo and group dances are performed at competitions, which can be split into two large categories: smaller local competitions for all skill levels called feis (singular) and feiseanna (plural), and larger regional, national, and international competitions for the highest level Open Championship competitors, called oireachtas (singular) or oireachtasaí (plural), Majors, or championships.23 Being a newcomer to “feis-ing,” as it is often called in the United States, can be an overwhelming experience for both dancers and their support systems, whether they are parents, partners, or friends. Catherine Foley (2013) and Helena Wulff (2007) have provided ethnographic depictions of the World Championships, and the organized chaos described applies to local feiseanna as well, just on a smaller scale. At my own first feis as an adult—Feis Culkin, the local competition in Boyds, 23 The word oireachtas is typically part of the name of specific regional competitions (i.e., the Southern Region Oireachtas is the major regional championship for the Southern Region of the Irish Dance Teachers Association of North America (IDTANA), the North American organizational body for CLRG), and typically used by dancers to refer to their regional championship. The term oireachtas may also be in the title of other Majors but it differs for each event. The World Irish Dancing Championships are formally called the Oireachtas Rince na Cruinne, though most community members simply call it the Worlds. The term is applied differently to different national competitions. The North American national competitions are simply called The North American National Championships, and are referred to as the Nationals, whereas the Irish nationals are named the All-Irelands or Oireachtas Rince na hÉireann. 66 Maryland put on by the Culkin School—I felt as though I had been pulled through the looking glass, and by the end of the day I was completely overstimulated by the sheer amount of movement, color, and sound that had surrounded me nonstop from 8 A.M. until my last competition at 5 P.M. Jigs, reels, and hornpipes from eight different musicians on eight different stages were played simultaneously, and dancers— overwhelmingly female, many of whom wore gigantic curly wigs decked out with tiaras—danced their soft and hard shoe steps in front of adjudicators, with those off stage practicing as they waited, often just avoiding colliding with parents, siblings, teachers, volunteers, or other dancers who were making their way to and from the stages, vendors, or awards area. An amazing variety of colors adorned dancers, who compete in either school or solo costumes, depending on their skill level and the rules each school sets to regulate dancers’ dress. It seemed as though glitter and Swarovski crystals adorned every girl and boy wearing a solo outfit, all carefully placed to catch the attention and memory of a judge, and many of the girls sported overly tanned legs to show off their musculature as they danced. And over it all, cheers and shrieks of delight from dancers and their supporters regularly washed out all other sound as championship awards were announced for each age group and skill level throughout the day. 67 Figure 2.4: CLRG competition structure Competition Categories: Age and Gender Figure 2.4 shows the different types of competitions that may be offered at a feis or oireachtas. As shown above, both feiseanna and oireachtasaí feature team and solo competitions. All competitions listed—except for dance dramas—are split by age group. Solo competitions at feiseanna (reel, hornpipe, etc.) are split by both age group and skill level. Skill level requirements for students to compete at oireachtasaí vary depending on the particular competition and individual schools.24 It should be 24 For example, at the Southern Region Oireachtas in the US, students can technically be at any skill level and compete in the solo championships, however the Culkin School requires its students to be either Preliminary or Open Championship level. At the US Nationals, students are required to be Preliminary or Open Champions to compete in the solo championships, and if they are Open Champions, they do not need to qualify at their regional 68 noted that not all the listed competitions in Figure 2.3 are always offered at each event—for example, traditional set competitions are offered to non-Open Championship level dancers at the Southern Region Oireachtas, but are not offered at the North American Nationals or World Championships. An example from the 2016 Feis Culkin syllabus is featured in Appendix 1, showing the different types of competitions that were offered, the skill level splits with definitions, and the age groups. One special age category that will be examined further in Chapter Seven is that of “adult,” the beginner skill level of which is defined by the North American Feis Commission (NAFC) as “Adult Beginner: An adult beginner is a competitor who never took Irish dancing lessons as a juvenile and is over 18 years of age.” (“Dancing Competition Rules, Adopted by The North American Feis Commission, 2015”, accessed December 2016). Dancers who competed as children are allowed to compete in the adult category as well, but they must not have competed in the children’s category in five years. Although the portion of the syllabus shown in Appendix 1 does not specify that children’s solo competitions are split by gender, boys’/men’s and girls’/ladies’ championship level competitions at feiseanna are typically separated if there are enough registrants to warrant doing so. At the oireachtas, competitions are always split by gender. Grades level (both children’s and adults’) competitions are not split oireachtas in order to compete. At the World Championships, students must be Open Championship level dancers and they are required to have qualified at either a regional or national oireachtas. 69 by gender, although it used to be the case that children’s grade level competitions were also split.25 Competition Categories: Skill Level There are two main categories of skill level: non-championship levels, also called grades competitions, and championship levels. Grade are separated into Beginner (Bun Grád/“Beginner Grade”), Advanced Beginner (Tús Grad/“Primary Grade”), Novice (Meán Grád/“Intermediate Grade”), and Prizewinner (Árd Grad/“Open” or “High Grade”).26 Dancers in the adult age category may only compete in grades.27 At these levels, dancers compete in separate dances. For example, a dancer may compete in reel, slip jig, treble jig, and hornpipe—each dance is a separate competition, with awards given out just for that particular dance. At the Preliminary and Open Championship levels, the competitions change to two or three round championship, respectively. Scores from each round are added up, are converted into what are called “Irish Points,” and the winner with the highest score wins that championship.28 For Open Championship competitions at oirechtasaí, 25 I’ve talked to both my teachers and some parents within the Culkin School about this—no one is sure when the rule changed, but all remembered that it used to be the case that all solo competitions (except in the adult age category) were separated by gender. 26 I will be primarily using the terms Beginner, Advanced Beginner, Novice, and Prizewinner, as these are the terms used to describe skill levels by the North American regions. The direct English translations of the Irish terms were used by the schools I worked with in Tokyo. 27 Preliminary and Open Championship levels are not open to the adult age category, although some feiseanna will feature “specials” that are set up in a championship-style (i.e., two or three rounds of dances) for adult dancers (see figure 2.3). Some schools will allow adult dancers who are perceived to have the appropriate skill level to “drop down” from the adult age category to an “and Over” (i.e., “18 years and Over”) age category so they may try to qualify for Preliminary and Open Championships. See Chapter Seven. 28 The “Irish Points” system is used in championship competitions to compensate for the subjectivity in individual ranking systems used by adjudicators. Each adjudicator has his or 70 only a certain top percentage—depending on the number of competitors—will be recalled to perform their third round set dance, this being based on the combined scores from the first two rounds. If it is a small number of competitors, all those who danced will be recalled for a third round. Only dancers who have “gotten a recall” will be given awards at the end of the day. At regionals, only a certain percentage— again, based on the number of competitors—of those ranked will qualify to compete at their national competition and/or Worlds competition.29 At a national competition, those who have not yet qualified for Worlds have another chance, as those who rank within a certain percentage at those competitions can qualify for the World championships at that time. Winners of solo championship competitions at the Worlds automatically qualify to compete in the next year’s Worlds.30 In a Preliminary Championship, dancers perform a hard shoe round, either hornpipe or treble jig, and a soft shoe round, either reel or slip jig (only female dancers). If a female dancer does a hornpipe for their first round, they will perform a reel for their second, and if they do a treble jig for their first, then a slip jig will be performed for their second. Male dancers always do reel for their soft shoe, regardless her marks they use to assign a raw score out of a 100 points to a dancer: for example, two different adjudicators may give the same dancer first place in a round, but one judge assigns that dancer 90 points, whereas the other gives 83. Instead of only using the raw scores to determine rankings then, these scores are converted to Irish Points where a first place raw score is converted to 100 points, second place becomes 75 points, and so on. These new point totals are used to determine the overall winner of the championship. After a competition, dancers receive their marks, and are able to see both the raw and Irish Point scores from each judge. 29 Although dancers can qualify to compete at national competitions through their regional oireachtas it is only required of Preliminary Champions to qualify in order to compete. If a dancer is an Open Champion, they automatically qualify for Nationals and may compete regardless of their placement (if they took part in) their regional oireachtas. 30 For further (up to date) details regarding rules and regulations for championships, see the official CLRG website at http://www.clrg.ie. 71 of the type of hard shoe dance performed in the first round. In an Open Championship, the dancers perform those same two rounds with an added third round of a non-traditional set dance, which is typically a contrasting tune type from the hard shoe first round. For example, if a dancer performed a hornpipe for their first round, they will perform a treble jig set dance. These are not hard and fast rules for feiseanna, however they are for Majors. The dances a student performs at an oireachtas is determined by their age group, and it alternates each year. For example, at the 2016 World Championships held in Glasgow, Scotland, those who competed in the “Ladies 20-21” age group were required to dance a hornpipe, a reel, and a treble jig set dance. “Ladies 19-20” were required to perform a treble jig (listed as “double jig” on the syllabus), a slip jig, and a hornpipe set dance (An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha 2016). The other major difference between grades and championship levels in terms of dancing, other than the difficulty level of the steps being performed, has to do with the number of steps performed in competition. At the grades level, dancers perform two steps, both right and left foot leads, for each dance, a total of 32 bars of music. An additional step or half step is added when dances are performed at the championship levels, depending on the type of dance. Reel and treble jig require three full steps (48 bars), hornpipe and slip jig require two and a half steps (40 bars, with the half step only being danced with the right foot leading). Although it may not seem like a significant difference, because of the high level of athleticism required for steps at these levels, an additional half step or full step can be very physically challenging, 72 and is meant to show the level of endurance a dancer has to be able to finish with the same technical precision shown at the beginning of the dance. Although each school has different rules regarding when they allow students to progress to the next skill level in competition, generally a dancer must earn first place in a dance against at least five other competitors. For example, if a dancer is performing all of his or her steps at the Novice level, but wins first place in reel against at least five other competitors, they will then begin to compete in reel dances at the Prizewinner level at the next feiseanna. The move from Prizewinner up to Preliminary Championship, and then to Open Championship is more rigorous, though it does vary depending on the requirements set by individual schools. At the Culkin School, students must have two firsts in each Prizewinner dance to move up to Preliminary, and then two Preliminary Championship firsts to move into Open. These firsts must be obtained within one year of each other. Governing Bodies Individual feis—typically run by Irish dance schools or sometimes local chapters of the Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (“The Organization for Irish Musicians” or CCÉ)—are subject to the rules imposed by CLRG, their national governing body, and their regional governing body, and depending on those rules they may be required to offer certain competitions or age levels. For example, the Culkin School is a part of the Southern Region of the United States, which falls under the purview of the North American Feis Commission (NAFC) and Irish Dance Teachers Association of North America (IDTANA), all of which are regulated by the CLRG. 73 An example of competition offerings that differs from region to region is that of adult competitions. The CLRG and NAFC/IDTANA do not require that feiseanna offer adult competitions, and leaves the decision up to each region. The Southern Region of the United States also does not require feiseanna to offer adult competitions, though they do regulate what types of competitions may be offered for adults—this differs from, for example, the Mid-America Region, which requires all feiseanna run in that region to offer certain adult competitions. Despite not being required to offer them, the Culkin School, which is located in the Southern Region, chooses to hold adult competitions, due in part to its large program dedicated specifically to classes for adults. This is one example of how regulations work with regard to what may or may not be offered for competition at different feiseanna. It is important to remember that these events, while highly regulated by various governing bodies in order to strive for some level of standardization regionally and transnationally, are also subject to the values and aesthetic preferences of the individuals (such as adjudicators) and schools that participate in them. Additionally, there are many different kinds of experiences participants have at these events, depending on whether they are a dancer (and their age, gender, and skill level), teacher, adjudicator, musician, or family member. What is described above is only a surface look of the complex world of Irish dance competition as it currently exists—I believe it important to provide a basic outline of this system, as competitions are key focus locations of Irish dance practices, and this discussion sets the stage for Chapter Three’s ethnographic snapshot of the music practices at the 2017 North American National Championships, as well as Chapter Four’s 74 ethnographic look at competitions as a focus location for members of the Culkin School community. Costuming and Appearance In conclusion I can only say that the dancing costumes and accessories have about reached their limits. It is difficult to see how much more elaborate they can become, but no doubt the dancers will find a way. -John Cullinane, 1996: 85 Costume Rules: 4.4.4 In order to protect dancers from hazardous objects on stage while competing, costumes may not be decorated with feathers. -CLRG Rules on Presentation, October 2015 Figure 2.5: The skirt of a solo dress made for the author in 2017 by SkyDance Dresses, an Irish dance solo dress company based out of the Ukraine. For more examples of traditional and solo costumes, see the photographs from Chapter Four and Five. Costumes worn for feiseanna and oireachtasaí can be divided into two main categories: traditional school costumes and solo costumes. Although each school has different rules regarding when a dancer may begin to wear a solo costume, in general, dancers wear their traditional costumes for céilí and figure competitions and for 75 Beginner through Novice or Prizewinner solo competitions. Solo costumes are earned by achieving a requisite number of first places, and are generally worn by Prizewinner students close to moving up into the championship levels, and by Preliminary and Open Championship dancers. Traditional costumes range in style, but typically feature a school’s colors and embroidery that is evocative of traditional Celtic designs. Solo costumes, particularly dresses for girls and women, are incredibly elaborate, featuring extensive embroidery and crystaling, and are intended to draw attention to the dancer on stage. They are also expensive: these bespoke dresses often run several thousand dollars apiece, with many dancers changing dresses each year as they grow or the style changes.31 Although some boys’ and men’s solo vests are also embroidered and crystaled, many at the championship levels choose to compete in simple, formal outfits, such as a plain tie and jacket. The typical appearance of female Irish dancers—particularly those who compete in the championship levels—is an often debated subject among community members as well by outsiders to the tradition. It is the “beauty pageant” aesthetic that is of most concern. In addition to the very expensive dresses, girls and women typically wear wigs of a variety of sizes and shapes when they dance: a nod to the tradition of wearing curled hair without the fuss of sleeping in rollers.32 Often the 31 For more information on the history of Irish dance costuming, see Cullinane 1996. 32 When the Gaelic League and CLRG began formalizing competitions in the early 1900s, it was typical for competitors to wear their “Sunday best.” In the case of women, this included curling their hair, as it was the style at the time. This tradition was passed on and has become part of the expected look for female dancers in competition. In the late 1990s, companies began offering wigs as an easier, albeit expensive, alternative to daughters and parents fighting over the painful process of setting hair in curlers. While some competitors (or 76 wigs are decorated with large bejeweled pins or tiaras, some of which reach truly epic proportions in terms of size and weight. Additionally, most dancers choose not to wear black tights (although adult competitors are required to wear them, see Chapter Seven), but are bare legged with poodle socks (long white socks that feature a bubble pattern). Many competitors choose to apply a fake tan to their legs, both to show off musculature as well as prevent harsh stage lighting at major competitions from washing them out. Heavy stage makeup for older competitors (those under the age of 12 are not permitted to wear makeup) is also typical, again ostensibly to protect against the danger of stage lights from muting facial features. However, in regards to both tanning and makeup, these styles are still present in smaller feiseanna where there are no stage lights to be concerned with—they are truly just part of “the look” currently expected of a female championship dancer. Although this is an aesthetic that has developed over time due to the desire of dancers to catch the attention of an adjudicator—when there are between 150 and 200 competitors, there is pressure to try to stand out and be remembered—many parents, teachers, and adjudicators are concerned about the message sent to both the dancers and those outside the community. They worry that appearances on stage paint a picture that it is not the hard work of the dancers that matters, but rather how they look and how much money is spent to achieve that look. And although this is not entirely true—the dancers who are at the top of the podium are legitimately skilled and have put in the hard work to be there—there is something to be said about the schools) may choose to compete with natural straightened hair, long curly or bun wigs are most typically seen in today’s competitions. 77 fact that top placing dancers are very often the ones not only with expensive appearances but who also would be considered beautiful by the current typical Euro- American standards of beauty. I have been told by several adjudicators that, whether they like it or not, physical appearance and stage presence can often weight into their decisions: if two dancers are of equal skill, the one with better stage presence (whether that is a confidence attitude as a result of feeling that they have danced well or are dressed to impress, or because of their “look”) is typically going to be placed higher.33 There is also concern among community members that because of the pressure to spend money to achieve this aesthetic, many dancers and families drop out of the tradition because they simply are not financially able to do so. Although I agree with these concerns, I also am skeptical that a trend reversal to simpler costumes and less elaborate appearances is in the near future. Ultimately, these trends are driven by the desires of the dancers, the majority of whom are young girls that very much enjoy the chance to dress up in sparkly, colorful costumes that make them feel confident and beautiful, not to mention wearing makeup normally not allowed by their parents for everyday life. While I have seen some older competitors in the Senior Ladies age category break with these trends (for example, wearing pants and a blouse at the Worlds, showing off a pixie hair cut among a sea of bouncy curls, or wearing a plain black leotard and skirt), it is highly unusual. And although there 33 A former Irish dance parent told me a story about a game she and the other dance moms would play when attending majors: she would watch female competitors as they stood side- stage before they danced and guess which ones would end up on the podium at awards, these guesses being based solely on their appearance and not their dancing. She apparently got quite good at it, and by the end of her son’s dancing career, she could accurately guess the placements of those dancers. 78 was a brief moment in the 1990s after the debut of Riverdance in which competitors imitated the simpler costumes worn by Jean Butler, even this show, which impacted the community of Irish dancing in spectacular ways, did not manage to permanently change the trend of elaborate costumes. I would expect that dancers will continue to find new ways to stand out on stage, and the CLRG will continue to update their costuming rules to try to curtail it—that is, as much as they dare without cutting into the dressmaker businesses that have come to be an important component of the economics of Irish dancing. “Riverdancing”: Show-style Irish Step Dancing On April 30, 1994, Riverdance premiered as an interval act in the Eurovision Song Contest, and as Helena Wulff writes, “Europe stopped for seven minutes” (Wulff 2007: 109).34 This act, set to music composed by Bill Whelan, featured the Irish choir Anúna, solo soft and hard shoe dance from Irish-American World Championship dancers Jean Butler and Michael Flatley, and ended with a spectacular hard shoe chorus line of dancers. The music, lighting, and technical-prowess displayed in the act made Riverdance into an overnight sensation, and it was quickly developed into a full production that launched in 1995 featuring not just Irish dance and song, but Spanish flamenco, Russian ballet, and American tap, woven together into a nostalgic story of Ireland and the Irish diaspora. As of 2017, the show is still touring around the world—Riverdance’s media promotion website claims to have performed live to over 25 million people in 467 34 For video, see https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 79 venues across 47 countries, with a television viewership of over 28 million (Riverdance Media 2017). The impact Riverdance and the subsequent commercialization of the Irish dance show has had on the transnational Irish dance cohort cannot be overstated. There are many excellent scholarly discussions of the “Riverdance effect” on the Irish dance community, the perceptions and visibility of Irish dancing, and perceptions of Ireland and Irish culture (see O’Connor 1998; Sherlock 1999; Foley 2001, 2013; Wulff 2003, 2009; Hall 2008; Wilson 2006; Moloney, Morrison, and Quigley 2009). Although Irish dance shows and the show style of dancing did exist prior to Riverdance, it was Riverdance that popularized them—to the point where all types of traditional Irish dancing came to be referred to by those outside the Irish dance community as “Riverdancing.” As Wulff writes, “There had been long [chorus] lines in Irish dancing before, but not this long” (Wulff 2007: 113). Riverdance opened the door to Irish dance performance as a viable career path. It is impossible to definitively define what “show” or “performance style” Irish step dancing is, as it is as varied and complex as where it is performed and those who perform it. However, it is an all-encompassing and vague term that—like “traditional”—is frequently used by community members. It can contain a number of different characteristics, as there are many different ways Irish dance shows could be and are put together, but for the dancers I worked with there were a number of common characteristics that can be placed into a list of what the idea of a show style generally is. 80 Show style Irish step dance refers to a style of movement that has evolved from but is still closely linked to competitive Irish step dance. When speaking about this style, dancers are generally discussing professional or professional-level dancing taking place in some sort of theatrical context—many competitive dance schools hold regular public performances, and may incorporate a show style into those dances, but these are not the types of performances being referred to. The fundamental movements come directly from competitive Irish step dancing (i.e. turn out, crossing, high on toes, still upper body), however these may be more relaxed or stylized depending on the choreographer and type of show being produced. In these types of shows, the music danced to is recognizably “Irish” in terms of instrumentation, melody, and texture, but often incorporates other musical genres and, like the movements in the dance, breaks away from the rules of both traditional Irish music and the feis music that is regulated for competitions (see Chapter Three). When dancers speak of show style, they are generally speaking about shows such as Riverdance, which could be held up as a paradigm of the style: Michael Flatley and Jean Butler came out of the CLRG competition world (as did their supporting cast of Irish dancers), moved their arms while they danced, and choreographed their dances to fit with composer Bill Whelan’s Irish music score, which was heavily influenced by Eastern European melodies and rhythms. However, it is important to note that there are many other types of show performances that differ drastically from professional and commercialized shows like Riverdance, Lord of the Dance, and Heartbeat of Home. For example, local productions such as those put on by Kate Bole’s Culkin LIVE performance troupe in 81 the Washington D.C., area and Satomi Mitera in Tokyo contain many of the elements listed above, but are rendered in very different ways and in different locations. It is also important to note that show-style dancing existed prior to Riverdance: the Chicago-based Trinity Irish Dance Company, which is connected to the CLRG- registered school Trinity Academy of Irish Dance (of which Michael Flatley came out of), was founded in 1990 and claims to be “the birthplace of progressive Irish dance” (“Trinity Irish Dance Company” 2017).35 It should also be noted that show-style does not usually refer to the theatrical, story-telling type of dance productions that can be seen in CLRG dance drama competitions, though those certainly exist.36 As we will see later, for some dancers (particularly those in Japan), the differences in both the movements and ideas of show- and competitive-style dancing are significant and heavily influence the ways in which they think about and perform Irish step dancing. 35 Amusingly, there has been some passive-aggressive back and forth between the social media accounts of Riverdance and Trinity, each striving to be recognized as the first of its kind. Riverdance posts are often marked “#TheOriginalTheBest” after a quote by an Irish Times review, and Trinity has responded with their own hashtag of “#ThereCanOnlyBeOneOriginal.” Of course, both may actually be trumped by the McNiff Irish Dancers, as Eva McManus details in her 2016 book The Fifty Year Road to Riverdance. 36 See Foley 2013 regarding Siamsa Tiré, the National Folk Theatre of Ireland. 82 Section II: Introduction to the Focus Locations of Irish Step Dance Figure 2.6: Views of Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland Tucked away next to the Potomac River about eight miles outside Washington D.C. is Glen Echo Park, an old amusement park turned into an arts and culture park, run by the National Park Services (see Figure 3.5). An unusual collection of spaces made up of buildings preserved from its amusement park days (such as a working carousel, a ballroom, and huts with miniature Japanese Shinto-style torii standing outside them), the park serves as home for many resident artists and features a number music, dance, art, and theater programs. It also serves as a key location for the Culkin School, which holds adult classes in what is called the Annex (a multi- purpose room that serves several functions, including as a dance practice studio), early Sunday morning Culkin LIVE show practices in the Bumper Car Pavilion (a 83 partially enclosed outdoor structure that formerly featured bumper car rides; it holds a small stage and a large open floor with wood slats), and a summer camp that holds classes in both these spaces. There’s even a small outdoor stage called the Cuddle Up where teachers will occasionally hold private lessons with students preparing for competitions. The Culkin School also participates at events held at the park, such as the Washington Folk Festival, and students and teachers frequently gather for dancing to live music at the Irish Inn pub, a short walk from the Bumper Car Pavilion and Annex. And although feiseanna are not currently held at Glen Echo Park, the CCÉ feis, one of the first competitions Culkin School students attended when the school started in 1997, used to take place there. Although the Culkin School has a number of studio spaces where classes and lessons are held, I highlight Glen Echo Park here both because of its unique collection of spaces and because of the Culkin School’s long-standing relationship with it. Glen Echo Park is an example of a “focus location” of the Culkin School: a place where the movements and relationships of Irish dance are performed and negotiated, and the local and transnational ideas and aesthetics of Irish dance intertwine. Ian Condry’s framework of genba (現場) provides a method for examining the ways in which cultural traditions unfold and are performed within and through specific contexts. Condry’s use of the word Japanese word “genba”—which is made up of the characters gen (現), “to appear”, and ba (場) “place”, roughly meaning “place where something actually happens, appears, or is made”—refers to locations important to Japan’s hip-hop scene (Condry 2006: 89). Specifically, he uses the idea of genba to explore how cultures are actualized through performance in specific 84 locations: “As such my focus is not on ‘culture of a people’ nor ‘culture of a place’ so much as ‘culture as it is performed.’ This offers a way of analyzing the complex linkages of global and local that operate in different artists’ work” (ibid.: 18). Although part of my fieldwork did take place in Japan, I will be using the English term that Condry suggests in place of genba to avoid confusion: “focus location,” a location where attention and energy is focused on “getting something done” (ibid.: 225). By examining Irish step dance through its focus locations—the studio, feis, stage, and body—we can examine the forces that drive its transnationalization. This section serves to broadly introduce these focus location categories and the role they play in Irish dance; they will also be discussed in the context of my specific case studies in the United States and Japan. Condry argues that by using a framework of focus locations, we can learn a number of different things about both a tradition itself and the ways in which cultural globalization takes place. Importantly, it offers an alternative way to approach discussions of the local versus the global: instead of trying to determine only if localization or global homogenization of a music or dance is taking place, we can see how these actually occur together and are mutually constructed and reinforced. “Glocalization” and “grobalization” are terms coined by Roland Robertson (1995, 2001) and George Ritzer (2004) that are representative of the contrasting viewpoints on the local versus global debate within globalization scholarship. Glocalization (“global” plus “local”) refers to global ideas that adapt and form to local particulars, whereas grobalization (“grow” plus “globalization”) refers to the idea that large entities (nations, corporations, organizations, etc.), aiming to grow their power and 85 influence, impose their products or ideologies, promoting global homogenization. However, similar to Condry’s observation of hip-hop performance in Japan, these terms do not neatly apply to Irish dance—it has not drastically diversified through processes of localization (whether that sense of local is Japanese, American, Mexican, etc.), nor is it completely homogenized to a global style. Condry argues that this is because, in reality, these processes are proceeding simultaneously: Take voting, for example. Voting in a national election constitutes participation in global ideas of democratic process; it reinforces a national identity by defining rules of citizenship; and it also enacts individual choices in contests between local candidates. Global standardization, nationalization, and localization all get reinforced simultaneously. (2006: 93) In the history section above, I drew on Catherine Foley’s framework of local, national, and global stages as a way to organize and understand the initial paths of Irish dance’s development and spread through Ireland, the diaspora, and beyond. By identifying and examining focus locations of Irish dance, we can see how local, national, and transnational forces interact and mutually construct the genre and community today. In other words, we can focus on how Irish dance and its culture is transmitted and performed. Although this dissertation does not focus specifically on social media as a focus location, it is important to note its significance. The ability and variety of ways in which Irish step dance community members can connect and interact over social media has increased dramatically since I began as a student with the Culkin School in 2012. Websites and applications such as Facebook, YouTube, Tumblr, and Instagram can be viewed as a digital focus location that draws from and contributes to participation in and around Irish step dancing. These sites and apps have transformed 86 connections between dancers, musicians, schools, adjudicators, and stars of professional dance shows. They have also provided a means for Irish dance companies (who sell everything from couture solo competition costumes to health and fitness training packages specifically tailored for Irish dancers) to easily reach dancers and their families to promote products.37 Although most schools still have strict rules regarding the sharing of videos of original school steps on social media, there has been a dramatic increase in dancers videoing themselves dancing steps in whole or in part (whether they are allowed to or not) and posting them to YouTube and Facebook. The same goes for videos taken at competitions: CLRG has regulations against videoing competitors who are above the Beginner level, however despite self-policing among community members, videos from competitions can increasingly be found on these sites. This has increased the ability to watch steps from different places, influencing creativity and even providing an opportunity to some students who may not be able to attend a dance school.38 Social media provides an important context in which local and transnational cultural flows can come together, impacting Irish dance movements, meaning, and relationships. 37 Additionally, there are online message boards referred to as the Voy boards that have become an important—and often less than positive—method of communication in the Irish dance community, particularly among dance parents. Although schools advertise their upcoming feis or grade exams there, or parents may use the Voy boards for exchanging information about hotels for local or major competitions, the boards have more or less turned into a place for anonymously posted gossip and heated arguments about schools, teachers, adjudicators, and CLRG rules. Some schools, including Culkin, have specifically banned the use of the Voy boards among their community members. 38 Laura Bach, an adult dancer with the Culkin School, spoke with me about dancers from China she met at a summer dance camp in Ireland who were completely self-taught from videos they found online (personal communication, 2015). 87 So where is it that things happen and are made in Irish dance? The focus location categories I have identified and conducted my fieldwork on are the studio, feiseanna and oireachtasaí (the competition events), the performance stage, and— most significantly—the body, which moves between all of these. It is within these contexts that relationships, meanings, and the steps, rhythms, and movements of Irish dance are created, negotiated, and transmitted. The first focus location, the studio, can be defined as any place where classes, private lessons, or group or solo practices take place. There is a great deal of variety in terms of physical locations and spaces for Irish dance studios: church gymnasiums, home basements and living rooms, hotel ballrooms, professional dance studios, the backrooms of bars and restaurants, and parks, just to name a few. Both the layout of the space (the size, the floor quality, and music set up) and the type of dance lesson (for example, a figures class versus a private lesson) or practice (individual practice versus a team practice for competition) greatly influence what and how material is being created, learned, and practiced as well as the dynamics of the relationships taking place. The relationships in focus in a studio setting are usually those between the students as well as between teachers and students. Competitions (feiseanna and oireachtasaí) are settings in which the steps and rhythms learned and practiced in the studio are performed (typically with live music) for adjudicators, who judge the dancers according to the requirements and aesthetics of the sport of Irish dance as well as their own personal preference for certain aesthetics over others. It is a setting in which the interplay between regulations and tradition versus creativity and innovation takes place, and the outcomes of which 88 ripple through the other focus locations. The outcomes of the adjudication, particularly with regard to major competitions such as the World Championships, strongly affect how teachers and dancers approach dance and athletic training within the studio. This interplay of tradition and innovation takes place not only in the dance form itself, but also in the musical accompaniment and the way in which dancers are costumed and presented on stage. Competitions also serve as a gathering place for all community members: musicians, adjudicators, teachers, students of all ages and skill levels, family members and friends, and occasionally outside spectators. All manner of relationships between members of different schools play out and new friendships and rivalries are formed. Competition days are described by all participants as being both exhausting and exhilarating, and provide an opportunity for an isolated and intensive focus on Irish dance and everything that surrounds it. The focus location of the “performance stage” represents locations in which both presentational and participatory performances take place, covering a wide range of contexts from informal pub performances on St. Patrick’s Day, to céilí dance events or workshops, to formal performances such as a school recital or a professional show at a major venue. Although still heavily influenced by the cultural flows from competitions, these are contexts in which dancers are not held to a stringent set of rules, allowing for a different type of creativity to emerge that is different from what is seen in the competition context. The stage has a different set of goals and a different type of presentation from what is seen in competition, and the different types of relationships formed between dancers, teachers, musicians, and audience members also differ from those in other focus locations. 89 The body is the final—and most important—of these focus locations. I argue that understanding that the body is a focus location of transnationalization is key to understanding cultural paths of local and transnational flows, not just in Irish dance, but in the performing arts broadly. It is within the body that “things happen” and “are made”—the most local of all contexts. It is the body that resides in and moves between, experiences and interprets what is seen in the studio, feis, and stage. It absorbs and reproduces the lessons learned in each of these contexts, circulating them between other locations. How dancers use their bodies to create, embody, and perform steps and rhythms, and the ways in which their bodies are perceived and how those perceptions affect their understanding of Irish dance will be explored through cultural perceptions of sensory experience, gender, and age. 90 Chapter 3: "Always Noise at 76": An Introduction to Feis Music and Feis Musicians at the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships In the first two rounds, we are there to be correct, right, to be compelling, to be lively, something that they really want to dance to. And then when it comes to the set dance round . . . there’s beautiful chords and beautiful interpretations of the tunes and stuff like that, but . . . [the dancer is] being scrutinized very closely in the set dance round, they’re by themselves. Particularly when you get to those 76 [bpm] set dances where they’re, you know, really slow. And I think if you are able to perform those proficiently for a dancer, it actually really enhances their ability to have a successful performance. So I think at these competitions—we have this phrase that we laugh about with the 76 set dances where we just call them “Always Noise” and that’s Brian [O’Sullivan]’s comic sense of humor and it’s kind of caught on with some of the guys. It’s like, “Always Producing Noise”—as long as there’s noise coming out of the instruments, that gives the dancer something to latch onto. And it’s just us having a laugh at it, because sometimes they’ll announce the set dance and you’ll have a listen and go, “Always Noise at 76.” You know? And then it’s more of a commentary on that’s actually what you have to do—if you’re on the piano, the successful way to do it is to fill out the sound a lot. Which I think gives the dancer something to latch onto and gives them a way to stay on time, because 76 set dances are a roast as a dancer, you know? -Interview Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017 It was about three fourths of the way through the second round of the Girls Under 15 competition on Thursday morning. I had only arrived the night before at the Hilton in New Orleans where the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships were being held, but this was actually the third full day of competitions, and it seemed as though the energy in the room was beginning to reflect that. From my vantage point with the musicians next to the stage I could clearly see the alert and focused engagement of the panel of seven adjudicators watching dancers, the musicians playing 48-bars of slip jig after 48-bars of slip jig, and teachers and parents nervously bobbing up and down in their seats as their student or child danced on stage. I could also see the copious number of coffee cups scattered throughout the room. As one Hilton employee had commented to me during our elevator ride that morning in place of the normal questions about the curly wigs: “Y’all drink a lot of coffee, huh?” As the next two girls stepped on stage to take their places, I heard Sean O’Brien play a couple of notes lightly on his piano accordion for Francis Ward, who was accompanying him on keyboard. Recognizing the melody, I felt my heart skip a beat and made an undignified dive to the ground for my phone, turning on the app that controlled the cardioid microphone set up between the keyboard and the stage. I had figured I had already recorded enough slip jigs to last a lifetime and turned the microphone off, but 91 there was no way I wasn’t getting a field recording of two of the top feis musicians in the world playing my favorite tune. Sean counted in, tapped the pedal connected to the drum machine, and began to play the introductory eight bars of “The Countess Cathleen”—a feis music arrangement of Bill Whelan’s Riverdance slip jig. The room transformed. Every one of the adjudicators suddenly sat up straighter in their seats, grins broken out on their faces, and began swaying to the music and tapping their pens in time on the table. Excited murmurs broke out in the audience, and several competitors who were waiting on the side of the room for their turn on stage began dancing in place. I turned in my seat to look at the two girls who were waiting to start in their places at the back of the stage. Pure joy was radiating from them both. Gone were the forced stage smiles they had walked on with, replaced with truly happy smiles and bright eyes that words cannot capture. I thought the dancer closest to me— who wore a sparkling purple and white solo dress, brunette curls piled behind a tiara on top of her head—was going to burst from her excited shaking. Two and a half steps of championship-level slip jig choreography—40 bars of music at 113 bmp—is a serious test of a dancer’s stamina, and several of the girls I watched that morning had struggled to maintain a smiling staging presence as they pushed through the last eight bars of their dance. Not these two. Those happy smiles stayed put the entire time as they bowed and walked off the stage, sincerely thanking Sean and Francis as they walked by to meet up with their families, friends, and teachers in the audience. As the next two competitors walked on stage, Sean looked around the room for a brief moment, smiling as though he could see the way the music has lifted all those who had heard it, then turned to Francis and named the key for the next tune. Figure 3.1: (left to right): Set list and sheet music; accordion, electronic keyboard and drum machine set up at the 2017 NAIDC 92 Music is of paramount importance to the successful execution of an Irish dance performance. Whether in a competition, performance, or class, many dancers know they perform better when they have music that inspires them to move. However, few give consideration to the musicians behind those tunes or know that for many of today’s feis musicians—several of whom are dancers and teachers themselves—providing high quality Irish dance music is as important to them as Irish step dance is to the dancer. Throughout my fieldwork at the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships, I was struck over and over again by the passion and brilliance of the musicians I interviewed and recorded. In my lifetime, the sound of feis music has changed significantly: I barely recognized the music I heard in my beginner classes as an adult, so different was the texture and drive from what I remembered as a child. It was many of the musicians at this event who were directly responsible for feis music’s development over the past thirty years, and their passion for what they do that has elevated the standard of what is performed today at Major competitions. Despite the vital importance of music to the Irish dance community and the genre of Irish dance itself, discussions of the role and experiences of the feis musician are few and far between, and the relationships between them and dancers are often overlooked or mainly characterized as being contentious or even non-existent. Both in scholarship and among many Irish dancers, teachers, and adjudicators, feis musicians and the music they find, create, and perform for dancers are often marginalized and relegated to the background. One musician even admitted to me that he feels at times as though he is regarded as “musical furniture.” In this chapter, I bring to feis music 93 and musicians to the forefront by exploring their role generally within the Irish dance community and specifically at the focus location of the North American Irish Dance Championships (often referred to as the NAIDC or Nationals) that took place in New Orleans, Louisiana in July of 2017. This chapter examines feis music and the people who play it within a specific moment and place. As stated in earlier chapters, in utilizing Ian Condry’s framework of focus locations—places where “things happen” or “are made”—I isolate contexts of significance within Irish dance to demonstrate how the genre itself is created and performed, how community members relate to one another, and how local and transnational ideas flow through these spaces. In this discussion of music and musicians at the 2017 Nationals, I demonstrate how feis music is made and happens at a Major Irish dance championship. This serves as an introduction to both the feis music genre and the focus location itself, but also as a time and place-specific record in the hopes of establishing a documented history of the genre and its musicians. To my knowledge, only one other time- and place-specific discussion of feis music exists: Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain’s dissertation, which focuses on the processes of creativity in Irish step dancing at the 2006 World Irish Dancing Championships (Ní Bhriain 2010). In this chapter, I use the solo Irish dance championship competition as a structuring framework for introducing feis music and musicians and explaining their roles within the modern competitive Irish dance scene. The first section represents the first two rounds of competition—the heavy round and the light round in which the dancers introduce themselves to the judges by demonstrating their abilities to dance in 94 soft and hard shoes—introducing the defining characteristics and structures of the Irish dance tune types used in CLRG competitions (feiseanna and oireachtasaí ).39 The second section is representative of the set dance round, in which a dancer performs alone on stage under the intense scrutiny of the adjudicators. It is in this round that musicians told me they often the feel the most pressure to perform just as perfectly as the competitor in order to give him or her the best possible music to dance to, and therefore, a chance to dance at their highest ability. In this section, I use my observational fieldwork, recordings, and interviews with feis musicians from the 2017 Nationals as a backdrop to introduce feis music as it is performed today, the people who play it, and the relationships between Irish dance music(ians) and dance(rs). By prominently featuring interviews and feis music recordings in this chapter, it is my hope to give voice to the experiences of these musicians and demonstrate the passion they have for what it is they do, as evidenced through their words and their performances. Voices 3.1: Anthony Davis (Keyboard) and Liam O’Sullivan (Accordion), aka “Anton and Sully” Liam: “You want to record a tune no one else has recorded, also one you haven’t recorded yet. So finding another ten hornpipes for an album, for example, is proving difficult. Anthony actually worries about the world running out of hornpipes.” Anthony: [laughs] “I thought I might get that in, but you got that in!” Liam: “One of my favorite comments is, ‘Play a nice tune for my dancer.’ Oh no, because I’ve spent my life learning the worst tunes I can. All of the tunes I’ve picked, I’ve a relationship with—my ear is like, ‘Oh, I like that tune’ So every tune we play is a tune that we really like. And you get it all the time! ‘Oh, play a really nice one.’”. . . Anthony: “The one comment that gets me—like, not riled, but sometimes I just go ‘Oh my God.’— is, ‘Now, when you’re up there, make sure you play a slow 76.’ Which means— “ Liam: “Get that all the time.” 39 At the 2017 Nationals, Irish announcers used the terms “heavy” and “light” for these different rounds, but they are also interchangeable with “hard shoe” and “soft shoe.” 95 Anthony: “And you can’t really, you can’t—it’s a passing comment, in a way, not really meant but it’s kind of, do you know what I mean, it’s kind of meant you know, ‘Just make sure you tighten it up a wee bit’. Well, we can’t do that! You know, once that drum machine is set to 76—and I will do my very best to stick, as I’m sure you probably saw—we don’t sway an awful lot. What are you asking me to do?” [laughs] “What can I do then?” Anthony: “It’s not an easy job. Like, I know all we seem to be doing is just playing a heavy jig at 73 for three hours. But it really is quite— Liam: “I’m going to say a controversial comment here. A judge said to me—I’m not going to say his name—he said—“ Anthony: “Well, we know it’s a he.” [laughs] Liam: “He’s from Cork.” [they both laugh] “A judge said to me the other day, he said, ‘Lad, I got to say, it hit me how difficult your job is.’ I was like, ‘What? What are you talking about?’ He said, ‘Well, when the dancers come out, we can make a decision in ten seconds. Sometimes,’ he said. ‘The rest of the time, sometimes, we’re sitting thinking about what we’re going to wear later or we can just relax in our seat.’ He said, ‘You can’t do that. At all.’ And I’m not taking anything away from their job, because I wouldn’t want to pick a winner and I wouldn’t want to have that pressure either, I’m not saying ours is more difficult than theirs. There is a different dynamic in that we cannot get a respite from concentration, from the minute you’re in your seat, or [from] the pressure. And the mind games you play with yourself you never have at any other gig. . .With this, you are on a mental roller coaster. You could be in a reel set and especially when there’s factors like lack of sleep, jet lag, poor diet—which is often the case—you could be in the middle of a set of reels and your mind’s at ease and you’ll have one panicky tune, and then for the rest of the 130 reels, you’re doubting yourself, you’re struggling. And people don’t see that. In terms of a mental practice, it is so frightening sometimes.” Anthony: “There is a big element of: you’re on your own. You make that little blooper and you’ve probably got another 12 or 13 tunes after where you kind of back down from—you go back to your comfortable tunes. And you really try to reset all the parameters. Like, you reset your nerves, you reset your brain. Like, I do get very, very nervous playing. You know, I’ve done it for, I’m playing 15 years. There’s a lot of boys, a lot of really good friends of ours in this world that have been doing it for a lot longer than that, you know, 20, 30, 40. And I’m not gonna lie, I get nervous no matter what person gets on that stage, whether it’s a beginner—honestly, the closer it gets to achieving a real championship, yes, the nerves, it does kick in. And it really does. That one little blooper can send you dolally for about twenty minutes.” Liam: “There’s millions of tunes to learn, and we will find them.” Anthony: “I don’t think there are too many hornpipes though. I think we are going to run out.” Liam: “He could make an album of hornpipes in fifteen minutes.” Anthony: “Oh, I could not!” [laughs] Liam: “We have nothing to worry about.” -Interview with Anthony Davis and Liam O’Sullivan 40 (“Anton and Sully”), July 8, 2017 40 In obtaining permission to conduct an interview with Liam and Anthony, I agreed to state in my dissertation that they are, in fact, the most fun of all feis musicians. 96 Heavy and Light Rounds: “Play a Nice Tune for my Dancer”—An Introduction to Feis Music Defining Feis Music Feis music is best defined as a specialized genre of traditional Irish dance music consisting of specifically structured tune types and pieces performed at regulated tempos for the purpose of accompanying modern competitive Irish dance. Musicians must know how to play reels, single jigs, double jigs, slip jigs, and hornpipes at certain tempos depending on the type of dance or the skill level of the dancer being accompanied. For example, a beginner reel is played at 123 beats per minute, whereas an advanced reel is performed at 113.41 Likewise, double jigs have different tempos depending on whether the musician is accompanying a soft shoe dance called a light jig or a hard shoe dance called a heavy or treble jig. The hard shoe jigs also have different tempos depending on whether it is what is called a traditional or fast treble jig (performed at 96) or a slow treble jig (performed at 73). Slow hornpipes and advanced slip jigs are played at 113. As noted by Ní Bhriain, these are very different from the typical speeds performed by traditional Irish musicians at a session. Reels would typically be played at around 222, double jigs at 127, hornpipes at 180, and slip jigs at 144 (Ní Bhriain 2009: 16). Feis musicians play a specific sub-set of the full range of tune types that exist within the broader category of traditional Irish dance music, although at times they may borrow tunes from other types and play with the metronomic speed to make the rhythms work for a feis tune. For example, in slowing down a barn dance or polka, 41 I will be using only the numbers to indicate tempo speeds, as this is how tempo is discussed among both feis musicians and Irish dancers. 97 the tune may become suitable for a single jig or beginner speed reel, respectively. And although feis musicians do not utilize the full breadth of tune types available in traditional music, they typically have a much deeper repertoire. In addition to having a large repertoire of each tune type for different dance steps, feis musicians must also know how to play each of the forty set dance tunes from the official CLRG list of permitted dances.42 In comparison, a traditional Irish musician on average may only know one or two sets. Traditional set dances have regulated tempos for each dance. For example, “Blackbird” is to be performed at 144. The tempo of a non-traditional set dance is chosen by the dancer, though there are regulated minimum tempos that they may not go under: the minimum speed for hornpipes is 76 and for treble jigs is 66.43 Again, playing at these slow speeds distorts the rhythms of the music: when a hornpipe is slowed down to 76, it actually takes on the rhythmic feel of a treble jig, and some treble jigs played at 66 actually feel like waltzes! Minimum music speeds were established by the CLRG in 1988, as there was concern that as dancers and teachers slowed down the tempos of dances—which they did in order to create longer dance pieces in which they could fit more virtuosic rhythms and movements—the melodies and rhythms of pieces were becoming too distorted and unrecognizable (ibid.: 20). In theory, it would also help standardize music tempos so dancers could know what speeds to expect at feiseanna, although it is up to the organizers of each feis, the 42 There are also several specific tunes musicians must know for certain céilí dances, such as “Trip to the Cottage” and “The Three Tunes,” which may be danced at a specific tempo or at one predetermined by the dancers, depending on the competition. 43 See Appendix for the list of traditional and non-traditional set dances and their speeds. 98 adjudicators, and their musicians to enforce the performance of these tempos, which means that speeds still can vary greatly at each event depending on the individuals involved. When these regulations were put into place, musicians began to use metronomes to help keep them on time, although now the use of a programmable drum machine is favored. Prior to the use of a metronome, dancers would use their eight-bar introduction to wave their hands up or down to the musicians to ask for a change in speed. The feis musicians I interviewed all felt strongly that performing at the correct tempo with a strong and easily identifiable beat is the most crucial aspect for successful performance of feis music, followed closely by knowing the length and structure for the particular dance being accompanied. For example, a dancer performs three steps for a championship reel—each step is sixteen bars long, totaling 48 bars of music. They also are given eight bars for an introduction before they begin their dance, totaling 56 bars of music needed. In this competition, musicians would be expected to stop playing exactly after 56 bars of music. For a championship hornpipe, only 48 bars of music are needed in total: 40 bars for the two and a half steps performed by the dancer, plus the eight bar introduction. Céilí dances vary in length, so musicians must know how many bars are needed for each of the thirty official céilí dances, particularly in cases where the dance does not have a specific tune to which it is set. Set dances have different requirements: all vary in length, but all must be structured AAAB. The requirements for musical structure in step dance accompaniment will be discussed further below. 99 Feis music is easily identifiable by listeners as traditional Irish dance music through its melodic structure. Sean Williams notes that Irish musical melodies are modal, and the majority of tunes draw on four types of modes: Ionian (major), Aeolian (natural minor), Dorian, and Mixolydian (Williams 2010: 15). Dorian mode is similar to a natural minor scale, but with a raised sixth, and Mixolydian is similar to a major scale, but with a lowered seventh. Williams notes that it is the incorporation of these last two modes that result in a distinctly “Irish” sound (ibid.: 16). Frequently, melodies in Irish tunes will shift back and forth between modes, or will use what is called a “gapped” mode that leaves out notes that would normally indicate the mode (ibid.: 17). This is also common in feis music tunes, many of which are drawn from traditional Irish music repertoire. In the accompaniment, chords must be selected by the keyboardist or guitarist that allow for these sorts of mobile shifts in mode. The harmonies selected by the accompanist (in addition how they are rendered) can drastically change the overall feel to the tune. It should be noted that many new tunes are being composed as well, and circulate in the feis music scene alongside tunes drawn from traditional repertoire, although they have a different sound melodically and harmonically. As Francis Ward—a feis keyboardist who also is a TCRG and ADCRG—told me, They’re taking their influences, I think, from other cultures, and you get tunes appearing that don’t sound maybe particularly Irish, they may have another cultural feel to them or another influence on them, where they might use harmonic minor scales or you know, something that’s a little bit inspired by another culture. And likewise, chords-wise and harmony-wise? I think all of us are taking our inspiration from a lot wider things than what we might hear on céilí bands’ recordings from the 1920s. It’s a lot more than I-IV-V. (Interview with Francis Ward, August 3, 2017) 100 Although in theory any instrument used to play traditional Irish music can also be used to play feis music, there is a strong inclination toward the use of piano and button accordions, fiddles, and electronic keyboards (which can be used for melody and/or accompaniment; there is also a certain technique for playing melody and accompaniment on keyboard that musicians half-jokingly call playing the “feis machine”—this is discussed further in the second section of the chapter), with an occasional banjo or rhythm guitar for accompaniment. Interestingly, fiddles are no longer common in feiseanna in Ireland or the United Kingdom, although they are still used in the United States. This can be a culture clash for students who travel to compete in the United States from Ireland and are not used to the instrument: There used to be more a tradition of the fiddle playing at the feises, but that’s died out completely in Ireland and the UK. I know it happens in America, but it doesn’t happen at home at all . . . I remember when our kids came to the Nationals last year, and they went into the hall where a fiddle was playing, and they were like, “What the hell is that?” Because they’d never heard it, you know? It was so strange and exotic that a fiddle would be playing for them! (Interview with Francis Ward, August 3, 2017) Williams notes that in traditional Irish music, keys for pieces are often chosen because they better fit certain instruments—for example, many sharp keys (such as D Major) are chosen because they better work for traditional instruments such as fiddle, flute, and bagpipes (Williams 2010: 154). One major advantage then of keyboard and accordion (particularly piano accordion) at feiseanna is that there is a greater range of keys that tunes can be played in. Several musicians I spoke with mentioned the importance of being able to play in any key, as it keeps the long day of performance more interesting and entertaining for both themselves and those who are listening. With each pair of musicians I observed at Nationals, the melody player would decide 101 on the key for the tune, and tell it to the accompanist right before they began to play.44 Additionally, feis musicians may change keys at certain points throughout a piece, both for interest and to mark where they are in the tune (see Brian O’Sullivan’s comment in Voices 3.3). At the 2017 NAIDC, the only instruments used were piano or button accordions playing the melody, backed by keyboard accompaniment. Each pair of instruments was set up with a drum machine. Voices 3.2: Sean O’Brien (Accordion, Keyboard) “My primary focal point I guess is where I’m placing the notes in relation to the beat that’s there. Whether it’s a metronome or whether it’s a drum machine or whatever or just that sort of internal pulse, it’s like how am I moving between notes in relation to that and I’ve had a lot of success in this scene I think because of that. I think because I love the music but that’s my primary focus, and people feel good when they listen to it, and I think that’s why. Also on top of that you need a degree of technique in order to be able to control those notes enough to play them exactly the way you want to play them, but I think it comes down to that and I also think just a variety of tunes. I have a big repertoire, a very big repertoire, and I do that partly for my own sake, because I don’t want to sit there and play the same tunes, and partly just because there’s so many different wonderful tunes out there that—there’s just this huge array of incredible music out there. And it’s all very different, it’s all very different. Yeah, you know, you can go from a beautiful old three hundred, four hundred year old trad tune into something that was written last week by somebody in France. And there’s Finnish tunes that I’ve adapted to make them into heavy jigs, and brings it together and it’s just this— it’s like a gig, you know? You go along and there’s a story to somebody’s set when you see them in a gig, and that’s what they’ll try and do—they’ll try and bring you up and bring you down. If [the music] feels good, it’s good. Everything else is kind of secondary to that . . . It’s dance music, it’s about getting people to move. And for me—from a technical aspect, if you really break down ‘feel’ in music, what makes people feel good is the relationship between when notes are there and when they aren’t . . . As a musician they feel it: they are able translate it cleanly, the kind of get out of the way of the music and they put it out there, and that’s what the people out there who are moving around feel. And to the degree that you are able to do that—and that involves technical prowess, that involves all kinds of things—the more people out there will respond to it, whether they’re dancers or whether they’re musicians. So for me that’s the end goal: I love this music, I loved it the moment I heard it, I didn’t know what it was that I loved, I just knew that I had to express myself through this 44 When observing Liam O’Sullivan (accordion) and Anthony Davis (keyboard) on Saturday, July 8 for the Girls Under 12 set dance competition, Anthony leaned over to Liam and asked for the key. Liam took a deep breath, nodded, then declared, “Sad.” They then launched into playing the set in c# minor. 102 stuff. And my job is to get out of the way of it, and when I hear somebody who’s really good, that’s how I kind of judge it. And it doesn’t matter—that’s with my dancing hat on as well—if it feels good, then I want to dance to it, I want to move, and if I don’t, then I don’t, you know? With dance music it’s everything, it’s about making people move, inspiring them to move. And you can see it. You know, you play good music and you’ve seen people, moving around, tapping their foot, bobbing their head, you do it. And other times you can feel it in the air, it drops down when you lose that feel. So they’re one and the same, it being dance music specifically. There are other contexts where the dance thing doesn’t come into it. It’s all feel. And the rest is color. The tune just colors around the feel.” -Interview with Sean O’Brien, July 7, 2017 Feis Music Tunes and Structures At the 2017 Nationals there were three rounds of dancing for each solo competition: a heavy round performed in hard shoes, a light round performed in soft shoes, and for those dancers that performed well enough in the first two rounds to be recalled, a third round consisting of a set dance performed in hard shoes. There are four tune types that are performed at Major competitions: reels and slip jigs for the soft shoe rounds, and hornpipes and treble jigs for the hard shoe rounds and set dances. What is danced in a particular year depends on the age and gender of the dancer. For example, in the Girls Under 15 competition described in the ethnographic opening of the chapter, dancers performed a treble jig, a slip jig, and their choice of a set dance: either a treble jig or a hornpipe.45 The girls in the next age category up had to perform hornpipe and reel for their first two rounds. Boys only perform reels for their light round, as the slip jig is considered a feminine dance. 45 In some cases—such as at the Worlds—dancers must perform a set dance that contrasts the hard shoe dance they performed for their first round (i.e., if they performed a hornpipe for their first round, they must do a set dance in jig time for their third round). This was also the case with the Boys Under 10 and Girls Under 10 categories at the 2017 Nationals. Younger age groups were required to perform a traditional set dance, and older age groups were permitted to perform a non-traditional set dance of their choice. 103 The following four transcriptions are examples of the types of pieces used to accompany Irish step dancers in their three rounds of a major championship such as NAIDC, serving as an introduction to the four types of tunes used as well as demonstrating the differences in pieces used for steps versus pieces used for traditional and non-traditional set dances. The reel and slip jig are examples of pieces used to accompany soft shoe steps, the slip jig is a demonstration of how some Irish dance show pieces are made into tunes suitable for feis music, the treble jig is an example of a traditional set dance, and the hornpipe is a non-traditional set dance. With the exception of the treble jig and the hard shoe percussion of the hornpipe (explained in further detail below), these transcriptions were taken from field recordings made of tunes played to accompany dancers at the 2017 Nationals. My transcriptions are normative in order to cleanly demonstrate typical examples of performances by feis musicians. The reel is a lively type of music performed in either 4/4 or 2/2 time, and is what is predominantly heard if attending a traditional Irish music session. Although dancers perform to reels in both soft shoes and hard shoes (when performed in hard shoes, the dance is called a treble reel and is offered as a special competition at many feiseanna), in championships males and females perform this dance in soft shoes. Because men’s “soft” shoes include a hard fiberglass heel, they can also perform some percussive rhythms in their dance, predominantly stamps and heel clicks. The official tempo for a reel being played at a championship is 113. As explained above, musicians play 56 bars for each performance: an eight bar introduction, followed by 48 bars, which is the equivalent of three steps. 104 Figure 3.2: Reel: Miss Thompson’s Reel Miss Thompson's Reel Cormac O'Se (Piano accordion) and Brian O'Sullivan (Keyboard, not shown), July 7, 2017 Played: AAABBAB q = 113 A M # œ œ 4 œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Accordion & 4 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ M 5 1.2.3. # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ & œ œ œ œ œ 3 B 9 4. M M ˙ ™ # œ œ œ j j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ J & 3 3 3 13 M M 3 3 # œ œ # œ œ bœ nœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 16 1. 2.3. # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ ™ œ œ Œ œ ™ & œ œ 3 Figure 3.2 is a reel titled “Miss Thompson’s Reel,” transcribed from a recording of Cormac O’Sé (piano accordion) and Brian O’Sullivan (keyboard, not shown) accompanying the second round of the Girls Under 14 competition on July 7, 2017.46 Because Cormac (as well as the other musicians in following examples) play many variations on each repetition of the tune, I have transcribed only the first variation of the melody that is heard on the recording to save space. This reel was performed AAABBAB, which was typical of how Cormac and Brian played all of the reels for that particular competition that day. There are other ways to approach this to fill the 56 bars—for example, when sitting in with Anthony Davis and Liam 46 For audio, see Media 3.1 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 105 O’Sullivan (otherwise known by their album alias of Anton and Sully) for the Boys Under 12 competition earlier that day, they performed their reels with different structures such as AAABBAA and AAABABA, though always starting with three repetitions of the A. The first A serves as the introduction for the dancer, and the next two As accompany the entirety of their first step, with the music then changing with the dancer as they go into their second step. Beginner reel steps are typically choreographed to be straight on the main beats of the music, and become more syncopated as the steps become more advanced. The music and steps are expected to be very lively and sharp, and the music is bouncy and energetic. Slip jigs are a type of jig, but differ in that they have triple timing with a 9/8 time signature as opposed to the duple feel of the 6/8 time signature of single and double jigs. Slip jig as a dance has changed over time to become a predominantly female dance only performed in soft shoes, and although in some cases males may perform a slip jig (for a special competition at a feis, an examination, or in hard shoes for a choreography), at the vast majority of competitions it is a dance performed by females. As is the case for all major championships, slip jig was not offered as an option for a light round dance for men at the 2017 Nationals—they could only dance a reel. Like the reel, slip jig music and dance is expected to be lively, but with an added expectation of flow and grace—dancers must show this in their steps while still demonstrating sharp execution and athleticism. Like with reel, this type of dance becomes more syncopated as the steps become harder. 106 Example 3.3 is the Riverdance slip jig “The Countess Cathleen,” the same tune mentioned in the chapter opening, performed by Sean O’Brien (piano accordion) and Francis Ward (keyboard, not shown) for the Girls Under 15 competition on July 6, 2017.47 The original piece as performed in Riverdance has two sections that are 24 bars each. The first section is melodically structured more closely to a traditional Irish slip jig, so this is the section that is used in feis music. There are four bars of a guitar introduction that are repeated at the end of this section in the original piece, and the main melody played on fiddle consists of 17 bars. The A section of the melody is eight bars long, the B section is nine bars. In order to make this tune fit into the required 16 bars of a dancer’s step, the musicians cut the bars with the guitar parts, and change the last two measures so they fit into one bar. Figure 3.3: Slip jig: The Countess Cathleen The Countess Cathleen Sean O'Brian (Piano accordion) and Francis Ward (Keyboard, not shown), July 6, 2017 Played: AAABABA A M Last A: jump to Coda q = 113 œ # œ œ 9 œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ Accordion & 8 j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ B 5 1.2. 3.4. œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ ™ & œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ 9 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ J œ œ œ œ œ & J 13 # œ œ œ œ œ œ j ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ & œ œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ w œ œ œ 47 For audio, see Media 3.2 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 107 Like the reel, the slip jig is played at speed 113 for championship level competitions. Originally, this piece was played at 110 for Riverdance, so it is performed at a slightly faster tempo for feis music. In this recording, Sean and Francis played the tune AAABABA, which was how they structured the majority of slip jigs for that particular competition. CLRG officially allows seven traditional set dances to be performed in competitions: three treble jigs (“St. Patrick’s Day,” “Jockey to the Fair,” and “Three Sea Captains”) and four hornpipes (“Blackbird,” “Job of Journeywork,” “Garden of Daisies,” and “King of the Fairies”; see Appendix 2 for the full list of set dances). These are called “traditional” in that schools are expected to perform similar choreographies (though variations between schools and regions are allowed so long as they do not feature “modern” movements such as toe stands or heel clicks) and the music is always performed to a set speed. For a period of time the performance and competition of set dances were becoming less common (although they were still required for TCRG and ADCRG examinations) as schools focused on creating modern choreographies for set dances, so in recent years the CLRG has actively worked to bring traditional sets back by encouraging traditional set competitions at regional oireachtas championships and requiring younger age groups to perform them as their set dances at national and world championships. Most schools first teach the set dance that is choreographed to the tune “St. Patrick’s Day”—at the Culkin School, this is also is a student’s first exposure to a treble jig. Treble jigs are hard shoe dances performed to double jig tunes. These jigs feature 6/8 time signatures and are felt in duple time. These are the same types of jigs 108 used to accompany soft shoe jigs, however they are played at a different tempo. There are fixed fast and slow speeds for treble jigs when danced at feiseanna and performances—fast treble jig is considered traditional, slow treble jig—in which the slower speed allows for more virtuosic footwork—is considered modern and more difficult, and in championships is the only speed danced. Figure 3.4 shows both the hard shoe percussion and melody of the treble jig “St. Patrick’s Day.” “X” noteheads represent the sound coming from the tip of the hard shoe. Other noteheads representing other types of sounds made by the shoe are listed in the key. This transcription is taken from a recording of Denise Olive Daniele demonstrating her former school’s (the Gray School in Connecticut) version of the traditional set dance. I chose to use this recording rather than transcribe the field recording I made of this piece as the hard shoe rhythms are not audible on that recording, however I have made that recording available along with the other musical examples in this chapter for comparison of the melodies.48 Unfortunately I do not have the information on where the original recorded music came from for this transcription. The audio recording from Nationals is of Cormac O’Sé and Brian O’Sullivan accompanying the Boys Under 9 competition on July 8, 2017.49 48 For audio, see Media 3.3 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 49 For audio, see Media 3.4 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 109 Figure 3.4: Treble jig/traditional set dance: St. Patrick’s Day St. Patrick's Day Denise Olive Daniele (Hard shoe), March 29, 2013 Unknown R ecording (Keyboard) Played: AAAB q = 94 3 j j j Hard shoe 6 ™ ‰ ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ™ / 8 A 6 œ ™ œ ™ œ œ b ‰ œ j ™ œ œ ™ œ j Keyboard & 8 œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ 3 5 1.2. 3. j j ‰ ™ ‰ ‰ ¿ 2 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 3 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ™ / j œ œ ™ œ œ j ™ j b œ œ œ ™ œ j ™ œ & œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 10 j ‰ ‰ ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 3 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ 2 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 3 ¿ ¿ ¿ / B œ œ œ œ j œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ ™ œ œ œ b œ & J 3 3 16 j j j j ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 3 ¿ ¿ / œ œ ™ œ œ b œ œ œ ™ œ j & œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ 3 20 j j O O O ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ / œ œ ™ œ œ j b œ œ œ ™ œ & œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 110 As is the case with all set dances, the music is performed AAAB: the first A is the eight bar introduction given by the musicians, the second two As are for the right and left foot leads of what dancers call the “leading step” of the dance, and the B section is the right foot of what is called the “set” of the set dance. Note the number of bars in each section: the A section has a more typical eight bars, while the B section is fourteen bars long. This breaks from the pattern seen in the first two examples of step dance music where sections are consistently eight bars long and is typical of set dance music in terms of having different numbers of bars in the A and B sections and a B section that is longer than the A. The hard shoe rhythms in this dance are demonstrative of traditional treble jig rhythms for beginner students: rhythms are largely even, straight on with the beat, and feature very little syncopation. There are forty CLRG-recognized tunes that are used for non-traditional (also called modern) set dance competitions, which include the seven tunes that are used for traditional sets (see Appendix 2). Half of these are hornpipes that have a minimum speed of 76, half are treble jigs played at a minimum speed of 66 (this includes one unusual piece called “Is the Big Man Within?” that has two time signatures: 6/8 and 9/8). As with the traditional set pieces, these are performed AAAB, though many of them are much longer in terms of number of bars of the tune. The tempo of the music is chosen by the dancer beforehand and announced to the room before the performance, though the musicians are also given a list of speeds just before the competition begins. Non-traditional sets are considered the dancer’s show piece, and are typically filled with more complicated rhythms and movements that demonstrate the dancer’s skill. 111 Figure 3.5: Hornpipe/contemporary set dance: The Lodge Road The Lodge Road Phil Stacy (Hard shoe), June 2 (A) and 22 (B), 2017 Liam O'Sullivan (Button accordion) and Anthony Davis (Keyboard, not shown), July 8, 2017 Played: AAAB q = 110 3 3 3 3 3 r j r j j ≈ 4 Hard shoe ‰ ‰ ‰ Ó ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿4 - 4‚‚¿ 4‚‚¿ ¿ ¿¿¿4 ¿ / 4 A 3 M 3 M 3 # œ œ œ œ 4 œ œ œ # œ œ Ó Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ Accordion & 4 œ œ œ 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 j j j j j r j j ≈ ≈ ‰ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ - - ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ / M 3 3 M # œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ œ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ 3 3 1.2. 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 7 j j j j r r ≈ ≈ ‰ ™ ¿ 4 ¿ 4 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ‚ ¿ 4 ‚ ¿ 4 ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ 4 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ™ / 3 M M M # r # j œ ™ œ ≈ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ ™ ™ œœ ™ & œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ 3 3. 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 10 j j j j j r ≈ ‰ ™ ¿ ¿ 4 ¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿¿¿ ¿ ¿4‚¿4‚¿4‚¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ¿¿¿¿ / B M ™ M3 œ œ œ ™ œ œ ™ ™ œ œ # œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ ™ œ œ œ # j œ œ œ œ & œ œ ™ œ œ 3 3 3 3 13 j r j j j r j j ≈ ≈ ™ ™ ‰ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ‚ ¿ 4 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ - - - - - ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ / M M œ œ ™ ™ œ œ ™ # œ œ œ œ j œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ ≈ ≈ œ œ œ ™ œ & J R 3 3 3 3 3 112 2 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 16 r j j j j ≈ ≈ ‰ O ™ OO ¿¿¿¿¿¿¿ ¿ 4‚¿‚¿‚4 ¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿¿¿¿ ¿ / R M ™ ™ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ ™ ™ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ & 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 19 j j j ‰ ™ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 4 ¿ ¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ‚ ¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ 2 ¿ 4 / V M M ™ œ ™ œ œ œ œ ™ ™ œ # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ œ # œ & 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 22 j j r ™ ™ ‰ - ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ¿ 4 ¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ / M M 3M 3 M 3 # œ œ ™ ™ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # œ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ & œ œ œ 3 3 3 3 3 3 25 r j j j j j r j r j r j r > ™ ‰ ™ ‰ ¿ ™ ™ f ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ 3 3 3 3 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ - ¿ f ¿ - ¿ ‚ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ V / V J M e 3 M 3 # œ œ œ œ œ œ œ # j œ œ ‰ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ œ œ & œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ ™ 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 28 j j j j j Œ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ / 3 3 M 3 3 # # œ j Œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ ™ & œ œ œ œ œ œ ™ œ œ œ œ ™ 113 œ œœœœ œœœ Figure 3.5 is a transcription of the set dance “The Lodge Road,” a hornpipe performed in 4/4 time. For this particular dancer, it was played at speed 110. The A section is eight bars long, the B section is twenty bars. This particular recording was taken of Liam O’Sullivan (button accordion) and Anthony Davis’ (keyboard, not shown) accompaniment of a Culkin School student’s performance in the Girls Under 12 competition on July 8, 2017.50 Because the hard shoe rhythms are difficult to hear in the NAIDC clip, I used recordings of teacher Phil Stacy from my private lessons as well as my own knowledge from dancing this set to fill in the percussion.51 Please note that the field recording has an error in the file that occurred in measure twenty five (marked in the score with a circle with a line through it)—this is a technology issue, not what happened in the performance the day of. I transcribed this measure as heard earlier in the performance. The hallmark rhythm of a hornpipe tune is a dotted eighth note and sixteenth note rhythm, such as found in the melody of measure four—in practice, this is often swung by musicians as a quarter note triplet plus an eighth note. Throughout this performance, Liam plays with the rhythm of the melody, varying between this and eighth note triplets, with quite a bit of ornamentation throughout, filling out the melody. As Cormac O’Sé notes in the opening quote, the slower set dances mean that the musicians need to do more work to fill out both the skeleton melody and accompaniment to give the dancer something—in the keyboardist’s case, this means filling out the accompaniment with chords, in the melody’s case, playing with 50 For audio, see Media 3.5 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 51 For audio, see Media 3.6 and Media 3.7 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 114 ornamentation and how the melody is performed. Also note that the melody of “Miss Thompson’s Reel” from Figure 3.2 is a reel variation of the melody in the A section of “The Lodge Road.” The rhythms in the hard shoe part are a typical example of championship hornpipe rhythms. Note the jump in complexity from the rhythms in the treble jig—there are many more rhythms that are syncopated, and there is more variation in the types of rhythms and how they are produced (i.e. more stamps, heel clicks, toe stands, toe to heel hits, etc.). For comparison to a beginner traditional hornpipe step, see the rhythm in Figure 3.6 of what is called the “Practice Step” from the Culkin School, which is danced at speed 144. These pieces are examples of the contrasting tune types played for steps and set dances that are found in feis music, and are a very small sample of a feis musician’s massive repertoire. The next section introduces feis musicians and their roles and relationships to Irish dancers. Figure 3.6: Culkin School hornpipe “Practice Step” Voices 3.3: Brian O’Sullivan (keyboard) “Some of those [set dance] melodies are, to me, are so beautiful and so accomplished and so full that I never get tired of them. And I find sets to be some of the most wistful music I’ve 115 ever experienced in my life. And wistful is my favorite feeling. I don’t know, I think it’s because of what I do for a living [as a professional actor]. I do big things where I’m all in and then I leave and I don’t see the people again for years or months or whatever. Wistfulness is a really big part of my life. ‘Planxty Davis’ to me is one of the most wistful things that ever happened. Things like the ‘Blackthorn Stick’ and the ‘Drunken Gauger’ just keep falling down and tumbling over. I find them sad. Another thing about that is that some people like to change the keys: during the set they like to change the key sometimes to mark where they are, especially with ‘Blackthorn Stick’ and ‘Drunken Gauger’ because you play it four times and it’s fifteen bars long which is odd. What my dad does—who’s played feis music for years—is: intro in D, again in D, E, and then F. And insists that when we go from E to F we play a C7 passing chord. And he tells you before hand that it’s very important because you’ve got the E note and then you play the C chord. [Cormac and I] started doing our key changes but we go down with it—down in thirds, if we can. So at one point we did G for the intro, then G again, and then E and then C . . . And something about going down instead of up for me, adds to that wistfulness. And the deeper you go—the accordion that Cormac plays is so rich at the bottom end of the keyboard, that the lower and lower you push it—which is why we don’t play ‘Planxty Davis’ in D, because it’s just high and squeal-y. So these are like a million things that people do.” “In terms of playing feis music, anything that I hear anywhere else that has piano, I always instantly think, ‘I’m sure there’s a way I can get that into a set dance somewhere. Some little turn of phrase . . . And every time I do it I think, ‘Is it too much?’ Because my job is not to make music as it is to make music that the kids are supposed to dance to. So I do have these moments of doubt where I think, ‘Is that too much? Is that off-putting?’ . . . But then people will come up after set rounds and say, [with a note of incredulity in his voice] ‘Those set dances were really nice!’ And they don’t know why a lot of the time. But people get a feeling and they go, ‘You’re doing something.’ And I do think the care and attention that’s given to them pays off, even if people don’t know what the detail is that they’re talking about. They know that something, you’re giving them something that has some meaning . . . I don’t think it’s trendy to say it, but I think feis music is really important. And I think doing it well is really important. And I think I could do it less well and no one would notice— most people wouldn’t notice—and I think it’s still worthwhile to try really hard to do it really well. That’s what I think.” -Interview with Brian O’Sullivan, July 8, 2017 Set Dance Round: “Practice and Magic”—The Feis Musicians We needed coffee. I finished setting up my recording equipment between the keyboard and the stage for the Boys Under 9 traditional set dance round, and enthusiastically followed Cormac and Brian behind the stage curtains to grab some of the coffee that was set out for the stage managers, adjudicators, and musicians. I felt a little guilty, not exactly falling into one of those categories, but: coffee. I wasn’t entirely sure what number cup I was on—it was late in the afternoon on the second last day of competitions, and having competed in the adult céilí competition the evening before, 116 followed by a night out listening to jazz in New Orleans, I needed whatever I could get to just stay on my feet. I truly marveled at the musicians’ stamina for these events—it was day five of playing for them, and although they looked tired, they never faltered in their performances, playing just as enthusiastically as they had the first day I sat in with them. The table of goodies was on the other side of the stage where the competitors waited. When we got there, Brian and Cormac were suddenly flocked by an enthusiastic gaggle of eight year old boys in embroidered solo costume vests who immediately began talking over one another in order to get the musicians’ attention. “I know you! You’re the musicians!” “I’m dancing St. Patrick’s Day at 94!” “I’m also doing St. Patrick’s Day!” “I’m doing Blackbird!” “You play the piano!” “How do you do that?” “Practice and magic,” Brian replied with a smile. As he and Cormac grabbed their coffee and turned to go, a little voice yelled after them, “Remember, St. Patrick’s Day at 94!” causing both men to burst out laughing. During my five days of fieldwork at the 2017 Nationals, I had the opportunity to shadow and interview eight of the sixteen musicians hired to accompany the competitions. Liam Bradley (keyboard), Anthony Davis (keyboard, “Anton”), Damien McKee (accordion), Sean O’Brien (accordion), Cormac O’Se (accordion), Liam O’Sullivan (accordion, “Sully”), Brian O’Sullivan (keyboard), and Francis Ward (keyboard) are considered—along with several of the other musicians who performed at the event—to be the top feis musicians in the world by the Irish dance community. The albums produced by Sean, Anton and Sully, and Cormac and Brian are the ones chosen to be played in classes by nearly every dance teacher I have worked and spoken with in the both the United States and Japan. Liam and Damien are part of the popular Irish band Beoga, which has enjoyed a number of successes since its founding in 2002 and has recently been introduced to a much broader 117 audience through the band’s collaboration with singer/songwriter Ed Sheeran. Francis holds a Ph.D. in ethnomusicology from the University of Limerick, and is the composer of “The Vanishing Lake,” a piece of contemporary set dance music that was selected for a 2011 competition to be added to CLRG’s list of official set dance tunes. It is their variety of experiences in learning, creating, and performing feis music around the world that I draw on to discuss the role of feis musicians within Irish step dancing. In this section I focus on how musicians approach the accompanying of Irish step dancers, the challenges they face and advantages they find from participation in the Irish dance scene, and how they characterize their relationships with the dancers they accompany. Performing Feis Music In discussing what they believe to be most important when accompanying Irish step dancers in a feis or oireachtas, musicians pointed to the ideas of creating a deep and steady groove for the dancer to follow, creating a good feel to the music that has “lift” (the feeling of wanting and needing to dance and move with the music) or what Ní Bhriain terms as “floor value” (2009: 20), performing a variety of tunes in a variety of keys through the competition, and appreciating the culture of Irish step dancing and the tradition of Irish music that feis music comes from. For Anthony Davis, “consistency” is the top word that describes a successful approach to feis music: Feis music—one word that springs to mind is maybe “consistency.” Everything needs to be at a metronomic speed—it needs to be pretty tied down to that thing otherwise, you know, the dancer will go off. You know, it’s just—years ago now, before metronomes and stuff . . . the dancer would get up on stage and they’d say a set dance and then they’d 118 have to kind of do this or that [demonstrates moving his hand up and down to show faster or slower], so now it’s kind of—you need to be a consistent player. I think you need to be quite strong, make sure you’re on the beat. Rigid, yeah, I think it’s more of a rigid, tight form of playing you know. I think you really need to lock into the time. In a session you can kind of sway it a bit, maybe speed it up, you know depending on your clientele that’s listening to you. Yeah, that would be my view on it I think. I try to be as firm as possible, you know, just so that dancer just gets the beat. Let them do the rhythm, let them kind of like do what they need to do and we’ll provide the basis, the backbone of it, for them to dance to. (Interview with Anthony Davis and Liam O’Sullivan, July 8, 2017) The evolution of musicians using a metronome, and then a drum machine, was important development in feis music that took place around the time CLRG began to regulate tempo. Teacher and adjudicator Michael Dillon recalled for me that the first time he saw a metronome in Irish dance was at an All-Ireland championship: a dancer walked in and sat down in the front row, metronome in hand, listening to the competitions and setting the tool accordingly (interview, February 15, 2017). Liam Bradley (keyboard) and Damien McKee (accordion) said in their interview that the introduction of the metronome is for them the biggest change in feis music in their career: Liam: The metronome [was the biggest change] . . . [Before that] the dancer would have stood on stage and waved you up or down. Or you’d have had a teacher standing at your ear, and those days a lot of them would have been smoking as well. Smoking and shouting into your ear and chatting to another teacher behind you. It was quite sore on the head. So that has disappeared, the teachers don’t stand behind you anymore. Damien: No, they’re not allowed to anymore, so it’s great. Liam: There are metronomes so they cannot say that it’s too fast or too slow. Makes it easier as well. Damien: The inventions of the drum machines help as well . . . I think everybody here is using a drum machine this week. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen it. . .When I started I was playing to a wee click thing, you know, and I couldn’t hear it most of the time so I was kind of leaned over watching that metronome the whole time. Just to make sure I was keeping in time, you know? It drains you, doing it that way, you 119 know—if you have the drum machine, you don’t have to think about it. (Interview with Liam Bradley and Damien McKee, July 9, 2017) Metronomes and drum machines allow musicians to stay consistent in their performance, but also work as a safeguard against accusations of performing at an incorrect tempo as noted by several of the musicians, including Liam O’Sullivan and Anthony Davis: Liam: One of the beautiful things about the metronome drum beat and feis machines and whatnot is that once you program that in, you cannot deviate. You cannot deviate. It works as a safety mechanism for feis musicians. At the Irish Nationals there a few weeks ago, we played “St. Patrick’s Day.” And we must have played twenty thousand “St. Patrick’s Day”s. I can play it with my feet. And a lady come running side stage and got the person that was running the stage, “‘St. Patrick’s Day’ was too fast! Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.” And we’re used to it. So we just said, “What speed does that [mimics pointing to drum machine] say? And that’s what we played it.” Anthony: That’s what we played it. Liam: “What does your book say we should play it at?” Anthony: That. Liam: “Do you see the number?” And so it works as a safety mechanism, a safety valve for us. But in the defense of the person: sometimes when you drive your car, or you listen to a piece of music, because you might have been listening to a slower piece of music that day, or you’ve not had a piece of music, sometimes music appears faster . . . Sometimes you listen to the same CD and sometimes you’re like, “Oh, that seems slow today” or you listen to the same CD and other times [snaps fingers] it seems like it’s rocking you. So in the lady’s defense she might have had one of those moments and whatnot, but we’re just making the point that it’s a great safety mechanism, that we are covered by the drum beat now. (Interview with Liam O’Sullivan and Anthony Davis, July 8, 2017) The idea of sticking to a strict tempo while creating a groove was emphasized repeatedly in every interview I conducted as being the top priority in playing feis music, as well as one of the top distinguishing factors in what makes feis music different from traditional Irish dance music that might be hear in a pub session. As Sean O’Brien discusses in the quote from Voices 3.2, creating a groove that makes 120 people want to dance is paramount and likens it to electronic dance music in terms of the way the music should feel driven. Brian O’Sullivan places the same importance on groove as well: The chords are important, but they’re almost not as important as the groove. You know? [Cormac and I] had a great round of sets the other day, and we don’t pat ourselves on the back very often, and yet this week we feel like we’ve had a good couple of days [where it went well]. And then we were talking about it wasn’t about playing the tune exactly right—and there were mistakes, not many—but there was a feel. You know, there was a groove. And with sets, there’s something about groove. And I think what part of that comes out of the fact that there are two types of tunes that we play all the time in solos and first rounds but they’re almost always slower in sets. 113 beats a minute—I’m like a robot with that on the hornpipe. Then when I have to do 107 in “Planxty Davis,” it forces me into this completely different world and groove becomes really important. (Interview with Brian O’Sullivan, July 8, 2017) What is groove and why is it so important to creating good Irish dance music? The phenomena of groove—broadly defined as a consistent and repetitive pattern— has garnered attention and become the subject of ethnomusicology, musicology, and psychological studies. Steven Feld writes, In vernacular, a “groove” refers to an intuitive sense of style as process, a perception of a cycle in motion, a form or organizing pattern being revealed, a recurrent clustering of elements through time . . . Instantly perceived, and often attended by pleasurable sensations ranging from arousal to relaxation, “getting into the groove” describes how a socialized listener anticipates pattern in a style, momentarily able to track and appreciate subtleties vis-a-vis overt regularities. It also describes how a seasoned performer structures and maintains a perceptible coherence . . . “Getting into the groove” also describes a feelingful participation, a positive physical and emotional attachment. (Feld 1988: 74-75) Several of the musicians I spoke with discussed groove as a crucial part of creating enjoyable feis music. Groove is part of the equation in creating good feis music with lift and drive that inspires dancers to get up and move. Charles Keil and Steven Feld 121 were among the first to study groove, and in their book Music Grooves discuss the importance of the pushing and pulling against the main beat of the music, or the microtemporal nuances, in creating the feel of a groove (1994). Maria Witek agrees with this, and further argues that in addition to this is the importance of syncopation in creating a groove as well as the feeling of participation in the groove on the part of the listener and dancer: When synchronising our bodies to the beat, we enact parts of the musical structure by filling in the gaps; as long as the syncopations are repeated, we continue to participate, and processual pleasure is prolonged. Our desire to move is motivated by this opportunity to practice the musical structure. There is no drive to resolve tension; rather, we want to be an active part of it. Syncopation in groove does thus not cause pleasure but enables our engagement in a pleasurable activity. (Witek 2017: 151) Advanced Irish dance steps feature syncopation in the movements and rhythms used—as demonstrated in the transcription of “The Lodge Road” in Figure 3.4—and many tunes performed in competition and on feis music albums feature syncopation around a groove. Often, teachers will be inspired by a particular piece of feis music and will choreograph championship level steps to compliment it, even though it is unlikely the steps will be danced in competition to that particular tune—however, this is an example of wanting to “practice the musical structure” by moving to and becoming part of it. It also may explain why so many dancers I have spoken with prefer to dance set pieces, as these are always choreographed to particular tunes and will always be danced to them in competition. The dancer can anticipate moving within and becoming an active part of music they are familiar with; this experience is heightened for the dancer when the musicians who accompany them can provide a groove the dancer can lock into. As Cormac O’Sé says in the opening quote, this 122 becomes particularly important in slow set dance pieces (such as “Planxty Davis” at 76). The ability to perform syncopated dance tunes in a groove while remaining tight to the drum machine tempo is a key quality for a feis musician to possess. Interestingly, an increase in the use of syncopation—both in terms of selecting tunes with syncopated melodies and the approaches used by keyboardists backing the melody player—was mentioned by several musicians as one of the changes in the sound of feis music over the past twenty-five to thirty years. The fact that feis musicians have brought in musical influences from outside traditional Irish music such as jazz has played a role in this (this is particularly apparent in the style that Anton and Sully use when they perform many of the hornpipe set dances live at competitions and on their albums, and can be heard in “The Lodge Road” example), but perhaps the biggest influence actually comes from the music of Riverdance. Bill Whelan’s compositions play heavily with intermingling Irish music-inspired melodies and musical textures with Eastern European rhythms, creating unique pieces that— along with the choreographed rhythms and movements that were crafted in tandem with Whelan’s music—inspire the audience to get up and dance. I contend that it is the music of Riverdance that has been largely responsible for the popularity and longevity of this particular Irish dance show over the many that came after it. As previously discussed, Riverdance was a pivotal point in the history of Irish dance— but it was not only the dancers who were affected, the musicians who perform it were as well: Anthony: Riverdance, to me, is my ultimate, favorite music of Irish dance music. Liam: It’s mine too. It’s never been topped. 123 Anthony: There’s not one show on this planet—for me, my opinion— that has topped the music from Riverdance. Riverdance has been a really big impact on me. Chords-wise, listening to what that genius has created. And I would like to try and think that I have brought a little bit of that into this environment. The tunes, you know, Riverdance kind of slides, a few different time signatures. You know, you can try and get them in, there are a few slip jigs and stuff that you can kind of incorporate, a few of the reels. But I would love to think that I had learned something from that. Any other show, I’d be totally honest, I didn’t get that wow factor therefore I didn’t really go down that route of learning that particular tune from that particular show. But that had a massive [pauses and holds hands over his heart]—I get a good feeling from Riverdance. I’ve gone to see it many a time, it’s incredible. (Ibid.: 2017) Sean O’Brien and Cormac O’Sé, who along with Anton and Sully are responsible for today’s most popular feis music albums, were dancers in Riverdance. Cormac was one of the dancers in the original Eurovision Song Contest number in 1994 and performed with the original company for the full-length production from 1994 through 2000. While touring with Riverdance he met his wife, with whom he now owns an Irish dance school in Minneapolis. In addition to dancing in the show, Sean also had the opportunity to play the music: I learned a lot while I was there. That was almost like this unofficial apprenticeship in many respects. Because I went into the show and the band at the time was incredible, and being around that every night and just talking to those guys and hanging with those guys and some of the understudies as well, we ended up playing a lot of music, and I sort of discovered my production skills, I guess began when I was there. I used to do stuff on tour and I had a piano on tour, I had an accordion on tour. So yeah, I was introduced to a lot of different influences and just seeing them play and then eventually I got the opportunity to play it myself and that was very cool. (Interview with Sean O’Brien, July 6, 2017) In his interview, Sean said that feis music is most heavily influenced by the people who are in feis music and the tunes they bring in. So while the correlation between Bill Whelan’s work and the development of feis music, other than for a few tunes 124 such as “The Countess Cathleen” and “Reel Around the Sun,” may not be directly or immediately obvious, I believe that the connection between Riverdance and these top musicians in the scene—whether that connection comes from a passionate love of the music or participation in the show—is significant. These musicians were exposed to the hallmark syncopated rhythms, harmonic textures, and grooves that have become an important part of how many of them approach their performances of feis music to create music with a good feel of lift and floor value—what Ní Bhriain calls that feel that invites you to “take the floor” (2009: 20). There are several feis musicians who have influenced the tunes used, the way they are performed in competition and for dance practice albums, and the instrumentation predominately used. Every musician I spoke with pointed to the significant impact that accordion and piano musicians Gerry Conlan and Seamus O’Sullivan (father of Brian O’Sullivan) have had on the feis music scene. Cormac said that they, “were two of the people that they raised the game when very few other had a game, if you know what I mean. They brought feis music to a much higher standard than it had ever been played before” (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017). He and others pointed to their playing in a style that was rhythmically tight and controlled, reminiscent of Scottish céilí music. Seamus is known for having brought in a Shetland style of piano accompaniment that was a large contrast to the typical piano accompaniments of the time that featured simple chords. Brian O’Sullivan noted that the piano vamp in accompanying Irish tunes has “grown exponentially” in his lifetime. “Again, something no one—99% of people don’t know or care about. But people feel it in the groove . . . And then to do 16 bars in the 125 middle of the piano and then just do a little bit an octave up. It gives it this liveliness, this little bit of brightness that wasn’t in the tune before and that’s part of the journey that you can take in the 48 bars” (Interview with Brian O’Sullivan, July 8, 2017). Gerry and Seamus also brought in a number of new Shetland and Breton tunes, many of which were in minor keys, again a contrast to most of the Irish tunes being played at feiseanna at the time that were in major keys. Several musicians also noted the high technical level of their playing as being a huge influence and even inspiration to being learning feis music: So one Australian Nationals, I—as a brother who was just dragged along to these things—I wasn’t initially interested in dancing. Saw a couple guys from Scotland who were out playing the Nationals and I instantly knew [snaps fingers], I instantly, it was an instant thing. Within a few weeks I had an accordion, I was getting lessons—I was already a musician but that was the inspiration at that point. And then around that time I actually got into dancing as well and became, I was a good competitive dancer as well. That was the inspiration, that was what got me in. It was a lightning bolt . . . [Gerry and Seamus] popularized [“The Glasgow Reel”]. It’s actually a tune called the Tam Lin, but they popularized it, they made a thing out of it. And they were just such fantastic players that they really had a big influence. So all of a sudden all of the accordion players are out there listening to the ornamentation of these tunes and they’re going hunting for other tunes all of a sudden because it was sort of okay to not just play . . . all the ones that had been played for awhile. So, they had a huge influence and I know they influenced me, I know there are other very good musicians now who are influenced both on the kind of tune side and on the backing side. (Interview with Sean O’Brien, July 6, 2017) The influence of Gerry and Seamus may also be at least partially responsible for the heavy predominance of accordion with keyboard backing that can be heard at feiseanna and on albums today, although the desired sound produced by the accordion has changed quite a bit. The accordion players I spoke with almost all used only a single reed when playing, and those who used more than one reed tuned them 126 very close together. Rather than a large wavy sound such as what can be heard on older feis music albums, the preference is now for a drier accordion sound with a tight tuning. Although I did not see it at the 2017 Nationals, the keyboard as a melody instrument has become more common within the feis music scene. The feis musicians call it, somewhat jokingly, the “feis machine.” It was described to me as a keyboard that has been programmed to play an automated accompaniment with the left hand chords provided by the musician. Then the musician plays the melody with the right hand, which can be done alone or in tandem with another melody player. It’s a really compelling sound, it’s got this nice roundness to it. It’s very electronic, but it’s compelling. And it’s very nice to dance to—it’s got this regularity to it because the accompaniment is programed to be at whatever speed we’re playing at, so the timing is absolutely, it’s computer-precise. So you’re producing the chords and you’re telling it what chords to produce, but the timing is produced by the keyboard, and then you can obviously play the melody, the melody is totally freehand, it’s whatever the person is inputting. So it’s a really interesting hybrid. Liam [Bradley] developed a massive amount of that and really brought that instrument to the forefront of the dancing music. But I’ll tell you, I’ve tried doing it and it is really tough. It’s like you need three brains doing it. Because yeah, he’s playing a certain amount of you know, really nice left hand chording, plus his lowest bass note will give you the bass chord, and then he’s also playing the melody on top of that. So, it’s really like a three brain scenario. And I only have two proficient brains—I have the left hand on the accordion and the right hand in the accordion. So yeah, I’m trying to grow that third brain that the moment, but it’s something I would love to develop and do. I know Brian has dabbled in it a little bit and he’s like, “Oh my god, this is hard.” (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017) In addition to bringing in the feis machine, Liam Bradley along with Damien McKee and Liam’s brother Aiden, brought a large number of new tunes from the traditional Irish scene into feis music. Cormac noted as well that growing up as a 127 dancer he would often hear the same tune being played repeatedly for dancers at a feis, so having a large repertoire to draw on is important. As with Gerry Conlon’s and Seamus O’Sullivan’s additions to the feis music repertoire, many of the musicians I spoke with credit Liam and Damien’s additions to the standard repertoire as inspiration for them to go out and find new tunes on a regular basis. Anthony Davis and Liam O’Sullivan noted that many musicians, including themselves, regularly try to bring in at least four or five new tunes for each major competition. Many of the musicians utilize online resources such as the website “The Session” (The Session, accessed June 8, 2017) to find new tunes. Anthony and Liam also are frequently inspired by tunes they hear at pub sessions they participate in, and regularly record tunes that they believe will work well in a competition context. As Liam told me, I’ll give you an example. In January, I was cooking a Sunday dinner in our house in Belfast, and I got a text message, “Can you do a session in Lurgan in an hour?” . . . And I was like yeah. So I drove down the road, borrowed Anthony’s car and I was there. And a whistle player started playing a tune, and I couldn’t get my phone out quick enough. I was like, [imitates pressing phone button] “Record.” And that’s where a lot of them come from where we’re in a session . . . You have to find a tune that’s bouncy, consistent, lively, but your ear starts developing ones that are sort of unusual as well, but will still enhance the dancer. So when you hear that, you’ve got like a recipe in your ear, like a natural checklist. [laughs] Both of us sometimes get our phone out at session. You look across and [Anthony’s] recording it as well. (Interview with Liam O’Sullivan and Anthony Davis, July 8, 2017) Finally, in addition to creating a good groove and feel for dancers as well as playing a variety of tunes, several of the feis musicians feel strongly that having an understanding and appreciation for Irish dance culture as well as traditional Irish music culture are imperative to being a good feis musician. For these musicians, a respect for Irish dance culture in part means taking the job of accompanying dancers 128 seriously: preparing properly for a competition, knowing the tunes, and performing them to the best of their ability. As Liam and Anthony told me: Liam: There’s a load of musicians that are coming through purely for the money . . . But they don’t have an appreciation for the culture. They don’t understand that we’ve got where we’ve got because we have a passion for the culture and a respect for the culture underneath it. And if I went and played a tune and I was fluffing over certain parts of it, and I wasn’t giving the tune or the culture behind it respect, I would feel bad about that . . . Anthony: You know, I want to do the best I can and I don’t want to be this person that will just go, “I don’t care anymore,” because I do care about our music, I really do. You know, I care about making mistakes, I care about performing. You know, I want to do a good job until these things [holds up hands] physically won’t do it again . . . Liam: What I mean to say here is that I feel that Irish dance music doesn’t exist as an entity on its own without an appreciation for the culture behind it. If you look at some of the judges that you really want to impress, they’ll be the first to admit they love Irish music. Trad Irish music. They love sessions. And that’s why they appreciate good Irish dance music, because they can hear the roots in it. (Ibid.: 2017) Challenges and Rewards in Performing Feis Music There are numerous challenges and rewards that come with being a feis musician. Playing for feiseanna is a physically and mentally demanding task. The 2017 Nationals were unusual in that musicians were scheduled to play half days, which all of them were very pleased about; however, it was still six days in a row of performing in shifts that could last anywhere from four to six hours, depending on the competition. At other Majors, musicians may play full ten- to twelve-hour days multiple days in a row. Musicians also play full days at local North American feiseanna—which may be either one or two days, depending on the organizers—but days are much longer in Ireland, where feiseanna begin in the morning and often last well past midnight. 129 Performing music for that long takes a physical toll. Although few of the musicians explicitly told me so, I could see in each of the competitions I sat in on that they—especially the accordion players—were dealing with pain or discomfort from the way they tried to rub and stretch out their hands, arms, necks, and backs during the brief respite between tunes. A fiddle player local to the Washington D.C. area mentioned to me once after a feis that at a certain point in the day he has to change what tunes he plays, as it becomes too painful to twist his hands to reach certain notes. And even though piano is typically regarded as a less physically demanding instrument, Liam Bradley told me that after just one day of playing keyboard at Nationals his knuckles became swollen and painful. Dancers are not the only ones pushing through physical pain in their performances at these events. Performing those long days requires mental discipline as well. It is important to stay sharp and focused, especially when some of the set dance tunes have similar melodies. As Brian O’Sullivan put it, “That’s where feis music is challenging because you need to be on the ball. You can’t really afford to wander off into the ‘Garden of Daisies’ if no one asked to” (interview with Brian O’Sullivan, July 8, 2017). In his story in Voices 3.1, Liam O’Sullivan noted as well that musicians must always remain alert to the task at hand. He and Anthony feel quite a bit of pressure to always perform at their absolute best: In a session, you can make as many mistakes as you like, you can try new things, you can try a tune you only half know and work it out in a session, you can pick tunes from other people up. And there’s no pressure . . . But the biggest challenge I’ve found coming from that world to this world is there’s no margin for error here, and it’s very unforgiving in that these people, rightly so, expect perfection because they’ve invested so much money. Some of these people have remortgaged their house to buy the dress, get their daughter or son onto 130 the stage. And so you really do feel that, particularly in the set dance round when all the tunes are a different length, the A and B part. That’s the biggest thing that hit home to me, and I think that’s why there are so few musicians that do this professionally, because people see you sitting there and they just see two lads playing music. But the pressure on you—especially if you care about children, you care about how well they’re doing—is immense. Is immense. Even, well [Anthony’s] been playing this a long longer than me, and we both still feel—we might not show it and have a laugh—but the minute you hit a wrong note, you see us both tense up and jump straight back in because you don’t want to let any of the teachers down, you don’t want to let a dancer down, because they’ve put ten, sometimes fifteen, sometimes twenty years of work into that performance. (Interview with Liam O’Sullivan and Anthony Davis, July 8, 2017) An additional challenge mentioned by several musicians was the misunderstandings that can arise from a lack of information or understanding about music performance among Irish dance teachers, students, and parents. One example of this, as mentioned above, is that there are often misconceptions about the tempo musicians are performing to, something that can give way to rather heated discussions: You wouldn’t believe the contention. I went to the [teacher’s] convention . . . in Orlando the previous year [2016], and I sat there and I played different pieces of music from my computer blindly to people, I didn’t tell them what speed it was. And depending on whether it was, you know, lively or whether it had piano accompaniment or whether it had other sorts of decoration in the music, people had vastly different opinions of what speed it was. And I said, “Herein lies the problem. You think someone is playing fast because they’re lively, and you think someone is playing slow because they’re mellow about how they’re approaching it.” . . . That’s the miseducation part of it amongst the dancing teachers themselves is that they perceive—like, my own sister! In Montreal at the Worlds a couple of years ago, Brian and I were playing, and my own sister—when I came down from the round of reels, we were chuckling with ourselves like we’d had a really good session. And she was like, “Oh, those reels were really fast.” And I said, “You need to close your mouth right now! And you need to think about what you’re saying.” I said, “I’m your brother, for one. And then for two,” I said, “you know 131 how passionate I am about speed of music. What’s you’re confusing is liveliness and speed.” So it ended up being a bit of an argument between us. I think she took the point but she’s quite a hard-headed individual and she was just pretty bound and determined to suggest that the reels were fast. And I was like, “There’s a computerized device that sits there and goes boom-chink boom-chink at nobody’s behest. I push the pedal and it does it,” I said, “We were banging out the time on it. What you feel and what you perceive are different things to what the reality is.” (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017) Although Cormac told me his story with a good dose of humor, these sorts of arguments are certainly not uncommon, and most without the good-natured sibling banter. I’ve been told similar stories such as at a local feis where two TCRGs got into a public argument about whether the musician had played a correct speed for a céilí team, with one teacher defending the musician against the teacher of the team who demanded a do-over. This again goes back to the value of utilizing drum machines or programmable keyboards as safeguards—musicians can easily demonstrate what tempo they used in their performance. In addition to the challenges faced within the community, feis musicians also spoke of the disdain that many traditional Irish musicians have for accompanying step dancers. Sean O’Brien believes it comes from the challenges of long days of playing and the rules that come with playing for feiseanna: Yeah, a lot of them just sort of seem to bag the scene a little bit. Not necessarily the musicians, but I think they just get—again you have to get pinned down into rules when you’re playing for dancers. Like, you’re playing jigs at 115. And you’re sitting there all day as well. I know there are people who have come in and done gigs and gone, “Oh, I am never doing that again!” You know, I’ve got to sit in a hall, and play what I’m told to play, and play the “Drunken Gauger” twenty times or whatever it is, you know whatever is part of the syllabus that day. So there does tend to be a negative attachment to feis or Irish dance music by a lot of people that are in the trad scene. I don’t even know what to say about that, I mean, I get that, you’ve got to want to do this. I mean, you know, you 132 just sat there for six hours with us. You’ve got to want to be there to do that. (Interview with Sean O’Brien, July 6, 2017). Liam O’Sullivan believes that it may come from the difficulties inherent in learning and performing the large number of pieces feis musicians must have in their repertoire, as well as having the technical knowledge and abilities necessary to successfully accompany dancers: One thing that’s important to include is the stigma. Feis music has a stigma, and it’s always had a stigma as this—in the trad world, it’s ‘Oh, you’re a feis musician.’ And it’s almost always looked down upon. For a long time it was looked down upon. But it took me to come into the world to appreciate it that they look down on it, probably because they can’t do it. It’s so difficult. The amount of knowledge and tunes you have to store in your head. A session musician might have twenty or thirty tunes, they go to a session and play . . . A feis musician carries hundreds of different tunes in different time signatures and then someone like Anthony that knows the whole of the music in terms of the backing and the structure of that music: he’s got all of that knowledge as well. (Interview with Liam O’Sullivan and Anthony Davis, July 8, 2017) In some cases, traditional Irish musicians who are used to playing many repetitions of several tunes within a set at a session can be frustrated by the structure they are confined to. Francis Ward shared this story with me, I remember asking a friend of mine just to give me a hand at feis one day. He was a really, really good traditional musician, and I said, “Don’t worry, you know I’ll have the metronome and I’ll keep it at the right speed.” He just found it so frustrating that we would finish after 48 bars, you know? He was like, “I was only getting into the tune!” Because at a normal session, you’d play a tune like three, four, five times, then you’d change to another one—three, four, five times and a set might last five or six minutes. But really [in a feis] you’re just basically doing AAABBAA, and that’s it, so you haven’t even played the tune twice. And a lot of what good Irish traditional musicians are good at is that process of re-oralization, you know, recreating it each time you play it. So you have variations and different interpretations and really, you know, that’s what I write a lot about in my PhD [dissertation] is these pathways and all the different combinations and ways that you can configure an individual tune. So there’s really not an awful lot of room 133 for that within such a short space of time. And that’s why actually when we play céilí competitions it’s much more enjoyable, you know, because there’s that bit longer and you get that change in the tune, and there’s something about changing from one tune to the next you get a nice lift and that kind of thing. So I suppose really when you’re playing sets of tunes in a session or an album, you’re thinking about a much longer story and you’ll think of that wave of performance of your climax and your dip, and your climax and your dip, and you’re playing over that six minutes and that energy is dispersed over a much longer space of time. But really what dancers are looking for is that ninety seconds of ecstasy where it has to be really, really lively for all ninety seconds. There’s no kind of warming up and maybe getting a little bit faster or varying the dynamics . . . It’s very, very structured and limited. (Interview with Francis Ward, August 3, 2017) It is important to note that certainly not all traditional Irish musicians feel this way, and there are many who may not play for feiseanna but will play for dancers for performances. For example, in the Washington D.C. area the Culkin School enjoys close relationships with many of the musicians from the local traditional Irish music scene. On the other hand, in Tokyo—which also has a robust traditional Irish music scene—the musicians from that scene generally do not play for the dancers who perform in the modern competitive style of Irish step dance. Despite these challenges, there are many rewards that, for the musicians I spoke with, are what keep them coming back and playing for feiseanna. Many of them spoke of the experience of performing feis music and being a part of the Irish dance community as truly rewarding and worthwhile. In addition to providing a steady job with better and more reliable income than what can often be found in the traditional Irish music scene, musicians have many close friends within the Irish dance community, and they enjoy spending time with at competitions. Additionally, they have wonderful opportunities to travel that they may not have had otherwise: 134 Anthony: If it wasn’t for Irish dancing, I really—there’s 60% of my life I wouldn’t have anything else, you know? I’ve built my livelihood and my career and my happiness, work and happiness, around Irish dance . . . But the one ultimate thing is traveling the world. We have traveled the world with Irish dance music. We’ve gone to Australia about fifteen times, we’ve gone to New Zealand, we have done quite a few states in the United States . . . Liam: This week I’ve ticked three, four things off my bucket list—just this week [counts them off his fingers]: steamboat, on the Mississippi, I ate alligator, and then—five!—I went on an airboat on the Bayou, and fed alligators! Held an alligator. They’re the type of things now you just expect as a musician now from these type of events. Like when we go to Australia or wherever we go, we can tap into local culture, cuisine, experiences. When I go home to my friends—that’s not afforded to many young people nowadays. And I really cherish it, really cherish it . . . (Ibid.: 2017) Figure 3.7: View from side stage: Sean O’Brien (accordion) looking out over the audience, Culkin teacher Phil Stacy with student Michaela Larson (blue, white, and yellow solo dress) after her performance in the Girls Under 15 competition 135 Relationships in Irish Dance Much of the way dancers (as well as feis organizers and teachers) interact with musicians has to do with the cultural ideas and values, taught locally at their dance schools and passed on through their communities, that they bring to the focus location of the competition. There are broad cultural differences that all the feis musicians noted between playing for competitions both small and large in different regions of the world. In Ireland and the UK, musicians are often not treated well by feis organizers or teachers and are relatively ignored by the dancers—several of the musicians I spoke with said they will no longer play at smaller feiseanna in Ireland for this exact reason. They feel they are regarded as nothing more than “musical furniture” or may as well just be metronomes for all the attention that they are paid. As one musician told me, “Where because they’ve been so oversaturated with Irish music, you’re just their jukebox, no food or water, just keep going, just carry on.” However, in places such as North America, Australia, New Zealand, and Russia, the musicians are very well treated and taken care of in the same way as the adjudicators; this is particularly true in Australia and New Zealand, because they receive fewer visitors from other Irish dance communities and do not typically have local musicians to perform live music at competitions. Sean O’Brien spoke to his experiences of living and performing in Australia (where he grew up as an Irish dancer), the UK and North America: I would say there’s a different feel, just in terms of the atmosphere. Particularly North America to England/Ireland. Obviously there’s—I don’t know if there’s a tactful way to say this—there can at times in the Irish dance scene be a bit of dismissal of the musicians. Now, I don’t 136 know why that is exactly, I mean, it’s a crucial part of what’s going on. I don’t know if it’s a perception all those people have that all of the musicians are unreliable, I don’t know. But it really depends on who’s in the space at the time. And generally I find in the U.S. that there’s a great appreciation—that’s my experience anyway—people are really, really happy to be here, they’re really, they love the music, they’re really supportive of it . . . And that filters into the experience of the musician definitely, because we’re sitting there and we feel that . . . There’s a tangible difference. You go to Australia and it’s very laid back, like Irish dance is just something they maybe do on the weekends or along with all the other sports they do or whatever. So it’s a bit more of a fun thing that they go to. There aren’t as many feiseanna, so it’s more of a day out. Whereas in Ireland, England there’s one every week, and people are traveling around so it’s a little bit more, ‘We’re in, we do it, we get out’, you know? . . . And that changes from individual to individual, but there is a difference. So I lived for ten years in the UK and played feiseanna, and now I’ve lived over here for three years . . . so I’ve been in a lot of different environments and it’s just a feeling. I could postulate as to what that is, but it’s just an atmosphere of—it’s a bit lighter, over here. (Interview with Sean O’Brien, July 8, 2017) The way dancers and musicians interact with one another both during a competition and after depends on the individuals involved, but is also dictated by the rules of the competition. Competitors, teachers, and parents are not to approach the musicians during a competition, which immediately puts some distance between them. In addition, modern competitive step dance is a form in which dancers cannot turn their heads and are expected to keep their eyes up in front of them and not make eye contact with audience members, the adjudicators, or the musicians. This is different from other forms of dance, such as sean nós, in which the dancer and musician interact with one another throughout a performance or competition. At the 2017 Nationals, the musicians also told me that they prefer not to watch the dancers and try to be in their own bubble at the side of the stage. The rules of competition dictate that the dancer must continue to dance, even if they slip, unless an adjudicator rings a bell to stop the performance. Even if a dancer starts to fall, the musicians must 137 continue to play until they hear a bell ring—therefore, it is easier to not look. The same goes for when a student is dancing and goes off time. The musician’s job in this context is to provide musical accompaniment that is unwavering from the set tempo, not to provide one that follows the dancer—some of the musicians told me that this can be particularly difficult if a dancer is performing a rhythm off time in hard shoes at the side of the stage closest to them. The separation that occurs throughout the performance comes from multiple sources: the rules of the competition and the requirements for performing the dance and music. How the dancer deals with performing to live music can have quite a lot to do with how educated they are about the music in their dance school. Although at a high level of competition such as Nationals and Worlds there are fewer issues with dancers not understanding live music (as they are not likely to achieve Open Championship status if they continually have issues with timing at local feiseanna), this can be a large issue in other contexts. Several theories have been given to me by musicians, teachers, and adjudicators as to why students have difficulty going from recorded music to live music, but the most common is that students are not exposed to a wide variety of tunes at a variety of tempos (the idea being that if they were exposed to other speeds, they could adjust in a live setting for a musician who may not be as strict on the metronome). If they receive a tune in a competition that is unusual, or even if it is just a tune they have not heard before, it can be enough to throw less experienced dancers off, and more often than not the feis musicians will be blamed for these mistakes. This is not to say that the dancer is always wrong—there are many times when feis musicians make mistakes in keeping to a particular tempo or play an 138 odd tune (such as one that features an unusual amount of syncopation, atypical phrasing, or melodic movement)—however, even with top musicians such as Sean O’Brien, students will become confused in competition. You know, I’ve had people come and tell me I’ve played the wrong tune. I’ll be playing a slip jig and they miss the start and they don’t start, and they turn to me and go, ‘No, it’s a slip jig,’ and I’m like, ‘Yeah, I know, that’s what this is.’ With all sincerity. So it’s that kind of thing that it’s like, why is this happening? And how are you being educated about what the music is to turn up and turn and say that to me? There’s no blame or judgement, it’s like I’m curious, like, how has it come to this point? How has it come to this point? (Ibid.: 2017) Dancers who perform well to live music and are more directly appreciative of the musicians are typically taught this within their dance school. As discussed in Chapter Four, the Culkin School places importance on making sure students have basic understandings of the music they are dancing to, and because of the school’s connections with the local music community they provide many opportunities for students to perform with musicians on a regular basis. However, there are many other schools that either do not have this opportunity or do not pursue it as a matter of importance, and this can then be reflected in the attitude exhibited toward musicians at competitions. Part of the negative attitude sometimes shown towards feis musicians by dancers and teachers may be attributed to the fact that for a long time, and still today, much of the music played at local feiseanna was not considered to be high quality music. As one musician put it, There’s a lot of not great music at the moment in the feis scene. At these major events, and for the most part, are the best musicians in the world doing this job at the moment. But the majority of stuff out there is not inspiring music. It doesn’t sit well in a groove, it doesn’t necessarily make people feel great, a lot of the musicians who are doing it don’t 139 necessarily have a lot of understanding of the sound systems they’re working with, so how to extract a really rich, great sound out of it. Not because there’s anything wrong, they just don't know how, it’s a skill set they just haven’t developed yet or have a sensitivity for. So that kind of thing could be partly why, you know if you’re not inspired listening to this and it’s kind of irritating you, then you know, you form an idea of the music as a whole. Yeah, good music, like really good music in Irish dancing is not common. It is in certain places if you’re lucky enough to live in those places . . . So maybe it’s connected to that. And maybe then the seeming absence of connection between certain parts of the dance community and music come from that—it’s like they don’t want to be connected to it. They love this dance form, but they’re not massively inspired by this thing that we have to dance to. However, all the musicians I spoke with agreed that this is changing. As Cormac O’Sé told me, Like now, even chatting with some of the people that are teaching music here at this weekend [at the Catskills Irish Arts Week], some of them have actually said it in clear words here, they said, “You know, when I started out playing in the ’80’s and ’90’s," you know, some of them are 40 and 50 years old, and they said, “Oh, Jesus, the music at feises was dreadful.” But they said, ‘Recently . . . you guys have amazing musicians involved in the feises now.’ And I tend to agree with them. There still are a lot of people that could do a lot more practice and a lot more work on themselves, but there are some really fantastic people that have decided, I suppose, and dedicated themselves to producing really high quality music for these types of events. It requires a lot of discipline and requires a lot of dedication to it. And it is very limiting, but within those limits can be found great—you know, discipline is a really good thing and limitation is actually a really good thing too because it gives you clear goal posts of what you can do and what you can’t. And you can really find a lot you can achieve within that creative space. (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017) Francis Ward agrees, as he said in his interview, I don’t mean this to be a criticism of previous generations, but I think feis music has become so musical in the last few years. And musical can mean so many different things, but there are some really great musicians who are doing some really nice stuff with the metronomic 110 “Planxty Davis,” do you know what I mean? You are just thinking, “That is just beautiful, what they just did there.” Whereas before it as very standard, and you knew what you were getting, and now you know, you get somebody who plays a nice chord and you get a shiver down your spine 140 and you think, “God, that’s really nice!” Just the standard of music is just so fabulous. People are just becoming really creative in their approach. And then even rhythmically—I don’t know what you got to record at Nationals—but you would get away from just the straight vamp of “boom-chink, boom-chink, boom-chink,” you know? And you’d get towards something a bit more complex. But again, not too off the ball that you don’t bring it back to the boom-chink. You might go off the wall, but you come back again so you don’t lose the overall beats. There’s a lot of syncopation in there in terms of maybe the Cape Breton influence, you know, jazz and ragtime. And just I suppose, I think for me, the rhythm in me comes from the fact that I danced and that I know the music and dancing intimately, so one kind of feeds off the other without me even realizing that I have that thing that just kind of kicks in sometimes, where you feel where you need to get that kind of lift or whatever. There’s not a lot of theory around it, or there’s not a lot of studying—it’s very oral, aural/oral, just picking up stuff all the time, and just being inspired by who you’re playing with as well. (Interview with Francis Ward, August 3, 2017) And as the standard of feis music has been raised at the both live events and on recorded albums, several of the musicians now have small followings among dancers, teachers and parents who follow their social media pages to receive updates on where they will be playing or when the next album will be coming out—some of the musicians noted how some dancers will even come up and ask for autographs after competitions. As one of the Culkin students told me during a practice at Nationals, “I don’t like that nasty feis music. But Sean O’Brien is great. So are Anton and Sully and the Feistunes albums.” Whether playing a set of reels or Always Noise at 76, the passion and dedication shown by the musicians performing for Irish dancers at the 2017 Irish Dance National Championships was apparent in every tune. As they strive for innovation in their music that works within the boundaries and regulations of feis music, they continue to raise the standard of that music, creating sounds that inspire 141 dancers to move and to connect with what they are moving to. As Brian O’Sullivan noted, feis music is important: good music inspires good dancing, and the reverse is true as well. In the next chapter, I discuss the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance, which is located in the greater Washington D.C. metro area, home to a rich traditional Irish music scene. Through the connections provided by Seán Culkin, Culkin dancers are granted an unusual number of opportunities to perform with live musicians outside of the context of feiseanna, contributing to the school’s goals of teaching their students how to listen to the music they dance to, helping them to develop musicality in their dancing, and actively participating in the local Irish performing arts scene. 142 PART II: Transnational Case Studies in Irish Step Dance Chapter 4: Teaching Claddagh Values: An Introduction to the Culkin School and Irish Step Dancing in the Washington D.C. Metro Area Figure 4.1: The Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance at the Washington Nationals for “Irish Heritage Night,” May 5, 2017 It was one of the silliest, yet oddly fitting, things I had seen at an American Irish dance event to date: two young teenagers dressed in their ornate and glittery solo dresses and black soft shoe ghillies, dancing over-two-threes in a circle around a triumphant Thomas Jefferson who attempted to dance a jig in his celebration of winning that day’s Presidents’ Race at the Washington Nationals baseball game. As his students danced on the baseball field, Seán Culkin, I was told later, was standing nearby, grinning from ear to ear at seeing the realization of his dream to merge two of his favorite things together: baseball and Irish step dance. From my position up in the stands where I sat with my 143 teachers and friends, I could only see the video that was played on the big screen, and we laughed as we watched the impromptu celebration down on the field.52 After three years of planning, Seán had gotten his Irish dance school to team up with Washington D.C.’s Major League Baseball team, the Washington Nationals, to host an Irish Heritage Night on May 5, 2017 at the Nationals Park stadium, which is located south of the Capitol building along the Capitol Riverfront next to Navy Yard. It has become an iconic building of pride to local residents, just as the Presidents Race that takes place during every game—pitting four cartoonish caricatures of U.S. presidents against one another in a race to a finish line on the field—has become an iconic image of D.C. baseball. It is an event at each game that fans look forward to watching, and when Culkin School students and teachers found out two of their own would be holding the finish line, it generated a good deal of excitement. An Irish Heritage Night at the local ball game isn’t as strange an idea as it might first appear. As the PR releases for the event pointed out, Irish-Americans have long played a pivotal role in professional baseball: between 1871 and 1920, more than 1,100 players were Irish-born or Irish-American.53 And it was an event that brought many aspects of the Irish-American DMV (short for D.C., Maryland, Virginia—the nickname used by locals to refer to the collective D.C. metro area) community together. The Irish Ambassador, Anne Anderson, threw out the first pitch; Mark Forrest, a well-renown Irish tenor, sang the national anthem; multiple iconic Irish pubs such as the Irish Inn and Lahinch sponsored the event and set up booths; and other local dance schools, the Boyle School and the Hurley School, joined Culkin in dancing around the stadium. And before the game, as I danced with my friends and Culkin School teachers in the VIP tent to an improvised set list of jigs and reels by Irish trio Capital Celtic, the winner of the D.C. Rose of Tralee Festival (chosen to represent the Irish-American community at the international Rose of Tralee Festival in Ireland) moved through the crowd, looking for young women of Irish descent who were eligible for recruitment. The onlookers were dressed in a combination of shamrocks and Washington Nationals gear, and delightedly held up their smartphones, filming us as we performed our steps for them. At one point after I got off the stage, I was grabbed by an audience member who asked if I had been with the group of Culkin students who had performed at the White House’s annual St. Patrick’s Day celebration that year. I replied no, I had been with the students performing at the Kennedy Center that evening. 52 The official video from this race can be found on the Washington Nationals’ official Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/Nationals/videos/10154967037455189/ (“The One With the Irish Jig,” accessed September 13, 2017). The girls come out and dance at the very end of the video. 53 Washington Nationals Press Release for Irish Heritage Night, May 5, 2017. Received via private communication. 144 The ethnographic account above is only one example of the Culkin School’s deep involvement with the local community in the Washington D.C. metro area. Culkin is one of ten CLRG registered Irish step dance schools in the DMV, but is one of the most prominent in terms of regular high-profile performances such as those at government events at the White House and the Irish Embassy and venues including the Kennedy Center, Strathmore, BlackRock Center for the Arts, and Wolf Trap.54 The school also has regular performances at local festivals (such as the Washington Folk Festival at Glen Echo Park, CCÉ [Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann] Festival, and the Annapolis Irish Festival) and local pubs, schools, and nursing homes. In many ways, this is due not only to the hard work of his teachers and dancers, but also to the charismatic personality of Seán Culkin, who founded the school in 1997, and his wide-reaching connections to the local Irish music and culture scene and regional and national Irish step dance associations. This chapter introduces the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance, its structure, and its community, and presents it as a case study exemplative of CLRG- registered Irish step dance schools in the United States. For all age levels, the school places an emphasis on teaching strong fundamental Irish step dance technique and an understanding of Irish music, and encourages participation in performances and 54 The ten schools included in this list are Culkin, Duffy, Hunt, Hurley, Teelin, Boyle, Maple, McGrath, O’Neill-James, and the Southern Academy, all of which are within an hour drive (assuming one is not stuck in the infamous traffic of the region) of Washington D.C. This list does not include the several schools that exist in the Baltimore, MD area, which is a little over an hour away from D.C. Although the majority of websites for the schools do not list their current number of students, Boyle writes that they have 500 students, and Culkin has about 250. Assuming the numbers of students at the other schools is at least 100, there are over 1,500 CLRG-registered Irish dancers in the DMV. At the time of writing, seven of these ten schools offer adult-specific classes. 145 competitions. Particularly in its program geared towards children and teenagers, the school focuses on preparing and retaining students to succeed at the championship levels of major competitions. Additionally, Culkin is well known for its strong commitment to teaching adults Irish step dancing, and is known internationally for their successful participation in team competitions, having won multiple regional and national championships. Culkin’s teaching staff strives to maintain a balance where their dancers stay active and viable within the local community, focusing on Irish step dancing as expression of Irish heritage and culture, while also focusing on increasing their competitiveness nationally and transnationally through a shifting focus to Irish step dance as a sport and athletic endeavor. At the same time, Seán and Denise Culkin place importance on the creation of a family feel in the school, something that engenders loyalty from students and their family members. The balancing of these goals and the creation of these important relationships takes place through focus locations important to Irish step dancing: the studio, the competition, and the performance stage. In this chapter, I begin by positioning myself within the school’s structure as a dancer, teaching assistant, and ethnomusicologist. I then introduce the legacy of teacher and adjudicator Peggy O’Neill, whose teachings have played a significant role in the foundation and pedagogical philosophies of the Culkin School. Next I detail the history of the Culkin School and introduce the current main teaching staff. The remainder of the chapter examines the focus locations of studios, competitions, and 146 performances and the ways in which the Culkin School operates within each of these contexts. Figure 4.2: (right)The author enjoying the benefits of being an adult Irish dancer after performing in the Traditional Set Competition at the 2016 Southern Region Oireachtas with the Culkin School; (left, photo credit Debbie Kaplan) The author photographing CulkinAdults as they prepare for their 2013 Shamrockfest performance in Washington, D.C. Positioning Myself Within the Culkin School Within the Culkin School, I shift between dual identities as an insider— actively dancing and assistant teaching in the adult program as well as performing in the Culkin LIVE performance troupe—and an outsider, having positioned myself as an ethnomusicologist who did not grow up participating in Irish dancing yet is doing research on the community. I started dancing with the Culkin School in May 2012 in the adult beginner class and began to conduct participant-observation based fieldwork 147 in the fall of 2012 for a class project at the University of Maryland. As my interest in Irish dance deepened, joining the adult figure class in the spring of 2013 and beginning to compete at Feis Culkin in November of that year, I shifted to a complete commitment to researching the dance form and dove head first into the multiple opportunities Culkin offered for adult students. As an insider, I have been able to acquire first-hand knowledge of the dance form through participation in classes and private lessons, as well as an understanding of feiseanna through my competing in solo step dances and team dances at the local, regional, and national levels. As an ethnomusicologist, I have had opportunities not typical of the experiences of adult Irish dancers, such as open access to observing and recording aspects of championship level classes and multiple opportunities to shadow teachers as they work with and observe their students at major competitions such as the Southern Region Oireachtas, the North American National Irish Dance Championships, and the World Irish Dance Championships. As I explore in Chapter Seven, my status as an adult Irish dancer (i.e., I did not grow up with Irish dancing, but largely learned the tradition as an adult) in other schools may very well have given me more of an outsider status—the adult Irish dance community is often kept on the outside fringes of the competitive Irish dance world. However, at the Culkin School, I have been treated as an insider, particularly after demonstrating my work ethic and commitment to learning Irish dance, just the same as any other student in the school community. 148 Figure 4.3: The Peggy O’Neill Adult Irish Dancer’s Cup, the perpetual trophy awarded to the winner of the Adult Championship at Feis Culkin Voices 4.1: Seán Culkin “The philosophy is the kids are supposed to have fun, and that’s why they’re dancing. It’s supposed to be fun [starts laughing]. But at the same time, they’re supposed to understand the basics. What separates Irish dance is the style, the form. So the philosophy is, the kids have to have fun, but they have to learn correctly. And then, once they learn, I want them to have the opportunity to do it—for shows, or if they want to compete, they compete . . . You know, the other thing too is that there’s a lot of byproducts to what we do: kids understand the value of discipline and work, and you reach your goals by doing that. By working hard, thinking about what you’re doing, practicing, getting yourself to the next level. The experience the kids have, we hope [laughs] that it’s a good experience. You think about different styles and there are a lot of teachers out there who only teach to the feis, and I don’t agree with that. You know, I think what Peggy taught me was what I call a ‘full curriculum’ [chuckles]. It’s like, this is Irish dancing: there’s this, and there’s that, and it’s not just two steps in the jig for a feis. And when you go to a feis, when you go to a beginner competition, you look at the variety of the kids, and they’re all wearing different uniforms, but no matter what so many of them are doing the same thing! And then you see our kids come out, and it’s like coming out of left field! For example [the other kids] will do: [lilts to reel rhythm] ‘Point and point, hop-back step-cross; point and point, hop- back step cross; cut-step, 1 step, 2 step, 3; point and point, hop-back step cross.’ My kids come in and: [lilts to reel] ‘Hop heel-down, and over heel-down; out, hit-down, lift, hop back’. Just completely different. 149 So I’m giving these kids more material and more of a routine; like, they have to a lead-around, then they have to do a side-step, and then they do their steps, and then they have a finish. They have to do their lead-around and finishing side-step. So it’s a choreography, it’s what they do. And when they go to do a show . . . Boom, you do your reel . . . And again, that’s all Peggy’s material, it’s all her material.” -Interview with Seán Culkin, October 3, 2012 Figure 4.4: Peggy O’Neill (courtesy of John Cullinane, 2003) The Blackbird: The Legacy of Peggy O’Neill During a Radio Eireann broadcast on the clan O’Neill, Frank described Peggy in these words: ‘Her eyes could twinkle with devilment as fast as her feet could dance The Blackbird.’ -John Cullinane, “Further Aspects on the History of Irish Dancing,” 114 Peggy O'Neill's contribution to Irish dancing in Scotland shall never be forgotten as it was the most outstanding of all time -Fred Sweeney, Glasgow Feis chairman, 1989 Peggy O’Neill, grande dame of Irish Dance in DC . . . O’Neill brought a worldwide reputation as an Irish-dance teacher to Washington, with her aura alone lending authority to DC's evolving place in Irish-American cultural life. Her endearing veneer belied a will as tough as that of a strict parish pastor. If the Church’s authority was slipping, people like Peggy O’Neill helped fill in the gap. 150 -Terence Winch, Washingtonian Magazine, March 2000, 67 Any history of the Culkin School must begin with teacher, adjudicator, and examiner Peggy O’Neill, whose name every Culkin student from the youngest beginner to the oldest adult knows. As Seán mentions in Voices 4.1 above, all of the Culkin beginner steps are her steps. It is a rare Culkin show where you don't see “The Blackbird,” Peggy’s favorite traditional set dance, being performed by Seán’s students or even by Seán Himself.55 She had a significant impact on the spread of Irish dancing not just in the Washington D.C. area, but also in Glasgow, Scotland where she taught before emigrating to D.C., and in her role as one of the first CLRG examiners in the United States.56 Born Margaret Hannon in 1914 in Mylerstown, Robertstown (near Naas in County Kildare), Peggy began learning Irish dancing when she was four years old from Peg Medlar, a Dublin-based teacher who traveled through Kildare to teach Irish dancing.57 Peggy O’Neill’s first gold feis medal, which she received when she was five years old and participating in a feis that was held at the Mansion House in Dublin, was for her slip jig: “She danced in an embroidered white costume with a big white bow in her hair, having travelled 20 miles to get there” (“Peggy O’Neill,” accessed May 31, 2017). As a dance student, she won the Kildare Irish Dancing Championship three times, and also gave dance lessons to other students between Peg Medlar’s visits. She lived in Kildare until she was 21, traveling by bicycle around the 55 In both Irish and Scottish culture, “Himself” is used to refer to a man of consequence or the master of the house. 56 SDCRG: “Scrúdaithoir Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha”, the CLRG’s examiner certification, qualification to conduct grade, TCRG, and ADCRG examinations. 57 Peg Medlar learned her dancing from a Miss Ruth of Cork, who herself had learned to dance in Cork City in the late 1890’s (Cullinane 2017). 151 county to teach Irish dancing. In 1935, she emigrated to Glasgow as a TCRG-certified teacher, and as she became known as a dancer there was frequently called upon to perform for exhibitions.58 She met her husband, Glasgow-born Irish tenor Frank O’Neill, in 1936 after dancing “The Blackbird” at a céilí. They were asked to perform together a week later at a concert for the Fianna Fáil (the dominant conservative party of the Republic of Ireland), which was the beginning of a life-long partnership of singing and dancing together in performance. They were married in 1938, and had two children. In 1937 Peggy began giving dancing classes for the Fianna Fáil, and opened her own school, the O’Neill School of Irish Dancing, eleven years later in 1948. It should be also noted that in 1941, Peggy won the Scottish Senior Irish Dancing Championship, the same championship her daughter Laureen won twenty years later in 1961 and again in 1964.59 At this time she was also traveling every two weeks to teach in Newcastle on Tyne in England, which now has a thriving Irish dancing community. The O’Neill School had a long list of accomplishments, particularly in terms of its competitive adult céilí teams—an interesting parallel to the Culkin School’s regional and national championship winning adults. In addition to winning the British 58 Although I do not have the exact year Peggy received her TCRG, John Cullinane has said that she was included on the first published list of names of TCRGs by the CLRG in 1943 (Cullinane, personal communication, 2017). 59 It seems that at this point, TCRGs were permitted to participate in these sorts of competitions. Today, once a dancer has passed the exam and received their TCRG, they are no longer allowed to compete. On another note, the year Peggy won this championship was the year in between giving birth to her two children (Francis was born in 1940, Margaret Laureen in 1942), an inspiration to any adult female Irish step dancer. 152 and Scottish Championships, the O’Neill School adult team was the first non-Irish team to win the All-Ireland Championship (Oireachtas Rince na h’Éireann) in 1963. As solo dancers, the adults were also very accomplished: from the period of 1949 until 1964, Peggy’s adults won the solo championships twelve out of sixteen times at the Glasgow Feis. In addition to competition successes by both adults and children, the school set up many performance opportunities for students, which included showcases at celebrity concerts, television appearances, and theater productions (ibid.: 2017). It should also be noted that Peggy and Frank, in addition to creating showcase opportunities for the O’Neill School students, created concerts to promote Irish artists as well as céilí dances to promote Irish social dancing (Cullinane 112: 2001). Peggy, Frank, and Laureen moved to Northern Virginia in 1964, making Peggy the first TCRG in the DMV area as well as one of the first ADCRGs in the United States (ibid.: 2001).60 She soon started dancing classes and then céilí dances and feiseanna for her students, all of which soon took on a place of central importance to the Irish-American community in the D.C. area. Peggy’s monthly céilí dances played a significant role popularizing céilí and set dancing within the Baltimore and Washington, D.C. areas, with Irish musicians traveling to them in order to participate and increase their repertoire of dance music. It is significant that the name of the local CCÉ O’Neill-Malcom Branch—an organization that is 60 According to Cullinane (2001), Peggy was the first certified teacher in the area; however, on the CCÉ O’Neill-Malcom Branch website (“A Brief History of the Founding of the O’Neill-Malcom Branch” http://ccepotomac.org/cce-branchhistor.html, accessed June 1, 2017) it is noted that Maureen Malcom had received her TCRG in Ireland and was teaching step dancing in Fairfax, Virginia in 1969. It is unclear if she arrived before or after Peggy and her family did. 153 primarily focused on Irish music (although they are also involved in the promotion of Irish dance and language)—is named after two local step dance teachers: Peggy O’Neill and Maureen Malcom. It is a tribute to her influence on the local Irish dance and music scene. Peggy and her dancers were frequently called on to perform at major events in D.C., such as at a Presidential Inaugural Ball and for Ireland’s Taoiseach (Prime Minister) Liam Cosgrave on his visit to D.C., along with multiple performances at the White House. They also were regular participants in the Washington D.C. St. Patrick’s Day Parade, which started in 1974. Peggy received multiple awards in recognition for her contributions to the Irish-American community. In 1972 she received an Irish Flag and a statue of Cúchulainn from Irish Ambassador William Warnock as recognition of her “fine leadership skill, services to Irish culture and particularly to the arts of Irish dancing and music” (Ibid.: 115). In 1978 Peggy was elected as the first female “Gael of the Year” of the St. Patrick’s Day Parade, a recognition for outstanding service to the Irish-American community in Washington, and in particularly for Peggy being the founder of the first Irish dance school in the area (“History”: accessed June 4, 2017). In 1979 she was recognized by the Irish Dance Teachers of North America for her services to Irish dancing (“Peggy O’Neill”: 2017). Peggy passed away at the age of 69 in 1984—eight years after her husband Frank—and was laid to rest while “The Blackbird” played in tribute. Both Peggy and Frank were posthumously inducted into the Irish Cultural Hall of Fame in 1989. Peggy was truly one of the first transnational Irish dance teachers, with a career that spanned four locales: Ireland, Scotland, England, and the United States. Her presence 154 left a deep impression on Irish dancing in the U.S., and in particular on the DMV area, where multiple feiseanna still present championship trophies and competitions in her honor. Her teachings are carried on by her daughter Laureen O’Neill-James, also a TCRG and ADCRG, through the O’Neill-James School of Irish Dance. In addition to Laureen, at least fifteen of Peggy’s United Kingdom students went on to become certified teachers and adjudicators, as did six of her American students: Bridget Carroll, Maureen Donnellan, Caterina Gori-Earle, Margaret Cleary, Anne McBride, and of course, Seán Culkin (ibid.: 2017). Figure 4.5: Seán Culkin dancing “The Blackbird” outside of the Irish Embassy in Washington D.C. for the 2017 European Union Open House, accompanied by Culkin School student Alice Bradley on fiddle. Assistant teacher Tammy Larson holds the microphone for Alice as she plays The Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance Seán Culkin began learning Irish step dancing from Peggy when he was six years old. His parents were immigrants from County Sligo in Ireland, and Irish 155 dancing was an important part of their lives, and they wanted it to be an important part of their children’s as well. Despite some initial resistance when he was a kid, Seán grew to have to their same love of step dance, céilís, and sets, and continued to learn from and compete under Peggy until leaving the area to attend college at Mount St. Mary’s University. He briefly returned to studying with her in 1981 to compete in the regional oireachtas, but stopped dancing shortly thereafter to concentrate on his schooling. It wasn’t until 1993 when Jesse Winch (a bodhrán drummer who teaches and plays in the Washington D.C. and Baltimore, Maryland areas) invited Seán and his wife Denise to a céilí that he realized how much he missed dancing. And then I had this guy named Jim Keenan, came up to me and said “Hey, I’m teaching a class, would you come and help me teach on Wednesday nights?” Teaching the céilís and the sets and all that. And so I said, “Sure, I’ll come up, what the heck?” That was it. I had gotten out of Irish dancing, and then I got back into it. Next thing, I’m thinking to myself, “Huh, I miss this. I like this.” And so I said, “Let me see what I need to do, figure it out.” (Interview with Seán Culkin, October 2, 2012) After studying on his own for his first attempt at taking the notoriously difficult TCRG teachers examination, he studied with Margaret Prendergast, a TCRG who taught in Gaithersburg, Maryland. In his second attempt, he passed the exam with flying colors, a fact which Seán still laughs about: One of the examiners, his name was Jack Connolly, and Denise was with me that weekend—and there was a fire alarm in the hotel. And it was Friday night, and he came up to Denise and I and said, “I’m not supposed to say this, but the examiners were talking amongst themselves, and they have never seen anyone do so poorly on the exam the first time, and then come back and do so well. We have never seen this happen.” I said, “Well! [chuckles] That’s me!” (Ibid.: 2012) 156 Seán credits his training with Peggy for giving him his musicality and rhythmic understanding—it was this understanding that allowed him to learn the rhythms of newer dances that he had not danced in competition, such as the slow-speed hornpipe. Yeah . . . and then I found out about slow hornpipe—Okaaay, guess I better learn this! And the best thing is, what I learned from Peggy allowed me to, even though I’d never done slow hornpipe in my life, the training I got from her allowed me to understand the music, understand the rhythms: off I went. Not a problem. I understand it. I teach it. (Ibid.: 2012) Peggy O’Neill’s legacy at the Culkin School goes beyond just the material and steps Seán mentions in his “Voices” section above. An understanding and love of Irish traditional music forms the underlying foundations of dance classes at the school, both of which were given by Peggy to Seán, which he passes on to his own teachers and students. In 1995 Seán Culkin began teaching Irish step dance classes to adults with the help of Caterina Earle, who had also studied with Peggy, but as an adult in college who had fallen in love with traditional Irish music and wanted to learn how to move to it. She had known Seán while they both studied with Peggy, and described him as Peggy’s “star child” (Interview with Caterina Earle, October 18, 2012). When she met him again about a decade later, she began taking lessons with him and was inspired to also pursue her TCRG, which she obtained, also after two attempts. They began teaching the adults’ class, and after two successful years of classes, Seán went on to start children’s classes, officially starting the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance in 1997. Although Caterina is not currently actively teaching with the school, for years she continued to run or helped assist the adult classes, and is still spoken of with admiration and respect by the adults she taught. 157 Tammy Larson was one of the first students in the adults’ class—she too had studied with Peggy O’Neill as a kid for about five years. She began dancing again in her late twenties when she lived in Cambridge, England and her daughter Erica began taking classes at their local parish. When she moved back to the D.C. area in 1995, her husband Rod saw an advertisement for CCÉ Feis at Glen Echo Park: And as I was there, I walk into the Spanish Ballroom and there’s Seán. And I look at him, and I remembered him as a kid, and he was running a stage . . . And I went up to him and I said, “You don’t remember me, because I look very different than I did, but I remember you. You danced with Peggy O’Neill.” I told him my name was Tammy McMahn at the time, and I said, “I’m excited to see that this is going on!” And he looked at me, and he was running like a million miles an hour, so he really couldn’t stop and talk. But he was like, “Hey, I’m starting up adult classes at this place called Trinity on this night at this time, just show up.” And I said, “Okay.” So that’s how I plugged into his school in ’95, and I’ve been with him ever since. (Interview with Tammy Larson, July 16, 2016) Irish step dancing with the Culkin School is a large part of life not just for Tammy, who regularly assistant teaches classes, gives private lessons in her home, and practices and competes in the adult program, but also for her two younger children, Matthew and Michaela, who have regularly participated in the Southern Region Oireachtas, North American Nationals, and World Championships as Open Championship dancers. She emphasizes the strong community aspect to the school and the way people are there for one another through good times and bad. Additionally, participating in Irish dancing and language are an important part of her identity: I’ve made a lot of good friends in the Culkin School, I’ve learned a lot about people in the Culkin School. There’s always surprises—that’s life. I think that it’s nice to know that there are certain people you can count on . . . I mean, I’ve seen a lot of stuff occur in the school where people really pulled together—big, life-altering stuff. You know, things 158 that changed peoples’ lives in an instant. And we backed each other up . . . It’s a strong community. We all share the same passion, we all support one another . . . I would feel a real big void if I didn’t have this. I grew up being told to be ashamed that I was Irish—that was a mistake . . . I am proud of my Irish heritage. I study the language, I find that absolutely fascinating, I’ve done it since 1997 . . . I’m proud of my heritage. I’m proud of the resiliency of the group of people. It’s interesting to learn about what it means to be Irish. I don’t really know that I know what that means, but you know, I don’t tell people with shame that I study the language and that I’m involved in an Irish dance school. I would think I would feel a little empty without that—I don’t know. I’d miss it. I’d miss what the dance and the language have brought to me. (Ibid.: 2016) Nicole Sack Bayhurst, who is the Culkin School’s Artistic Director and holds the TCRG and ADCRG certifications, began teaching at the school after moving to Alexandria, Virginia in 1996. Like Tammy, she has Irish heritage, but it was the traditional Irish music both her parents played that inspired her and her sister to dance. My mom and dad are both musicians, Irish musicians. My dad plays the fiddle, mandolin, banjo—a bunch of different stringed instruments. My mom plays the bodhrán and the concertina . . . I really got into the dancing because they were playing music, and they ended up playing for a céilí group, and that’s how we first saw it. And then my sister was actually interested in dancing, doing the Irish dance. I wasn’t, at the time. But then when I realized you didn’t have to wear leotards and stuff to class and wear your hair in buns, I was good with it [laughs]. So I went to class and signed up. (Interview with Nicki Sack Bayhurst, August 2, 2016). Nicole (who goes by Nicki) danced with Theresa Burke at the Burke-Conroy Academy in Pittsburgh from the age of eight through her sophomore year of college. She began competing the first summer after she started classes, attending local summer feiseanna in nearby cities such as Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Youngstown, Columbus, and Cincinnati, and quickly fell in love with the competitive aspect of the 159 tradition. By eighth grade she was competing in the regional oireachtas and qualified for the World Championships several times, competing at Worlds in 1988 in Salthill, Galway. When Nicki began teaching for Seán, the Riverdance craze was at its height, with dancers flocking to classes. I moved to D.C. and I was working my first job out of college and you know, it was kind of the resurgence. So I moved here in ’96, and Riverdance had hit, it was really popular, everybody wanted to do Irish dancing, and I thought, “Well, this is something I could do.” So, I saw a flyer of Seán Culkin’s in the Irish Walk, because I lived in Old Town [Alexandria] and my best friend was like, “Quit talking about it—if you don’t call him by Friday, I never want to hear it again.” And so I took the flyer, on Friday from work at lunch I called him—up against the wall— and I gave him my background. I said, “You know, I trained for the Worlds, I danced at the Worlds, qualified for the Worlds,” and he was just starting out . . . I said, “I know you’re starting out with a new school, not going to ask for payment at first, let’s see how it works and I need to get back into shape.” And he was like, “Well, it sounds like a good deal to me, I’d be an idiot if I said no.” . . . So the first class I did was here at Glen Echo in the Spanish Ballroom with beginners and teaching skips . . . And one thing led to another, and Seán looked at me about a year and a half in and said, “You’re getting your TC[RG].” And so I said, “No,” because I was working a sixty [hour] a week management job at the time and thinking “No!”! [laughs] But needless to say, the rest is history. (Ibid.: 2016) Nicki took and passed her TCRG examination in 1999 and ten years later took and passed her ADCRG adjudicators examination on the first try—a rare achievement. She has judged feiseanna all over the country, and even adjudicated at the 2015 Worlds in Montreal, Canada. Her adjudicating experience is a valuable asset to the school, helping teaching staff stay up to date on current trends in steps and styles in different regions around the country, which can vary greatly from one another. Nicki emphasizes the importance of creating community within a school, a trait which she believes is unique to Culkin, and one that was developed right from 160 the beginning by Seán and Denise, who were starting their own family at the same time they started the school. She also credits Seán’s charisma and connections for the school’s active role in the D.C. area. Seán is super outgoing . . . He is great at what he does. He can talk, and my Mom would say, he can talk his way out of a paper bag. He has the charm, he can figure things out, he gets things done, and people want to do it for him. And that is an amazing trait to have, you know, to be able to do that. His connections, because he’s from D.C., his parents were active in the Irish community—that’s how we got into the Embassy . . . The parade people—he just knows everybody, and everybody knows who he is. (Ibid.: 2016) Nicki credits the respect that Culkin teachers and students show the musicians they work with as an important reason that the school not only has so many performing opportunities, but also as a reason for the cohesiveness of the Culkin community. Bridging the gap between music and dance: it’s huge. And I think we’re the only school that has done that in the area. I mean, I think other schools work with those musicians or have, but all of the local musicians prefer to work with us because we respect their side of it. And they respect our side of it. And that has to do with community as well, that we’ve said to our kids, “No way, these people are working as hard and they’re working for you so you can dance,” . . . So I think it goes even beyond just the social aspect of it. So I think that tradition is very important, and reaching out to different Irish cultural groups like The Bog Band and Tina [Eck] and Jesse [Winch] and those guys, it just makes it a different experience too. (Ibid.: 2016) The Culkin School’s competition successes grew as Culkin grew. Phil Stacy—who started dancing with Culkin in 1997 at the age of seven and now is one of its full-time teachers—had a very successful competitive career as a Culkin student. In addition to qualifying for Worlds and qualifying for and competing at the North American Nationals multiple times, he won the Southern Region Oireachtas in 2004, 2007, and 2008, and competed at the Worlds three times in Ennis, Ireland in 2005; Belfast, Northern Ireland in 2006; and Glasgow, Scotland in 2007. 161 When I first started, I told my mom I would never compete [laughs] which is funny after all the competition success I had. But my first year I was dead set against competing . . . And my mom kept encouraging me to try competing, she thought I would really like it, but I was like “No, no, no, no, no.” But as soon as someone other than my mom asked me—my mom talked to Seán and Seán came and told me to start competing. And Seán only had to ask me one time and I was like, “Sure! Yeah, absolutely I’ll start competing.” (Interview with Phil Stacy, December 21, 2015) In many ways, Phil represents the next generation of the Culkin School—he is the first of Seán and Nicki’s students to receive the TCRG designation and begin working full time for the school. In the fall of 2015, he took over as the main teacher and coordinator for the CulkinAdult program, and runs several levels of adult solo, figures, and traditional set classes in addition to his beginner through Open Championship level classes for children and young adults.61 The school in total has about 250 students, and Phil estimates he teaches between 150 and 200 students each week. Fortunately, interacting with all of those dancers, parents, and other teachers is part of the reason he loves dancing and teaching with the Culkin School: I love just interacting with people and that’s part of why I love teaching Irish dance so much, because it’s something I really enjoy and I’m just able to interact with people and share the culture of it at the same time . . . The dancers that I grew up with, starting from when I was a kid up until, really, high school . . . that group of people I’m still extremely close with today . . . They’re not family, but they may as well be. (Ibid.: 2015) Today, Seán, Nicki, and Phil make up the main full-time teaching staff of the Culkin School, however they are helped by numerous other teachers and assistants such as 61 When I began dancing with the Culkin School in 2012, Megan Moloney, TMRF was the head of the adult program, but left in 2015 when she moved home to Kentucky. The majority of my fieldwork has been done with Phil, Nicki, and Seán; however, I very much value the lessons I learned from Megan during my time with her. She has since started her own céilí school, the Bluegrass Ceili Academy, in Lexington. 162 Kate Bole, Mary Page Day (who received her TCRG certification in 2017), Lynne Haslbeck, Tammy Larson, Megan McHale, Kelly McGovern, Maggie McNamara, Cierra O’Keefe, Denise Olive Daniele, and numerous others, many of whom volunteer their time to assist or run classes. Denise Culkin is the school’s administrator, and many parents and students volunteer for the school’s booster club events, fundraisers, or the annual Feis Culkin that takes place every November. It is truly a community effort to keep the school running smoothly, and Culkin’s successes—both in the local community and in the larger Irish dance community— depend on the volunteer efforts of its teachers, students, and family members. 2017 marks the 20th Anniversary of the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance—twenty years that can measured in the learned rhythms and steps of the studio; the triumphs and heartaches of local, national and transnational competitions; performances from the tiny pub floor at the Irish Inn to the Millennium Stage of the Kennedy Center; and above all, the strong values of love, loyalty, and friendship symbolized by the Irish claddagh, the Culkin School’s emblem. The remainder of this chapter explores the focus locations of the studio, feiseanna, and stage in order to examine the ways that these claddagh values, as well as Irish dance aesthetics, are passed on alongside the danced steps. In different focus locations we see a variety of performative roles and relationships, different ways of evaluating performances, and the ways in which these relationships and evaluations circulate and ultimately structure both local and transnational ideas and performances of Irish step dancing. How do these performance sites shape how Irish step dance is enacted by the Culkin School as well as facilitate the ways in which the school balances its goals: 163 maintaining visibility within the local community and teaching Irish dance as cultural heritage while building a transnational reputation within the broader Irish dance competitive scene by teaching Irish dance as an athletic endeavor? Voices 4.2: Phil Stacy “I mean, it’s been my whole life. Like, really—being an Irish dancer, I love it. I love where it’s taken me, all the people I’ve met doing it. I mean, “What does Irish dance mean to you?” It really means my life. [laughs] Life before was six and earlier. I don’t really remember too much before Irish dance. And so, it means to me just about everything. It means, you know, I wake up in the morning and thinking Irish dance all day long. And I love it, I absolutely love it. I couldn’t ask for anything better because it’s been my passion ever since I was a kid, and the fact that I can get up in the morning and just focus on that is—I couldn’t ask for anything more. So what it means to me is everything. I love it. [When teaching] I have to think, “Okay, everything looks good, but I still need to get [my students] to be better.” And so that is a real kind of challenge for me, and it’s like okay, “I have to think outside the box here, I can’t just think the standard, “You’re not turned out enough, you’re not crossed enough.” What can we do on this move that already looks good to make it look even better? And that’s something I’ve definitely learned over the years in Irish dancing: it can always be a little bit better, no matter how good you think it is. You just have to find it.” -Interview with Phil Stacy, December 21, 2015 Focus Location: Learning and Practicing in the Studio The studio is any type of space where classes or lessons are held and Irish step dance is being taught, embodied, and practiced: whether it is a professional studio space specifically designated for dance classes, a church gymnasium, or the basement of an Irish pub. Studio spaces typically serve as a “home base” for the school—where members of the community most frequently gather and interact. Primarily, they are where steps are taught and practiced and where teachers and students develop lasting relationships that revolve around movement transmission and preparation for competition and performance. Different types of classes in the studio provide 164 opportunities for varying types of interactions, with each class having its own energy that depends on what is being taught, the community members present, and the type of space that makes up the physical location. Studio Spaces Figure 4.6: (top) The Spanish Ballroom Annex at Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland (bottom) Culkin dancers Lynne Haslbeck and Laura Hittle practicing “The Blackbird” in the gymnasium at Hughes Methodist Memorial Church in Wheaton, Maryland 165 As is typical for Irish dance schools, the Culkin School holds classes in a variety of places around Southern Maryland rather than in one centralized location— as of writing, the school has five locations and holds classes five days a week, with a sixth location to be added in the fall of 2017, allowing them to hold classes every day of the week except Fridays. Each space has a unique quality that affects how students learn and practice Irish dance. The locations range widely in terms of how the space is constructed—for example, one location is Hughes United Methodist Church in Wheaton, Maryland. Dance classes are held in the church’s gymnasium on a portable sprung floor installed by the Culkin School that is excellent for dance. It is a very large space that allows for classes to be split into multiple groups of instructors and students: in championship classes, there is enough room to allow for a group of students to dance their steps (which are choreographed for a stage at least twenty feet deep and twenty-four feet wide) for instructors while other students drill movements in front of portable full-length mirrors propped up against the wall. Music is provided by teacher’s phones through recently purchased Bluetooth speakers kept in a loft that faces out over the gym, allowing teachers to seamlessly (assuming the technology is working correctly that day!) turn the music on and off wherever they are working with students in the space. However, Hughes has its downsides: echoing can make it difficult to hear and can restrict conversation between dancers, and with no air- conditioning or heating system, classes can be very uncomfortable in the winter and summer months. In contrast is what is referred to as the “Annex,” or more formally the Spanish Ballroom Annex at Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland. Designed as a multi- 166 purpose space with lighting and a sound system that can be used for professional shows, the Annex is used for a variety of events and visual and performing arts classes put on by the park organization. The space is much smaller than Hughes, with the main section used for dance shaped like a long rectangle—this allows for some splitting of groups in classes, but dancers quickly learn how to negotiate the space so as to not run into other dancers working on different steps. Steps choreographed by Culkin teachers in Hughes have to be changed in order to fit into the Annex space, and students that move between class locations learn how to negotiate physical space and step movement—a useful skill given the variety of stage sizes encountered in both feiseanna and performances. And although this space does have central heating and air-conditioning, the wood floor dries out and is not maintained properly by the park, resulting in an extremely slippery surface that can make students afraid to “really go for” or commit to a difficult step for fear of falling. This lack of commitment to a movement or series of movements can over time be built into their system of movement, and can affect the way they approach that particular choreography in other spaces. This is a prime example of the way in which the physical construction of a space affects how a dancer may approach movement. Demographics: Ethnicity, Gender, and Age Irish ethnicity is not a requirement of participation in Irish step dancing. While Caucasians make up the majority of the Irish dance population, there is participation in classes, performances, and competitions by minority ethnicities, particularly by Asian-American and African-American students. As evidenced by the success of these students in competition as well as the successes of the Japanese 167 dancers I discuss in Chapter Five, discrimination based on race does not appear to be a factor among the majority of the Irish dance population. The population of Irish dancers in the greater Washington D.C. area is reflective of the larger transnational community, the majority of whom are young Caucasian females. As discussed in Chapter Seven, male dancers and adult dancers (defined by the Culkin School as anyone over the age of sixteen that is starting Irish dance for the first time, or who danced as a child and has been out of dance for at least five years) are in the minority in the transnational Irish dance cultural cohort. The Culkin School is unusual in that it has a greater percentage of male and adult students. As noted to me by my teachers, this is likely due to having two men on the teaching staff and Culkin’s reputation as an adult-friendly school with a history of winning regional and national adult céilí championship titles. Program Structure The Culkin School runs two separate programs: one for children and young adults and one for adults. In the children’s program, there are seven levels of solo step dance classes offered that are organized by skill level and age (labeled Level 1 through 7, with 7 being the classes for advanced Open Championship students) as well as different levels of figures/céilí classes. In the adult program, there are three solo classes (beginner, intermediate, and advanced), a figures/céilí class, and a traditional set class. Additional classes and practices for both programs are offered at different points in the year to prepare students for major competitions, and there are also open gym practices (unstructured practices with teacher supervision) during the summer months when regular classes are not held. Rarely are students from the two 168 programs put together into the same studio space—most interactions between the two groups of students take place in performance or competitions. The school also runs a summer camp program for children and young adults at Glen Echo Park from June to August each year and for very young beginners, the school began a “Tiny Tots” class for children aged three to five in 2017. Teachers for these classes are hired directly by Seán and Denise, and are either paid per class or are salaried with the school. Students register for classes either through the Culkin School directly or, in the case of the adult classes, through Glen Echo Park. The cost of classes in the children’s program depends on the student’s level, which determines the number of classes he or she takes per week. Parents are charged a yearly tuition that can be paid either up front or throughout the year in monthly installments. During the September 2016 through June 2017 school year, tuition costs ranged from $700 for a 45 minute per week class for new beginner students to $3000 for championship level students, who received seven hours of instruction each week. Students in the adult program are charged slightly differently through Glen Echo’s class system: in the 2016-2017 school year, an adult who participated in all classes offered by the school in the program (solo class, figures, and traditional set for a total of three hours of instruction per week) paid approximately $1200 before registration fees. The different class structures—determined by skill level, age, number of students in the class, and class content (types of movements such as solo steps versus céilí dancing as well as goals for the class such as show versus feis preparation)— determine the various opportunities created for interaction between students and 169 teachers. It is these interactions that form the foundation for building relationships between teachers, assistant teachers, and students. However, no matter what is happening in the class, the teacher remains at the center of the activity—he or she is the authority figure and repository of cultural knowledge (as evidenced through certification, discussed experience, and on-the-spot demonstration), transmitting steps to students and acting as coach and mentor. The instructor is essentially the center of the dance class solar system, and assistant teachers and students tend to gravitate and orient themselves in in relation to him or her in the studio space accordingly. Even those students who are told to work independently on a step or skill will frequently surface from the flow of practice to look for their teacher. The next section will outline the typical flow of Irish dance classes at Culkin, highlighting the relationships formed within the studio and flow of ideas, both local and transnational, that take place in these spaces. The Dance Class Before the dance comes the music. More often than not, the moment I get out of my car in the Hughes’ parking lot, I can hear reels blaring out of the gym, or perhaps a hornpipe with accompanying hard shoe rhythms, before I see the dancers showing their steps to the Seán, Nicki, or Phil. But even when it is the first class of the day, the teacher is likely to put on some type of Irish traditional dance music to play in the background as students prepare for class, catching up with one another while stretching and warming up. For example, before the adult classes at Glen Echo, Phil tends to put on fiddler Eileen Ivers, who toured with the original Riverdance show, or local musician and NEA award winning accordion player Billy 170 McComiskey, and often selects music types we don’t dance to in classes, such as polkas and waltzes. Figure 4.7: Review of One More Time in Hornpipe (2000: 7) Music danced to in class comes from a variety of sources. One More Time, the CD produced by the Culkin School in 2008, makes frequent appearances in beginner and intermediate classes. The CD features local musicians with worldwide reputations that Culkin dancers frequently perform with live at shows: Billy McComiskey, Brendan Mulvihill, and Zan McLeod. It has the typical reels, hornpipes, and variety of jigs (single, double, and slip), but what makes it unique is that it features pieces at various practice speeds, allowing teachers to start students off with practicing steps slowly to music, and increasing their tempo as they become 171 proficient with their timing, eventually working their way up to the official oireachtas tempo.62 The sound of the music is an interesting blend between traditional Irish dance music and feis music: it recreates the experience of dancing with live musicians in a non-competitive context in terms of its lack of electronic sounds and back beat tracks, but features clear melodies that help dancers to “hear the counts” to figure out when to dance. The album is sold both by vendors at local feiseanna, through the school, and of course, on iTunes as a digital download. It is a popular album that has received high praise from online reviewers, who consist of not just dancers, but by new and experienced Irish traditional musicians looking to pick up pieces by ear or learn how to play for Irish step dancers (“One More Time,” The Session: Accessed June 8, 2017).63 These tracks are typically the ones used to teach beginners how to “count the beats,” and all Culkin students receive a copy of One More Time at their first dance class, emphasizing the importance of listening, understanding, and moving correctly with the music. Several other artists’ music is used in classes in addition to Culkin’s CD, with teachers and students favoring music from Sean O’Brien and Anton and Sully, all of whom frequently play at major competitions around the world (see Chapter Three). For teachers who end up listening to the same music day in and out from their digital collections on iPods and smartphones, these artists are good choices, being easy to listen and dance to, even on repeat. 62 Although now there are some smartphone apps that allow teachers to change the tempo of music tracks without altering the sound too much, Culkin teachers are more likely to use pieces from One More Time if the type of dance they are teaching is on the CD. 63 The one amusing exception to the multiple good reviews comes from user ding95 on iTunes: “sorry but since i dance for another school this album stinks! [sic]” (“One More Time” Customer Reviews, iTunes, accessed June 8, 2017). 172 In all classes, students start with a series of warm-up exercises designed to prepare them for the vigorous workout ahead—classes last anywhere from 45 minutes for younger students to two and a half hours for Open Championship dancers, and it is crucial for students to be sufficiently prepared for them in order to avoid injury. As the students advance in skill level and age, more care is taken to prepare them for the difficult movements and endurance training encountered in classes. Warm-ups also serve the purpose of drilling both basic technique and movements or rhythms particular to the dances to be learned and practiced that day. For beginners, this may be something as simple clapping to the music while standing in place or sitting on the floor (for very young beginners), practicing keeping the heels together and moving the toes apart to practice turning out. In classes corresponding with Advanced Beginner or Novice levels working on soft shoe dances, Seán may have dancers practice the “Box drill,” which focuses on moving forward, backward, and to the sides with correct foot placement. In an advanced adult class that is going to focus on hornpipe steps, Phil will have dancers place themselves in front of mirrors and dance a sequence of shorter slow, medium, and fast hornpipe rhythms before introducing a full phrase that may combine these while introducing a new movement. Nicki requires students in Level 6 and 7 classes to spend a full thirty minutes warming up with functional, synergistic exercises that are introduced through workshops by trainer Angela Mohan, who specializes in working with Irish dancers. These strength and flexibility building movements are designed to push students to the next level of fitness needed for competitions, and only once these are completed do students begin 173 to focus on their dances. In all these different cases, teachers talk to the students as a whole while walking around and making individual corrections. The main body of the class is structured according to content (for example, solo step dancing or céilí), skill level, and goals (e.g., introduction of new material or drilling a figure dance for an upcoming Major or show). In a large solo step dancing class for beginner or intermediate level students, typically Seán, Phil, or Nicki will split the class into groups according to the steps they know or need to learn, keeping one group with themselves and sending the others off into different parts of the studio with assistant teachers or to practice and drill material on their own until it’s time for their turn with the TCRG. No matter the ages of dancers in the class, it quickly becomes (barely) organized chaos, particularly if students are working on hard shoe steps. A casual observer would likely be bewildered, seeing students oriented and moving in seemingly random directions (and often just avoiding collisions between one group and the next), many conversations and instructions between teachers and students being shouted over uncoordinated hard shoe polyrhythms, and the continual turning up the volume of the music so it can be heard over all of this.64 Of course, solo classes are not always run this way—before or after having groups work separately, the teachers may decide to have the class work together on a new step, or drill a particular movement or rhythm that each dancer uses in their steps. If there is an upcoming competition, the teachers may run steps “feis style” and 64 As a side note, doing observational fieldwork in these types of classes both in the U.S. and Japan was always a challenge as I typically couldn’t hear any of the conversations taking place, and I didn’t want to intrude on instruction or distract students by inserting myself into the fray. It is another reason why my participation in classes was so crucial to my understanding of Irish dance. 174 will watch students in the same way an adjudicator would—having dancers perform two or three at a time, each group immediately following after one another, and then giving feedback to each student individually after all groups have finished. When Open Championship level classes are run this way, particularly in preparation for oireachtas or Worlds, the level of intensity in interactions between the teacher and dancers is quite high. Teachers follow the students back and forth across the section of the studio that has been marked off as the stage, shouting criticisms and encouragements while making emphatic hand gestures, moving in a parallel dance with their student. In classes, teachers and their assistants are not the only ones who provide feedback—as students work in groups to the side, or after they perform their steps for the teacher, they often will ask for feedback from other students or ask specific questions about movement order or execution. These sorts of interactions help to build and strengthen bonds between students—although they are working on individual steps (and may well compete these against one another at feiseanna and oireachtasaí), students typically want to help one another and work together to become better Irish dancers. This sort of teamwork becomes especially evident in céilí and figure classes where dancers must work together in order to be successful: every dancer has to do their job and be in sync with the others on the team, requiring awareness of team members during the dance and communication with them during practices. Additionally, although he or she needs to correct individuals to put them in sync with the rest of their team, the teacher treats students on a céilí team as a unit, helping to strengthen the bonds between the dancers, which are carried out of the 175 studio and into competitions and shows. It should also be noted here that while all céilí dances for competition are taught “by the book”—in other words, according to the structures outlined in Ár Rince Céilí, the official CLRG publication—individual schools have the freedom to decide what “counts” they will use for certain aspects of the dance, such as turns or arm movements. This means that they can determine what beats in the music they will perform the required movements on. This is one example of localization of dance by schools that occurs within the regulated cannon of repertoire by the CLRG. Between Culture and Sport All of the Culkin teachers work to provide instruction that is balanced for those who are focused on competition and those who are not. Although many Culkin students actively take part in the competition circuit, there are students that attend classes primarily to express their Irish heritage or are interested in Irish culture (while getting a good workout!), those who are more interested in performing than competing, and those who are looking for socialization and being a part of Culkin’s close-knit community. It is up to teachers to provide a balance between helping students to achieve these different individual goals while also encouraging them to step outside their comfort zones—and these must be done in such a way that students will want to continue to come back to class each week. Of the teachers I observed, Seán in particular strongly emphasizes Irish culture in classes and frequently tells stories about Peggy O’Neill while teaching her steps, as well as other facts about 176 Ireland, Irish dance, or other similar anecdotes.65 In classes, students are encouraged to both compete and perform, and are prepared accordingly, but teachers are careful not to place too much pressure on dancers to do either. However, as students (both children and adults) advance in material and move up to more difficult classes, there is generally more of a focus on competition preparation, though students who are advanced enough to participate in the class but choose not to compete are still welcomed. This is particularly true of the Level 6 and 7 classes that are for Preliminary and Open Championship students. Unique to championship level classes is the opportunity for teachers to create and test new step and set choreographies for—and sometimes with—the students. At the Culkin School, Nicki is primarily responsible for choreographing steps and sets— with the exception of the beginner steps that come from Peggy O’Neill, the majority of higher level steps and set dances were initially created by Nicki, though they have often been tweaked and played with by both her and other teachers over the years. Nicki’s adjudicating experience becomes very valuable in her creation of new steps: she will work on her own or with other teachers such as Phil and Mary Page to come up with new steps based on what trends she sees when judging. Teachers may also travel to feiseanna in other regions so they have the opportunity to see what the top dancers look like up close. Their observations from those feiseanna, as well as from Majors are put to use in the studio, influencing movement choices when constructing new choreographies as well as how they approach teaching style. 65 My favorite of these, mentioned earlier in Chapter Two, is when he asks the kids why Irish dancers perform steps with their arms by their sides. The answer, of course, is “Because I told you to!” 177 After putting together new championship level steps or sets, Nicki will teach them to students, testing them to see if she likes the way the movements fit with the style of both the school and individual dancers, and if she believes they would be viable on a Major stage. She also solicits feedback from students, allowing them to play around with the steps to a certain extent. For higher level students, particularly those who attend the championship level summer camps, Nicki gives them the opportunity to work on choreographing their own set dances with her help. In both cases, there is a dialogue between teacher and student as they work together to craft or personalize steps or particular motifs within steps. The relationships between teachers and the students are strengthened as they work together throughout the process in which movements presented on transnational stages are brought back, reinterpreted within a local style specific to the student and the school, and represented in new choreography. Performing the Local and Transnational Even while creating and transmitting localized movements and ideas, because the Culkin School and its main instructors are registered with the CLRG, they teach students transnational ideas about Irish dance as determined and regulated by this governing body. As described in Chapter Two, teachers who receive the TCRG designation do so only after undergoing rigorous testing on not just their teaching skills, but also their ability to perform Irish dance to a standard deemed acceptable by the CLRG while demonstrating a breadth of repertoire unique to their school or individual practices. They must also be able to identify particular aspects of modern competitive Irish dance music repertoire and demonstrate their knowledge of Ár 178 Rince Céilí and the instructions for thirty céilí dances inscribed therein. Receiving the TCRG is a stamp of approval from the CLRG, legitimizing a teacher’s place within the organization and their right to teach and have students participate in CLRG competitions. It connects them to a transnational network of teachers who have likewise demonstrated their ability to teach and perform within an institutionalized system of movement and values. Examining the studio as a focus location reveals certain key values held by the Culkin School and allows us to begin to understand how the school is placed within both the local D.C. Irish dance and music community and the larger transnational one. Through the steps and stories of Peggy O’Neill, particular studio locations, the use of local Irish traditional music, preparation for local shows, and transmission of choreography and céilí counts specific to the style of Culkin School and its dancers, Seán and his teachers create a space for students to explore and participate in Irish culture in ways unique to this particular school. At the same time, by encouraging and preparing for participation in feiseanna and oireachtasaí by using widely released recordings of feis music, teaching highly skilled dancers how to be athletes through training and nutrition, and creating choreography that comes from the transnational experiences and observations made by Nicki, Phil, and Mary Page, the Culkin School actively participates in a transnational competitive Irish dance culture every day in the studio. As students and teachers work together through teaching, learning, and practicing dances, strong bonds are formed to create a close-knit community. 179 Voices 4.3: Nicki Sack Bayhurst “I was adjudicating a feis a while ago, and I was talking with another adjudicator, and he asked himself that question [of why do I love Irish dance]. And at the end of the day, he said, “It’s the music that keeps you coming back,” and I have to admit, I love Irish music, I really do. I love the beat of it, I love all these young musicians that are coming out with, I don’t want to say fusion, but just a different sound of it. I love, like, Sean O’Brien and Anton and Sully, like all the stuff that they do with Irish music is exciting. It makes you want to up your dance game because the music just gets you excited about the steps. It’s almost like the music has more energy behind it, so you want your dancing to match that energy. So definitely the music has a lot to do with it. I love the fitness behind it. I love the rhythm behind it. I love—from a teaching standpoint—I love the confidence that it gives kids . . . Part of the joy is seeing a kid who struggles with a piece, or a number or step, and they get up on that stage at the Kennedy Center and they do it right, and you can see the joy and you can see the change in their confidence. And that’s really, that’s really what I love. I really do. And just to see that transformation—and so many kids come back and say, “I couldn’t have gone through college without doing Irish dance. I met so many people and different people, and I traveled.” So it’s the culture too—not just of Irish dance, but of the travel and learning about the world, and I think that’s important in this day and age, more than ever! So I think it’s combination of that. I also think when I became an adjudicator, it opened such a wide door, a wider door to meeting different people. And what I found is that the majority of people who stick with Irish dancing—and I’m talking kids who go through college doing it, adults who teach it, who adjudicate, however you want to look at it—that they are intelligent, smart, they can juggle many different things, they can multitask. They enjoy similar art forms and life the same way that I enjoy it. So there’s a common ground there, regardless of the background. And when you adjudicate, you really bond with people. I can tell you that even after just sitting for the AD[CRG] exam, and actually being forced to adjudicate kids you don’t know, I walked away and I said to myself, “That was a learning experience, in and of itself. I’m already a better teacher,” because you walk away judging different styles and different steps, different issues, and you see things much differently . . . If you’re only teaching, and the only feiseanna you go to are local feiseanna, you’re seeing the same kids—pretty much—over and over. So you’re used to that style. When you start to adjudicate—you go into Chicago, and there’s a whole different world in Chicago. Different styles, different—I mean, I remember one of the first times I judged in Chicago. These itty, itty bitty kids with the Gavins.66 Brand new Gavins! . . . It’s not like that in the Southern Region, you know . . . They have the top of the line dresses, and they are seven, eight years old in Prelim[inary Championship], or even in Prizewinner trying to get into Prelim, because it’s so competitive there—there are just so many good schools, and so everybody’s vying for those places. . .So definitely there are cultural changes for each area of the world that you go to. So that was a huge eye opener too. I also think—I was very lax on “look.” For instance, tanning of the legs. I thought, “Pft! What a dumb thing!” Until you’re sitting at an oireachtas and the stage lighting is semi- professional, anyway, and you’re like, “Oooh—I get it.” You know? It’s almost like stage makeup. And if you’re only going to local feisanna, the tanning of the legs, you don’t really need it, at a tiny little local feis. But you know, going into an oireachtas, there’s a definite 66 Gavin Doherty designs couture custom-made Irish step dance solo costumes. Although prices vary based on age and size, brand new dresses typically start at around $2,000. 180 different look in feel and style, and you need to play the part. And I think that before I got into adjudicating, I was kind of like, “It shouldn’t matter what you look like, it should matter how you dance.” And I do still believe in that, but I think there is an element of showmanship and stage presence that you have to have. And so that definitely changed, because I was so against the big wigs, I was so against the tanning, I was like, “We’re not doing makeup.” And then I went into judging and I was like, “Oh. I totally get it.” Because you’re looking at it from a different perspective. If you really like two kids, and they are virtually close to being the same, you know—you’ve got to have some factor that takes the one over the other, over the top. So that’s definitely changed. I think—just the steps in general. You get to see what other kids are doing, at certain ages . . . And with championship dancers, it’s the same thing. You look at the material, and you think, “Okay, we have A, B, and C, but we need D and E in those steps, because everybody else is doing D and E.” So you can tweak things to make the steps more competitive. And again, I’m a true believer: if you do a simple step cleanly, you’re going to place over somebody who has all this fancy footwork in and it’s done sloppily . . . And that helped me with some of [our] kids that are kind of in between levels, and not placing top-top at bigger competitions. And saying, “Look, if you’re not turned out, and you’re not over- crossed, it doesn’t matter what you do.” So it does come down to the basics. So it’s good to see that.” -Interview with Nicki Sack Bayhurst, August 2, 2016 Focus Location: The Competition—Feiseanna and Oireachtasaí Figure 4.8: A Culkin School student watches a competition at Feis Culkin (courtesy of the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance) 181 As I danced the second step of my reel in front of the adjudicator, Phil’s voice popped into my head. For a brief moment, I was no longer competing on a championship stage at Feis Culkin, but dancing in a private lesson at the Bumper Car Pavilion at Glen Echo. The hours of practice that had been drilled into my feet and brain, the lilted instructions, and spoken reminders wove themselves together in time with the reel being played on the keyboard. ‘Cut-one-two…Point your toes after your switch…Keep your knee pulled back in the over…And turn-two-three, switch-point. Flick-and-heel-up! And point-and-point-up! Rock-rock…Keep your back foot turned out!’ Just as I was silently congratulating myself on thinking about my turn out at the end of my step, my left foot came down to the floor and caught on a seam in the plywood stage. I was jolted back into the present as my feet abruptly and awkwardly stuck together in place; I squeezed the muscles of my core and legs to keep myself from falling over and plastered a smile onto my face, praying I wouldn’t topple over. The music ended right at that moment though, and after holding myself up on my toes for a brief second longer to demonstrate that I had the strength and stamina to do so, I relaxed down onto my heels, pointed my right toe on the ground, crossed in front of the left, and quickly bowed to the adjudicator, who smiled broadly at me. I walked to the back of the stage and waited while the judge wrote down her comments. When she rang the bell, and I bowed again to her and to the musician and turned to walk off stage, noting the small crowd of adult dancers from Culkin and other schools who were sitting on the floor together to socialize while watching the adult championship competition. My friends grinned at me, although some did so with slightly puzzled expressions. I spotted Lynne—she had broken her foot dancing the previous summer and was still healing—running the stage next to ours with Denise, but it looked like they were busy lining up rows of nervous-looking bedazzled and bewigged teenagers, so I wasn’t sure either of them had been watching. Ignoring the searing pain in my heel that I had been attempting to dismiss the last three months, I carefully walked to the side of the stage where Kate waited for me. “That looked awesome! But, um, weren’t you supposed to do a third step?” My jaw dropped and I covered my mouth in horror—in my attempt to not fall over, I had completely forgotten about doing a third step . . . The one thing I had been repeatedly reminding myself to do in the first round of this championship, since I had been dancing only two steps in all my earlier competitions that day. Panicked, I quickly looked around, but relaxed when I saw that Seán was nowhere to be seen. He had already given me and one of my friends a rather stern talking to after he witnessed the less-than-brilliant performances of our hornpipe steps earlier in the day. The memory of walking off stage only to see Seán Culkin glaring and then crooking his finger at us to come talk to him has served as strong practice motivation 182 ever since. Phil was occupied running one of the six stages on the far side of the sports complex where Feis Culkin was being held, so I doubted that he had seen my mistake. I would have to admit to him what had happened later on, but I shoved that eventuality to the back of my brain and focused again on Kate. “The musician ended at the same time as you!” she said, “You still have your trad set round— go kill it! What are you doing? ‘King’?” My traditional set was in fact “King of the Fairies”—I had learned how to dance it the month before, and was preparing it for the Southern Region Oireachtas, which would take place in Baltimore in a few weeks. I had danced it earlier in the day on a different stage, my first time performing it in a competition, and was rather proud of how it had turned out, despite having danced it to an incredibly fast tempo. Before it started, I saw the accordion player lean over to the adjudicator and ask what speed the traditional “King of the Fairies” was supposed to be played at. The adjudicator shrugged and didn’t answer, clearly uninterested in this particular competition, and before I could walk over and tell the musician that the tempo was 130, she launched into a high speed version that had me flying across the stage like my life depended on it.67 It must have been an entertaining sight: my friends, who watched from the side after completing their set dances, were howling with laughter when I got off the stage. I placed third out of the six competitors, a result that I was happy with considering the circumstances. The second attempt at my set dance went far more smoothly. Instead of the stage manager informing the musician of the pieces to be danced, the dancers were to walk to the front of the stage where the musician and adjudicator were placed and tell them ourselves. The keyboard player grinned at me and gave me a thumbs up after I told him I was dancing “King,” then selected a jazzy sounding background track on his keyboard and started to play. The adjudicator smiled and bobbed her foot up and down in time with the music. The tempo was spot on to what I had practiced in classes and lessons, and I gained confidence as I moved through the leading steps and then the set. Although I felt that I missed a treble with my left foot at one point in the leading step of the dance, I didn’t let it throw me off and kept going, remembering Lynne’s advice to “be one with the music.” I tuned everything else out and just concentrated on the sounds of the piano and the feeling of trying to turn my feet out as far as they could go. Feis Culkin takes place annually on the first weekend of November, and is one of the most popular feiseanna on the East Coast, often hitting its maximum number of 67 I now know that I could have indicated during the eight bar introduction that the speed was incorrect and asked the musician to start over at the right tempo, but at the time was too panicked to know what to do! 183 allowed participants just hours after opening registration online each year. Its popularity is due in part to timing—it is one of the last feiseanna before the New England Region, Mid-Atlantic Region, and Southern Region oireachtasaí, so it draws competitors looking to do trial runs before their big competitions. I’ve been told by students from other schools that it is also known for being well run and organized, with good sprung stages and sound systems, and this is what brings dancers and their families back year after year. Having danced at plenty of competitions with bad stages (such as one that used Marley flooring—a vinyl dance floor covering—over a concrete floor that left my legs aching for days afterwards), poor sound set up (such as the one where there was one musician for six stages and only one speaker placed at each stage, making it impossible to hear what you were dancing to), and poor organization (such as one that was at an outdoor Celtic festival and ran so late that the stages had to be lit by car headlights), I fully appreciate the value of these comments. I have chosen to share the above ethnographic story from my experience competing in the adult championship at the 2016 Feis Culkin for a variety of reasons: first, I want to share a memory that highlighted one of my experiences competing—a cherished one, as it was also my first championship win—and one in particular from the feis that is hosted by the Culkin School. Second, I want to demonstrate the way in which the studio and competition stage can suddenly blur together in the dancer’s mind as the lessons learned in one have an impact on performance in the other and how hours of practice in the studio all come down to a short few minutes on stage. Third, there are the physical realities of competing, including the very real fear of tripping and falling and the way Irish dancers have a tendency to dance through and 184 ignore chronic injuries and pain, especially for a competition. Fourth, I showed how the dancer can be at the mercy of the feis musicians (do they want to be there and does it come across in their music? Do they know the tempo of your set dance?) just as much as she is at the mercy of the adjudicator (does this adjudicator like watching adults? Does she prefer the dancer who over-crossed his feet or the young woman who had beautiful carriage? If two dancers do both, what aspect of their dancing will be the deciding factor to help her choose between them? Turn out? Extension?). Lastly, this story also allowed me to show some of the interactions that take place between students, teachers, adjudicators, and musicians within the competition context. There are many other moments from my fieldwork I could have chosen that show equally important aspects of competitions as a focus location in Irish dance, such as at the Southern Region Oireachtas, when I desperately tried to keep up with Phil and Mary Page as they ran full-out across the Baltimore Hilton Hotel from ballroom to ballroom so that they would not miss a single Culkin student’s competition (and noticing a TCRG from another school who was doing the same thing for his students, but knocked over an innocent bystander in the process). Others include the Worlds in Glasgow, when I sat with Nicki and Phil as they excitedly discussed and dissected the steps being used in the hornpipe steps we were watching; later that evening, sitting over drinks with Culkin parents and poured over the day’s score sheets, analyzing what placement each judge gave their children; and the pride and joy of seeing a young Culkin dancer I had befriended at a Virginia feis thrilled at 185 receiving her first placement in her Novice jig, or my surprise the first time I heard Ireland’s National Anthem sung at a local American feis. Both feiseanna and oireachtasaí are important places where “things happen” or “are made”—in addition to their main purpose of holding competitions to determine who is the best solo Irish step dancer or team of dancers, they are important gathering places for dancers, teachers, adjudicators, musicians, and family members, all of whom bring their own ideas and meanings about Irish dance, its practice, and community into the space. As in the studio, the physical spaces of the feis and oireachtas affect how Irish step dancing is executed in performance. Organization of Feiseanna Today feiseanna are typically hosted by Irish dance schools, although there are some that are held by organizations such as CCÉ. Although these events are typically focused on the dancing, many still hold music, Irish language, and even soda bread competitions. Majors are hosted in turn by different areas—for regional oireachtasaí, the schools local to the host city work together with the region’s board to put the event together (for example, at the 2016 Southern Region Oireachtas that was held in Baltimore, Culkin was one of the area schools that stepped up to help with putting on the event). All registered teachers who attend are required to volunteer during the course of the event (for example, Seán and Phil volunteer every year at the Southern Region Oireachtas to help run the nightly awards ceremony). For the North American Irish Dance Championships, the Irish Dance Teacher’s Association of North America (IDTANA) has each region rotate who hosts it—as described in Chapter Three, the 2017 Nationals were hosted by the Mid-Atlantic 186 Region, and held in New Orleans. The CLRG is mainly responsible for hosting and putting on the Worlds. The cost of competing at a feis varies from event to event, but typically a student may pay about $10 per dance if they compete in the Beginner through Prizewinner skill levels, or around $40 to participate in a championship. There may also be additional family and registration fees. For example, if an ambitious Prizewinner student dances a reel, slip jig, treble jig, hornpipe, treble reel, traditional set, two-hand figure, and a four-hand céilí, they could pay around $70, plus the additional fees, taking it to over $100 just for the feis. If they have traveled for the event, the cost of transportation and hotel means that the weekend’s costs quickly go up. It should also be noted that the majority of feiseanna have strict no-refund policies: if the dancer is injured and can no longer compete, they forfeit their registration fees. Attending a Major is more expensive, and is a larger commitment for dancers and families in terms of both time and travel. At the 2016 Southern Region Oireachtas, championship solo step dancers paid a registration fee of $60 for their championship (traditional set dancers paid just $15) plus a $30 pre-admission fee, and at the 2017 Worlds in Dublin, registration cost about $80 (€60)—there was no family fee, but dancers and families were required to stay at a hotel reserved by CLRG for the event or had to pay $100 a day per person to get into the venue. At the 2017 Nationals, solo competitions were slightly less expensive at $50 per dancer; however, they were charged a $50 family fee and were required to stay within the hotel room block reserved by IDTANA. Taken all together, it is easy to see how quickly 187 registration costs alone can add up for dancers and families committed to competing over just a single year—many families (especially those with multiple dancers) make large sacrifices in order to participate in the competition circuit. Students, Teachers, and Adjudicators at Feiseanna While each Major is only held once a year, American dancers may travel to and compete at a different feis every weekend if they so choose. Although in the United States feiseanna used to be held mainly during the summer, as Irish dance has grown, so too have the number of competitions, and now these events are held year- round. Culkin students have many opportunities to compete at feiseanna—there are numerous local competitions within a two-hour drive of the DMV year-round (such as Feis Culkin, CCÉ Feis, Hurley Feis, and Nation’s Capital Feis, just to name a very few), and at least one feis within drivable distance nearly every weekend. Students who are looking to advance more quickly (or are trying to get their two firsts within a year to advance to preliminary champions or to open champions) may travel further to compete. While there are fewer feiseanna that offer adult competitions (see Chapter Seven), there are still many opportunities for adults to regularly compete, provided that they are able and/or want to travel.68 Through participation in feiseanna, Culkin students have an opportunity to show off what they have achieved through their hard work in classes, to attempt to 68 It is also worth noting here that due to the new requirement that any dancer wishing to take the TCRG examination after January 1, 2018 must take and pass all twelve levels of the grade examinations, that these have enjoyed a surge in popularity in the United States, and increasing numbers of feiseanna are offering the exams in conjunction with competitions. Even if not planning to take the TCRG, these are becoming better known as opportunities for dancers to receive in-depth feedback from adjudicators on their dancing, and to have a goal- oriented schema for progression that exists outside of competitions. 188 advance to higher level classes by placing or winning in their dances, and to receive feedback from different adjudicators through comment sheets sent to competitors after the feis is over. If it is a competition that their teachers have also attended, they have an opportunity to receive feedback from them as well about their steps or stage presence. Although Culkin students have many opportunities at shows to dance with live musicians, for many other Irish dance students, feiseanna may be their only regular opportunity to dance with live music. Students also have the opportunity to learn by watching dancers from other schools (both at their own skill level and at more advanced skill levels), support their classmates, and represent their school. For more advanced students, local feiseanna serve as a testing ground and practice for Majors. They will meet and occasionally make friends or acquaintances (or rivals) from other schools. Making friends with dancers from other schools seems to be more typical of the dancers who compete in the adult age category, as they are vastly outnumbered by younger dancers, and naturally want to band together with the other dancing adults, even if they are competing against them. Outside of the dance events, dancers can try on and buy new dance shoes, dance accessories, or myriad other goods: t-shirts and jackets stamped with the feis’ logo, wigs, Irish themed jewelry, Irish dance clothing for dolls, portable Bluetooth speakers for practice, soccer jerseys with the Guinness logo, used solo costumes, and so on. Although most teachers do not regularly attend feiseanna (with the exception of those that are held either by their school or located nearby), many do attend Majors to support their students both by attending the competitions and by running additional 189 practices at the venue on the days leading up the competition as well as on the day itself. If they have the funding to do so, some schools will rent private practice rooms at the venue, or they will utilize public practice spaces or even just find an empty hallway or unused ballroom for students to run steps in. Because of these additional practices (which may even end up being one-on-one lessons), teachers and students can have more of an opportunity to bond. At Culkin, the same goes for parents and families of the students, who may sit with their dancer’s teachers during the competition and socialize afterwards. As noted above, teachers are kept very busy at these events, but especially at regional oireachtasaí, where they typically have the highest number of students competing (as opposed to Nationals or Worlds, where there are fewer students in attendance due to both qualification requirements [see Chapter Two] and the number of students and their families able to commit to traveling). For example, over the course of the three days of the Southern Region Oireachtas, the Culkin teachers are expected to attend the regional teachers’ meeting that takes place the evening before competitions begin, run student practices, attend competitions and awards ceremonies, and complete volunteer requirements, all the while keeping mental notes and evaluations of student performances to bring back to the classroom, continuously fostering positive relationships with students and families throughout the event, and networking with other teachers and representing their school. Typically classes at Culkin are halted for a short period afterwards, deemed as an “Oireachtas recovery period”—and given the number of responsibilities shouldered by teachers, it is easy to see why it is necessary to do so. 190 The role of the adjudicator at an Irish dance competition is, obviously, crucial. They are the ultimate arbiters and rest at the top of the feis’ hierarchical structure— they determine who is the best Irish dancer according to the technical standards enforced by CLRG but also their own aesthetic preferences. Based on their rulings, they play a large part in determining the success or failure of not just newly created movements in the dancing (see Hall 2008; Ní Bhriain 2010), but also trends in style and presentation of dancers. As written by Foley: From the dancer’s perspective, rules relating to practice and behaviour on stage are primarily learned either from the teacher in the classroom, or from observation and experience at feiseanna and oireachtais; thereafter, power is handed over to the adjudicators, who assess stage performances through the process of ranking and awards. Dancers who perform, behave or dress on stage in a way that is not acceptable to the adjudicators are not placed in the rankings. The adjudicator’s role is therefore perceived as a significant, powerful and political one within the organization. (Foley 2013: 191) Although many aspects of Irish dance are measurable (such as timing, foot placement, carriage, etc.), adjudicators have individual ideas about the hierarchy of these elements and how they should be prioritized, although the ADCRG examination process they all go through is conducted in such a way as to try to standardize these ideas and create a level playing ground for competitors. And while there are many rules that govern aspects of competition in terms of movement, behavior, and presentation according to one’s age and gender, the adjudicator has agency in terms of determining the ways in which to enforce those rulings through the ranking system, as well as punishing or rewarding dancers according to personal beliefs where no ruling exists. These differences in judgement are particularly apparent in discussions 191 and judgements made based on ideas regarding gender and age, in terms of both dancing and presentation (see Chapters Six and Seven). In addition to judging the dancing, adjudicators are responsible for monitoring the quality of the music on the stage (i.e., making sure that the correct tempos and tunes are being played) and directing stage monitors to fix any issues with the sound equipment or the stage itself. As Nicki mentions in the Voices 4.3 section above, networking is also an important part of adjudicating at all types of competitions— getting to know other adjudicators and feis organizers (who are typically TCRGs) is important to increasing the school’s visibility outside of the D.C. metro area. She credits her opportunity to adjudicate at the 2015 Worlds in Montreal as helping with this, especially with the organizers in CLRG—they now know her and the Culkin School name because of her participation in that event. Additionally, adjudicators have the most opportunities to not just influence the success of different styles and trends in steps and costumes, but to bring those ideas back with them to their schools and use them to help students stay current and boost their schools’ successes. The role of the musicians is also vital to the success of the event, and is discussed in-depth in Chapter Three. 192 Role of Competition in the Circulation of Irish Dance Figure 4.9: Culkin student Catherine Wraback on stage at the 2017 North American National Championships. I argue that feiseanna and oireachtasaí are defining and vital events in Irish step dancing in the United States. Although there are plenty of students within Irish step dance schools such as Culkin who do not compete, feiseanna and oireachtasaí are events that are central to the circulation of aesthetics, ideas, and values that construct and inform Irish step dance practices of individuals and communities, both for those who regularly participate in these events and those who do not. Ideas about movement, music, tradition, appearance, age, and gender specific to their local communities are brought into one location from students, adjudicators, musicians, teachers, and family members, where they are exchanged and then re-circulated at 193 home. They are an important context in which local ideas and values become transnational and vice versa. The focus location of the Irish step dance competition is rife with a variety of meanings for those of travel to and participate at the event. Broadly, CLRG feiseanna and oireachtasaí are contexts in which participants enact the agenda of An Coimisiún and by extension the Gaelic League (see Chapter Two) by performing and being judged within a proscribed system of movement and music that has been canonized as properly “Irish” (Foley 2013). Through this, as well as the accompanying iconography of the event (such as the singing of the Irish National Anthem after the American one and wearing costumes featuring traditional Irish imagery), feiseanna and oireachtasaí solidify a connection to Ireland and Irish (as well as Irish-American) culture for participants. However, it is through the system of competition itself that creativity and innovation occur and ideas circulate (Ní Bhriain 2010). Even as the event reinforces CLRG’s transnational ideas about what Irish dancing is and should be, so too does it create a context in which dancers, teachers, adjudicators, and musicians perform and exchange individualized and localized ideas—albeit within a 194 regulated and hegemonic system—pushing boundaries and creating new meanings for Irish dancing. Figure 4.10: (right to left) Irish music duo Lilt (Tina Eck on tin whistle and Keith Carr on guitar) with members of Kate Bole’s performance troupe Culkin LIVE (Denise Olive Daniele, Maggie McNamara, and Kelly McGovern) at the 2017 Washington Folk Festival at Glen Echo Park in Glen Echo, Maryland Voices 4.4: Kate Bole and Denise Olive Daniele Denise: “[Show style dancing] is way more fun! [laughs] It’s kind of a different style. I mean you still want to maintain your crossing and turn out, but it’s kind of choreographed so you’re not dancing as long and as hard—like, you have breaks that are scheduled in . . . It’s less sport-like—and there is the performance aspect to competing, but it’s not as casual—it’s very formal. It’s your head held high, your arms completely straight back, and like you’re performing to the judges, not to a general audience . . . You’re dancing for [judges] who are looking for your technical ability, whereas I feel like an audience is less able to do that or interested to do that and they’re more interested in seeing just your showiness ability, your ability to do fun, interesting things with your feet and sounds—and even basic movements can be made interesting to an audience. As opposed to a judge who wants to see certain tricks and movements and rhythms. Yeah, it’s just a lot more severe on a competitive stage. The dancing’s more hardcore, whereas you can relax a bit on stage—you can more your arms a little bit more, you can look at people in the audience and smile 195 and do different things like put your hands on your hips! You can mess up and no one really cares as long as you don’t stop or trip or something.” Kate: “I was interested—that year the three of us went and watched Worlds, we watched that Senior Ladies competition. That was the showiest competition dancing I’ve ever seen! Every one of them had a smile on their face, they were so poised . . . Because of the whole Riverdance thing, it’s becoming—I was just sort of like, ‘Now we have to do that too?’ [laughs] Before at least we didn’t have to smile, it could be like [makes face] squeezing and they weren’t looking at your face. And now I think there is more of a total package where you have to look poised . . . I think that [show dancing] made me a better competitive dancer because . . . you learn more to relax more in shows and use your energy correctly and hit the music right. And I think that can fold right back into the competitive—as long as you don’t do what I do, which is stop crossing your feet, stop worrying about all that stuff— but if you show dance and keep your technique, but learn the relaxation and the breathing and the smiling, I think that can fold right into it.” Denise: “I always say, Irish dance has always been there for me, in the good times and the bad . . . It’s a tough relationship too. Sometimes I hate it and I can’t stand it—“ Kate: [laughing] “It’s an abusive relationship—“ Denise: “No! [laughs] It beats you down and then you love it at the same time. I don’t know, it’s like, there’s the competitive world and that can really beat upon your self-esteem but then . . . Growing up, it was always about my heritage: being connected to Ireland, and you know, making my relatives proud, and listening to the music and feeling my roots. I was very into that growing up, because I wasn’t too much into the competitive side. I did it, but I didn’t really like it. I got more into that as an adult. So yeah, I just think, even if I was having a tough time in life it would always bring my mood back because it’s athletic, it keeps you in shape, your friends are there. It gave me something to do, it gave me a community when I moved down here [to D.C.] and I didn’t know anyone down here, I had no connections at all down here, so it gave me my whole life. You know, it gave me my maid of honor at my wedding [looks at Kate, who cheers]. And then there’s just the art form that I’m kind of obsessed with. And it keeps getting harder and I keep wanting more—it always has something to offer. You know, you can do show stuff, you can do competition. It’s just always been in my life so I don’t know what I would do without it. I think it very much a family, and that’s what I like about Culkin. I don’t feel isolated, or like I’m just showing up to dance.” Kate: “The camaraderie—you know, our girlfriends—is huge. But I think there’s something about Irish dance that gives you a natural high. Physically, I feel like major anxiety relief, major stress relief and . . . it’s energizing. Since I was a kid—I mean, the pounding out of a rhythm in hard shoe to me is one of the most stress relieving—I almost have an addiction to that. Of just needing that. There will be days where I’m just like, “I need to get my hard shoes on” . . . I just feel like it resets you, physically. It’s a release of negative energy. It is something people just get addicted 196 to, I’m sure you’ve seen that a million times but I think that it is just a physical high that you get from it. But also it’s like a safe expression . . . [In Irish dance] someone hands you this [step] and you express yourself—there’s variation to it, and you express yourself, but it’s very safe because you don’t have to make eye contact with anybody, you don’t have to act anything out but you’re still moving to the music and making these beautiful forms, but there’s no pressure. Mentally, you can sort of relax. Seán has given me so many amazing experiences as far as the live performances. I’m so thankful for that—just doing the Kennedy Center and Strathmore, and dancing with these amazing musicians are some of the best experiences of my life. Going to the Irish embassy . . . I’m very grateful that I’ve had a level of experiences that are not matching the level of dancer that I am.69 [laughs] It’s just been luck and having the Culkin School to just offer all this to you. I feel sad for these world class dancers tucked away in the middle of nowhere that don’t get to do all this stuff because to me, that’s really what dancing is all about, you know? So I’m happy that community has been just a wealth of cool cultural experiences. And I’m way more into Irish music and culture than I was as a kid because all I heard was something at class every week that was— it wasn’t as Irish, weirdly enough.” -Interview with Kate Bole and Denise Olive Daniele, June 17, 2017 Figure 4.11: CulkinAdults at the 2017 Annapolis Irish Festival (courtesy of Lynne Haslbeck) 69 An aside, this is Kate being fairly humble. Like Denise, who qualified for Worlds and Nationals several times, she is a wonderful dancer and choreographer. In addition to qualifying three times as a child, Kate qualified for and danced at the World Championships in Belfast in 2006 as a 29 year old in the Senior Ladies 21 and Over category—an impressive achievement. Note on Figure 4.10: One participant requested to not be included in dissertation materials, so her face has been blurred out. 197 Focus Location: The Performance Stage The weekend of June 3 and 4, 2017, I participated in three different performances featuring Culkin School dancers: one at the Annapolis Irish Festival, and two at the Washington Folk Festival. The three shows I was a part of that weekend are a sample of the range of different performances put on by the Culkin School and the groups of dancers associated with the school, such as Kate Bole’s performance troupe, Culkin LIVE.70 Show #1: The CulkinAdults Troupe at the Annapolis Irish Festival At the Annapolis Irish Festival, the first show of the weekend, the CulkinAdults were one of three different Irish dance programs that had been invited to perform (one being the O’Neill-James School). This particular Irish music and culture festival took place at the Anne Arundel County Fairgrounds in Maryland. It had two large outdoor covered stages for bands and dancers, and one smaller stage in an area dedicated to children’s crafts and performances. The CulkinAdults danced on one of the larger professional stages, sharing the performance space with instruments and technical equipment from the first band that was to go on after us. It was my first time running a performance on my own as the performance captain for the CulkinAdults—I was essentially in charge of coordination leading up to the festival, and making sure it ran smoothly on the day of the show. One practice was held three days beforehand—we had performed a similar show at Shamrockfest (a D.C. St. Patrick’s Day Irish music festival) in March, so most of the material was 70 For video examples of performances by Culkin LIVE and the CulkinAdults, see link to Culkin’s Kennedy Center at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 198 just a review with some new numbers. This show featured both soft shoe and hard shoe numbers choreographed specifically for us by Kate Bole, all danced to recorded music from artists such as fiddler Eileen Ivers and Irish band Beoga that was provided by two different smartphones that were wired into the sound equipment. This particular performance was open to adults who participated in the intermediate or advanced classes, so Kate’s numbers allowed for the various skill levels of students, incorporating both new and previously learned competition steps and dances into each number. After the performance, many of the dancers stayed to enjoy the festival—shopping, enjoying Guinness, and even being convinced to dance a four- hand reel by a vender for free cookies. Later that evening, there was a performance by Carbon Leaf, a popular Indie band that infuses Americana and Celtic inspired sounds into their rock music, which featured Culkin teacher Mary Page Day along with some other dancers from the school. Show #2: Lilt and Culkin LIVE at the Washington Folk Festival The second show of the weekend took place at the same time as the Carbon Leaf concert about an hour away at the Washington Folk Festival. Put on by The Folklore Society of Greater Washington, it is an event that takes place at Glen Echo Park in Maryland every year, drawing large crowds from around the region for a full weekend of music and dance shows, workshops, and question-and-answer sessions featuring artists from performing arts traditions from around the world. At the 2017 event, festival goers could attend acts featuring everything from Japanese koto to Spanish flamenco to North Indian tabla. Irish music and dance is well represented at the festival—unsurprising given the active scene that exists in the D.C. metro area. 199 The Culkin School has been performing at the festival for years, but were not the only Irish dance group represented there; Shannon Dunne, a prominent local sean nós dancer and Irish musician, was in attendance with her students. This next performance was a show with the Irish traditional music duo Lilt, which consists of Tina Eck (Irish flute and tin whistle) and Keith Carr (bouzouki, banjo, and mandolin), and featured Kate’s performance troupe Culkin LIVE—a semi- professional Irish dance troupe made up of current and former Culkin School students and teachers. Although it was my second time performing at the Washington Folk festival as a Culkin School student, it was my first time performing there as a member of Culkin LIVE. For me, it was a significant marker in charting my growth as a student of Irish dance—it had been a year since my first Culkin School show after returning to D.C. from Tokyo, a year in which my involvement in performing Irish dance, and thus my understanding of the tradition, had deepened significantly. It had also been a year since Kate had asked me to join Culkin LIVE, and as I prepared for both a show with the Culkin School and the show with Lilt at the festival, I found myself reflecting on not just my own learning trajectory, but also all the new friendships I had formed with my Culkin teachers as they patiently guided me into the world of show dancing in the D.C. area. This particular performance was the most formal of the three shows that weekend. It was held inside the Spanish Ballroom Annex—the same space where Culkin holds its adult classes each week—which had been transformed into a theater with a small stage and professional lighting. Tina, with her Irish flute and whistle, and Keith with his guitar and banjo, were set up at the back of the stage, trying to make as 200 much room as possible for us to dance in. Despite the small space, however, we all were used to shrinking or expanding movements for choreography based on the amount of space available. These types of shows—such as the show the Culkin School puts on at the Kennedy Center—are more formal, professional events, with dancers selected by teachers ahead of time to participate. Practices may or may not be held beforehand, depending on the circumstances. For example, for the Kennedy Center shows, students prepare ahead of time with specific choreographies. In other cases, such as where Culkin dancers have been hired by musicians for a show but have not met ahead of time, the dancers do not have specific practices, but are expected to arrive prepared to perform any step in their repertoire. This performance featured show style Irish dance choreography by Kate, with steps and rhythms specifically made for Lilt’s music. The pieces were drawn from a show put on by Culkin LIVE and Lilt in Takoma Park, Maryland in October of 2016, and we had performed them several times at other venues, including the Kennedy Center. The dancers performing different numbers rotate depending on who is available for a show, so the practice for this show (which took place early on a Monday morning at the Glen Echo Bumper Car Pavilion) was less about learning new material and more about rearranging positions of dancers for numbers we already knew. The numbers for this show were all hard shoe—hornpipe, treble jig, polka, and treble reel. The only number that was performed that was not specific to Culkin LIVE was the treble reel—it drew on steps used by the Culkin School for all of their shows. Treble reel numbers are easy to put together quickly for shows, and dancers are expected to know their basic format: they 201 start in a line with a basic treble reel pattern that is performed together by all of the dancers, following with solo steps that are danced “down the line” (one or two dancers featured at a time), and typically finish with one or two more group steps. The final group step is a variation on the first, but features a turn at the end, angling dancers towards the audience as they put their hands on their hips. This same dance was used in all three shows I performed in that weekend. Show #3: The Culkin School at the Washington Folk Festival The last performance was a typical example of a Culkin School show that was open to children and adults of all skill levels. The call for the show was posted online about a week beforehand, and students and parents signed up so the teachers running the show would know approximately how many dancers to expect, although frequently students will have last minute schedule changes, resulting in several subtractions and additions to the performers list. Shows such as this one take place in a myriad of settings: tiny Irish pub stages (or the spaces between the tables and the bar!), schools fairs, and nursing homes, just to name a few. This particular show was set on an outdoor stage inside a large tent next to the Irish Inn. The stage was large enough to accommodate the variety of acts featured at the festival, and Keith Carr, Jesse Winch, and Jim Stickley—who that day were playing banjo, harmonica, and bodhrán, respectively—sat off to one side, leaving plenty of room for dancers to perform their steps. No practice was held for this performance. Students were expected to arrive fully dressed in their “pub costume” (which consists of a Culkin-designed t-shirt and 202 either a black skirt with tights or black pants) about thirty minutes before, which is when the teacher in charge—in this case Phil—quickly created a set list and decided which students participated in each number and how they would be structured. For example, the show opened with a soft shoe jig. Phil told the students to start with their rising step as a group—also called the “First step” of the jig at Culkin, it is an iconic step all Irish dancing students learn and perform. He then assigned groups and individuals different jig steps, helping younger students by allowing them to show him their step briefly and determining if they knew it or not. For older students and adults, he let them decide on their own which steps they would do in each number in the set list, which besides the soft shoe jig consisted of soft shoe reels, four-hand and two-hand céilí and figures, slip jigs, treble jigs, hornpipes, treble reels, and the traditional set dance “St. Patrick’s Day.” Performing Irish Dance Performances—whether featuring prearranged choreographed materials in a show style or an improvised set list with competition steps down the line— are an important way in which Culkin remains connected to the local community. Informal school shows featuring students of all levels to professional performances featuring teachers and high-level dancers take place year-round in the D.C. area, though they are especially concentrated in March around St. Patrick’s Day celebrations and in September as part of “Halfway to St. Patrick’s Day” celebrations and fundraisers. The goals of performances and competitions are different. In a competition, dancers are striving to demonstrate technical perfection in front of one or several judges in order to be evaluated and ranked according to that judge’s idea of what 203 attributes make for the best Irish step dancer. In performance, dancers are providing entertainment to a general audience. As Denise notes in the Voices 4.4 section above, show dancing and competition dancing can in many ways be considered as two different styles of Irish dancing—to the point where many dancers have strong opinions and are not afraid to express their preference for one over the other. However, there is more crossover between these two than one might expect, and lessons learned in one location can be important in how the dancer performs in another. Participation in performances brings multiple benefits for Irish dancers that cross over into how they learn in the studio and successfully participate in competitions. Dancing with live musicians greatly helps with teaching musicality— dancers better understand how to listen to the music and match their dancing to it, the timing they need to achieve in their movements, and the rhythms that need to be produced. These all cross over into a student’s ability to learn steps in the studio and use them to compete at feiseanna. However, dancing with live musicians, as noted earlier, is an opportunity that Culkin students have that many students both in the D.C. area and elsewhere do not have: I think we’re incredibly spoiled as far as music. Like, if you don’t get Mitch [Fanning], you get Michael [Winch]. There’s a line up of amazing people and they just work off each other and create more. Whereas growing up, I didn’t know any of the local musicians…We always danced to recorded music, even at shows and stuff, so it’s different for me. I haven’t experienced it elsewhere, but I know that we’re spoiled. (Interview with Denise Olive Daniele, June 17, 2017) Performances also provide students opportunities to dance choreographies to types of Irish traditional music that are not available to them in competition repertoire, such as 204 polkas, or to music they already know but in a different style, like hard shoe slip jigs. However, there is plenty of crossover in terms of movements used in show choreographies that are drawn from competition steps and vice versa. For example, in a hornpipe number Kate created for Culkin LIVE, Peggy O’Neill hornpipe steps are mixed in with newly choreographed steps as a nod to the heritage of the Culkin School. Movements from large scale productions such as Riverdance and Lord of the Dance also have influenced trends in competition steps choreographed by schools around the world, though cleaned up so that they can fit within the boundaries of the competition style. As Kate and Denise point out in Voices 4.4, although dancers are still performing at a high level—particularly for more formal or professional shows—and the technique they learn in the studio for competitions is still used on the performance stage, it is not necessarily pushed to the same degree of rigidity. Upright carriage, crossing, and turn out are still important as hallmarks of the Irish dance style, but they are relaxed in this focus location as the goals of performance and competition are viewed differently. As Kate notes, performances can teach dancers to learn how to relax their body even while maintaining technique—a healthier dance practice that actually allows for a higher level of showmanship. Performances also help develop a dancer’s awareness of both physical spaces and other dancers. Although there is still plenty of variety in competition in terms of the stages and spaces used, there is an increasing degree of uniformity, and dancers know what to expect—however in moving from one performance context to the next, there can be more variety that dancers must learn how to quickly adapt to. And it is 205 not just from moving from very small spaces to large ones, or the different types of floors—Irish step dancers learn how to perform well both in participatory situations such as workshops where they simultaneously demonstrate and teach as well as in close-quarter presentational performances, such as in front of drunken and unruly audience members in a weekend St. Patrick’s Day pub show. Figure 4.12: meme from the “What the Feis” Facebook page about negotiating pub crowds on St. Patrick’s Day (courtesy of owner of “What the Feis”) Choreographed performances are also opportunities for dancers to increase their awareness of and interactions with other dancers on stage: It’s interesting how we always build that awareness where even unspoken—and we’ve done that too at shows, you’re always keeping an ear on, “Alright, last step, right foot!” or there’s times where we say we’re going to start one step and one person does it wrong and the other person automatically adjusts to it. You’re aware, you’ve got that tie, especially when you know the person you’re dancing with—you build a rapport there. (Interview with Kate Bole, June 17, 2017) This type of awareness is a departure from competition culture, where dancers are trained to keep their gaze fixed straight ahead, not make eye contact with judges, and have only as much awareness of other dancers on stage as you need to not crash into 206 them while competing. Denise noted in our interview that because of these competitive requirements, solo dancing can be very isolating and self-focused— particularly at Majors when your friends may be dancing on different days and in different rooms—whereas shows can be more congenial and interactive, as dancers work together on and off stage towards a common goal. As students learn how to successfully negotiate live music and unique spaces, as well as build awareness of other performers, their confidence is built up, which can be seen in their movements as they dance in the studio and in competition. Confidence is a part of polish and showmanship, which are increasingly important aspects of competition. As Kate noted in our interview, “You know, you’re watching a competition and you see a girl walk on stage and you’re like, ‘There’s first place!’” and you don’t even need to know her, you just see how she walked on and the confidence . . . I’m way more confident in my dancing now, just from doing shows” (ibid.: 2007). Nicki has also been told by other teachers and adjudicators that Culkin students’ personalities shine through their dancing. She believes this is at least in part because of individualization in championship competition steps that allow students to move in ways that are better suited to their personal style. I also believe that Culkin students’ personalities come through because of their training in understanding the music they dance to through classes and performances. The students who regularly participate in stage performance demonstrate a higher level of showmanship and poise in their competition performances. And it is not just Culkin community members who feel this way. Craig Ashurst—TCRG and author of Beyond Competition, a guidebook for students 207 interested in breaking into the Irish dance show world—was the former principal male dancer in Riverdance as well as a successful competitive dancer.71 During our interview, he told me, I’ve had people say that if it wasn’t for shows—I know Scott Doherty said, you know a guy that I toured with, “If it wasn’t for shows, I definitely would not have won the Worlds.”. . . You just learned a lot from being in a show and you learned a lot from you know, competition as well. . .What are you doing at feis—it really is up to you to share that enjoyment, or the judges aren’t going to enjoy it either. So I think in some ways it’s an extra added challenge to make sure you’re showing that passion and enthusiasm even though you are bound by so many rules: having to keep your arms by your sides, look straight ahead, having to you know, make sure that your choreography is not going beyond. You know, so if you can then achieve that with all those rules placed upon you, then sure I think you’re going to be able to do it in a show as well. (Interview with Craig Ashurst, March 9, 2016) In addition to local high-profile performance opportunities open to Culkin dancers— such performances at the Kennedy Center, Strathmore, the Irish Embassy, and the White House—students have been selected to participate in programs such as Studio2Stage and the Riverdance Summer School in which students have the opportunity to gain experience in putting on a professional Irish dance show. Additionally, several Culkin students have gone on to perform professionally. One notable example is Jenny O’Connell, who began Irish dancing with the CulkinAdult program at the age of twenty, after being turned away from another Irish dance school because of her age. She went on to win the Southern Region Oireachtas, place at the 71 During his competitive career, Craig won the All Irelands, North American Nationals, Great Britains, and British Nationals. He won the Australian Nationals nine times, and was a runner up in the Worlds three times. In addition to touring with Riverdance, he has performed with many other shows, including Dancing Beat, a show put on by Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy, which will be discussed in Chapter Five. In 2016, he and his wife bought the Gray School of Irish Dance in Connecticut, the same school Denise studied with growing up, and it is now the Ashurst Academy of Irish Dance. 208 North American Nationals, and then danced in Riverdance for three years (Dorrity 2011: 55).72 Conclusion The Culkin School strives to achieve its goals of remaining an active and vital component of the Washington D.C. metro area Irish cultural scene while also increasing its visibility as a competitive school within the larger Irish dance community. However, it is not just about teaching people how to perform Irish dance: the Culkins and their teaching staff also work to create and maintain the claddagh values of friendship, love, and loyalty within the school, creating environments in the studio, competitions, and performances that are conducive to both spreading Irish culture and achieving success in a competitive sport, both locally and transnationally. As a final example of the way these values are exemplified by community members, I share this note about my experiences with Phil and Nicki at the Glasgow 2016 Worlds from the travel blog that I kept while doing fieldwork both there and in Tokyo. This particular trip had been a difficult one for the school for a variety of reasons, and it is often in difficult times that community values are best exemplified: It was an amazing trip for my research. Right from the first day I arrived at the venue, I was able to meet up with my teachers from the Culkin School, Nicki and Phil, and shadow them as they ran practice sessions, watched and discussed the competitions, relished the wonderful music accompaniment, and interacted with students, parents, and other teachers–navigating the emotional rollercoaster that is Irish dance and its politics all the while. Not only were they able to teach me the ins- and-outs of the complex processes inherent to the Worlds competition, they were living examples of values that are fundamental to the Irish dance community. The dedication and loyalty demonstrated towards their students, one another, the Culkin School, and friends from the 72 See Chapter Seven for more on perceptions of age in Irish dance. 209 larger community was a vivid and striking reminder of the strength of the relationships that are built and maintained through and around step dance itself. (“Glasgow and the Oireachtas Rince na Cruinne” https://therisingsunstep.wordpress.com. Written April 22, 2016) In this chapter, I introduced the Culkin School as an example of an American Irish dance school through the focus locations of the studio, feiseanna, and performance stage. In each of these locations, the weaving together of local and transnational practices of Irish dance from music sources used to specific movements incorporated in choreography. As the Culkin School teachers continue to pass on to their students the steps of local legacy Peggy O’Neill alongside lessons of Irish music, culture, and heritage, they participate in both the Washington D.C. traditional Irish culture scene and larger transnational Irish dance community through performances and competitions. In the next chapter, I will discuss three Irish dance teachers and schools in Tokyo, examining the development of Irish step dance in Japan and the place of these communities within the transnational Irish dance cultural cohort. 210 Chapter 5: Rising Steps in the Land of the Rising Sun: An Introduction to Irish Step Dance in Tokyo Figure 5.1: (right) Entrance to the Meiji Shrine, (left) Guide to the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival I stepped out of the Harajuku train station, blinking in the bright sunshine, and looked around in an attempt to get my bearings. To my right I could see the massive wooden torii entryway to Meiji-jingu, the Meiji Shrine, as well as the edge of Yoyogi-koen, Yoyogi Park. To my left was a wall of stores marking the start of the Harajuku shopping district, an area packed to the brim with every instance of Japanese kawaii (cute) and popular culture one could ever hope for. The last time I had been to the Harajuku district in Shibuya a month ago, I had been surrounded by well-dressed couples, the women wearing all shades of pink and red in celebration of Valentine’s Day. Today was March 20, three days after St. Patrick’s Day, and despite arriving at the station closest to where the I Love Ireland Festival—billed as Asia’s largest St. Patrick’s Day Festival—was being held the only green I saw was from the trees marking the park and shrine grounds. Several young women stepping out of the station next to me were clearly dressed for their shopping day in Harajuku, wearing the well known “Lolita” style of clothing that draws inspiration from Victorian-era clothing and Japanese anime. They looked cutesy and childish, and carried parasols bedecked with lace as they made a beeline across the street to get to Harajuku. There was one obāsan (elderly woman, or grandmother) dressed in a traditional kimono (robe) and geta (shoes); the rest of the crowd wore a variety of 211 Western-style clothing, from parents with their children in jeans and t-shirts to sarariiman (“salarymen” or white collar workers) on their way to or from their offices. The last time I had been here, I had gotten lost in an ill-fated attempt to find a Valentine’s Day Festival in Yoyogi Park. Because of all the satellite interference in Tokyo, Google Maps did not work well on my smartphone, the little blue location dot frequently showed me standing several blocks over from where I actually was. Getting lost on my way to dance classes when I had to travel to a new studio from my Tokyo Geijutsu Daigaku (Tokyo University of Music, also called Geidai for short) dormitory had been an unfortunate and recurring theme of my fieldwork trip since my arrival in January. Although I had a fairly good idea of where I was going this time (I never found the Valentine’s Day Festival, but I did get to know the park while I circled it several times trying), I was still relieved when I finally saw a young woman dressed in emerald green, a shamrock painted on her cheek, carrying a giant sign for the I Love Ireland Festival. After making sure I knew to come back to that area in the afternoon for the 24th annual Omotesandō St. Patrick’s Day Parade (after she pointed it out, I saw that the flags of Ireland and Japan lined the main street), she showed me what path to take to get to the Festival, and I made my way through the park. Figure 5.2: Overview of the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival in Yoyogi Park, Tokyo As I crossed the bridge that overlooked the I Love Ireland Festival, the large outdoor stage immediately caught my eye. I recognized it as the same stage from Ian 212 Condry’s ethnographic description of the hip-hop festival B-Boy Park that took place in that same spot in 2001; however, the rapping, deejaying, breakdancing, and graffiti events had disappeared, replaced with the sounds of reels and jigs, Irish set dance workshops, and rugby demonstrations.73 At first glance from my spot on the bridge, it looked like the Irish culture festivals I had attended at home in D.C.: local Irish pubs— such as The Dubliner’s, where I had spent my St. Patrick’s Day evening in Asakusa— were set up to sell fish and chips and brown bread, there were several tents for Irish tourism and language schools, and of course shops selling Celtic-inspired art work and jewelry. But as I looked closer, the Japanese aspects—other than the use of the language on signs and in overheard conversations—began to pop out at me. Next to the Jamison stand was a vender selling takoyaki—fried octopus, a delicious and popular matsuri (traditional festival) food—and soba noodles. The Dubliner’s menu didn’t just list items with their price in yen; they also had large pictures of the dishes and drinks so customers could see exactly what they would be getting, a standard practice at Japanese restaurants. The CCÉ Tokyo branch’s booth didn’t just have pamphlets on their music and set dance workshops: neatly arranged on a pristine Celtic knot-work table runner were a small Irish harp, a fiddle, a pair of hard shoes, and a teddy bear wearing a step dance solo dress. Next to the teddy bear was a stack of books on Irish dance and music, each one marked so festivalgoers could easily find pages that might be of interest. The entirety of the festival grounds were just as neat, not a speck of litter in sight—a huge cry from the drunken and disorderly Irish music festivals in the U.S.. This sort of cleanliness in a city as overwhelming and densely packed as Tokyo is always a surprise to foreigners who visit, but it is a quintessential part of the Japanese ethos. Figure 5.3: Tomoko Shirasawa of the Ardagh School assists her students with putting on their soft shoes while they wait backstage at the I Love Ireland Festival 73 See Condry 2006: 7-11. 213 After going backstage to say hello to Tomoko Shirasawa, the TCRG who owns and runs Ardagh, and Taka Hayashi, the former Riverdance cast member who owns and runs Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy, I made my way over to the front of the stage. A large Irish flag and banner bearing the name of the festival hung over the group currently performing, which was a small Irish traditional trio featuring uilleann pipes, fiddle, and Irish flute. I recognized two of the musicians from the music sessions I had attended at local pubs, but not the two sean nós dancers who performed in front of them. The audience members were seated at the long rows of tables set up in front of the stage, quietly enjoying the performance. Although I didn't want to be rude, I was determined to get good videos of the performances, and I slowly made my way to the front of the crowd, as close as I could get to the stage, and settled in to wait. In many ways, this festival was the pinnacle of my fieldwork in Japan. I was there to watch the dance performances of the two schools in which I had been conducting the bulk of my research: Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy (THIDA) and the Ardagh School of Irish Dance. Both schools had been rehearsing their choreographies since my arrival in January, and after sitting and observing many of their practices, I was excited to see their hard work come to fruition.74 It was also the first, and only time, that the people from all my Japanese fieldwork sites had converged into one location: not only were the performances by THIDA and Ardagh taking place, but CCÉ set dancers and musicians I had come to know through the weekend céilí parties and workshops were performing and teaching sets. I enjoyed Guinness while watching an Irish and bluegrass fusion band with my friend Yuika Nakagawa (an Irish dancer who was studying for her TCRG), and afterwards watched the parade with my friends Satomi Mitera (a tap and Irish dance teacher who had studied at the University of Limerick) and her husband Daniel Heffernan. The next morning I was scheduled to fly to Glasgow to do fieldwork at the 2016 World Irish 214 Dance Championships: I had interviews scheduled with Yuki Nomiya (a Japanese Irish dancer who was living abroad in Ireland and studying with the Hessian School of Irish Dance) and Ronan McCormack (Taka and Yuki’s teacher, who was also an original cast member of Riverdance and was adjudicating at that year’s Worlds), and between interviews I was planning to shadow Phil, Nicki, and the Culkin School dancers who were competing. Figure 5.4: THIDA performing at the 2016 I Love Ireland Festival (top left) Taka Hayashi; (top right) Students of THIDA; (bottom) Taka Hayashi and his students 215 The performances of the schools that day were representative of the schools’ different Irish dance styles and focuses. Both performances were around fifteen minutes long and featured several different choreographies reflective of the age group and skill level of the dancers performing them. THIDA’s Irish dance choreographies reflected Taka’s experiences in Riverdance and his interest in the show style of dance that breaks from competition traditions.75 More modern music that was a blend of Irish and rock was used, the arms were more involved in the choreographies rather than staying straight at the dancers’ sides, and costumes varied from simple, un- ornamented outfits to sharp tailored suits. There was even a shortened version of “Reel Around the Sun” from Riverdance, but the featured male soloist was the sole boy from Taka’s children’s classes, followed on stage by a line of girls, all around twelve to thirteen years old. The end of the set featured two beginner hard shoe students performing the traditional “St. Patrick’s Day” set dance for the first time. They were then were joined by the full school to perform the Molyneaux version of “St. Patrick’s Day,” a version that involves more complicated footwork and rhythms, taught to Taka by Irish dance teacher and scholar Catherine Foley during his time at the University of Limerick. The Ardagh School’s performance likewise featured several different pieces that were choreographed to different genres of music with costume changes.76 However, the style of dance was that of modern competitive Irish dance—while there were brief moments where dancers used their arms, for the most part the carriage of 75 For video, see Media 5.1 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 76 For video, see Media 5.2 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 216 the dancers remained upright, and choreographies featured steps typically seen in competition. The dancers opened with a hard shoe choreography with dancers dressed in jeans and flannel shirts; beginner children danced light jigs in their school uniforms of black skirts and polo shirts embroidered with the Ardagh School logo; more advanced students performing their competition reel and treble jig steps; and other advanced students ended the set by performing treble reels dressed in their full solo costumes. Figure 5.5: Students from the Ardagh School perform and are photographed by family members at the I Love Ireland Festival 217 In this chapter, I introduce three Irish dance teachers and their schools and studios in Tokyo, examining their relationships to the Irish dance legislative body An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (CLRG), and the ways in which this relationship affects what is taught and performed. These schools are in the beginning stages of establishing Irish dance practices in Japan and use performances primarily to interact with the local Tokyo community as well as advertise, but as can be seen in the description of the I Love Ireland Festival performances above, they do so with very different approaches to repertoire. Here I contribute to the existing ethnomusicological literature on foreign artistic practices in Japan by utilizing Ian Condry’s framework of focus locations— places where “things happen” or “are made”— in order to examine what transformations the globalized art form of Irish dance undergoes as it encounters local ideas, aesthetic values, and spaces (see Chapter Two). My approach is performance- based, using specific locations to examine cultural pathways of globalization. This method allows us to ask how a practice is performed within particular locales that are important to the production of the tradition transnationally. At the same time, we can approach the examination of the interactions of global and local flows of ideas without creating overly simplistic analytical binaries. Rather, we can see how the global and local are mutually constructed and in this particular case study, the ways in which both movements and ideas of Irish dance are transmitted, performed, and recirculated. As Condry writes, One of the central debates about cultural globalization revolves around the question of whether transnational flows are leading to a more 218 homogeneous world culture, or whether processes of localization ultimately transform borrowed styles into distinctive domestic versions. In the case of hip-hop in Japan, I found that neither global homogenization nor localization accurately captured the ways the ways the musical style has changed. . .In other words, the opposition between globalizing and localizing turns out to be a false dichotomy. What we require is a different conceptualization of how cultural settings and flows interact. A focus on spaces of cultural production provides a means to accomplish that. (Condry 2006: 18-19) With my work on Irish dance, I also found this to be the case: neither localization or globalization alone accurately depicts how Irish dance is practiced. Rather, local and global ideas are both present and mutually constructed in Irish dance both in Japan and the United States. Using this framework allows me to advance two important ideas while exploring the growth of Irish dance in Tokyo: first, it avoids the pitfall common in Euro-American academic literature and mainstream popular culture in which the Japanese are viewed as copy cats—that is, the idea that in Japanese culture, foreign practices are adopted as exact, even soulless imitations of their typically Western culture-originating counterparts.77 Second, it places this study’s focus on examining Irish dance as it is performed by Japanese dancers—it is not about finding an Irish dance that has been made “uniquely Japanese” but rather about seeing the ways in which Irish dancers in Japan participate in both their local and transnational communities as practitioners of this art form.78 By approaching my study of the Japanese Irish dance schools in Tokyo through focusing on how they practice Irish dance within the focus locations of studios, staged performances, and feiseanna 77 See Ohnuki-Thierney 1987 and Ede 2010 for more on ideas of “copy-cat” Japanese culture. 78 See Dale 1986 and Sterling 2010 regarding theories around the idea of Japanese “uniqueness.” 219 (competitions) in tandem with examining the schools’ relationships to the transnational organization of the CLRG, I paint a picture of a complex cultural reality that avoids essentialization of “Japaneseness” in Irish dance practices in Tokyo as well as the suggestion of global homogenization of Irish dance. The chapter begins with an explanation of my own positioning within the Japanese Irish dance community and the culturally-specific challenges of conducting ethnographic fieldwork in Japan as a foreigner.79 I also touch on the Japanese iemoto system that is utilized in the structuring of traditional Japanese practices, and draw parallels between it and the structures of CLRG Irish dance schools. I then introduce three Irish dance teachers—Tomoko Shirasawa, Taka Hayashi, and Satomi Mitera— and their schools in the order of where they can be placed along the spectrum of their ties to the CLRG organization, and discuss how this relationship affects the ways they approach and perform Irish dancing while negotiating their identities as Irish dancers. I discuss their histories, physically locate the schools within Tokyo, and present the ways they perform Irish dance. Discussions of how they practice Irish dance within the focus locations of the studio, performance stage, and competition are interwoven into the depictions of each teacher and their students. Voices 5.1: Yuika Nakagawa “When I was 14, I attended summer school of Royal Academy of Dance in Tokyo and there was a character dance class which incorporated rhythm and movement of folk dances. And I learned steps that were like Irish dancing and danced them to the song “Reel Around the Sun” from Riverdance. And this experience inspired me to be interested in Irish dance. A few months later, I found a poster of Riverdance in my local supermarket! [laughs] And I asked my mom to take me there, and it was the first time to see real Irish dancing. . .The music and movements of the legs of dancers and atmospheres were very new to me, and I just fell in love 79 For a brief review of the scholarship on foreign music and dance practices in Japan, see Chapter One 220 with Irish dancing. It’s like—I went to see ballet, but—there was the sound of steps and the music is totally different than ballet, than classical music! So I just move. When I was living in Dublin, I had private class twice a week and open class for adults once a week. The other three days a week I practiced on my own. And I was focusing on practicing for competitions and sometimes I attended workshops and auditions for shows. It was my dream to study Irish dancing in Ireland. Because Ireland is the birthplace of Irish dancing, and I thought I can study not only dancing but music and culture of Ireland, and I knew there were a lot of high standard dancers and wanted to watch their dancing and improve my own dancing skill by competing with them. To be honest I don’t love competing so much, because for me, dancing is one of art and not sport. . .But I know there is no way to avoid competing because it is very sure that I can improve my skills and mental dancing on stage and the days for practicing make me stronger and is the most important thing. I would like to have my own students in the future, and I think there will be some young dancers who want to apply for feis, so for that, I think I need to take teacher exams. . .I’m dancing on my own now, and I don’t belong to any schools or communities, so—Irish dance is still very small in Japan, and most people don't know what Irish dance is. . .I’m still finding the meaning of being an Irish dancer, but I can say Irish dance led me to this way and there are so many things that are still difficult, hard, but I think my life is very interesting so far and I can’t wait [to see what happens] as an Irish dancer.”80 -Interview with Yuika Nakagawa, March 2, 2016 Figure 5.6: Yuika Nakagawa practicing at a studio in Shinjukumura, Tokyo (photos courtesy of Yuika Nakagawa) 80 All interviews in this chapter were conducted in either English or a mixture of English and Japanese. Although I studied Japanese for two years with a private teacher over Skype before coming to Tokyo, I received help in translating from several people throughout my fieldwork. Many thanks to Elizabeth Bremer, Daniel Heffernan, Aya Ito, Curtis Miles, and Yasuko Teramachi for all their help. 221 Conducting Fieldwork in Japan Conducting anthropological fieldwork as a foreigner in Japan is an undertaking that comes with its own set of challenges. Although fieldwork conducted all over the world is hallmarked by its requirement of long periods of interaction with a community, in Japan it can take an especially extensive duration to achieve a community’s trust, particularly when the researcher is both an outsider to the tradition and is not Japanese. In their ethnographies of, respectively, geisha (芸者, female entertainers who specialize in Japanese performing arts) and nagauta shamisen (長唄, a type of song derived from kabuki [歌舞伎] theater) traditions, Kelly Foreman and Jay Keister have noted the difficulties of gaining the trust and respect of a community and the long period of time it took them to do so (Foreman 2008; Keister 2004). As Keister writes, An outsider roaming freely through society curiously asking questions is typically regarded with suspicion unless the proper connection (kone) is made, typically an introduction by a person or institution acting as intermediary. Even with such connections, I found it difficult to penetrate through the polite surface maintained in conversation and behavior that kept me at a distance until a significant amount of time was spent in a particular social group. In order to fully experience Japanese music it was necessary to stay longer in fewer places, which is actually closer to a Japanese person’s experience of traditional music. (Keister 2004: 12) Additional issues may arise concerning the challenges of understanding subtleties in verbal and non-verbal social interactions. In many cases, what is being spoken out loud by the teacher to the student is not necessarily what the student is supposed to be hearing and understanding—I have had this experience as a student in Japan learning 222 the koto and studying Irish dance. When researching in Japan, it can take a long time of study in the field to come to understand what is actually being communicated, as directness is avoided. In some cases, however, being a foreigner in Japan may benefit an ethnographer’s fieldwork. Henry Johnson, who did extensive research on the koto tradition, received special permission to study with multiple teachers at various schools in order to learn more broadly about the instrument and the different styles and schools throughout the country. Typically, a native student would be required to remain with one teacher or one school, however Johnson was permitted to learn various approaches to the instrument and its repertoire, and thus was able to produce comparative research that was comprehensive in scope, a rarity in ethnographic works on Japanese performing arts (Johnson 2004). As a foreigner—particularly as a blonde American of Irish descent— researching Irish dance in Japan, I was placed in a unique situation. I came to the schools in Tokyo as an insider to the Irish dance tradition, which led to an unusually ready acceptance by the people I studied with. Being an Irish dancer was my kone: within a week of my arrival to Tokyo, I had been eagerly invited to participate in several step dance classes, CCÉ activities, and céilí dances at local pubs.81 Throughout my time there, people were—for the most part—enthusiastically willing to be interviewed, which is quite a different experience from that of other ethnographers in Japan, such as Foreman. This experience of immediate acceptance 81 Sean Williams has noted to me that her kone with Irish culture enthusiasts during her research in Kobe, Kyoto, and Osaka was due to her profession as a “professor of Irish music.” (personal communication, October 2017). 223 within the global community of Irish dance came up in my interviews with several dancers, teachers, adjudicators. As adjudicator Michael Dillon told me, “Ultimately we’re a community. . . I can pick up the teacher’s book and I can go anywhere in the world. I can phone any number in that book, and I know that person will open their door to me. There’s not many things in the world [where] you can do that” (Interview with Michael Dillon, February 15, 2017). Despite my status as an Irish dancer, I came to Tokyo as an outsider to Japanese culture— despite my previous experiences living and studying traditional koto music as a college undergraduate in Osaka—and there were at times misunderstandings in communication on both sides. I also encountered a good deal of caution regarding the depth of information some community members were initially willing to share with me, though this did dissipate by the end of my fieldwork period in Tokyo. Additionally, despite my status as a researcher, I was bound by the CLRG rules that do not allow students to study at more than one school at a time (CLRG- affiliated or not)—rules very similar to those embedded in the fabric of the koto tradition that Johnson was exempt from in his study. This required me to divide up my schedule in Japan into smaller allotments of time with each of the schools, rather than maximizing my time abroad and studying with multiple teachers throughout my five months there as had been my original plan.82 The enforcement of rules such as 82 Because I experienced a “significant change of place of normal residence” in living in Tokyo to do my research, upon moving back to Virginia and returning to classes with the Culkin School, I was exempt from the transfer ban rule that would normally restrict a student from competing for six months after changing schools (“CLRG Rules Update” 2016b). It should also be noted that in the United States, I am held to the same standard of not being allowed to study with more than one school. 224 this is one of several parallels that can be drawn between the CLRG system and the traditional structure of a Japanese traditional art school, called iemoto. Unique Experiences While conducting my fieldwork, I was exposed to a range of new experiences in which I saw Irish dance and Japanese culture come together. I saw this in the small, everyday experiences such as seeing bento lunch boxes next to Irish dance soft shoe pumps, as well as in bigger events and performances. In my experiences in participating and observing Irish dance events in Tokyo, two events in particular stood out to me as moments that could only take place in Japan. The first of these was a performance that took place during the I Love Ireland Festival before THIDA and Ardagh took their places on stage. It was a promotional performance for the Chicago-based Trinity School of Irish Dance, which would be touring Japan that summer with its performance company. I had seen several videos of this promotional tour at St. Patrick’s Day celebrations around Japan, all of which looked like great performances that had positively advertised the summer tour. However, for this Tokyo appearance, the Japanese promotional company working with the school had paired up Trinity’s world champion representative with a girl idol group named Yurumerumo. Bedecked in different colored jumpsuits and wigs, they jumped around awkwardly next to the Irish dancer—who performed in her solo dress and hard shoes—to a short thirty second clip of Irish music. They then performed one of their own pop songs, which was completely at odds musically and visually with the performances and atmosphere of the Irish culture-based festival. The Irish dancer who performed with them was very professional and kept a smile on her face throughout 225 her performance, though some of my friends noted over lunch later that day that she had seemed none too happy about the turn of events. Yurumerumo’s fans in the crowd, disturbingly, consisted mainly of older men, who called out the idols’ names while filming them with large professional cameras. One of them actually tried, without saying a word, to physically dislodge me from my spot at the front of the audience near the stage so he could get a better position—when I proved to be unyielding, he quickly gave up. The fans who been clamoring up at the front of the stage rapidly disappeared after this performance was over, leaving those of us who had wanted to see THIDA and Ardagh a bit stunned and confused. When I asked Ardagh students’ parents afterwards what they thought, they were angry, saying it promoted Irish dancing in association with hypersexualized idol groups, a connection they did not want people in Japan to make: especially with their children as the Irish dancers and considering the demographics of the fans that had appeared at the day’s performance. The entire episode was bizarre and surreal, and left us all—teachers, parents, dancers, and observers—feeling uncomfortable with the turn of events. The other memory is more positive, and still just as unique. It was at the Emerald Ball, an annual St. Patrick’s Day fundraiser held by the Tokyo American Club. The Ardagh School had been invited for the event during previous years, and was returning again to perform as well as teach céilí to the attendees. The club itself is open to all nationalities, but comes with a steep price tag: foreign nationals residing in Japan pay 1.5 million yen (approximately $14,000) in entrance fees, with monthly family fees of 35,000 yen (approximately $350) and Japanese nationals must pay 3.5 million in entrance fees (approximately $32,000). The club’s facilities are 226 incredible—spacious and luxurious, a complete contrast to any building I had stepped into in Tokyo. The performance took place in a ballroom where the event was held, and dancers had a large stage on which to perform—the choreography used was mostly the same as what was done at the I Love Ireland Festival; however, it was open only to higher level performers. The crowd was absolutely delighted, and a mixture of American and Irish-accented whoops along with the Japanese expressions of “sugoi!” (“great!”) and “kirei!” (“beautiful”) were called out to the dancers. After the performance, Tomoko enlisted me along with two other adult dancers—Mizuna Nishida and Hiroko Konno—to help the crowd get through the céilí while she taught it and called the movements out. We danced the “Walls of Limerick” and “Siege of Ennis” with the fundraiser attendees, who had been freely partaking of the open wine and Guinness bars throughout the evening, making organizing and teaching movements an interesting challenge for those of us who had not yet had the opportunity to indulge. But this was not, for me, what truly made these dances stand out—it was the mixture of people who danced them. I was partners with a blonde American dressed in a green and pink kimono who enthusiastically waved her arms around like a butterfly as she performed the sidestep in “Walls of Limerick”; a young Japanese junior high school student still dressed in her sailor-style fuku (school uniform); and an older Japanese gentleman (I believe he was the grandfather of the student), dressed in an old-fashioned Western-style suit complete with a top hat, who hopped around on one leg, completely off-time and enthusiastically ignoring the directions coming from Tomoko. It was incredibly chaotic—Tomoko did a wonderful job calling the céilí despite this—but the dancers’ joy was palpable and catching, and 227 even those attendees who had reluctantly joined us on stage after Hiroko, Mizuna, and I pleaded with them to fill empty spaces in the line-up were laughing and cheering by the end. I recall these events here not to argue that Irish dance in Japan is somehow more unique because of the contrasting cultures that were blended together in these examples. Rather, I argue that these are examples of cultures coming together that are unique in that they may only be experienced in these particular locations. This is in no way different from how Irish dance is occasionally blended with unique aspects of American culture—such as when the Culkin School performed at a baseball game, not to mention performing at iconic American locations such as the White House. It is important to acknowledge these experiences here as unique to Irish dance practices in Japan while also recognizing that these did not stem from the idea of an innate uniqueness inherent to Japanese culture. The Irish Iemoto The word iemoto (家元), which refers to the pyramidal hierarchical structural system found in many of Japan’s traditional practices, comes from the combination of two kanji: ie (家, literally “house” or “family”) and moto (元, literally “foundation” or “origin”). As Tomie Hahn writes of the use of the iemoto system in nihon buyo (日 本舞踊, traditional Japanese dance), For a culture that values the continuity of its traditions, the iemoto system provides a strict and reliable system to cautiously regulate the definitive practice of a tradition. Discipline is vital on several levels— on a microscopic level for the transmission of individual dance steps, choreography, costuming, music, and so forth; on a middle level for the negotiation of hierarchical designations of students and teachers within 228 the school; and for the large-scale organization of a traditions continuity to future generations. (Hahn 2007: 33) The iemoto system can be seen in everything from music, dance, and theatrical traditions to chadō (the tea ceremony, 茶道, literally “way of tea”) and karate (martial arts, 空手, literally “empty hand”). Coming to Irish dancing from a background of studying koto music among other traditional Japanese performing arts, I was struck by the parallels between this system of organization and transmission used in schools of Japanese arts and the structure of a CLRG Irish dance school. In Liv Lande’s dissertation on koto, she quotes Kumakura Isao’s argument that “the iemoto system exists in traditions where ‘objective evaluation of skills is difficult and where the authority of tradition outweighs the skills or techniques themselves’” (Lande 2007: 176). This description certainly fits Irish dancing: in a competition setting, the ranking of dancers is subjective and creativity in movement and music must take place within the boundaries established by the governing body. Both iemoto and CLRG school structures are concerned with preservation and transmission of a tradition which is regulated through a licensing system, an established hierarchy characterized by vertical teacher-student relationships, and the kinship and expectation of loyalty that is established through the sharing of a lineage. As explained in Chapter Two, the An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha was established in Ireland as Coimisiún an Rince in 1930 under the auspices of the Gaelic League, requiring schools and teachers to register with the organization in order to regulate and promote the tradition of Irish dancing. CLRG changed to its current name in 1943, the same year the organization began to require the certification of 229 teachers and adjudicators to ensure that those registered with the organization were teaching solo and group dances that were designated as properly “Irish” as well as teaching at what they consider as a high skill level and standard of quality. In order to have students that are allowed to compete at CLRG-sanctioned feiseanna and oireachtasaí, schools and their teachers must be registered with the proper certifications and follow the rules and regulations governing the operation of those schools and the competitions they wish to participate in. Although solo dance steps are choreographed by individual schools, the CLRG regulates céilí dances through competition requirements that the structure and movements of those dances follow those outlined in its official publication Ár Rincí Céilí. In an iemoto system, a single head (also called iemoto or soke [宗家]) or family is the top authority over the way the tradition is preserved and transmitted. As Lande explains, the head has the power and right to issue teaching licenses, permit those within the school to give concerts, punish or expel members, and publish materials on the tradition (such as musical notation). Although the decisions made by the CLRG are voted on by a body of elected members as opposed to a single hereditary head or family group (as is the case in Japan), the CLRG exerts similar power and rights. They create examinations and grant certifications, approve major competitions (and oversee and work with regional organizations that are in charge of regulating competitions), determine who may or may not participate at various levels of the organization, and publish materials related to the preservation and regulation of the tradition. There are some clear differences between the two, the biggest one being that an iemoto is typically run at a very high level of organization, with the head 230 family having strict control over every aspect of the transmission of the tradition. Although the CLRG is the ultimate authority, there are many regional differences in rules and—often to the frustration of teachers and dancers—a level of variation in their enforcement. This is partially because of the personality of the Irish dance community, and partially because the rapid and global growth of Irish dance outstripped the CLRG’s ability to keep up, although I have been told by members of the Commission that this is an issue that they are working to address. The iemoto system is also marked by a clear pyramidal and hierarchical structure that is characterized by vertical power relationships. This organizational structure can be seen both at the global and local levels of Irish dance. The CLRG is the global overarching governing body that sits at the top, and it is supported by national and then regional governing bodies, with Irish dance schools and teachers sitting at the bottom. This system also organizes the local schools. Although there are individual differences between the schools and these structures may not necessarily be as strictly socially regulated as in a traditional Japanese school (or ryū, 流), there are still many parallels between the two. As explained above, the owner and head of the school, the iemoto or soke, is placed at the top of the structure and oversees both the financial and artistic concerns of the school. In Irish dancing, this school head is most often (though not always) a TCRG or ADCRG, and has the final say in matters pertaining to both the running of the school, performances, and the transmission of steps. In some cases if the owner of the school employs teachers with more experience in certain aspects of teaching, 231 competition, or performance, they may establish those teachers as the final authority on the repertoire and transmission of the school’s dances. In an iemoto, the licensed teachers are organized by what Lande describes as a “multi-leveled series of vertical teacher-disciple relations” (ibid.: 172). In a typical iemoto, teachers are former students of the soke, and the teachers that rank under them were once their students. Lande terms these as “direct disciples,” the “direct disciples’ disciples”, and so on (ibid.: 172). In an Irish dance school, teachers registered with the CLRG are hired by the school and may either be former students of that particular school or from elsewhere—this is a major difference from an iemoto where students and teachers will only come from one particular school or lineage and remain within that school for the entirety of their career. However, like in an iemoto, teachers that work within an Irish dance school are still regarded by community members within an unspoken ranking that is determined by seniority, experience, and skill level (Hahn 2007: 35). Placed under these certified TCRGs are assistant teachers who are current or former students of the school. Students fall at the bottom of this hierarchy. Although this ranking is not one that is discussed as such within a school, community members are aware of it, and the consequences of ignoring it are immediate and obvious—students (and in the case of children, their parents), assistants, and younger teachers are expected to tailor their interactions with other community members according to this social structure both inside and outside the studio, and not respecting that order is frowned upon. A final major parallel that can be drawn between iemoto and the CLRG Irish dance school concerns ideas of loyalty to one’s school and dance lineage. Both Hahn 232 and Lande discuss the sense of family and kinship that is central to the iemoto. As Hahn writes, Paramount to all the relationships within the group in the commitment to the iemoto, school, transmission, and art . . . In general, all members of a group dedicate themselves to the iemoto, school, and transmission of the art. This dedication predominates over all else, such as personal matters and individual needs, or taste. Members subordinate and discipline themselves for the solidarity of the group. This can present conflicts for those members with spouses and children, pressuring members to prioritize time, engagements, and affiliations. (Hahn 2009: 37) In the Irish dance school not every community member is necessarily expected to dedicate themselves at the highly intensive level Hahn describes above, but nevertheless commitment—particularly by teachers and high level students and their families—is expected, especially the longer one has been a part of the school. Teachers dedicate their time by spending additional time outside of classes preparing for and running shows or workshops, organizing feiseanna, communicating with families, or attending additional school functions, such as fundraisers. Dedication from students and their families is expressed both through time-based (such as volunteer work and participation in shows) and financial-based commitments (for example, willingness to purchase new solo costumes as requested by teachers for competitions and paying to participate in additional workshops or camps). As described in Chapter Four, a sense of loyalty, family, and obligation is a large part of what sustains the Culkin School community. Although not every Irish dance school may have the sense of kinship that is cultivated there, the expectation of loyalty is quite common within most schools, especially from students who have been a part of the school a long time or participate as Open Champions in competitions. 233 Although the act of students changing schools for the sake of studying with a new teacher they believe will help them to place higher in competitions or because they do not have a good relationship with their current teacher is not necessarily uncommon (as opposed to changing schools due to a relocation of the student’s family, for example), it can often instill bitter feelings between the student and their former school, depending on the circumstances under which they left. I found this to be the case with the schools where I studied in both the United States and Japan. Although the Japanese Irish dance schools do not use the term iemoto to refer to either school structure or owner, I found a heightening of the above iemoto characteristics in my observations of these schools when compared with the Culkin School and descriptions of other Irish and North American schools given to me by their teachers and owners. While this may in part be due to the smaller number of Irish dancers and potential students in Tokyo (and thus a more competitive environment where the need for loyalty in relationships is paramount to retaining students), it may also be because the contact teachers and students have had with iemoto structures throughout their lives. Indeed, during one conversation with Tomoko Shirasawa and the parents of some of her students, I mentioned the parallels of the iemoto with Irish dance schools, and they enthusiastically embraced the comparisons. The ideas of loyalty to one’s teacher and school and dedication to the transmission of Irish dance are threads clearly woven throughout the fabric of these communities. 234 Irish Step Dance in Tokyo The island nation of Japan is an archipelago consisting of nearly seven thousand islands. The four largest islands—Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu, and Shikoku—make up the majority of Japan’s land mass. Tokyo, on the island of Honshu, is the largest city and capital of the country and one of the most densely populated cities in the world. The main city proper of Tokyo consists of twenty-three wards with a stable population of roughly eight million, however the metropolitan area of Greater Tokyo, which consists of the three major cities of Yokohama, Chiba, and Kawasaki, continues to grow in population and expand outward. Yokohama and Kawasaki each have populations of well over a million people each. In comparison, the entirety of the Washington D.C. metropolitan area has an estimated population of just over six million. It is within this densely populated metropolis that Irish dancers strive to find a foothold to spread the art of Irish dance. This section introduces three of the teachers and schools I studied with during my five month fieldwork period in Tokyo from January through May of 2017: Tomoko Shirasawa of the Ardagh School, Taka Hayashi of Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy (THIDA), and Satomi Mitera, the owner of Starbox studio and former student of Taka Hayashi’s who teaches and performs by drawing on her experiences in percussion, tap, and Irish dance.83 Here I discuss the ways in which these teachers and dancers seek to establish and grow their 83 I follow the Western convention of name order (first name followed by family name) rather than the Japanese convention (family name followed by first name), as this is how these teachers professionally identify themselves for their businesses and on social media. To avoid confusion, I follow this name order for other Japanese names as well. 235 schools within a non-Irish diasporic culture while negotiating and creating individual meanings and identities surrounding their Irish dance practices in Japan. I argue that these meanings and identities, as well as the type of repertoire chosen for transmission and performance, are tied to the teachers’ relationship with the CLRG organization. They are introduced here along a spectrum of that relationship: Tomoko Shirasawa, who is the first teacher in Japan to have received the TCRG designation; Taka Hayashi, a former cast member of Riverdance who has learned and competed within the CLRG organization—he has chosen not to sit for the TCRG exam but still maintains ties to teachers in the organization to allow his students to compete; and Satomi Mitera, who has chosen not to compete or perform in Irish dance shows, but focuses more on tap dancing, drawing on her experiences on learning and performing Irish dance with THIDA and at the University of Limerick in Ireland to inform her teaching and dance performances. I have chosen to focus my study on the Ardagh School, THIDA, and Satomi Mitera, as they are the schools and teachers with whom I spent the majority of my time in terms of taking classes and lessons as well as observing additional classes and performances. I also had the opportunity to observe and interview with teachers Kimie Nagahama and Koko Miyazawa, who were generous with their time and observations of Irish dancing in Japan. I also attended various set and céilí dance events run by the Tokyo CCÉ branch and the Intercollegiate Celtic Festival—the growing Irish set dance community deserves further study, however is outside the scope of this current work. 236 All three teachers I studied with share several things in common, aside from the fact that they all were introduced to Irish dance through Riverdance: first, they all understand and teach material that is traditionally part of a CLRG dancer’s repertoire. Differences come from the level of focus on that material in the studio and in staged performances. Second, all have lived abroad in Ireland for extended periods in order to learn Irish dancing, and in addition have made frequent short trips—in some cases annually—to attend workshops or work with specific teachers. In the studio, all teach with an emphasis on timing and musicality, as will be explored in Chapter Six. Third, the majority of the students these teachers work with are adults—a complete reversal from Irish dance communities in Ireland and its diasporic countries, where children make up the vast majority of students and, in some cases, adults are actively discouraged from participating as students (see Chapter Seven). Finally, they share the goal of spreading the art of Irish dance in Tokyo. The population of Irish dancers in Tokyo is far smaller than in Washington D.C., and teachers find it challenging to increase awareness of Irish dancing within a population that does not have the same embedded cultural memory of the Irish diaspora as exists in the United States. Both Ardagh and THIDA, in particular, work to grow their base of students, which they aim to achieve through performances out in the community, advertising classes at culture schools, and establishing Irish dance clubs at local international schools Voices 5.2: Tomoko Shirasawa “When I came back to Japan [from Ireland], Hiroko [Konno] came to my class, and [said], “Some dancers are very interested in joining the competition.” So luckily there was a Hawai’i competition at that time, 2009, so I decided to take associate teacher’s exam. That’s why I took it, and I gave up my competition life, because there was no place to go. Because if 237 you only take associate exam, within two years you have to take TCRG exam, so, I asked Tony, “I want to take TCRG exam.” “Okay, you can study this, and this, and this.” The easiest way to study was to remember every céilí, and also I have to make up some set dancing. And I think I sent some videos to Tony [Nolan], “These steps are right steps for the set or not?’ And Tony said, “Okay, okay, do it.” You know what I mean? “The positions and rhythms are fine, so you can practice.” And I try to remember all the céilí. The hardest part I think is teaching to Irish kids. Maybe I could remember everything, but I didn’t know how to teach, and I learned to céilí dance just four or five times at the [BLAS at University of Limerick] summer school, so I watched Olive Hurley’s video and then she was teaching céilí with speaking, I transcribed everything. And then I tried to copy [what she was doing]. I wrote down everything. And also I saw some test book that past exam that [asked], “Explain eight hand skip across” so I had to answer everything. So maybe I have to write down everything. So I had a note explaining every movement. And that’s where Olive Hurley’s speaking helped me. I prepared for maybe six months. I think I was very lucky . . . It was funny, like when I was teaching step dancing first [the student] could show us a step, what they have. Like all impressive, completely different from Japanese dancers, so I taught advanced step . . . The panel said, “Okay, of course, you can teach them with your style,” so I tried to teach with my style. Of course, using English! [laughs] I didn’t think I could be an Irish dance teacher [laughs]. I saw Tony and at that time when I was in Ireland, he was in his seventies, but he always enjoyed his private lesson with me and Shauna Lyon—10 years old World Champion dancer—I always take a lesson with her. And she had perfect lesson and perfect rhythms, and I enjoyed it, and he enjoyed it. I want to be like him always. After the lesson—at that time there were really good dancers, so all concentrate on their lessons, and he enjoyed always his lessons. I want to be like that. I want—I think I’m not the one who's great at Irish dancing in Japan, but I want to level up. And I want to enjoy my class every time.” -Interview with Tomoko Shirasawa, April 26, 2016 238 Tomoko Shirasawa and the Ardagh School of Irish Dance Figure 5.7: In and around Studio Feliz in Hiro-o, Tokyo Studio Feliz is on a quiet street in the Tokyo district of Hiro-o, an area known for its upscale shopping and expatriate population. Cherry blossoms trees line the streets, blowing pink sakura flower petals everywhere during the spring. The tiny 239 studio is in the basement of a building that is unassuming, blending in with those around it. Students must walk down a narrow flight of stairs from the outside to the heavy studio door, immediately encountering a small genkan foyer just inside. Although the floor regularly takes a beating from percussive dance shoes, and is swept before and after class, students remove their street shoes in the genkan upon entering as a sign of respect that is deeply embedded in Japanese customs. Typically, this space is used for flamenco dance practices and performances—a beautifully embroidered flamenco shawl hangs from the wall as a reminder—but every Saturday, the space is transformed with the sounds of Sean O’Brien and Anton and Sully accompanying the students of the Ardagh School of Irish Dance. The Ardagh School of Irish Dance, founded in 2010, is a CLRG-registered school that holds classes in several locations in Tokyo and Yokohama. As one of the only two CLRG schools that exist in East Asia, Ardagh is considered part of the Mainland Europe region of CLRG. Tomoko Shirasawa, the school’s owner and teacher, is the first person in Japan to pass the TCRG examination and become a registered teacher with CLRG.84 She is also responsible for organizing and running Japan’s first feis (aptly named the Japan Feis) and grade examinations, which were held after my fieldwork period in October 2016. Of the schools described in this chapter, Ardagh most closely resembles the Culkin School in terms of its status as a CLRG school with a TCRG-certified teacher at its head, its focus on competition- style repertoire, encouragement of students’ participation in both feiseanna and local 84 At the time of my fieldwork period, Tomoko was the only person in Japan who held the TCRG designation. Yuika Nakagawa is the second person to pass the exam, and received her TCRG certification in April 2017. 240 performances, and having ties with the local traditional Irish music and set dance scene through students who also participate in the local CCÉ branch as musicians and set dancers. Tomoko first encountered Irish dance in 1996 when her English language teacher from Australia shared videos of the show Riverdance. She loved it. She purchased the CD of uilleann piper Davy Spillane, who performed the piece “Caoineadh Cu Chulainn” in one of the Riverdance clips she saw, and began to look for schools in Tokyo where she could begin to learn Irish step dancing. Upon discovering that none existed, she went to CCÉ to learn basic step dancing movements such as the promenade step, side-steps, and over-2-3s, but the dancing there focused mainly on céilí and set dancing, not the modern competitive style she had seen in Riverdance. She noted that at that time the majority of members in CCÉ were foreigners, unlike in 2016 when most members were Japanese. Koko Miyazawa, another Irish dancer, lent Tomoko videos of the modern style of competitive Irish dancing and she began to take ballet classes as well. “At the beginning, I started to learn ballet just once a week, but I came to think, ‘Oh, I love dancing and I love learning!’ So once a week to three or four times a week!” (Interview with Tomoko Shirasawa, April 26, 2016). In 1997, Tomoko found the Blas International Summer School of Irish Dance and Music that was held at the University of Limerick. It was the second year the school had held the program and it was there, while taking music and dance classes, that she first met Tony Nolan, who would be one of the main teachers she came to work with in the following years. While in Ireland, she also came into contact with 241 Michael Dillon, who taught an adult workshop in Clare each summer that attracted adult students from all over Europe. For the two following summers, Tomoko returned to Ireland to take these workshops, and returned to work privately with him during a winter vacation as well. At home in Tokyo, Tomoko worked with other friends who were interested in Irish dance, and performed in a show called Dancing Fiddle. She was asked to teach at a culture school (a different school from the current Meguro location classes) by the owner who was looking for “interesting” dance—in other words, not ballet. For a brief period in 2003 and 2004, Ann Marie Cunningham, a former Riverdance cast member, was interested in having an Irish dance school in Tokyo, and Tomoko helped to teach classes with her. The school was closed suddenly after only six months, leaving Tomoko uncertain where to go with her dancing. Just as she was considering giving up Irish dance, Tomoko received an email from Michael about his summer workshop, so she went and was convinced by Michael to move to Ireland so she could study and compete. In 2005, she resigned from the company she worked with in Tokyo and moved to Ireland, where she stayed for about a year and a half. She studied with Michael for two months, but when the family on whom she depended for rides out to his classes moved, she began to take classes with Tony Nolan at his school, Scoil Uí Nualláin in Limerick, which was in the city center and easier for her to travel to (there was no public transportation available). She competed in about seven or eight competitions at the Open Championship level, including the Munster Championships where she placed 7th in her competition. 242 As Tomoko discusses in Voice 5.2, after she returned to Japan, she was approached by students in the classes she held who were interested in competing in an upcoming CLRG feis in Hawai’i in 2009. Because a student must have a teacher registered with the CLRG in order to compete, Tomoko decided to take the associate teacher’s exam, which would temporarily allow her students to register and compete in CLRG events. Because you are required to take the TCRG exam within two years of the associate teacher’s exam, in 2010 Tomoko took and passed the examination, becoming the first CLRG Irish dance teacher in Japan. In both classes and interviews, students expressed to me how proud they were to have Tomoko as a teacher, and that it was a point of pride to learn from the first Japanese TCRG. As of 2016, Tomoko estimates that she has between fifty and sixty students total in the Ardagh School, the majority (about two-thirds) of whom are adults. I have been told by several teachers who have worked with Ardagh (as well as THIDA and schools throughout Mainland Europe such as Italy, the Netherlands, and Russia) that this is commonly the case in schools that exist in countries not typically associated with the Irish diaspora—typically students do not learn about Irish dance until they are older (often from having seen Riverdance or another Irish dance show), and as a result the majority of students learning and competing in these regions are adults. Beginner through intermediate level classes are held for adults in the Tokyo area at Studio Feliz, a flamenco studio in Hiro-o, and through Meguo Gakuen Culture School in Meguro. Children’s classes for the same skill levels are also held at Studio Feliz as well as at Negishi Step Joy Studio in Negishi, Yokohama. Additionally, Ardagh runs an Irish dance club at the Saint Maur International School in Yokohama. While the 243 majority of students in the adult classes are Japanese, the majority of children are a mix of Japanese and other nationalities, such as American and Chinese. This is largely due to the connection Ardagh has with the international school as well as the Yokohama classes’ proximity to Yokohama North Dock, an American military sub- installation. I would estimate the age range of the adults is from early twenties through early seventies, with the majority of the dancers being in the thirty to forty- five age range and sixty and up. The children’s classes had students as young as four through mid-teens. The adult Ardagh students told me that they came to Irish dance through a variety of paths: although several found it after tours of Riverdance in Japan (the first one being in 2000, the most recent in 2015), others found it through seeing the Irish dance and music show Ragús both live and on television, as well as through experiences abroad. For example, two of the dancers, Saya Yamamoto and Hiroko Konno, both initially learned basic Irish dance through a club offered at the Sundai Ireland International School, which they attended at separate times as a teacher and student, respectively. Others were first exposed to Irish dance through céilí and set dancing at CCÉ workshops, and take modern competitive step dancing with Ardagh alongside attending those events. When asked what was it about Irish dance that appealed to them, many said that they loved traditional Irish music, and especially the music they heard in Riverdance. For several, however, it was also the modesty and “robotic” expression of Irish dancers that was appealing. Several of the women stated that they did not feel like they had to try to “be sexy” as with other forms of dance, and others said they liked the fact that Irish dance seemed “mechanical” to them— 244 they didn’t have to move their hands or arms, and could look straight forward. This is similar to what Kate Bole of the Culkin School mentioned during her interview: that for many dancers, Irish step dancing is a “safe” form of dance in terms of how a dancer doesn’t necessarily feel compelled to dance with displays of emotion, especially when compared to a dance form like flamenco, where outward bursts of passion are expected as a part of the performance (see Chapter Four). The Ardagh School held Japan Feis, the first ever feis in Japan, on October 26, 2016. Grade examinations for the preliminary grade through grade seven were held in conjunction with the feis the following day. Competitions were held at the Yokohama Country and Athletic Club and were adjudicated by Charles Moore, an ADCRG from Limerick. In addition to the Japanese dancers who took part, other competitors traveled to Yokohama from schools in Hong Kong, Taipei, Shanghai, and North America. As is typical for feiseanna held in East Asia, Australia, and New Zealand, feis musicians were not available for the competition, and prerecorded music was used. During my fieldwork period when Tomoko was organizing the feis, she expressed concerns regarding finding a venue, due to the high cost of renting spaces in the Tokyo and Yokohama areas, as well as finding a venue that would be easy for 245 participants to travel to from nearby hotels (another challenge in this area); however, by all accounts the feis was a big success. Figure 5.8: (top left) Japan Feis medal won by Rika Fukuda for first place in the traditional set competition; (bottom left) Japan Feis logo; (above) Ardagh students (left to right) Kazumi Soeda, Yasuko Teramachi, and Rika Fukuda at the 2016 Japan Feis Prior to this event, Ardagh students were required by necessity to travel outside the country in order to participate in feiseanna. During classes and interviews, students told me of me their travels to Hong Kong, Taiwan, the United States, England, and Ireland as well as to their regional Oireachtas Rince na hEuropa (Mainland European Championship), which has been held in a variety of locations 246 during its ten-year history, such as Vienna, Austria and The Hague, Netherlands. Traveling to feiseanna and the Oireachtas is incredibly challenging for most students because of the cost involved from flying to and from Japan, and most cannot afford to participate in more than one or two feiseanna a year. However, they also love the opportunity to travel, and while the cost is steep, they still love it enough to make the financial sacrifice worthwhile for them. As student Saya Yamamoto told me, It used to be just a hobby for me, but now—I work for Irish dancing. I work to save money for Irish dancing [a lot of laughter and agreement from the other students]. Yeah, when I changed my work office in January, when I had an interview I told my boss that I need dates off: I need a day off on Sunday [more laughter] and on Wednesdays I need to leave the office earlier at 6! I don’t say it’s my hobby. Of course it’s my hobby, but it is the main thing I work for. Yeah, sometimes I feel very bad starting to think about getting injured or being unable to dance. I really don’t want to get injured or sick and become unable to dance. So, I watch my health, and watch my body not to get injured because I want to dance as long as I can. If I lose Irish dance, I don’t know what I work for. (Group Interview with Ardagh School students, April 16, 2016) Figure 5.9: Medals won by an Ardagh student at the 2016 Hong Kong International Irish Dance Premierships, hosted by the O’Connor-Barton Irish Dance School Although there are classes that will focus on preparing choreographies for upcoming performances, the majority of classes are focused on learning and preparing competition steps and set dances. Students are not required to compete due 247 to the high costs of travel; however, they are well prepared if they choose to participate in feiseanna. I was also told that occasionally they will work on preparing figure dances (such as two- or three-hand reels) and céilí dances that require the commitment of fewer students (such as the Four-Hand Reel). Choreographies mostly consist of competition steps put together to form longer numbers, or are new movements performed in the competition style, not moving upper body. Steps are taught in a way typical to Irish dance teachers outside of Japan, as will be explored further in the discussion on transmission in Chapter Six. In terms of performances, while I was conducting fieldwork with Ardagh, I observed several, including the Yokohama and Tokyo St. Patrick’s Day parades, the I Love Ireland Festival as described in the opening of this chapter, and at the Emerald Ball held by the Tokyo-American Club. Towards the end of my fieldwork I also saw a children’s performance at the St. Maur International School’s International Food Festival. The number of performance opportunities are more limited in Tokyo because there simply aren’t the same number of event opportunities for Irish step dance such as there are in Washington D.C., for example. I was able to see several, however, because of the timing of my fieldwork around St. Patrick’s Day—a holiday that is still very small in Japan in comparison to other celebrations in countries with a large Irish diaspora, but is growing in popularity. The Ardagh School very much fits the profile of a typical CLRG school in terms of the materials taught and the types of performances given. This makes sense, given the type of training Tomoko received, her certification with the CLRG, and her students’ interest in participating in feiseanna and oireachtas. Her ties and training 248 with the organization drive her choices in the repertoire used to choreograph and teach to students for both competitions and performances. In the next section, we will see how Taka Hayashi’s training set him on a path away from competition and toward the show style of Irish dance. Voices 5.3: Taka Hayashi “It started when I saw Riverdance in Tokyo in 2000 . . . When I saw the show, [the dancing] seemed like something even I would be able to do . . . The music had a very welcoming feeling to it. Up until then, for me, the concept of "dance" always brought up the image of ballet dancers in white tights, but with Riverdance, some of the songs like "Thunderstorm" had a really masculine feeling. I knew straight away that I wanted to [get into dancing] . . . So that’s what first made me decide to go to Ireland. When you’re a competitive dancer, you have to travel a lot to Ireland, America, and so on. It becomes a matter of how many times per year you’re able to do that. So if that’s where your motivation lies, as soon as you become unable to travel [that much], it’s like that motivation becomes meaningless. And even supposing you’re able to go, you’d still run into that problem of judging we spoke about earlier. There are definitely some teachers or adjudicators who will judge you [fairly], but sometimes, there’s that one person who will always tend to mark low or high. And when [that one competition] is the sole reason [for you traveling all that way]— If you live in America or Ireland where there are competitions almost every week, you get used to the fact that your grades will fluctuate as your judges change. You can use that [fluctuation] as a basis to improve. But if you only get there once a year, and you happen to get a bad grade that one time, it could make you lose sight of your entire goal; your vision of how to improve. Students stop listening to me when that happens. They start thinking I’m a bad teacher. Suspicion begets idle fears.85 That just leads to unhappiness on everyone’s part. So instead of [having students compete], I prefer having them enjoy the performance aspect of putting on a good show. I run the kind of school that allows students to imagine what kind of show they would like to put on themselves. I fundamentally believe [dancing should be something] where personal expression isn’t discarded in favor of technique, and at the same time, where technique still plays an important role even while you are expressing yourself. Both are equally important when training [a dancer]. As for how that will be accepted by the international Irish dance community? As far as that’s concerned, the fact that we’re of Asian descent probably also plays a role [in how we’re seen]. But I personally don’t let that bother me. Once you start worrying about all the things that could count against you, it’ll make it that much worse if you [happen to do badly]. And that’s true, you might [get disappointed]. But I feel like it’s a matter of committing to your own style, or self-worth. Some people will [respect that], happily. If they don’t, well, I don’t know, but the only thing you can do is keep believing in 85 Note from Elizabeth Bremer on translation: “He uses the yojijukugo “疑心暗鬼” meaning ‘Unless you clear this matter up now, it will give rise to no end of doubts and suspicions’” (Personal communication, July 2016). 249 your own artistic merit. If you keep focusing on that and people accept you [on that basis], there’s really nothing happier than that. But even if they don’t, you have to keep believing in the artistic style you’re carving out for yourself. And really, the only thing you can do is demonstrate that to the best of your ability, for the people who believe in you.” -Interview with Taka Hayashi, March 3, 2016 Taka Hayashi and the Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy Figure 5.10: Studio Grand Bleu lounge in Koenji, Tokyo The Studio Grand Bleu building hosts several music practice and recording studios in Tokyo’s Koenji neighborhood. The district has a very different energy than Hiro-o: it is well known for its underground music scene, and the shops that line the streets around the studio have a distinctly “cool” feeling emanating from their windows’ merchandise, which ranges from punk clothing to American comic books. Grand Bleu’s entrance consists of a lounge and café, with menus offering both caffeinated and alcoholic beverages. A scented humidifier is always running, though 250 there is still a smell of tobacco that is not quite covered up. Electric guitars line the walls as decorations, and there is a large flat screen television mounted on the wall that is always showing a variety of Japanese talk shows, muted so patrons can hear the background music that ranges from punk rock to jazz. The dance studio that Taka Hayashi’s students use is located in the basement away from the recording studios upstairs, and posters for the Irish dance school are plastered on the wall leading to the staircase. There is no formal genkan for this studio, but students still remove their shoes and leave them outside the studio before entering, moving to the left side of the studio before closing the privacy curtain so they can change into athletic clothes. As with all of Taka’s dance classes, the students begin their warm up with a practiced routine to the song “Lovers of Light” by Afro Celt Sound System. The Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy (THIDA) is an Irish dance school with classes in Tokyo for children and adults that teaches both competitive and show style Irish dance. It was founded in 2006 by Takayuki Hayashi (who goes by the name Taka), a former cast member of Riverdance who holds a Master of the Arts in Irish Dance Studies from the University of Limerick’s Irish World Academy. Although neither the school nor Taka are registered with the CLRG, there is a connection with the organization through Taka’s first teacher, Ronan McCormack, 251 Figure 5.11: THIDA school posters at Studio Grand Bleu, Koenji, Tokyo 252 that allows his students to compete in CLRG feiseanna if they so choose. Although students do learn traditional steps (such as the Molyneaux St. Patrick’s Day set dance described in the chapter opening) and competitive style steps, the school’s focus is placed on show-repertoire. Learning traditional and competition material is viewed as a way to gain the technical skills required to perform show materials. As noted in Voices 5.3, Taka first encountered Irish dance when he saw Riverdance during its first tour to Japan in 2000. Although he had no extended formal training in music or dance, he felt that it was something that he could do, and immediately began a plan to save to go to Ireland to learn how to dance there. After saving for a year, he quit his job as an Information Technology consultant and moved to Cork in November 2001. It took him nearly a year before he found a teacher who would work with him—he was 27 at the time, and the dance schools he contacted would not take beginner adults, and although University of Limerick was willing to take him on in an ethnochoreology program, he was not ready at that point for a performance-based program such as the graduate Irish Dance Studies course. While he looked for a teacher, he taught himself using the same Olive Hurley dance videos Tomoko had learned from, and busked on the street to promote himself, which drew quite a bit of attention. Taka: During the summer, I heard that Ronan-sensei would be hosting a summer camp called “Rince.” That was the first time I'd heard about him. I met him at that camp. Up until that time I'd been constantly searching for a teacher. I originally lived in Cork. Even looking back at it now, there were tons of teachers [living there], but even though I called around, no one was willing to let me enroll. So with no other options available, I started doing street performances. And through doing that, I got featured in a few different newspapers, and so on— Etsuko: For being a Japanese person who was doing Irish dancing. Taka: That’s how I heard about [the summer camp] . . . 253 Etsuko: When he performed on the street, people would gather around wondering what he was doing, and would start talking to him. So he'd tell them that he was looking for a teacher, and they would give him information on people they'd heard were teaching [dancing], or places he could try and go. (Interview with Taka Hayashi and Etsuko Hirasawa, March 3, 2016) Ronan McCormack, a teacher and adjudicator who was part of the original and touring casts of the Eurovision Song Contest and full-length Riverdance productions, initially heard about Taka from one of his fellow cast members while on tour with Riverdance in San Francisco, although he personally didn’t see him. Ronan told me the story of his time with Taka when I interviewed him after he finished adjudicating the 2016 World Champions in Glasgow: So, it was the first year of summer school, and seemingly before that when I was in San Francisco on tour, Taka had busked outside on the street. And I remembered some of the dancers talking about this Asian guy who was doing Irish dance on the street. I never saw him! I hadn’t seen him, but I remembered. So I got his application form . . . And he had said he had learned from Olive Hurley’s videos, and like yeah? Everybody who’s learned since Riverdance has started with Olive Hurley’s videos, that didn’t really say anything . . . I thought, “This guy probably can’t dance.” So I was like, “Well, let’s see, let’s see.” And he turned up for the workshop, and the other two teachers on my staff were like, “Wooo! He can dance!” You know, he wasn’t going to win a Worlds that week, but we’re like, “No, he can definitely dance. Like, he’s beyond a beginner, well beyond a beginner.” . . . So he did the week, and he seemed to really enjoy the week, and he said to me at the end of the week, “Can you be my teacher?” And I said, “Well, you’re in Cork, I’m in Dublin,” so I’m like, you know, I said, “Do you want to travel up?” And he goes, “Well, maybe I’ll move to Dublin.” And then he looked at the price of renting an apartment, and he was like, “Maybe I’ll stay in Cork.” So he used to travel up then on a Thursday morning, he’d have a private lesson, then he’d come to group class in the afternoon, and then he’d have another lesson Friday morning and go home. And he did that pretty much for two years. So it was, I don’t know, six or eight months in, and I said, “Look, will you do a feis?” I remember bringing him to Penny’s on Primark to buy pants and a shirt and tie—there’s no point in spending 254 a fortune . . . I was starting him at the equivalent to American Novice. I thought, “There’s no point in doing Beginner, you’re beyond that, but first feis let’s do something doable and you’ll do well and get a boost then we’ll move you on.” You know, he probably should have been going into Prizewinner, but I thought, “You’ve never done a feis,” so you know. So he did the first feis and he was nervous as hell, like he was so nervous. But he got through it, and he did okay and he got some prizes and whatever, you know. So then he was like, “I would like to compete and maybe I’d like to compete at the World.” So literally, by the end of the second year, he had qualified for World (Interview with Ronan McCormack, March 26, 2016). The impetus to compete at the Open Championship level was sparked by Taka’s desire to perform in Riverdance. In 2003, Ronan received an email about a special troupe that would be put together to perform Riverdance for the Special Olympics that were being held in Ireland that year. Ronan encouraged Taka to audition, and was he was accepted. He was thrilled to perform, but realized that continuing to compete would be the best way to improve his technique: “In the [Riverdance] team, there are quite a few other members, right? When I compared myself to those other members, I realized I still had a lot of work to do in terms of technique, and that's why I kept on doing competitions [at the same time]” (Interview with Taka Hayashi, March 3, 2016). Additionally, Taka told me that at that time dancers who wanted to audition for the full productions of Riverdance were required to have medaled at Worlds. In 2004, Taka competed both at the All-Ireland as well as at Worlds, and placed 7th and 17th, respectively, receiving the needed placement. Following this, Taka was accepted into the Irish Dance Studies program at the University of Limerick and completed his Master’s Degree within a year. Obviously step dancing formed the base of everything we would learn, but in addition, we also learned history and performance: things like sean nós and set dances and so on. Wanting to return to Japan and teach 255 [Irish] dancing here in the future, I also made sure to learn all the steps for the girls' dances. Also, we had to choreograph our own new Irish dance steps. That was called "theatrical style," where you make up your own dances. At the end, Colin Dunne became my advisor in that class. With him as my mentor I managed to choreograph the dance that allowed me to graduate. In addition to that, we also learned contemporary dance . . . Dancing in Riverdance had been one of my main goals, and as I still hadn't been on tour with them yet, it was still something that I wanted to do. But having danced for them that one time in 2003, I felt like I'd already mostly gotten to experience what it would be like to dance in Riverdance for real. But in doing that, I started to wonder if there was room to discover my own personal style of dancing within that context. Obviously I still wanted to dance for them, but [attending University of Limerick] gave me the opportunity to explore my own style and start wondering about what I wanted to do in the future. I started to feel like I should deviate from the purely Riverdance-style. (Ibid.) In 2005, Taka auditioned for the touring cast of Riverdance and was accepted to perform on the Asia tour, which consisted of shows in Japan and Taiwan. He loved the experience: My dream was to perform a solo dance, but as I was only a member for such a short time, I didn't quite manage to achieve that. However, out of the dances that I did perform in, the masculine ones like “Thunderstorm” that had originally made me want to [get into dancing], and being able to dance in the typical Riverdance-style line—I actually loved all of it, but specifically getting to do all the things I’d originally liked so much, gave me the sense that I'd finally managed to achieve everything I'd set out to do. (Ibid.) Taka left the tour after one year, using the PR opportunity brought in by Riverdance to establish THIDA. As with the Ardagh School, THIDA’s student population is largely made up of adult students of Japanese nationality. In 2016, one children’s class was offered in Nishi Shinjuku along with an Irish dance club Taka runs at the British School, an international school in Showa. The rest of THIDA’s classes were offered for adults at 256 beginner through intermediate levels. The most significant difference between the schools is that a show routine class is offered—during my observations, Taka taught his students the steps to Riverdance pieces, such as “Reel Around the Sun” and a hard shoe a capella piece that is used in the finale. Because at the time of my fieldwork with THIDA they were preparing for their I Love Ireland performance, the other classes I participated in and observed consisted of learning show materials. The students did tell me that they learn competition steps in classes, but the focus is still on show-style choreographies. Taka has made the decision to not pursue the TCRG certification. Although competition with CLRG was initially an important part of his training, he expressed to me that has come to dislike the competition style of Irish step dance as well as the system of judging used in competitions, as he notes in the above Voices 5.3. In deciding the focus of his school, he told me: I myself am actually not [fond of] competitive style. I started wanting to dance after seeing Riverdance, and it was disappointing to go [to Ireland] and find out you have to dance in [competition style] too. My passion was for show style. For expressing myself in that way. So I’d always had the idea of [creating a class centered around that]. Obviously, technique is really important, but I felt that the other aspects [of performing] were also just as important, and because of that, when I started the “Show Style” class, I wanted to teach a style incorporating the performative aspects of modern dance too. (Ibid.) Although he did not want to learn the traditional styles of Irish dance—of which competition steps are a core component of, even if a student does not go to feiseanna—he learned it was important to start with them, as they were the foundation of what Riverdance was built on. He also notes that, “The good thing about competitions is that they force you to perform on a stage. Moreover, you only get one 257 chance. You can't go back and try again. You only get one chance to put on your best performance. In terms of self-improvement, that's the best way to do it” (ibid). And he recognizes the importance placed on those competitions by others in the Irish dance world—in advertising on the school’s website there a list of students who have placed in Major competitions (both in the CLRG organization and in the World Irish Dance Association)86. Taka’s students have been inspired to take their Irish dance practices in a variety of directions. Yuki Nomiya traveled to Ireland to study Irish dancing with the highly regarded Hession School of Irish Dance in Galway and danced at the 2016 World Irish Dance Championships in Glasgow before beginning the Irish Dance Studies graduate program at University of Limerick. Yuika Nakagawa, who is featured in Voices 5.1, has traveled to Ireland many times to work with Ronan on her own, and after taking and passing her examination in Phoenix, Arizona in September of 2016, became the second certified TCRG in Japan in April 2017. Yuika along with other students from THIDA have also regularly participated in the annual Riverdance Summer School in Dublin—a week long camp that allows students to learn choreography from the show, learn about the show business, and culminates in a staged recital where students and Riverdance cast members dance together. It also serves as an audition for dancers who one day hope to chosen to dance in the full production, a dream that Yuika as well as the other THIDA students 86 The World Irish Dance Association (WIDA) is an open-platform organization of Irish dancing, meaning that any dancer from any organization may compete at their feiseanna and oireachtasaí. Closed organizations, such as CLRG and An Comhdháil na Múinteoirí le Rincí Gaelacha Teoranta (An Comhdháil), do not allow students of their registered schools to compete in open platform events. Because Ronan McCormack, who is Taka’s teacher and a TCRG and ADCRG, traveled to Japan to work with THIDA, the dancers were able to register for CLRG feiseanna, but because they have done so now, they may not go back to competing with WIDA. 258 hold in common. Yuika has also had the opportunity to participate in Take the Floor, a Riverdance associated production featuring the Irish traditional band Begoa, in which the show is put together from start to finish in just ten days. Satomi Mitera is another of Taka’s students who has taken her own direction with Irish dancing. As explored in the next section, Satomi combines her experiences with THIDA, as well as her studies at the University of Limerick, with her background as a tap dancer and percussionist to explore her own Irish dance practice. Voice 5.4: Satomi Mitera “I think everyone thinks Riverdance is Irish dancing, but in UofL [University of Limerick] we learned that there’s a much broader field that makes up Irish dance. You could also say the same thing about Japan in that Japan also has different aspects to its dance—there’s not just kabuki, but there’s bon dancing in summer or festival dance, nihon buyo. So even though the way dance spreads in difference countries is different, there are a lot of parallels at the same time. So by going to Ireland, I learned a lot about Japan as well. I feel that very strongly. As you may have seen the “Rokudan” and “Kanjincho” [on the recital DVD], the two pieces that were pieces which I had those thoughts about comparing Japan to Ireland. Tap dance is also European dancing also, for me, but I didn’t feel like tap dance is not Japanese dance. But Irish dancing is called Irish—more culture. Then I started to learn Irish dance to a deeper level and started thinking about my own country, Japan. When in Ireland, professors like Dr. Catherine Foley would be asking, “Well, what about Japan?” [laughs] Always asking me. But actually, I don’t have answer! Actually, I didn’t know . . . So, I was a bit ashamed about that. It might have also been part of the original inspiration behind [those recital pieces]. Before kabuki, but in Japanese dance, [the idea of] using geta [traditional wooden shoes] to make sounds while dancing was already existing in some form. So with the connection with the geta and with tap not really having any sort of requirements about what music you dance to, she felt that it was a possible thing to explore. What was obvious in Ireland was that everyone has really long legs and they all look the part for Irish dance, which I couldn’t really empathize with [laughs]. But there are ways to still look cool, like show a strong pose, and Japanese dance affords that better than Irish dance, and I noticed that. Sort of an unfortunate reality, that when you’re talking about dance there are expectations surrounding what someone looks like—like a ballerina looks thin. I don’t really like that, but it is a reality. So it 259 wasn’t a bad idea to try and use Japanese dance as a way to maximize my own body to get the most out of my own figure. So that was part of it as well. If you were to ask why someone from Japan would spend so much time to go to Ireland and learn about Irish dance but wouldn’t really know much about traditional Japanese dance, I don’t really have a good answer, but as long as it’s my own type of dance, I can feel confident —but I would like to learn a bit more about Japanese dance in the future. Japanese dance is more a tool that which is used to get the tap dance style that I want to realize, and going to Ireland to learn Irish dance was to learn Irish dance correctly, but I don’t feel a particular desire to learn Japanese, nihon buyo, to that level. It’s difficult to organize my feelings around that, but, I think nihon buyo is a means to an end.” -Interview with Satomi Mitera, February 27, 2016 Figure 5.12: Starbox Studio in Koto, Tokyo 260 Satomi Mitera Satomi Mitera is the owner of Starbox dance studio, where she gives private tap and Irish dance lessons to both children and adults. The bright blue color of the outside of the studio, which is attached to her aunt and uncle’s home in Koto, along with a vivid picture of red tap shoes and bold letter of the name of the studio stands in stark contrast to the neutral city palate of the buildings that surround it. Near the entrance, there is a painting of a happy tap dancing bunny complete with top hat and cane, enthusiastically advertising the tap, Irish dance, and stretching exercises that students can learn inside. The inside of the studio is as inviting to visitors as the outside—after entering the traditional genkan that is in each Japanese home and removing their shoes, students move through the hallway and turn to the left to step down into the studio space. One wall consists entirely of mirrors, the other of posters Figure 5.13: Inside Starbox studio—posters with names of dance choreographies, tap and Irish dance movements and pieces, and music theory 261 cheerfully detailing the names of tap and Irish step movements and dances, as well as basic music theory and rhythmic patterns. Books written by Irish dance scholar and Satomi’s teacher Catherine Foley rest on a shelf near the stereo next to the same VHS of Riverdance: Live from Radio City Music Hall that I had owned as a child. The studio space is reflective of Satomi’s personality, joyful and enthusiastic, as well as of her dedication to her dancing and music. I was introduced to Satomi and her husband Daniel through Taka Hayashi, who was Satomi’s first Irish dance teacher. After initially observing Satomi perform at the Senzoku Gakuen College of Music and conducting and interview with her and husband, I spent time with her and Daniel in Tokyo both on St. Patrick’s Day and at the I Love Ireland Festival. We even went on a riverboat cruise to eat okonomiyaki with my husband Michael just two days after he joined me in Tokyo at the end of my fieldwork there. During these visits and our interview, I learned about Satomi’s background and her passion for creating her own vision of percussive dance, and how she draws on her experiences of tap dancing, Irish step dancing, and percussion training to perform and teach.87 Satomi was first introduced to tap dancing when her mother enrolled her in classes at the age of seven. As she explained to me, there is an expectation in Japanese culture that when you become an adult and a participant in society, you will be able to do some sort of performance, such as karaoke or piano. Her mother wanted Satomi to be able to perform, and chose tap dancing, which Satomi now laughs about: “My mom didn’t think I would continue dancing until now as a job!” (Interview with 87 I additionally observed one of Satomi’s private Irish dance lessons; however, this was the only one I was able to observe because of scheduling, so my discussion here focuses on observation of Satomi’s performances and our conversations. 262 Satomi Mitera, February 27, 2016). She discovered she loved dancing and began to take ballet and jazz dance as well, though tap remained her passion and focus. It was when she was in junior high school that she first saw Riverdance, but interestingly it wasn’t the Irish dancing that caught her attention—rather, it was the flamenco in “Firedance” that she loved. When entering college, Satomi decided she would major in percussion, as she never had received formal music training, and believed that studying percussion would be the best path to obtain a deeper understanding of rhythm that would benefit her dancing. However, she had never studied percussion before—the first time she touched a drum was a year before entering her music program. Although she studied very hard, just one year of training was not enough to enter the college as a music major, so she made a presentation to the director of the program, tap dancing for him, and persuasively arguing that tap dance is a form of percussion. She was admitted to the program, and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in music. It was in the percussion program that she encountered Irish dancing again. Satomi led a tap dance club, and she was asked to dance the piece “Riverdance” from Riverdance. So Satomi pulled out her old Riverdance VHS, and watched it with her tap teacher: [We] were watching the video and decided there was no way to actually dance Riverdance correctly, but there is a way to do a kind of impersonation of a “Riverdancer.” Because the other people in the club, they didn’t know much about Irish dancing—they were percussionists trying to learn how to tap, now they have to do Irish dance [laughs]. So it was something that looked a little bit like Irish dance but is based on tap. So I was a little bit disappointed in the performance because it wasn’t right! [laughs] So I got to thinking, I want to learn the Irish dancing 263 correctly. Then also at that moment, the objective of joining university was in order to learn about percussion in order to improve dance, but for four years from morning to night, it was percussion practice all the time. So there wasn’t much opportunity to actually dance, which caused a lot of frustration . . . So that frustration combined with interest in Irish dance led to the idea of going to Ireland to learn about Irish dance and [my] mentor Shimako-sensei thought that might be a good idea as well. So Shimako-sensei said that going to Ireland, where Irish dance came from to do Irish dance, is a good idea but if you are going to spend that same amount of time there either way, it is worth spending that time in a formal university. At that moment, I didn’t know that there is an Irish dancing course in university, I didn’t know that. But I went to the Irish Embassy, Embassy of Ireland, I went there then they say that Limerick has an Irish dancing course, so then actually one Japanese guy graduated at that course: that is Taka Hayashi [laughs]. Then I’m sorry that I didn’t know that Taka- sensei, I didn’t know him at the time. Then I got the meishi, the business card from Irish Embassy, Taka-sensei’s card, then I contacted him. I called him, “I want to learn Irish dancing and also I want to go to Ireland next year as a university student, I want to enter that University.” Then Taka-sensei said, “No way to do it in just one year to pass the audition.” (Ibid.: 2016) However, Taka could see her genuine desire to learn, and accepted her as a student, working to prepare her. Satomi and Daniel laughed during her interview, saying that the story of her preparing to audition for University of Limerick was the same story as preparing for the percussion program at Senzoku Gakuen. It was her last year of undergraduate courses, which she took during the day, and then traveled and took classes and private lessons at night with Taka. She studied Irish dance seven days a week, while also working part-time on the weekends. “But I really wanted to learn, so it didn't feel so hard at the time . . . It was tough on [Taka] as well, I feel so bad, but he was a really good teacher for me . . . So anyway, I could pass the audition, and I entered university” (ibid.). Taka traveled with her to Limerick, where she had to 264 perform a hornpipe, slip jig, and a set dance. She also was allowed to show other types of dancing, so she performed tap as well. Satomi completed the Master’s program in Irish Dance Studies at the University of Limerick in 2009 (where she also met Daniel, who had grown up in Limerick). As in Taka’s experience, Satomi learned about the many different styles and forms of Irish dance, as well as the history and culture behind it. As noted above, she also began to compare what she knew of traditional dance and music in Ireland and Japan, and began to think about how to combine ideas of Irish dance and Japanese traditional dance. She cites these conversations at the University of Limerick as inspiring several numbers in her 2013 solo show Odoru Tappu (踊るタ ップ, “Dancing Tap”), two of which are discussed below. After returning to Japan, Satomi began to perform in solo shows as well as tap festivals and competitions and rejoined a percussion group. Although she competed in tap, Satomi had no interest in doing Irish dance feiseanna. She understood it could be a good goal to work towards for those who wanted to improve, however the competition culture—though she understood it to be an important part of Irish dancing—was not something that appealed to her. Satomi began also to teach at tap at two different culture centers as well as give private lessons. The performances and festivals allowed Satomi to establish her name as a dancer and teacher, and in 2013 she opened up Starbox. In 2016, she estimated she had about twenty-five regular students, as well as many additional students who were scheduled irregularly—about 60% of these learned tap, and 40% Irish dance, with adults making up the majority of her Irish dance students. She also taught in Yokohama once each week. 265 2013 was a busy year for Satomi: in addition to opening her studio, Satomi also received the “2013 68th MEXT National Arts Festival New Face Award” for her performance at the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology (MEXT) National Arts Festival.88 This was also the year she performed her third solo show, Odoru Tappu, at the Nihonbashi-gekijou(日本橋劇場) Theater, which featured several numbers inspired by percussive dance and traditional Japanese dance. During our interview, Satomi told me that two of these numbers drew specifically from nihon Figure 5.14: Satomi Mitera performing “Kanjincho” in her solo show Odoru Tappu (courtesy of Satomi Mitera) 88 Original name: 平成25年度第68回文化庁芸術祭大衆芸能部門新人賞 266 buyo and kabuki, traditional Japanese dance and theatrical forms that have a complex and interwoven history.89 The first, “Rokudan” (六段, “Six Parts”), is danced in tap shoes to a piece by the same name—an important piece in standard traditional koto repertoire that I performed on several occasions as a koto student. It can also be performed with shamisen and shakuhachi (a traditional bamboo flute), but the recording used in the performance features solo koto. All six “dan” (parts, each of which is a variation on the first) of the piece are not used, only the last few variations. Satomi performs the number in front of a large gold folding screen, such as one sees in traditional arts performances. The tap shoes she uses—which differ from Irish dance hard shoes by their use of steel on the tips and heels, producing a brighter, crisper sound—are covered by white and red cloth to make them look as though she is wearing geta with white tabi (traditional socks). Although typically nihon buyo dancers only wear tabi to allow for the sliding foot movements along the floor, Satomi wanted to explore an old idea of dancers wearing geta to make noise, as she notes above. The sky-blue kimono she wears in the piece, which is draped around her rather than tightly tied, is used as both a prop and costume. A smaller green and red yukata, a lighter cotton kimono, can be seen underneath as she plays with the folds and sleeves of the kimono. Ideas from nihon buyo can be seen in the way Satomi alternates between small movements in which she draws her energy inward to the core of her body, bending her knees and shrinking down, performing small spins, making large movements in 89 See Hahn 2007, Chapter Two for more on the history of these art forms. 267 which she flings her arms and energy out with a billowing of the kimono around her, or suddenly spinning with an outstretched leg. Satomi constantly folds, opens, and refolds the kimono around her as she dances. The same alternations occur with the tap sounds she produces—they are not a constant presence throughout the piece, but rather move between moments of ma (the traditional aesthetic of “empty” sound) and explosions of sound. As Tomie Hahn explains, moments of ma are never truly empty or negative, but rather are filled with energy, and are just as potent and important as the moments of sound (Hahn 2007: 53). So too does Satomi draw on the traditional structuring form of jo-ha-kyu (“introduction,” “scattering,” and “rushing”) in her sound and movements—this is an irregular tripartite structure that begins slowly in the jo section, setting the mood, before building to a quick climax at the end of the ha, with a quick resettling in the kyu (ibid.: 53). These traditional Japanese aesthetics of jo-ha-kyu and ma are also seen in the piece “Kanjincho” (勧進帳, “The Subscription List”), a number that uses nagauta music from the kabuki play of the same name, which consists of the ki and tsuke wooden blocks, vocal chant, ko-tsuzumi and o-tsuzumi drums, shamisen, and nohkan flute.90 She does not wear traditional kabuki costuming in this piece, but the draping red and black skirt invokes the feel of the elaborate costumes worn by kabuki actors. It is in this piece that Satomi changes to her Irish dance hard shoes and incorporates movements and footwork from Irish dance along with strong poses and movements characteristic of kabuki dance. Satomi’s energy and body language is more open and 90 See Cavaye, Griffith, and Senda 2004, Chapter One, for a more detailed look at the history and music of kabuki. For video, see Media 5.3 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 268 away from her body through the entirety of the dance, striking strong poses while imitating the wide legged and squatting stances kabuki dancers use, with her arms frequently outstretched and hands open. In another contrast to “Rokudan,” where Satomi mostly dances with an inward gaze (except for brief moments of mischievous grins directed to the audience), in this piece Satomi looks out with bold expressions that intensely fierce and joyful. While the majority of rhythms and footwork in the piece are derived from tap, the subtle Irish dance influences can be found in moments of turn out and crossing of the feet, the use of an Irish dance “cut” (when the dancer whips their pointed foot up to the opposite hip while keeping the leg turned out and knees together), drums (a movement in which the turned out foot strikes the ground with the very tip of the toe, followed by a heel strike), and a “treble-hop-back” rhythmic pattern and movement that is timed to match the rhythms of the shamisen melody and accompanying drums. Japanese rhythmic influences can be heard as well: at the end of the number, Satomi uses her hard shoe percussion to imitate a typical pattern heard in Japanese drumming that starts out with slow, spaced out beats that gradually intensify into fast strikes that fall one after the other, suddenly coming to a stop. At the end of the performance, Satomi exits the stage via the hanamichi (“flower path,” 花道), a platform that extends from the main stage to the back of the theater, through the audience. Her exit pays homage to the play Kanjincho through her use of tobiroppo (“flying exit,” 飛び 六方), a stylized movement made famous by the main character of Kanjincho, Benkei. Satomi alternates her feet, hopping forward and reaching her hands out in front of her. As she reaches the halfway point of the hanamichi, she pauses, striking a strong pose 269 balancing on one leg, before she resumes her flight down the runway and out of the theater. At the Sekai no Minzoku (“World Folk Music”) percussion concert at Satomi’s alma mater, Senzoku Gakuen, she performed two of the pieces that were reflective of her training both at the University of Limerick and with Taka: she performed the traditional set dance “King of the Fairies,” and a portion of the choreography from “Reel Around the Sun,” the opening number of Riverdance. She performed both with her own personalization and style—from simply putting one hand on her hip while dancing “King of the Fairies” to dancing the choreography typically performed by the male lead in Riverdance in a more feminized style that worked within the constraints of the small performance space she had.91 These along with the “Rokudan” and “Kanjincho” pieces described above exemplify the great range of dance that Satomi performs as well as her depth of understanding of each dance form and the music behind it. Although Satomi maintains ties with teachers in the CLRG system—such as several teachers at University of Limerick who hold the TCRG certification—she is mostly removed from it. She does not teach students for competition and has not participated in the competition system herself (although she understands how to dance the style because of her training), allowing her more creative freedom in her teaching and performing, that in which she explores new ideas and pathways for her 91 It is also worth noting the differences in the music—“King of the Fairies” was played on the marimbas and “Reel Around the Sun” had been arranged for electric guitars, marimbas, bodhrán, and bones. This is reflective of the percussion class that the concert was for, however, and I don’t believe Satomi directly had a hand in the musical arrangements. 270 Irish dancing and how to incorporate them into her other dance practices. Many of these ideas were born out of her time at the University of Limerick, which encourages dancers to move beyond only the competition and show styles they are accustomed to and to exercise creativity in discovering their own practices. Conclusion In Ian Condry’s description of the displays of hip-hop at the B-Boy Park festival in 2001 at Yoyogi Park, he explains that what he saw could not be described either as strict localization (becoming more local or in this case more Japanese) or as global homogenization (becoming like everywhere else in the world) (Condry 2006: 11). This is exactly the same phenomenon I experienced at the I Love Ireland Festival fifteen years later while watching students of the Ardagh School of Irish Dance and Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy perform on the same outdoor stage. Both the festival itself and the performances of the Irish dance schools that took place there were created by the intersection of local and transnational ideas about Irishness and Irish step dancing. Satomi Mitera's performance at the Sekai no Minzoku concert was also reflective of these ideas. It is these intersections found in studios and performances in Tokyo that structure and reinforce the shape of Irish dancing there: a range of practices exist on a spectrum in which transnational and local forces play out in varying degrees based on the teacher, their goals, and their relationship with the CLRG. In terms of the movement, music, and transmission, I felt as though I could have been anywhere in the world learning Irish step dance in the classes I took with Ardagh and THIDA. In one class I observed, Taka used “One More Time”—the CD 271 produced by the Culkin School, located more than six thousand miles away.92 I joked with friends that I felt as though I was being followed around the world by Sean O’Brien’s music—I traveled from Tokyo to Glasgow and heard him play for competitions at the Worlds, came back to Tokyo and heard his recordings in Tomoko- sensei’s studio, then returned home to D.C. only to have classes where Phil played his new album on repeat for us. A year after my return to the United States, I sat with him at the North American Nationals while he and Francis Ward played set dances for championship competitions. The movements are essentially the same as well— although there are stylistic differences, the basic “over-2-3” movement Tomoko- sensei asked me to teach her five year old beginner was the same one Phil asked me to show a Culkin adult student a few months later. However, in each focus location I studied in Tokyo, local products and culture filtered through, reminding me that I was in fact Irish dancing in Meguro, or Hiro-o, or Shinjuku in Tokyo—not in Silver Spring or Bethesda in Maryland. There were small things surrounding the dance practices: students drank green tea or the popular sports drink Pocari Sweat during classes, and ate onigiri rice balls from the 7-11 conbini (convenience store) around the corner to stay fueled—not Gatorade or protein bars like you see in American studios. There are Japanese cultural sensibilities that are striking when compared to American practices—for example, just as in rooms for traditional Japanese dance, street shoes are taken off in the genkan (a type of small 92 The beginner slow speed reel from “One More Time” can also be very briefly heard in a television show segment where Taka taught a Japanese pop idol how to step dance as part of a promotion for a Trinity Irish Dance tour in Japan. The video can be found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EJXC1mXToxU, and reel begins at mark 10:38 (accessed August 11, 2017). 272 foyer made for just this purpose) before a dancer can enter the studio. Then there were bigger things that impacted dancing directly: space is at an absolute premium in Tokyo, and dance studios are typically small, thus forcing smaller movements and step choreographies. Interestingly, this is far more similar to Ireland, where studios are likewise tiny—and many steps from the Tokyo schools originated in Ireland from Tomoko’s and Taka’s teachers there. This is quite the departure from the large American studio spaces, such as the Hughes’ gymnasium that Culkin uses, where steps for large championship stages can be choreographed and practiced with room to spare. Additionally, quirks specific to the location (such as the flamenco paraphernalia at Studio Feliz in Tokyo or the wildlife often residing in the outdoor space of the Bumper Car Pavilion in Glen Echo Park, Maryland) add unique character to the spaces—even if they do not directly affect the dancing, it gives a space character and an energy that those who dance there come to identify with. It is a tricky balance to portray Irish dancing in Japan and compare it elsewhere in the world. On the one hand, regional stylistic differences are a fundamental part of the way Irish dancing is viewed and discussed: for example, American dancers will often be compared to dancers from Ireland by judges and teachers, who note that the American style of the “skip-2-3” movement is different from the Irish style. On a more local level, dancers who just moved to the Southern Region in the U.S. from the New England region may be instructed to change their style of “over-2-3”s to match that of their classmates. Local contexts are unique as well: I doubt, for example, that there is anywhere else in the world other than Japan where I could have danced “The Walls of Limerick” with partners wearing emerald 273 green kimono, or seen a world champion Irish dancer perform live with a Japanese girl idol pop music group. However as discussed in the chapter introduction, because of the way foreign music and dance practices in Japan (as well as everyday popular and traditional cultural practices) have been portrayed in scholarship, it is crucial to not falsely essentialize the Irish dance practices that exist in Tokyo. All Irish dance practices have unique qualities and experiences tied to their local communities. Just as unique as Irish dance being blended with Japanese pop is, so too is Irish dancing and baseball—a combination I would not expect to see anywhere outside of the United States. Likewise, although the majority of the range of Irish dance practices I experienced and observed in Tokyo are similar to those everywhere else Irish dance is practiced, it is important not to portray Irish dance in Japan as a result of copycatting, something of which the Japanese are often accused. Despite the differences between the teachers and their students in how they approach and perform, all share in common an intense dedication to lrish dancing. Unlike in North America, where opportunities to learn and perform Irish dance are plentiful, Japanese dancers and teacher have had to carve out spaces to create their own opportunities to learn, teach, and perform locally while also actively looking for opportunities that have taken them very far afield to Ireland (as well as around Europe and East Asia) to learn and compete, often making large sacrifices in their lives in order to have the time and money to do so. Just as everywhere else in this community, although tied together by the same basic repertoire of movements and music types, a range of Irish dance practices exists in Tokyo—there is no one “Japanese” Irish dance style or type. Regional styles, such 274 as those found in the United States, are formed over a period of time as students become teachers and grow their local communities. These styles are constantly reinforced and renegotiated through feiseanna and oireachtasaí. Over time, as Irish dance grows in Tokyo, Japan, and throughout Asia, with more schools hosting feiseanna and more students competing, regional styles unique to each of these areas will likely form. At this stage, however, when Irish dance in Japan is still in its fledgling stages, it is more productive to examine the schools and teachers in Tokyo in terms of their association with CLRG, and how this combined with individual goals determine how classes are focused, how materials are transmitted, and how they are performed. Conclusion to Part II In examining teachers and schools in the United States and Japan that are part of the global Irish dance community, I have demonstrated how modern competitive Irish dance has not undergone a process of complete homogenization through the CLRG competition system, nor is it comprised of completely individual and localized communities. Rather, Irish dance practices are mutually shaped by both local contexts and dancers’ participation in transnational events. Through a focus on the locations of the studio, competitions, and performances, it becomes possible to study the ways in which these transnational and local ideas and values interplay with one another, mutually constructing meanings and aesthetics of Irish dance for the individuals who practice it in those locations. 275 Figure 5.15: (left to right) Teachers Mary Page Day, Yuika Nakagawa, and Phil Stacy at the reception for new recipients of the TCRG certification at the 2017 Dublin World Irish Dancing Championships (courtesy of Phil Stacy) The Culkin School is shaped by the local Irish-American population and its history in the greater Washington D.C. area in the United States. The school’s dedication to the lineage of Peggy O’Neill and her teachings comes into play as the school strives to be a viable and influential aspect of the D.C. Irish music and dance community, balanced with its goals to be competitive within the global Irish dance scene. In contrast, the Ardagh School and THIDA are shaped by the challenges of practicing Irish dance in a non-Irish diasporic country. Instead of giving into these constraints, they work to establish and spread different styles of Irish step dancing in Japan, creating new opportunities for themselves both at home and abroad. In both locations, dancers who have come out of these schools have gone on to a variety of opportunities, from becoming certified teachers with the CLRG (such as Mary Page Day, Yuika Nakagawa, and Phil Stacy, pictured in Figure 5.15) to creating their own 276 dance shows that blend local ideas with their Irish dance practices: Kate Bole and her Culkin LIVE dancers blend local Irish music, the steps of Peggy O’Neill, and ideas of Irish dance from their studies with the Culkin School, while Satomi Mitera creates her choreographies that mix traditional Japanese dance and Irish dance with her tap dance background. In the final chapter of my dissertation, I turn to looking at the body as a focus location of Irish dance. It is through the sensory knowledge of the body that steps are internalized and transmitted through teaching and performance, and upon which cultural values and judgments determine how and what materials a dancer will learn, as well as how they will be treated within the community. By utilizing my own body as a research tool and drawing on my experiences of dancing with the Culkin School in the United States and the Ardagh School in Japan, I explore ideas of transmission, gender, and age in modern competitive Irish step dancing.     277 PART III: The Irish Dancing Body as Focus Location: Transmission, Gender, and Age   With its fleeting presence, the dancing body has turned out to be an elusive informant to research. I crave specificity and a semblance of physical presence in dance scholarship. Limbs. Breath. Shoulders. Muscles. Gaze. -Tomie Hahn, Sensational Knowledge, 2007: 6 I dance. I Irish dance. I perform over-2-3s, and rocks, and trebles, and birdies, and drums, and double-pumps, and boxes, and cross-keys. I arch my feet, straining to point my toes the moment my foot pushes off the ground. I over-cross my feet. I always reach over to the opposite side of my body. I extend my legs as far out in front of me as they go. I turn my legs out from my hips. I do not move my head. I hold my core. I hold my hands back behind me, I do not let my arms move. I keep my shoulders relaxed. My gaze is straight ahead. I go off time. I do not hold my turn out when my right foot is behind me. My left foot misses the floor. My arms move, my shoulders move, I forget to hold my core. My heart races with anxiety before a performance, before a competition. I lose my stamina by the third step. My lungs do not work as they are supposed to. I attempt to perform a click and I hit the arch of my foot instead of the heel of my shoe. My calves and hips are covered in bruises, I lose my big toenail, my heels are covered in blisters. I misstep and sprain my ankle. I don’t stretch my legs and I develop heel pain. Foot pain. Hip pain. Back pain. I keep dancing. I am addicted to it, entranced by it, filled with joy because of it. The sound of the music, the sound of the rhythms. The feeling of flying as I travel to the front of the stage during my reel, of battering my feet into the floor as I hit the beats in my hornpipe, of barely controlled whirling chaos during a céilí spin. I keep dancing again and again. I keep Irish dancing again and again. Introduction: Researching Bodies Part II introduced Irish dance practices in the United States and Japan and examined ways that local and transnational ideas intersect within specific focus locations to construct, maintain, and negotiate aesthetics and meanings of Irish dance in these two different geocultural contexts. In this introduction to Part III, which 278 consists of Chapters Six and Seven, I argue that the body is a mobile focus location through which we can study paths of cultural globalization in the performing arts. In these chapters, I draw on my transnational kinesthetic experiences of learning Irish dance, as well as my observations and interviews from my fieldwork, in order to locate the body as a site of cultural production in which local and transnational ideas converge to shape the ways in which Irish dance is practiced. To do this, in Chapter Six, I utilize Tomie Hahn’s framework of examining the body’s sensory orientations—“sensational knowledge” that reveals a culture’s aesthetic priorities through methods of teaching and learning—in order to examine methods of transmission in Irish dance. In Chapter Seven, I explore perceptions of gender and age in Irish dance, and how community attitudes towards different Irish dancing bodies can affect how Irish dance is transmitted, performed, and received. Following Ian Condry’s framework of examining transnational flows through particular focus locations in which “things happen” and “are made” (see Chapter Two), I argue that the body is a key focus location for studying the circulation of performing arts practices. Dance and music both are ultimately located in the body— produced by the body for other bodies. The making, watching, and listening involved are culturally framed kinesthetic experiences. I am inspired by the works of dance scholars such as Catherine Foley, Tomie Hahn, and Miriam Phillips among many others (see the Chapter One literature review), who consider the body as a primary field research site. As Phillips writes, “My body was my field research site, my kinesthetic memory, my informant” (2013: 397). In her article comparing North Indian kathak and Spanish flamenco, she talks of how she uses her “kinesthetic 279 orientations, or felt experiences. . .It is the process of making knowledge from embodied experience” (ibid.: 399). I likewise am influenced by Foley’s description of what ethnomusicologist Timothy Rice calls “phenomenological hermeneutics” (Rice in Foley 2013: 16). In this framework, Foley understands the Molyneaux step dance practice of North Kerry, Ireland through subjective experience as well as through her critical reading of the bodily movements, interpreted as text. The act of physically learning and embodying the Molyneaux step dances, together with researching the practice and familiarizing myself with relevant literature and social theories, expanded my horizons, allowing me to become a “self” and to gradually reach new understandings . . . Phenomenological hermeneutics thus provided me with a framework for looking at dance and dancing in North Kerry as both subjective experiential knowledge and as meaningful action to be read, analysed and interpreted for a new critical cultural understanding. (Foley 2013: 17) Following the work of these scholars, I view the body—my own Irish dancing body and the Irish dancing bodies of my informants—as a key focus location within which I locate cultural meanings of Irish dance. It is the ultimate context for processes of localization and globalization: at the most “local” level is the body itself, a mobile context that uses its senses to learn, interpret, and organize the particular ideas relevant to the discipline the dancer or musician wishes to enact. It is through the body that new ideas, styles, and movement qualities relevant to the local and global communities of those disciplines are learned, in the focus locations the body moves in and between. The body is a site of the recirculation and transformation of local and transnational flows. The benefits of conducting research with a focus on kinesthetic experiences through the body are not only found in dance ethnography: ethnomusicological 280 research, which has long placed importance on learning through performance, also benefits from understanding the body as a site of fieldwork. In studying and performing both traditional Japanese koto and Irish dance, I have drawn on my experiences as a pianist to compare, practice, and better understand the subjects of my ethnomusicological research. My musical habitus—my embodied yet changeable set of practices constructed from a lifetime of learning and teaching a variety of Euro- American musics—informed my interpretations of Japanese music and Irish dance. The comparisons I made between the kinesthetic knowledge of each practice granted me better understanding and ability, ultimately furthering my research capabilities.93 Other ethnomusicologists, such as Marko Aho, Matt Gillan, and Bell Yung, have also discussed the benefits of examining the role of the body in making and understanding music performance (Aho 2016; Gillan 2013; Yung 1984). I believe ethnomusicological paths that include bodily experiences and examine music and dance practices through the body—whether through aspects of performance such as gesture or by comparing learning or performance styles through kinesthetic experiences—can greatly strengthen our understandings and approaches in our research. 93 For more on habitus, see Bourdieu in Foley 2013: 19 281 Chapter 6: “Before We Dance, We Learn to Listen”: Sensational Knowledge and Transmission in Irish Dance Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance October 12, 2012 (expanded fieldnotes) Hughes’ basement: Beginners Level 1 class Teachers: Seán with Tammy and four older kids assisting—Matthew, Erin, Katie, and Izzy 19 students: 18 girls, 1 boy (5-7 years old) Seán begins the class by having the kids sit down on the floor; without being told, they sit with their legs extended in front of them, putting their heels together and turning out their feet into a “V” shape. Tammy plays a reel on the boombox, and they all start clapping to it. They clap the downbeat of each measure for the eight measure phrase, on the eighth measure they clap the first three beats with a rest on the fourth beat. They then rest for a phrase, then clap the next phrase. Seán sits on the floor in front of them, getting right down to their level as he talks to them. As one girl rushes over to join the group, she slips, and Seán booms, “Careful! Your feet belong to me!” Seán counts out loud and claps the beats with the kids, scrutinizing each student to see if they’ve got the rhythm or not, making corrections as he needs to. He singles out one girl who is trying to get cues from her friends, “Don’t watch them—I want you to listen.” Seán slowly stops counting all the beats, challenging them to find the beginning of the phrase on their own. “Don’t let me trick you!” The assistants encourage, cajole, and help students. “What’s most important in Irish dancing?” Seán asks, “Besides smiling and having fun? Timing! That’s why we’re not dancing yet, we need to understand our music.” Next, Seán has them point their toes and cross their ankles in time with the music while he counts the downbeats. “Your legs are like two pencils”—he calls the right foot the “starting foot” and the left “the other foot.” He has them stand up and practice going up and down on their toes, again in time with the music and his counts, telling them to pretend they have glue on their heels and not let them come apart. They progress to the next level—going up on toes, crossing one foot in front of the other, coming back together, going down on their heels. In time to the reel, Seán gives directions: “Up-cross-together-down.” They use tables and chairs to help with balance. Seán teaches assistants at the same time as students, telling them what to look for and how to fix it (i.e. student putting too much weight on chair). They speed up the music, then have them let go of the chairs. September 12, 2016 (raw fieldnotes) Glen Echo Spanish Ballroom Annex: Adult Beginner Class Teachers: Phil with Lynne, Denise, Laura, and myself (first time assisting) 5 students, all women (ages:15 or 16 to mid-60s) 282 1)   Music: clapping exercise, finding 1; standing in circle. Phil: explains reel, 4/4 timing, count eight beats in reel phrase. Explains to the class: “Before we dance, we learn to listen” 2)   Foot placement: explaining and demonstrating turn out, high on toes, crossing. Use wall and ledge for balance, “up-cross-together-down” exercise. 3)   Carriage: shoulders down and back, arms at sides, hands in fists Start learning dance movements: step-cross across the room, side-step (“7s”), cuts These two fieldnote examples—my first experience observing Seán Culkin teach in 2012 and my first experience as an assistant teacher in Phil Stacy’s class four years later— exemplify the way the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance approaches teaching the art of Irish dance to beginner students. Although the processes used to teach grow and change as the student develops his or her skill, these basic concepts and the way they are prioritized remain the same. From day one, it is impressed upon dancers the importance of being on time with the music, and in the case of the Culkin School, understanding the music you are dancing to. In Chapter Six, I focus on the body as a site of performance in order to discuss not only the kinesthetic practices and learning patterns of Irish step dancing, but also to show how these can be examined to better understand what is valued within the tradition by practitioners. My writing here serves as well to set up the discussions of ideas surrounding the Irish dancing body (in terms of gender and age) in Chapter Seven. My work in this chapter—as reflected in the title—is heavily influenced by the research and writing of Tomie Hahn and her book Sensational Knowledge (2007). Her presentation of the body’s sensory orientations in the dancing and transmission of nihon buyo—a traditional Japanese dance—is exquisitely researched and richly detailed. I am inspired by her reflexive approach that centers the body both within the text and as text, a primary informant that is crucial in her understanding and portrayal 283 of the cultural values and meanings that are embedded in the movements and teachings of nihon buyo. Here I utilize Hahn’s framework of examining sensory knowledge to detail the transmission process in teaching and learning Irish dancing (Hahn 2007). I mainly focus on the transmission of solo step dance; however, I do bring in examples of dancers teaching and learning céilí. My analysis is based on my own kinesthetic experiences in my participant-observational fieldwork as well as fieldnotes and videos taken in group classes and private lessons with the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance, the Ardagh School of Irish Dance, and Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy (THIDA). Following Hahn’s example, I examine the role of aural/oral, visual, and tactile sensory information in Irish dance transmission, as well as the role of media as an “extension of the senses” via notation and video in the learning process (Hahn 2007: 78). Although here I discuss aural/oral and visual components separately for organizational purposes, it is very difficult to do so. In practice, these two senses closely work in tandem in the transmission of Irish dance. When learning a new step or receiving a correction, students are both watching the teacher in order to mirror their movements and at the same time listening to the oral instructions that accompany the steps as well as the music both these components are timed to. I will expand on the way these components work together after detailing each one separately. Aural/Oral The first time I saw Riverdance was when I was eight. My mother had recorded it on a VHS from a showing on the local Buffalo/Niagara Falls Public 284 Broadcasting Station, and was insistent I sit down and watch it with her and my father—I distinctly remember I had absolutely no interest in doing so and planned to bolt at the first available opportunity. Neither of us expected that I would not only sit unmoving for the entirety of the show (she still says she had never seen me sit so attentively), but that I would play that VHS over and over, newly mesmerized each time. But although I found the movements interesting, it was actually the sounds of the music and percussive beats of the shoes that held me captive. I didn’t want to immediately rush out and begin to learn Irish dancing—I wanted a copy of Riverdance: The Album to listen to, and a copy of the book of sheet music to play on the piano. I would sit for hours listening to the album on repeat as it played in the computer’s CD drive, hand-drumming the hard shoe rhythms that had been recorded. It was only when my parents found me attempting to move those rhythms from my hands to my feet (in addition to hopping around the house pretending to be Jean Butler) that they enrolled me at the Woodgate School of Irish Dance. Years later when observing classes at THIDA in Tokyo, despite having my head turned away from the dancers for a moment while writing, I immediately recognized the moment when they started to work on the number “Reel Around the Sun” from hearing the a cappella hard shoe rhythms they practiced. Though I had never learned to dance that choreography before that class, those sounds had been etched into my body through all the repeated sessions of listening, and to me felt as much a part of my understanding of Irish dance as my formalized training in the movement. 285 There are several components to the sonic space of the Irish dance studio that come into play during the transmission process. These sounds come from several different sources, each of which is detailed here: dancers experience the sound of the music, the sounds produced by the student and teacher while dancing, and the sound of the teacher’s voice through lilted directions. In the studio, recorded music is typically used, played on electronic devices (such as MP3 players or cell phones) or occasionally CDs. In rare cases, a musician may come into the studio and play for students during a practice, but this is fairly uncommon. At Scoil Ui Ruairc in Munster, Francis Ward and Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain, both feis musicians and TCRG/ADCRGs, will occasionally play for students in classes, as will feis musician Sean O’Brien at his wife’s school, Blakey O’Brien Irish Dance in Calgary (see Chapter Three). At the Culkin School, I have only seen one instance of live music in the studio when Seán invited a student’s father to play fiddle for students in a céilí class who were preparing for oireachtas. The music structures the dance: the type of music (reel, jig, or hornpipe) determines the type of steps to be danced, which vary in terms of their rhythms and movement types. I have seen many instances where dancers are prepared to practice one type of dance and the wrong music type comes up on the iPod or smartphone plugged into the speaker. The dancer halts, pulling up short from the preparatory movement that starts their step, or perhaps even dances a bar or two before realizing something is wrong. It always provides a good laugh for the dancers—you can not dance a hornpipe step to a slip jig! In the case of set dances, the steps are specifically choreographed to the tune, and often are built off of the phrasing of the melody and 286 rhythm. In these cases, the dancer knows the sounds of the tune just as well as they know the rhythms they are supposed to dance to it with. The music provides sonic cues to the dancer as well, instructing when to start dancing and providing harmonic and rhythmic guideposts that help the dancer determine if he or she is on time. As the dancer moves through a physical space they also move through a sonic space—in addition to being aware of their physical movements, they must always be listening to the music. The sounds produced from the movements of the student and teacher are also important components of the sonic space of the studio. These sounds help the student learn the correct timing and rhythms steps should be danced to, while their quality can reveal to both a teacher and student ways the body’s movements need to be corrected. Although it is primarily the hard shoe dances that we think of regarding sounds produced, boy’s “soft” shoe (a misnomer, as the boy’s shoes have a hard fiberglass heel) reels contain stamps and clicks. Women’s soft shoe dances do not produce percussive sounds—ideally the dancer is light enough on her feet that she will make a minimum amount of noise while dancing her reel or slip jig, but in reality it is still possible to hear the sound of the feet making contact with the floor, and these sounds can actually assist in telling the dancer if she is performing with proper technique. For example, if she (or her teacher) can hear a scraping sound as she dances, it means she is not high enough on her toes, leaving too much of her shoe to make contact with the floor. In hard shoe, the tone of percussive sounds produced varies depending on a dancer’s toe height as well, and the quality of other percussive sounds can be cues for the teacher that adjustments need to be made to a student’s 287 technique. Lack of sound is equally revealing: the absence of sound when a student attempts to do a heel click can reveal that a student is not turning out or pointing his or her foot. Failure to make the second of the two sounds a “treble” or “rally” movement consists of can mean several things, such as that the student is reaching the foot out too far in front of them or they are not pointing their foot enough in order to “grab” the floor for the second movement. As highlighted above, learning to identify the music types as well as learning to listen for these guideposts and phrasings are the first lessons a dancer receives as the foundation to their Irish dance practice. If a dancer does not understand them—or does not understand how the rhythms of the movements they are dancing fit into the music—it quickly becomes clear to the teacher, who will immediately stop working on the movements and have the dancer just stand, listen, and clap to the music or will “lilt” the dance steps for them to listen to. Ní Bhriain defines lilting as: Vocalization of instrumental music. In the Irish tradition this involves the use of nonsense words and meaningless syllables to articulate and emphasize the rhythm and melody of a tune . . . It can have a number of functions: 1. as a memory aid for musicians or dancers to help remember a tune or a step; 2. to provide music for dancing, using the voice as the music instrument; 3. for entertainment. (Ní Bhriain 2008: 11) In Irish step dancing, lilting is primarily used by teachers in the studio in the first two ways she describes. An additional definition is lilting as a dance metalanguage that provides instructions and cues to help a dancer learn a step by interweaving rhythmically spoken mnemonics, the melody of a tune, and directions specific to the dancer or dancers a teacher is working with. Nihon buyo also uses this “dance speak” in the same way— Hahn describes this as “a unique dance instructional language . . . a fragmented yet completely fluid combination of the musical vocal line, instrumental 288 vocables, emotive exclamations, and instructive speech” (Hahn 2007: 119). In Irish dance, this instructional language is used when teaching the movements of the step as well as when watching students practice a step they have already learned. As with the wildly varied dance vocabulary used in Irish dance to name movements, the words that teachers use in their lilts are not drawn from a canonized set of terms or vocables. Teachers in the same school may use the same words or patterns to describe certain movements or sets of movements—though this is not always the case—and they may use similar lilted instructions to teach particular steps, particularly steps that make up beginner and intermediate level repertoire (Beginner, Advanced Beginner, Novice, and Prizewinner steps). However, there is a great deal of individualization in the words and vocables used by a school’s teachers. Further individualization occurs as teachers change instructions to meet the students’ needs. The lilt being used and what is included in it depend on what is being taught and what the goals are for the lesson or class. For example, in one class I observed Seán Culkin reviewing the “rising step” (also called the “practice step” or “first step”) of the jig with students at the Advanced Beginner and Novice levels. When first watching the students, he lilted the instructions: “Out, hop-back, hop-back-2-3-4” in time with the rhythm of the steps the students performed. This is the typical lilt used by Culkin instructors for the first set of movements in the rising step: in a right-foot lead, “out” describes the front (right) leg lifting up and performing a small kick out away from the dancer; “hop-back” describes a move where the dancer hops on the supporting (left) leg while bringing the lifted right leg, now bent, back to the floor behind the left foot; “hop-back-2-3-4” describes performing the same hop-back 289 movement the right leg just performed, but now with the left leg, followed by three quick steps that shifts the dancers weight between the right and left foot, ending with the dancer’s weight fully on the front right foot. The words of the lilt serve as a mnemonic device to help students remember the dance movements; the rhythm the teacher sings or speaks it to helps the dancer remember the rhythm the movements should be performed with. I could see one or two of the girls mouthing the words while dancing as Seán lilted them. After the students performed the step for Seán, he told them he could see all of their back feet going straight—in other words, they were not holding the supporting foot in a turned out position while the other foot was off the ground. He had them perform it again, but this time lilting, “Turn your feet out, turn out your foot” with the same timing as the original lilt so the students would think about turn out during the entire step. In other cases, the teacher may only change a section of the lilt to help a student think about a specific movement he or she is supposed to perform: for example, replacing the word “skip” in lilting “skip-2-3” with the word “up” so the student will think about bringing their back foot as far up behind them as they can— or as the Culkin teachers would say, so that they will “kick their bum” while they dance the skip-2-3 movement. Another use of lilting is to describe rhythms—this is typically done with nonsensical vocables, such as “ta-ti”s or “diddly-dum”s that are spoken or sung with the rhythm and emphasis the teacher wants the student to dance with. These are used in both soft shoe and hard shoe dances. The sounds of the lilt—whether they contain words of movements, specific instructions, or vocables to describe rhythms—coming from the teacher are an 290 important aspect in the student learning and remembering the specific movements and their order as well as the rhythm and timing they should be danced with. Ethnomusicologist Francis Ward, who is a feis musician and ADCRG, shared this story with me of an extreme example of lilting directions for two of his dance students: I have these two boys who were learning their first hornpipe, and oh my God, it broke my heart. But what I ended up doing was—I mean this is crazy, this just how crazy I am—so I got a hornpipe track, you know, at 113. So basically I was saying the words “Stamp-stamp, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and-toe-and-stamp-stamp,” and I couldn’t fit all the words in because it’s so fast. So I imported it into Audacity, I slowed it down by half, right? And recorded me saying the words at half speed so I could get them all in and not die because I couldn’t take a breath, you know? And then I sped it back up again and then gave it to them and I made them listen to it: it was basically their hornpipe from start to finish, with every single rhythm articulated as some kind of word. So I got, “Stamp- stamp, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, 1-2-3, and toe-and-stamp-stamp; and-1-2-3 tip- down-and-drag, and-1-2-3 kick-and-1, kick-and-1, up-click-down; 1-2- 3, 1-2-3, and-toe 1-2-3-4-5 tip and-heel-up and-heel-stamp”—you know, this kind of stuff. Because they couldn’t get the timing you know, and I was just like ‘Oh my God.” I was banging my head against the wall . . . And it massively helped them—within two days they had it in time. I was like, “Oh my God, if I have to do that for every child in every step I ever teach, I’ll never get anything done.” But actually, just getting them that far, then after that—like the next dance they did, I didn’t have to do that. (Interview with Francis Ward, August 3, 2017) As a student progresses in skill level (both in terms of proficiency in a specific dance and the difficulty of steps being performed), full lilts that fit the entirety of a step are less commonly used and are exchanged for short, specific directions that are spoken or shouted to a student who is dancing. In championship level classes at Culkin, I observed Nicki using lilts (mostly consisting of vocables, as these high-level steps were packed with fast rhythms) when teaching students new steps for their set dance, “The Vanishing Lake.” These were quickly shortened to smaller sets of spoken 291 directions used when students performed the dances for her the next day, such as, “Turn out!” This same process occurs when working with students who are not at the championship level, though it just may take longer to transition away from a full lilt. In classes at Ardagh and THIDA, I watched Tomoko and Taka use the same processes with their students, though each with their own lilts that typically mostly consisted of vocables mixed with English and a little Japanese. Visual The gaze of the ideal competitive Irish step dancer remains straight ahead at all times. Although the dancer may quickly use his or her eyes to gauge where he or she is within a given space or, in céilí and figure dancing to determine positioning relative to other dancers, his or her sight is limited by the requirement to not allow the head to move. When learning a solo step for the first time, however, students’ gazes are focused on the teacher’s feet. This changes their carriage as they turn and bow their heads and look down towards the floor where the teacher is standing. Students depend on sight to watch and imitate a teacher’s movements. In a group setting, the teacher typically is positioned in front of the students, facing away from them, so the students are watching the teacher’s. This positioning allows students to correctly mirror the teacher’s movements. If called upon, the teacher’s assistants will line up next to him or her to provide the students a closer dancing body to examine. In a private setting or in one-on-one instruction in a group class, the teacher and student stand closer together, with the student just behind the teacher’s shoulder to the right or left. 292 Steps are transmitted in segments through repetition: the teacher performs a phrase while lilting and the students repeat the movements. If the students have difficulty with the phrase, the teacher will further break it down into separate components as necessary. The teacher will continually return to the beginning of the step and add on new material as students come to understand each phrase, dancing it in front of them each time. As students become more competent, they look less at the teacher and begin to resume the expected posture and gaze of the Irish dancer. When the teacher feels the students are ready (or the majority of students within a group are ready), they will to turn to watch them perform the step on their own. As they observe different aspects of the dance that need to be fixed, they will return to their previous position and review the movements through explanation and demonstration. In a group class, students who are less confident in demonstrating their steps in front of the teacher may move to the back of the classroom so that they may watch other students and follow their movements. Throughout this process, the teacher changes back and forth from being the object of the student’s gaze to become the one gazing at the student. The actual transmission of new movements accounts for a smaller portion of time spent in the studio—more often, students are the ones being gazed at, demonstrating steps for teachers and their assistants. Occasionally mirrors may be used to assist the dancer in the transmission and embodying processes. In my private lessons with Phil, depending on whether mirrors are available in the location where the lesson is taking place, he will position mirrors so that I can either see what I am doing as I perform a certain segment of a step, or so that I can see both him as he demonstrates a 293 movement and myself as I try to imitate it. The idea is that if I can see myself performing a movement with correct technique and learn what it feels like to do it that way, I can embody that feeling and recreate it in a competition or performance. In studio spaces where mirrors line one or more walls, teachers may position students toward or away from them depending on their goals for that particular lesson. Several teachers I’ve spoken with actually dislike having full mirrors in studios, as they have observed that it can become distracting to students who will begin to look only at their appearances and not at the teacher. An interesting aspect of learning and embodying dance steps in Irish step dance is the practice of “hand-dancing.” This refers to a series of hand movements that imitate the movements of the feet and legs during a step. Very often, lilting will accompany this movement, which is executed close to the center of the body of the dancer, either in the air right in front of his or her chest, or directly on the dancer’s torso. Hand-dancing is used by both teachers and students as a physical manifestation of the mental practice of choreography, such as when a teacher is about to teach a new step but needs to quickly review the material without actually dancing it, or when a student is attempting to stay mentally focused on his or her dance while waiting side stage at a competition. I have also seen teachers use hand-dancing when discussing steps or considering what movements to use in choreographing new material. New steps are not typically taught to students through this practice (though a description of a movement the student already knows in a new step may be described with hand-dancing, or during a review of a step and teacher may pinpoint a moment that needs to be worked on by hand-dancing it to describe the correction needed), and 294 the practice itself is not directly taught to students. However, over time students— who look up to and strive to imitate their teachers, even when not dancing—see teachers and older students utilizing this practice and begin to incorporate it in their learning process. One Culkin student told me that she knows she really understands her steps when she is able to hand-dance and lilt them in addition to actually performing them. Aural/Oral and Visual Together in Transmission The process of learning Irish dance requires students and teachers alike to multitask. Although aural/oral and visual components of learning are separated above, in reality they work in tandem during the process of learning and refining steps. As a teacher physically shows a student a new step, they lilt it—the visual demonstration of movement and lilted directions occur simultaneously and become intertwined in the dancer’s memory, aiding them in later practice (whether that practice is fully danced with the feet or practiced with hand-dancing) and performance. An excellent example of the way the teacher’s lilts in the classroom are remembered during performance can be seen in the documentary Jig at the one hour and twelve minute mark as competitor John Whitehurst performs a treble jig at the 2010 World Irish Dancing Championships in Glasgow (Bourne 2011).94 The camera view changes back and forth between watching John in his Worlds performance and the studio where John dances for his teacher John Carey, who spits out a seemingly impossible set of 94 As of writing, the full-length movie is legally available through the YouTube channel “Popcornflix” at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5G7nAjEVIwg. The video can also be seen at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 295 quick lilted directions while the audio from the Worlds performance continues in the background. As a dancer takes in and interprets both the visual and oral information that comes from the teacher, they must also process the aural information that comes from the music and danced sounds. Students engage with multiple senses at once to shape their understanding and execution of Irish dance movements. While in theory these senses may be picked apart and analyzed, in practice, they work together in transmission. Tactile and Media The use of touch and media (in the form of video and/or notation) are limited in typical solo Irish step dance transmission practices, but are occasionally used, depending on the teacher, the students, and the relationships between the two. When touch is used in solo Irish step dance, it is usually to either help a student with his or her balance while learning a new movement, to assist with upward lift or forward movement, or to make physical adjustments to footwork or positioning. I have also seen teachers use touch to gain a child’s attention in class.95 Touch is more commonly used in teaching céilí, where the teacher will move behind students, holding them by the shoulders to guide them or by taking the place of the student’s dance partner and guiding them by the hand through the dance. 95 But not always just children—once when I was practicing a set dance for the 2015 Southern Region Oireachtas, I had Seán Culkin grab me by the forearm, drag me to another part of the room, and hold on to me the entire time we worked on my set. I had observed him do this with children, and I quickly realized why it was an effective teaching technique—I was very attentive! 296 Touch is personal, and the use of it varies greatly from teacher to teacher. In solo dance classes I have observed, Seán and Tomoko used touch the most—Seán to help students with balance or keep their attention and Tomoko to make footwork or carriage adjustments. Phil and Taka, on the other hand, rarely use it in solo dance classes, preferring to have students use objects for balance assistance (such as chairs) and visual demonstrations in place of physical adjustments. However, when Phil teaches céilí, he very frequently uses touch as a teaching method, grabbing hold of individuals or pairs of students and pushing and pulling them through the correct paths of movements so students understand how they should orient themselves within the pattern of the dance. When I have seen Nicki use touch, it has been when students are drilling movements in front of mirrors—she positions herself so the students can see themselves and her, and then moves the dancers’ bodies as necessary. I have not found that preference for touch as a method of transmission is more common in one culture than another, or preferred more by one gender over another, though this observation may need to be adjusted as I observe more teachers from a wider range of backgrounds. In general, however, it is a method that is not commonly employed by Irish dance teachers. The use of media—notation and/or video—is likewise limited, but in this case, there is a clear preference for its use by adult Irish dancers. As noted in Chapter One, dance is difficult to notate. Typically dancers who use notation are actually using the words of the lilt used by their teacher. I have only seen adult dancers write down these lilts, in Japanese schools as well as at Culkin, but it is a minority of students who do so. Two of the American dancers I’ve observed have notated hard 297 shoe dances by using Western staff notation—both are musicians, and find that the process of transcribing the rhythms helps them better understand what it is they are dancing to. More often, adult students who want assistance in remembering steps will ask to film the teacher at the end of a class or lesson. Although video recordings have become more commonplace in Irish dance in general, I have found that there is still some wariness regarding them. Feiseanna and oireachtasaí both forbid video recordings of students, and in general monitor events closely to try to prevent them. Although put in place primarily to protect schools’ choreographies (as one adjudicator told me half-jokingly, “Irish dancers are a paranoid lot.”), these also serve the purpose of protecting the children who are dancing. In general, schools are quite protective of their steps (particularly newly choreographed championship level steps), and in the past have carefully monitored the sharing of videos on social media. During my fieldwork period, however, there has been a staggering increase in the quantity of videos available—from both competitions and studios alike—particularly through apps such as Instagram. These are typically shared by championship level dancers, and the entirety of the step is not shown (and if it is, it is likely safe to assume that the student’s teacher is not aware of it being shared and it will soon be taken offline). In my fieldwork, particularly in Japan, it was difficult to obtain video 298 recordings of full classes, as teachers were uncomfortable with the idea.96 Likewise, I was not able to obtain video recordings of competitions, as per CLRG rules.97 In terms of transmission, students will typically film teachers from the same position that they learned the step in—behind and slightly to one side. When using a video for practice, students may watch the video as a memory aide and then try the dance on their own, or they may hold the device with the video (typically a smartphone) out in front of them, watching the video and dancing as if they were in class, standing behind their teacher. As noted above, I have mostly only seen Culkin adult students film new steps—a few adults in the Japanese schools also did this, but the majority did not. I have only seen one child film a new step she had just learned after a lesson with Phil—it was actually around the same time I began writing this chapter in the summer of 2017, and I believe it may become more common as more young children have access to smartphones with cameras. Video recordings are also often used to share new choreographies between teachers in a school or to share steps 96 The Culkin School allowed me to film the entirety of the adult advanced and figures classes in the Fall of 2015—provided that I archive and share them with Seán—however, I found these recordings to be less than helpful as students were hyperaware of the camera’s presence and frequently changed their behaviors when it was on and they were near it. In contrast, the teacher for those classes—Phil—tended to forget about the camera’s placement and would move the table or chair it was on, knocking it over on more than one occasion. Overall, it was an interesting example of the ways an ethnographer’s equipment can alter the dynamics in a fieldwork site. 97 Interestingly, the CLRG’s views on this may be changing, albeit slowly. For the first time at the 2017 World Irish Dancing Championships in Dublin, students who recalled to the third round were able to purchase a DVD of their set dance performance. Only students or their family members were allowed to purchase the video. Of course, although it was specified that competitors were not to share their video online, several of the performances were uploaded and can now be found on Instagram and YouTube. The 2017 Southern Region Oireachtas was the first time a professional videographer was allowed access to film sets and céilí at this particular competition, which were then made available for purchase to competitors. In speaking with one of the workers selling videos, I was told it had been a years-long battle with CLRG to convince them to allow the company in to film dancers. 299 with dancers who are not available to practice in person for an upcoming performance. As with the increase in availability of Irish dance step videos online, transmission practices in schools and for shows involving video recordings have increased, and I believe will continue to do so. Sensory Patterns in Transnational Irish Dance In order to compare transmission of flamenco in Spain versus its transmission in Japan, Yolanda Van Ede turns to Hahn’s framework of examining sensational knowledge as it is conveyed in transmission. She does this to better understand the kinesthetic ways Japanese flamenco dancers engage with flamenco practice—by examining the “how” and not the “what,” she eschews Western stereotypes of Japanese culture as one of replication as well as avoids the issues that arise from an exclusive focus on and comparison of perceived skill. She also emphasizes that an approach to cross-cultural research that focuses on sensory transmission may reveal important elements that lead to localization or culturally distinct stylizations (Van Ede 2012: 79). Van Ede initially theorizes that Japanese flamenco dancers would prioritize visual aspects of the dance in transmission and performance, as Hahn shows this is the primary mode of transmission in nihon buyo, and other scholars’ works concur that sight is an important sensory aspect of traditional Japanese performing arts (Van Ede 2010: 491). However, upon conducting fieldwork, she quickly discovers that although flamenco’s visual aspects are important in Japan and enjoyed by audiences as a spectacle, it is the sound that is prioritized in transmission and performance—just 300 as it is in Spain. Interestingly, she finds different aural aspects of sound prioritized in Japanese flamenco: production of volume in footwork is prioritized over understanding song and melody. According to Van Ede, this is due in part to the lack of live musicians available in the practice studio; therefore, the sound that is emphasized and embodied over time is that which is produced by the dancers (see Van Ede 2012 for further explanation). She concludes that while the Spanish flamenco sensory pattern in which aural components are prioritized over visual components is the same in Japan, the difference comes from how sound is treated—in Japanese flamenco, sound production is prioritized over sound perception. In my fieldwork in the United States and Japan, I likewise found no differences between the hierarchies of sensory information in Irish dance transmission. In Irish dance, aural and oral sounds and sight work in tandem in transmission and perception of steps. Training a dancer’s ability to listen, understand, and accordingly time his or her steps with the music is the primary goal for teachers. Visual components of dance in terms of technique and execution are also highly valued, particularly where footwork technique affects sound production in hard shoe dances or visual articulation of rhythm in soft shoe dances, but are a secondary focus after concerns relating to sound and rhythm. This was the case in both the Japanese schools and at the Culkin School. However, unlike in Van Ede’s case study, I found no differences in the way sound was treated by Japanese dancers versus American dancers. Teachers in all schools were concerned with both the perception of sound (timing and understanding different rhythms and the music they fit into) as well as its production (producing 301 clear, loud beats). Looking at this, it would be easy to assume that these lacks of difference make this a perfect case study supporting the idea of stereotyped “Japanese copy-cat” (see Chapter Five). However, I argue that the similarities between transmission practices and sensory orientations between Japanese and American Irish dance is not because of a Japanese tendency toward mimicry—if this was the case, then why would it be the same as American Irish dance, as the Japanese teachers all studied in Ireland? Rather, the explanation can be found in the teachers’ and students’ relationships to CLRG competition culture. As in the studio, in the competition focus locations of feiseanna and oireachtasaí, sound is of primary importance. This is exemplified in championship competitions: two of the three rounds that dancers perform are hard shoe dances. As Phil told me at the 2016 Southern Region Oireachtas, “At this level, everyone is good at soft shoe. Not everyone is good at hard shoe.” Dancers who can exhibit skill in hard shoe—in which percussive sound is the main focus—prove themselves to be the best Irish dancers. Furthermore, the third round of set dances is considered the most important to the competition: the dances where hard shoe steps are (when well- choreographed) in sync with particular tunes. Through this hierarchy we can see how the musicality of a dancer is most valued by the community. Scoring of dancers in competition is equally revealing. The adjudicators and teachers I have spoken with have emphasized the importance of timing when scoring dancers. For the majority of adjudicators, it does not matter how technically perfect a dancer’s footwork is—if they go off time from the music, they will drop in the 302 rankings.98 The remainder of the sensory hierarchy can also be revealed through determination of rankings: if two dancers are equally proficient in timing and sound production, the adjudicator next looks at technique and execution. If also equal in that regard, other visual aspects of Irish dance are taken into account: stage presence and presentation. These are the core values of the CLRG Irish dance competition culture, and are internalized by the teachers and students who participate in it. This aesthetic hierarchy is taught to dancers in the studio—whether students participate in competitions or not—and reinforced in feiseanna and oireachtasaí. The show style of Irish dancing is equally structured by these values: the dancers of Riverdance and other global commercial Irish dance shows, as well as the local artists who perform in smaller performances (such as Satomi Mitera or Culkin LIVE), have all learned Irish dance through modern competitive Irish dance competition culture. The teachers and students of Culkin, Ardagh, and THIDA have learned through the same methods of transmission as outlined above, and trained their Irish dancing bodies through this sensory pattern. I argue that while teachers, students, and performing artists work to create and practice Irish dance according to individual goals of competition and/or performance while incorporating local movements and values, the desire to belong to and 98 This being said, some adjudicators did note in our interviews that they are more forgiving of timing errors in dancers who are well known (i.e., those who are top placers at Nationals and Worlds), showing that adjudicators’ results are at times not just derived from the dance performed at a particular competition, but from an accumulation of knowledge of a particular dancer. These same adjudicators also acknowledged that while it is not fair—and may not necessarily be consciously done—it is an inherent part of the subjective nature of scoring Irish dance competitions. 303 participate in the transnational culture of the modern competitive Irish step dance style, as founded by the CLRG, ultimately structures the transmission and sensory patterns that are internalized and recirculated through their Irish dancing bodies. The training of these sensory orientations is part of the tradition of Irish dance transmission; these transmission practices are fundamental to what makes it Irish dance. Just as members of a diaspora share common values and ideas that structure their sense of belonging to that culture, so too do these core kinesthetic patterns structure Irish dancers sense of belonging to the global Irish dance community. They literally shape the Irish dancing body, no matter what location that body is in. In the next chapter, I discuss some of the ways in which gender and age affect the ways Irish dancing bodies move and are perceived within the global Irish dance community. I plan to expand my research and writings on each of these subjects in future research, however they are outside the scope of this particular work. It is my hope that presenting these examples will reveal further insights that can come from body-focused perspectives in dance and music research. 304 Chapter 7: Cad é an Dochar: What’s the Harm? Gender and Age in Modern Competitive Irish Step Dancing In 1988 I met an American anthropologist who had worked in Ireland. I told him I was hoping to do anthropological fieldwork there myself, that I wished to look at Irish dancing. “Oh, well,” he quickly replied, “you know there are two kinds of Irish dancing: the fake kind done by little girls in gaudy dresses and the real stuff known only by a few old men here and there. -Frank Hall, Competitive Irish Dance: Art, Sport, Duty, 2008, 8 The advent of Riverdance in 1994 not only had a massive impact on the spread of Irish dance worldwide, but also presented Irish dancing bodies that stood in stark contrast to those that filled the competitive scene. At a time when most boys left Irish dancing after they reached adolescence and young women were encouraged to retire or become teachers at eighteen or nineteen, Jean Butler and Michael Flatley—at the time aged twenty-three and thirty-six, respectively— presented fully mature and adult representations of feminine and masculine Irish dancing bodies in a glamorized transnational setting. Paired with the skill they exhibited, they inspired children and adults of both genders to learn Irish dancing around the world. Despite this, in 2017 male dancers and adult students remain in the minority in the Irish dance community. At times, it feels as though the public’s perception of the competitive Irish dancing community has not moved much beyond the views expressed in the quote above by Hall’s anthropologist in 1988, as exemplified by descriptions of feiseanna that run along the lines of “Riverdance meets Toddlers & Tiaras” (Hollywood Reporter 2011). Although male dancers are positively encouraged within the Irish dance community, they often encounter difficulties in other parts of their lives due to these sorts of images of Irish dance and the way Western culture treats dance generally as a feminized activity. On the other hand, 305 students who begin dancing as adults—encouraged and inspired by those images of skilled adult Irish dancing bodies displayed in professional shows such as Riverdance— often are marginalized or ignored, and in many cases are treated as outsiders within CLRG competitive culture. In both cases, these issues are fortunately, albeit slowly, changing toward greater understanding and inclusivity. They serve as examples of how images and expectations of bodies in dance reveal cultural values and biases both within the dance tradition itself and in that tradition’s culture at large. In this chapter, I provide a brief glimpse into some of the ways gender and age are perceived in competitive Irish dance today, and how these perceptions affect the ways bodies are taught to move and are regarded by others inside and outside Irish dance culture. Embodied History and Gendered Steps As discussed in Chapter Two, Irish cultural nationalists at the end of the nineteenth century sought to establish and promote those forms of Ireland’s culture that were viewed as unique and distinctly Irish as part of the de- Anglicization movement. Through what eventually became known as An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha, Irish dance was shaped in such a way as to promote a particular design of step dance that emphasized carriage, technique, and specific repertoire. It presented Irish tradition and those who performed it as morally upright and controlled, resisting the existing stereotypes of the Irish as backwards savages. This sentiment is perhaps best expressed in this quote from an address delivered by Cardinal Logue on behalf of the Archbishops and Bishops of Ireland in 1925: 306 It is no small commendation of Irish dances that they cannot be danced for long hours. That, however, is not their chief merit, and while it is not part of our business to condemn any decent dance, Irish dances are not to be put out of the place that is their due, in any educational establishment under our care. They may not be in the fashion in London or Paris. They should be in fashion in Ireland. Irish dances do not make degenerates. (Breathnach in O’Connor 2003: 54) Cultural and religious moral ideas that were at the heart of the Gaelic League—and consequently, in the CLRG—are deeply embedded in the learning and performing of Irish step dancing, fundamental in how Irish dancing bodies are constructed and perceived. As Catherine Foley observes: “a particular ‘Irish’ step dancing configuration was constructed by An Coimisiún [CLRG] which was influenced by Catholic moral teachings at the time, and which projected a controlled, disciplined, skilled and asexual step dancing body” (Foley 2013: 144). There was also an idea of purity that stemmed from these religious teachings: “The Irish body was to be ‘pure’ both in terms of its being ‘authentically Irish’, i.e., untrammeled by any outside influences, as well as in terms of sexual modesty and constraint” (O’Connor 2006: 38).99 But while this body was de-sexualized, it was gendered—the CLRG was formed with the view that the ideal Irish male and female step dancers were the ideal Irish male and female citizens, and thus Irish cultural and religious constructed views on proper masculine and feminine traits were woven into the fabric of Irish step dance (Foley 2013: 149). 99 For more on the history of gender and sexuality in relation to Irish dancing (both step dancing and social), see O’Connor 2003, 2006, and Foley 2013. 307 Even prior to CLRG’s formation and subsequent regulation of dance repertoire, step dance movements were taught according to both ability and gender. As Foley writes of itinerate step dance master Jeremiah Moyneaux: Male scholars [students] were generally given more complex movements in a step, while the steps of female scholars were generally made more graceful and simple. However, there were exceptions, and sometimes Molyneaux taught female scholars who had the ability the more difficult steps. Also, some female scholars imitated the more complex movements, since they regarded them as more challenging and flattering in performance . . . Steps choreographed by Molyneaux were generally regarded as strong and masculine, particularly his more advanced steps, which included a lot of rhythmic and percussive detail consisting of drums, stamps, rolls and toe-fences. These were performed strongly and accurately by male dancers. On the other hand, Molyneaux thought too many of these movements were unbecoming for women, so they were kept to the minimum in women’s more “feminine” steps. Instead of drums and stamps, more batters, tips, toes, heels and cuts were inserted. However . . . sometimes Molyneaux taught women who could master the more difficult steps, and some other women simply inserted the more “masculine” movements themselves. Molyneaux was regarded as a master at creating good, masculine steps, so much so that many male dancers walked miles to acquire one, or endeavored to get Molyneaux drunk to acquire his most treasured ones, or indeed, stopped in the middle of their work to perfect one.” (Ibid.: 84, 100-101) Although the movements regarded in Molyneaux’s time as being masculine are today performed regularly by women, the heteronormative ideals they represent can still be seen today in step dance choreographies.100 For both genders, the dancer’s ability to perform steps in an athletic, sharp, and powerful manner—while maintaining rhythmic accuracy—is lauded. However, the way steps are constructed results in the emphasis of certain stylistic traits that are valued for each gender: broadly, men are 100 They are also very apparent in the canonized repertoire of céilí dances, all of which assign “lady” and “gent” roles to dancers. The way in which certain movements in these dances exhibit gender ideals and the way they are approached in competition are relevant here as well, but outside the scope of the present work. For more on development of gendered dances in competitions (as well as male and female costumes), see Cullinane 1996. 308 expected to dance with more aggression and power, and women to dance with more lightness and grace.101 Certain dances have developed in association with these qualities (for example, the slip jig as a feminine dance, performed only by women in competition), and certain movements are utilized by one gender or the other (for example, the stamps and heel clicks in boys’ reels are only performed by male dancers, and a series of “toe walks” where the dancer moves from foot to foot en pointe are considered feminine). Steps are choreographed with these ideals in mind. Sounded rhythms are not gendered: however, the gendered steps do affect the way the rhythms sound and are phrased. I have included four examples of Culkin School solo dances on the “As We Circle the World” website, performed by teacher Phil Stacy, that show some of the ways steps can be gendered.102 These videos were taken in July 2016 in the Hughes’ gymnasium, one of the locations the Culkin School holds classes.103 In Media 7.1 and 7.2, Phil demonstrates two different non-traditional set dances in treble jig timing: “The Three Sea Captains” and “Rodney’s Glory.” The first was choreographed for male dancers, the second for female dancers. Both examples demonstrate the timing, rhythmic accuracy, and strong sound expected in performance by both men and women; however, both dances have gendered movements inserted that emphasize the masculine or feminine nature of the steps. In these examples, we can see that the 101 However, this is a very broad statement, and qualities do go both ways. Women certainly can and do dance aggressively—in fact at times I have been told by Phil and Seán to be more aggressive in my dancing. Similarly, graceful dancing is valued in men. 102 For video, see Media 6.1 to 6.4 at https://sites.google.com/view/aswecircletheworld 103 The non-air conditioned Hughes’ gymnasium, that is; filmed over what were probably the two hottest days that summer in the D.C. area—I was happy to be the one watching and not dancing! 309 man’s set dance contains more stamps, rhythms, and aggressive percussive movements. While the women’s set is also loud and strong, it contains more light and lifted movements, such as series of movements that are en pointe, as well as feminized twists and jumps.104 Media 7.3 and 7.4 are videos of an advanced women’s reel and an advanced men’s reel. Again, the female reel step is more balletic in nature, emphasizing lightness and gracefulness, while the male step has a sharper and more aggressive nature that is emphasized by the loud clicks and stamps of the men’s reel shoes. Orfhlaith Ní Bhriain’s dissertation on creativity in competitive Irish dance allows for some initial analysis on gendered movements in championship level competitions—although her research is not necessarily focused on gender, by examining her data on motifs and movement in the 2006 World Irish Dance Championships, a picture begins to emerge that correlates with my own observations of choreographies I have seen in classes and competitions, as well as what I detail in Examples 6.1-6.4. According to her list of motifs performed by male and female competitors, in general, the movements of women’s dances emphasized their lift, pointed toes, and straight legs (such as entrechats, twists, flicks, and en point movements), whereas men performed more grounded moves that emphasize the heel (heel travels, twists on heels, stamps, and far more varieties of drums and heel clicks) (Ní Brhiain 2010: 122). The amount of movement in the steps of different genders is also telling. As she writes of the fact that there were far fewer traveling movements in 104 When getting ready to film “Rodney’s Glory,” Phil told me he had chosen a dance for me to record that was “the girliest set ever.” 310 men’s hard shoe competitions: “Display of strength and producing loud sound are important strategies for attracting attention in the gents’ competitions, so perhaps the issue of traveling on stage is not as pertinent” (ibid.: 107). Because terminology in Irish dance is not standardized, many of the motif names listed by Ní Bhriain are ones I am not familiar with, so it is therefore difficult for me to do a full comparative analysis between her work and my own; however, I believe that her approach is one I will look to in future work in analyzing gendered movement in Irish dance. Men’s Experiences in Irish Dance When entering the vendors’ area of a feis or oireachtas, the array of commercialized Irish dance products representing heteronormative ideals of Euro- American femininity—specifically those placed on younger girls and women—is overwhelming. Sparkling girls’ solo dresses are prominently displayed next to every manner of crystalized tiaras and curly wigs. Make up, poodle socks, jewelry, bows— every typical girly accessory imaginable to add to a female dancer’s catchy stage appearance is available. This is a feminized area, mostly consisting of merchandise directed toward the predominant gender in Irish dance: girls and women. Some products for boys and men (such as solo costume vests) and gender-neutral products (such as the tape dancers use to help with traction on stage) can be found, nestled among the pink glitter. The rest of a competition venue is not overtly feminine, but is nonetheless dominated by female dancers and teachers. There has always been a gender imbalance in Irish dance—in just over a century, the tradition has changed from one dominated by older men to one of young 311 girls (Foley 2013: 100; Cullinane 1996: 60-63). In classes I’ve observed—in both the United States and Japan—female dancers outnumber male dancers significantly, with often only one or two male dancers in a class of fifteen or more students. A further example of this imbalance: at the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships, 265 dancers were registered in the Girls Under 18 age category, which was subsequently split into two groups to accommodate the large number of competitors. In the Boys Under 18 competition, there were only 15 dancers.105 Numbers in younger boys competitions were larger (the biggest boys’ competition was Boys Under 14, with 49 dancers registered), but still were small compared to the girls’ categories.106 Male dancers as a minority is not a phenomenon isolated to Irish dance. As dance scholars such as Ramsay Burt have written, the spheres of Western dance have largely been cast as feminine, with the majority of teachers, students, and audiences being women (Burt 2007: 11). Burt points to the mid-nineteenth century as the beginning of the decline of men’s participation in dance, largely due to Victorian gender ideologies as well as new, increasingly anxious ideas regarding the body, to which these gender ideals were ascribed: It was the prudishness of Victorian gender ideologies that initially condemned male dancers to the problematic status they have spent much of the last 100 years trying to overcome. “Modern” ideas about 105 It does appear that the gender imbalance that is obvious at the student and TCRG levels is more balanced among ADCRGs and members of the CLRG. For example, at 2017 NAIDC, ten of the twenty-eight adjudicators were men. The informants I spoke with also believe this is the case, but I was not able to obtain solid data supporting this claim and plan to investigate this more in the future. Interestingly, all the musicians at 2017 NAIDC were men (several of whom were TCRGs or ADCRGs, or former Irish dancers), and the vast majority of feis musicians I have danced to at competitions have been male. 106 For more information on gender in the World Irish Dancing Championships, see Cullinane 2016. 312 masculine social behaviour and the male body, which developed during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, have exerted a residual influence on more recent social attitudes towards the creativity and expressiveness of male artists as a whole up to the present . . . By the nineteenth century, the idea that the body, as an entity, is execrable not only persisted but became increasingly important in new and more anxious forms. The body itself was no longer admired, but became, as Michel Foucault has shown in his books on the asylum, the clinic, prisons, and sexuality, the object of classification and regulation through scientific, medical, and juridical processes. (Ibid.: 13, 16) He goes on to note that it was at the end of the nineteenth century that the idea of homosexuality as a category was being defined. At the same time, traditional gender ideals were challenged through women’s suffrage, education, and their developing role in the economy as consumers (ibid.: 20). Prior to the nineteenth century, male ballet dancers were admired, as were other men who participated in activities involving dance. However, insecurities surrounding traditional ideas of masculinity, paired with connections made between male dancers and homosexuality in the early twentieth century, “brought about a situation in which it seemed ‘natural’ not to look at the male body, and, therefore problematic and conflictual for men to enjoy looking at men dancing . . . My argument is that it is these social restrictions that, since the mid-nineteenth century, have caused the display of male dancing to become a source of anxiety” (ibid.: 12, 23). This “choreophobia”—a term Anthony Shay coined to describe the ambivalent and negative attitudes towards dance that can affect both men and women—continues today, and can be prominently seen directed toward men in dance traditions such as ballet (Fisher and Shay 2009: 12). As scholar Jennifer Fisher notes, “Tale after tale from anyone in the field reveals that a stigma about men in ballet still exists, long after that sort of thing might have been thought reasonably to have 313 disappeared. In a sociological study reported in 2003, male ballet dancers repeated a number of negative characterizations they had encountered: ‘feminine, homosexual, wimp, spoiled, gay, dainty, fragile, weak . . . It’s quite a list” (ibid.: 32). The reaction to these characterizations has been to promote ballet as a tough, macho activity: as tough as any sport, and one filled with fit, flexible, and scantily clad women (ibid.: 32). Although they are not exact, there are several parallels between these experiences of male ballet dancers and those of male Irish dancers I have interviewed. However, these experiences seem to rarely be discussed—in fact, when I asked male teachers and adjudicators what it was like growing up as a boy in Irish dance, several expressed how happy they were to be asked. Their experiences varied because of the time periods and places they grew up in, though in most cases they did experience bullying at school, particularly before reaching high school age. However, as they went into their teenage years and into college, there was a shift to being admired and encouraged by their non-Irish dancing peers. Phil Stacy’s story is representative of this experience: In middle school, it was awful. It was really bad in middle school. It was, you know, getting called “faggot” in school and you know, “gay” and all those derogatory terms . . . All the guys in the school thought it was an extremely “gay, homosexual thing” to do. I wasn’t doing super well [in competition] at the time, so middle school kind of sucked. That was really rough. But I had a lot of encouragement from my family, and from Seán and Nicki and all them. And really those were my group of friends, not necessarily my group of friends in school. And when I got into high school, it was a complete turnaround. Everybody loved it in high school, and were like “Oh my God, you’re an Irish dancer, this is the coolest thing ever!” So really all my high school friends were extremely supportive, all through high school. And that’s where I really started to do well [in competition] too, and I feel like that probably helped me just build confidence in myself, because they loved 314 it in high school. They loved having me perform at the talent shows and school assemblies and whatnot. So high school was completely different than middle school. But middle school was definitely rough being a male dancer, that’s for sure. But I feel like everyone’s kind of going through a maturation process there. (Interview with Phil Stacy, December 21, 2015) In contrast, growing up in Australia, neither feis musician Sean O’Brien or teacher Craig Ashurst experienced bullying, though they did know other male dancers in the Irish dance world who had. As Craig told me during our interview: I never got teased at all. Like, at all. And you know, well, some close friends that would be like, you know, they’d joke around like, “Give us a little dance,” or whatever. But they were my friends, like my close friends, and I felt like that didn’t really count because they weren’t really being mean and stuff. So, but I never really got teased. And I—that’s not the case with so many other guys around the world. And I know people that, even in Ireland, didn’t like—I have a friend in Belfast, and he didn’t tell, like, his friends didn’t know that he was a dancer, and he was a dancer all through his life, and then all of a sudden he was on T.V. with Riverdance, basting away on the telly, and his friends were like, “I didn’t know you danced!” [laughs] And they’d known him all his life! But he didn’t tell anyone because, you know, guys don’t want to get teased and it’s a problem! So I get quite annoyed about this because I think sometimes—I don’t really know how to kind of put my finger on what it is—but I think sometimes parents can be to blame because there’s plenty of parents that I’ve heard in the past: “No, I’m not going to send my son to dancing; I don’t ever want him to get teased.” It’s a massive part of the problem, and you know, what if your son wants to dance? Like, let him dance— don’t stop them from being who they are. And I think that’s maybe more of the major problem, and then, you know, who knows, maybe it might bring down the level of teasing or the level of bullying for male dancers if parents were a little more supportive of it in the first place. (Interview with Craig Ashurst, March 9, 2016) As adjudicator Michael Dillon noted to me, Riverdance star Michael Flatley had a large impact on the public’s perception of male Irish dancers. Growing up in Ireland pre-Riverdance, Michael was also bullied for his dancing, but got to enjoy the popularity the show had brought as a dance teacher in his childhood home: 315 It was ironic—when I moved back home, when I set up the class? Riverdance had just happened. So all the people that tormented me in school brought their sons for me to teach! And so they would hand me money every week, and I thought, “You tortured me for ten years.” So that was kind of fun. But I never cared. I don’t know, I had a good family and, I mean, it was a way out of the village for me every Sunday . . . I guess pre-Riverdance it was different. You know, I think Michael Flatley made it okay to be a male Irish dancer in Ireland. I think that did change it. Otherwise, it was your dirty little secret—nobody really told. And then a lot of boys gave up when they went to high school, just in case anyone found out. (Interview with Michael Dillon, February 15, 2017) Michael Flatley—as well as Colin Dunne, Flatley’s successor as the male lead in Riverdance—presented a new image of Irish dance. Gone was the requisite kilt that boys were required to wear in competitions; in its place fitted pants, overlaid with a large belt akin to the one male World Champions are given. Indeed, in Flatley’s later shows (such as Lord of the Dance and Celtic Tiger), we see the macho strategy discussed earlier deployed: male leads are cast as aggressive dancers, while women are literally stripped of their traditional costumes. Although this hyper- sexualization—which was not seen in Riverdance, although the show played with expectations regarding gendered movements and costuming—did receive push back from segments of the competitive community, there is no denying the impact of the imagery that gave men a new inspiration and confidence to begin Irish dance. As noted in Chapter Five, Taka Hayashi was one of these, who after seeing the masculinity of the number “Thunderstorm” in Riverdance began to save his money to travel to Ireland to learn how to Irish dance. It is also important to reiterate the internal support that is given to male Irish dancers from within the community. As Phil notes in his story, it was his teachers and Irish dance friends who became a second family, supporting him through 316 difficulties outside of dance classes—again, a sentiment that was commonly held among my informants. Interestingly, I was also told that boys and men are often seen as having advantages in several ways because they are in the minority. In classes, boys are often given special attention by teachers (to encourage them, but also because they have different steps than their female classmates), and in competitions where they are mixed with girls, are sometimes perceived to have been placed higher (usually by male adjudicators) in the rankings due to their gender. Although the gender imbalance in Irish dance is unlikely to even out in the foreseeable future, it does seem that acceptance for boys and men who participate in dance is slowly increasing in Euro-American culture. In the meantime, it is important to continue to consider the connections between masculinity and expression of identity through dance, and encourage discussions of masculinity in Irish dancing. As dance scholar Doug Risner writes: When we consider seriously this mask of dominant masculinity that society imposes on boys and young males, we see more clearly not only the disruptive cultural resistance but also the overwhelming courage necessary for our male students to pursue dance study and consider a career in dance . . . Obviously, additional complexities are involved in unpacking the social experiences, ethnicities, and gendered bodies of males in dance; it requires attention to the marginalization of male dancers in a culturally feminized field, which is combined with the privilege, benefit, and authority of being male in a patriarchal society. (Risner 2009: 62) It is my hope that the courage displayed by these men is discussed and celebrated, while challenging dominant discourses of traditional masculinity in Euro-American culture. 317 Perceptions of Adult Students and Competitors in Irish Step Dance I think it’s embarrassing to the Irish dancing world how adult Irish dancers are treated, particularly in Ireland, the UK, and North America. I think things have gotten better in North America—I don’t think there is much of a market for adults in Ireland and the UK. There tends to be an attitude of—you know, because it’s more culturally involved there and people did it in school, it’s a more widespread and more known phenomena. People would have the opportunity more so as a kid to do it, it’s unlikely they will choose as an adult to do it. But a lot of the times what happens in other parts of the world is that they were just never introduced to it, they never knew it existed when they were a child. And then they come into as an adult and they have this tremendous enthusiasm, which is mismatched with an organization that really doesn’t value their participation. There are changing views on this, there really are. Not fast enough, in my opinion, but I feel as though the adult world of Irish dancing is tremendously disenfranchised by its world body. -Interview with teacher and feis musician Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017 I’m not sure why the stigma exists. I haven’t heard of it too much, but I did hear a little while ago, I did hear, you know, that kind of the like “roll of the eyes” type comment about an adult Irish dancer or whatever going to compete, and I’m like, “Oh, come on, that’s…” you know. . .I just think fair play to them. Irish dancing is hard. It’s not an easy art form and for an adult to come and try and gain a grasp of all that is, that’s awesome. -Interview with teacher Craig Ashurst, March 9, 2016 You know, there’s a phrase in Irish: “Cad é an dochar?” —“What’s the harm?” And I feel a lot of times like that when you think about adults dancing: what’s the harm? Why not? -Interview with dancer Tammy Larson, July 12, 2016 In this section, I share experiences and perceptions of dancers who study and compete in Irish dance as adults. This is research deserving of much more expansion than what I am able to supply here, but as an Irish dancer who has mostly learned and competed as an adult in a school that values the participation of students of all ages, I strongly believe it is important that I include and acknowledge a minority in Irish dance that often is looked upon with great ambivalence. There is, at times, a great amount of sensitivity surrounding the subject of adult students from certain segments of the Irish dance community—I emphasize that it is not my goal here to accuse or 318 condemn either side of this debate. Rather, it is my hope that in bringing these stories out into the open, the community may continue to find paths to greater understanding and inclusion for older students, as well as for those dancing adults to understand and learn from the perspectives of the teachers and adjudicators they work with. In this section, when I or my informants discuss “adults,” we are specifically referring to students over the age of eighteen who either did not grow up in the Irish dance tradition or are returning to it after stopping in childhood. These students often compete in either the adult age category—specifically constructed for those new to Irish dancing—or in what is referred to as the “and Overs” (i.e. 16 and Over, 23 and Over, etc.), which places them alongside dancers who began learning Irish dance at a young age. The process of moving from the adult category to the “and Over” categories is often referred to as “dropping down,” which is the terminology I will employ here. Schools and teachers individually determine the age category they allow their adult students to compete in, a decision that is typically based on the perceived skill level of each dancer (for further detail on age categories and competition structures, see Chapter Two). As bodies age in Euro-American culture—particularly female bodies—they are viewed as being “less”: less athletically capable, less aesthetically pleasing to watch dance. In many Western dance traditions, which are built on images of youthful girls, older women are often encouraged to retire from professional careers, becoming teachers or removing themselves from dance entirely. In ballet, the average professional dancer in the United States retires at age 34 (Hacham 2013). Dance scholar Liz Schwaiger notes that: “In ballet, aging is normatively characterized as 319 decline, since the changing body finds it increasingly difficult to emulate what one might call the “textbook ideal” in control of movement and placement that is the hallmark of a good (i.e., classical) dancer” (Schwaiger 2005: 110). Until more recently in the competitive world of Irish dance, students over the age of nineteen have generally been viewed as no longer able to produce the textbook Irish dance ideal. As feis musician and TCRG Cormac O’Sé told me, “We are a sport that basically throws you on the scrap heap at about nineteen. You know, basically what happens at the World championships now is as soon as someone gets too tired or that, they say, ‘Ah, well, they’re getting a bit old, you know?’” (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017). This is in complete contrast to Japanese traditional arts, in which a dancer’s prime is seen as beginning in his or her thirties, and they continue to dance until their bodies no longer allow them to. As Hahn explains, “It is believed that, while youthful beauty can capture an audience without refined technique, a mature dancer has experienced and embodied more of life and this essence is imbued in her dance” (Hahn 2007: 38). In nihon buyo, older dancers are treated with respect for both their age and their experiences, whether they are teachers or not. Although the CLRG has recently taken steps to further encourage older championship dancers—as can be seen through the recent creation of a “23 and Over” age category at the World Championships—there is still hesitancy regarding dancers who began learning as adults in many regions of the organization.107 Unfortunately 107 Previously, the oldest age category at Worlds was “21 and Over,” and was enormous. At the 2016 Worlds in Glasgow, the Senior Ladies 21 and Over competition I observed had well over 200 competitors. Cormac O’Sé was one of the teachers who spearheaded the effort to add additional age categories, and told me of his efforts explaining and sharing research with other CLRG members that shows athletes actually peak in their late twenties—not their late teens. He is currently working on ways to provide funding to dancers in these categories that 320 the perception of stigma against adults in competitions has done damage to the CLRG organization in some regards, particularly in Europe and Asia, where the majority of Irish dancers are adults. Other organizations (such as the World Irish Dance Association, or WIDA) that are considered “adult friendly”— in other words not having a separate adult age category but rather more “and Over” championship categories—have used this as an opportunity to promote their schools in these areas. Many adult dancers I have spoken with feel that they are either actively discriminated against both by the CLRG at large and by many individual teachers and adjudicators, or are ignored and forgotten, barely considered as an afterthought. They believe that this ageism is apparent in regulations handed down by the world and regional governing bodies, examples of which include the requirement for adults to compete wearing black tights of a certain thickness (intended to hide signs of aging on their legs), the barring of true championship levels to dancers in the adult age category (although some feiseanna may hold championship-style competitions for adults), and restrictions in some regions of North America on allowing adults to perform non-traditional hard shoe dances.108 Stigma towards adults also becomes will allow them to obtain the athletic training they need to maximize their potential while still balancing the demands of an adult life (Interview with Cormac O’Sé, July 23, 2017). 108 This last item in particular has been the cause for some consternation in the North American community. It has been difficult to obtain an official version, but the story I have pieced together from what students, teachers, and adjudicators have shared with me is that a group of adult competitors approached the Irish Dance Teachers Association of North America—the governing body for the North American region—regarding concerns they had with treatment of adults in their region’s competitions. Versions of this story vary drastically in the telling (some say the dancers politely petitioned, others say they were rude and demanding), but the outcome was that slow speeds for hard shoe dances—the ones that take more mastery over the dance form and heightened athleticism to successfully perform—were completely banned from adult competitions in all regions in North America for ten years. In another version of the story I was told by a source who wished to remain anonymous, slow speeds were restricted not because of this petition, but because of a fear that adults would 321 apparent in competitions from how they are treated by some feis organizers, teachers, and adjudicators. Although most adjudicators, regardless of their personal feelings, are polite and professional, I have been told of (and, unfortunately, have experienced several times first hand) adjudicators who make apparent to competitors through their demeanor or results their lack of interest in the adults. One student told me a story of seeing an adjudicator looking at her cell phone mid-competition! Interestingly, these negative actions stem largely from other adults in the Irish dance community— teachers, adjudicators, and parents—and not from the younger dancers, who in my experience either are completely unaware of their adult counterparts or are very sweet and supportive. Michael Dillon admitted that he had his own misapprehensions regarding adults when he first judged competitions in the United States—it was very different from Ireland, where adult students are exceedingly rare. However, once he began interacting with adults more, he quickly came to love teaching them: So, being honest, when I used to come to America judging at first—[in Ireland] you never saw an adult dancing—you know, and I was as guilty as anybody else. “Oh God, I’m on the adults. Don’t they look ridiculous.” And yes, I do think: in wigs and poodle socks? I think that’s ridiculous, and I’m not going to apologize for it. There’s a woman I judged somewhere, and she was wearing a brand new Gavin dress—and she’s pushing the other competitors off the stage because she has a brand begin to gain the skills that would allow them to test for their TCRG and eventually ADCRG certifications—but that the official line given out was that officials felt harder material was too physically demanding on older bodies, and they were restricting it for safety reasons. Likely the reality of these events falls somewhere in-between each of these stories. Slow speeds—for most regions—were reinstated to adults just after I joined the Culkin School in 2012, which was fortunate for me, as learning slow speed hard shoe dances has been critical to my understanding of the dance form. It is hard to sort out the truth in all of this—especially with a lack of public records available— but the fact that it is still a story circulating at different levels of the community five years later is representative of the sorts of tense conflicts and feelings that arise surrounding the involvement of adult dancers. 322 new Gavin dress! And I thought if you’re going to be proud, you respect every dancer whether they’re young or old, you know? But, through the workshop and through going to Europe where it’s all adults, and judging feises in Europe where it’s all adults—it’s fantastic! It’s great! And it reminds me: adults have the same problems learning that the kids do . . . I enjoy teaching adults more in a lot of ways. Because they’re receptive, they’re there because they want to be there. They get the same joy when they get something right . . . And so if you like teaching, you like teaching adults. But I hate that they’re pushed to the side. I hate that they have that end of the day competition in Hall S down the end. Because they work just as hard, and often harder: they’re trying to raise kids, they’re trying to— you know. So I do appreciate adult dancing for what it is now, and I didn’t always. (Interview with Michael Dillon, February 15, 2016) Other teachers, such as Phil Stacy and Nicki Sack Bayhurst, believe that working with adults has actually made them better teachers to all of their students. As Phil laughed in his interview, “Adults ask good questions, whereas a six year old is just like you know—well, God knows what they’re going to say!” (Interview with Phil Stacy, December 21, 2015). He went on to tell me that questions from adult learners are worded with a different perspective and understanding of their bodies than that of a child or teenager. He and Nicki both noted that being forced to think through these questions in different ways—rather than only through the understandings that they grew up with, now automatic and deeply embodied—taught them a variety of new teaching approaches that can be tailored to the different types of learning styles and abilities found at all ages. All of the students, teachers, and adjudicators I spoke with stated that older bodies dance differently that younger ones—but they all had difficulty in describing the particulars of those differences. Some described that adult dancers are not as 323 energetic or bouncy, others described adults as dancing with a gracefulness that children may not necessarily have. However, they all acknowledged that they have seen adults who dance with a lively style, or with more power than grace. These descriptions all fall short, and for a good reason—among adult dancers, there is a very wide range of athleticism, skill levels, styles, and body types, just as there are among the children. However, the common perception in Irish dance seems to be that older bodies are better suited to the traditional dances (such as the traditional set dances and céilí) that are believed to require less athletic ability, but may still allow them to show off their footwork technique. But as Seán Culkin told me, “I don’t understand [the stigma], I only know one way to Irish dance: high on your toes, crossed over, and turned out” (personal communication, October 5, 2016). Answering the question of where negative attitudes come from regarding adult learners is not easy—I’ve been given several different theories, and likely the truth can be found in some combination of all of them. Several teachers noted that while they enjoy teaching many of the adult students, others can be very difficult to contend with—especially when their questions are less about how to dance and more about challenging the authority of the teacher. In one example Seán Culkin gave me: Adults. Well, something very interesting happened to me in teaching adults. I had an adult look at me, and I was teaching the hornpipe step, and she looked at me and said, “Are you sure?” And I said, “What?!” [throws his hands up in the air and laughs] And I was like, “Yes. I am.” And that really sums up my experience with adults. Very different. They are processing things in a much different way than kids do. Kids see, they do. They don’t throw their opinion into it. Kinda like, well, they just do it. Whereas adults kind of process things and it comes out. To me, that expresses a lot about the adults. (Interview with Seán Culkin, October 3, 2012) 324 Kate Bole, who also enjoys working with adults, said that what can become difficult is that, in her experience, adults have more of a tendency to argue with instructors, and if they have low confidence in their dancing, they may be more likely to challenge the authority of their teacher in order to build their self-esteem (interview with Kate Bole, June 17, 2017). In my observations I have seen this on multiple occasions, especially in cases where the teacher was the same age or younger than the student. However, I have only seen this sort of subversion of authority in the United States—not in Japan, where respect for one’s teachers and structures of authority (such as the iemoto system discussed in Chapter Five) are deeply ingrained cultural values. Unfortunately, the challenging attitudes of these individuals are often enough to place a stigma on the group as a whole, and I have been told of cases where teachers have decided to no longer work with adult students because of it. Other theories I have been told involve a lack of empathy on the part of adjudicators watching adults. As Kate and Denise noted in their interviews, beginner children and adults look the exactly the same in terms of awkwardness in executing the dance technique as their bodies learn the forms. However, where it is forgiven in children and regarded as endearing, in adults it is cast as embarrassing: Kate: I don’t understand why people almost seem to have this insane hatred. That I don’t understand. Because you don’t have to have anything to do with them! Unless you’re judging, you just have to judge them! I think part of it is they won’t forgive the awkward, especially the beginner, adults. And people that have never danced before—they’re going to look awkward, they’re going to look silly. It’s exactly how the kids look when you start dancing, I mean, [Irish dancing is] not natural. But they just won’t forgive that in adults. I think it’s just a snarky judgment of people, “Oh, look at you, you’re making a jerk out of yourself—“ Denise: “You’re my age and you’re making—“ 325 Kate: “Yeah—I would never allow myself to be humiliated like that.” Well, if you had never danced, and you had to start right now, you would look just like that! But they can’t put themselves, they can’t see that. (Interview with Kate Bole and Denise Olive Daniele, June 17, 2017) Several adjudicators theorized that negativity actually may be a defense mechanism stemming from feelings of jealousy. As Ronan McCormack shared with me, I wonder, is it because those of us who have been involved for forty odd years, because some people did it as a kid, and now feel like, “Well, these joints ain’t working anymore,” are they just kind of jealous? That here’s older people, not afraid to put themselves out there. I think as well, I’ve seen it myself with—actually myself! When I go to weddings or anything like that, once they start the Irish dance, I run and hide in the bathroom. Now, that’s more so because I’ve seen so many people get injured when they’ve had a couple maybe too many and they act like they’ve warmed up for an hour and a half and they haven’t, and they go flying, literally. So I’ve seen that so many times that I kind of, that’s part of the reason. But it’s also like, it’s probably an ego thing as well— now, if I have to perform publicly, I want to make sure I’m organized. Because I also feel, well people have seen me dance on TV or whatever, so they have an expectation and I don’t want to be a disappointment. So I kind of wonder sometimes, the people who ridicule the adult dancers, is it kind of a jealousy that they’re like—because they don’t feel confident enough to want to put themselves out there now, they don’t want to see somebody who’s older than them doing it? I don’t know. But I sometimes think that could be part of it. (Interview with Ronan McCormack, March 16, 2016) Additionally, there is resentment toward those adults who are seen as exaggerating their disenfranchisement, or looking for discrimination in places where it does not necessarily exist. This often gets fueled in social media groups, where the frustrations these adults have encountered in studios and competitions boil over, taking innocent situations and turning them into something they are not. In these cases—although they may believe their behaviors follow the right course of action to incite change in the Irish dance community—they largely are doing themselves and their fellow adults 326 a disservice, alienating potential allies who would otherwise be sympathetic. One general example comes from the “common wisdom” often shared among the adults that the majority of North American feiseanna do not offer competitions for adults, however the opposite is true. In surveying the 2016 schedule published online by the North American Feis Commission, I found that 167 out of the 253 feiseanna scheduled offered adult competitions (NAFC, accessed December 15, 2016). While only 17 of these competitions offered adult championship specials (competitions of two or three rounds that are styled after regular championships competitions), the number was growing, with four new championships added in 2017.109 There are also more specific examples—one is from a case in which an adult competitor received notes on a comment sheet from an adjudicator that she believed was negative commentary on her appearance. This dancer took to a Facebook group for adult Irish dancers, naming the adjudicator publicly, and inciting quite a bit of backlash against the judge from the adult community. She later found out and admitted to the group—after contacting the feis organizers—that the comments had been mistyped in the computer by volunteers, and the adjudicator was actually a former adult dancer herself, who was trying to provide useful commentary on how she might help boost her placements through stage appearance. Unfortunately, the damage had been done. It is stories such as this that create wariness from those who 109 Additionally, all seven regional oireachtasaí offered céilí competitions for adults, and four of these offered solo traditional set competitions. The North American National Championships also offer adult céilí competitions—the Worlds, however, do not offer any adult category competitions. 327 would support adults—they instead avoid them and the image of unnecessary drama they are seen to create. Attitudes regarding adult students vary widely across the global community. In Ireland, adults who Irish dance are often viewed with quite a bit of disdain, by both those in and outside of the Irish dance community, even if they are highly skilled in competition. Ronan McCormack told me the story of one adult who competed in Ireland: So there’s a lady in Ireland who has become infamous in Europe. She’s going to be 59 or 60 this year. If you saw her from twenty feet away, you would think she was a teenager because she’s very petite, and she has long hair in ponytail, and she’s always in sports clothes—she was a personal trainer at one stage. And she has three grown children now, but she still looks fit. Up close, you’d probably reckon she wasn’t a teenager, you know. So when she started to compete in Ireland, there were no adult competitions, there was just “and Overs”. . . She progressed. And she won. And there were teachers who would laugh about her. And I was on the regional council at the time—I was one of her teachers, I should point out as well—and every time we had a meeting, something would be discussed about whether or not she should be competing against sixteen year olds. And I’m like, “Well, she’s winning. And she’s in her mid- to late 40s,” or whatever it was at the time, “So she’s clearly fit enough to compete again the sixteen year olds, so what is your problem?” You know? . . . Anyway, Caroline Green was the teacher here in Scotland, she was judging, and she said, “Oh, I’d love to do the adults, I’ve never judged adults.” Kevin’s like, “Go on!” I said, “Caroline, just brace yourself,”— she is the first person I remember doing toe stands in competition, back in the ‘80s I suppose it was—I said, “Brace yourself.” I said, “See the monster you have created with your toe-walking.” She was like, “What?” I said, “I’ll say no more.” I was running the stage, you know? So after the first hard shoe dance, this lady, well into her 50s at this stage, is running around the floor [doing toe stands]. I mean, she got a medal in a solo randomly in Ireland last year, at 57, 58 years of age. So I went over to collect the sheet, and I said to Caroline, “Well?” And she’s like, “That’s not The One.” I said, “That is The One.” And from no desire to become infamous for it, you know? 328 So one day, somebody texts me, I think it was Olive Hurley texted, and said, “Turn on the radio”—this is when I was still living in Dublin— “Turn on the radio, Katherine’s on Radio One.” So I put it on, and they’d asked people to call in about unusual hobbies, so she rang in to talk about kind of the ridicule she would get for being an Irish dancer. And she just did such a fantastic interview. And I rang her straight, and I was like, “Oh my God, Katherine, the Commission should be paying you. You’re a fabulous ambassador for Irish dancing, they really should.” You know? But she’s been kind of given a hard time over the years, you know? (Interview with Ronan McCormack, March 26, 2016) In the United States, there seems to be a wider range of opinion, and the situation varies from region to region. In the New England region, for example, very few schools and feiseanna offer adult classes or competitions, whereas the Southern Region has multiple opportunities for adults. The Culkin School, which started with adult classes, is now one of the biggest programs for adults in North America, with adult céilí teams that hold multiple regional and national titles. When I traveled to Japan, I was surprised to discover that the many of the students there knew of the Culkin School and its adults, followed their successes through social media, and actually used videos from the CulkinAdult YouTube channel to help them in their practices. As stated in Chapter Five, the schools in Japan mainly consist of adults—a complete reversal from Ireland and the United States. This is similar to schools in the Mainland European region. In both these areas, some schools are run either by TCRGs who have danced since childhood in Ireland, the United Kingdom, the United States, and Australia, and these teachers have either permanently moved to the school’s area to teach, or travel back and forth to conduct workshops while a local teacher (often not holding the TCRG designation) runs regular classes. In other cases, schools are run by native TCRGs who began Irish dancing as adults. In the case of the 329 Japanese schools I studied with, there is no ageism towards adult learners, and both children and adults are equally encouraged to come to classes, learn, and compete at home and abroad. Why should the CLRG and its schools, teachers, and adjudicators encourage adult students? For the same reason they are currently working to encourage Irish dancers of different ethnicities and nationalities to take part: it makes for a more diverse, and therefore stronger, community. This is true for the transnational level of the organization, as well as at the local level of each school. There is value in teaching a diverse range of ages—as Nicki pointed out to me in her interview, by integrating adult students into the wider school community, the Culkin School is able to utilize the intelligence, hard work, and experience of their adult population to make for a stronger school. Connecting adults and students has led to mentorship opportunities for younger students as well. If adults are not given an opportunity to learn and compete in Irish dance, on the assumption that they can never be as skilled as younger students, the transnational community suffers. For example, when Japanese teacher Taka Hayashi initially traveled to Ireland, no one would take him on as a student because he was 27 years old, regardless of his passion and desire to work hard and practice. However once Ronan McCormack found him and taught him, within three years Taka had qualified for and participated at the All-Ireland national championships, the World Championships, and completed his M.A. in Irish Dance Studies at the University of Limerick before joining the cast of Riverdance. He started a school in Japan, and several of his own students have gone on to their own successes in the art form, 330 including Yuika Nakagawa, who received her TCRG in 2017. At the Culkin School, Jenny O’Connell—who was initially turned away from a different dance school due to her age—started Irish dance at the age of 20 with the adult program, and after dropping down to the And Overs age category, went on to win the Southern Region Oireachtas and also perform with Riverdance (Dorrity 2011). As Cormac O’Sé notes in the opening quote, views on adults are changing, albeit slowly. In North America, more schools are opening adult classes as more feiseanna add adult competitions and older ages are being added on in the “and Overs” categories.110 The growing popularity of Irish dance and successes of adult students in the Mainland Europe and Asia regions are contributing to this shift in attitudes, as is the increase in the number of TCRGs who enjoy teaching and working with older students. By being given opportunities to learn and compete, these individuals are able to contribute to the both their local and transnational communities in new ways and ultimately strengthening them. Conclusion In Part III, I explored the body as a focus location for research, a context through which dance and music traditions are understood and shaped, both by the body that internalizes them and by the perceptions of others and cultural values 110 It is worth noting here that in November and December of 2017 (post-defense of this dissertation) the Mid-Atlantic and Southern Regions of North America voted to begin holding three round adult championships at their 2018 oireachtasaí, an enormous step forward for the inclusivity of this age group. It is the hope of those who advocated for these competitions that other regions will soon follow suit, and eventually an adult championship will be included at the North American Nationals, with regional oireachtas competitions serving as qualifying events. 331 placed on that body. By exploring the patterns of cultural value placed on the body’s sensory knowledge, I demonstrated a way in which it is possible compare and explore transmission processes in Irish dance. Additionally, through exploring gender and age in Irish dance, I showed the way perceptions of bodies can affect movements within a performing arts tradition while revealing larger cultural insights that a community may hold towards different types of bodies. By focusing on the body as a research site, ethnomusicologists (and other scholars of music and dance traditions) can gain a greater understanding of embodied processes of the tradition they study, as well as unveil larger cultural assumptions and values that affect the practice of the tradition itself. 332 “Finishing Steps”: Conclusion and Future Directions In this study, I have presented a performative ethnography of modern competitive Irish step dancing and its transnational community. In utilizing a framework that examines the primary focus locations in which Irish dance in taught, embodied, and performed, I have presented a way in which ethnomusicologists can explore interactions relating to a performing arts tradition’s local and transnational ideas and values through concrete and specific locations. I have argued that in the case of modern competitive Irish dance, these different aesthetics reveal that today’s Irish dance practices have neither totally homogenized nor localized as it has spread from Ireland through the diaspora and beyond. In the focus locations of the studio, feiseanna, performance stage, and Irish dancing body, the relationship between the transnational regulating body of An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha and the local cultures of Irish dance schools and their students, teachers, and adjudicators is revealed, showing how their aesthetics, customs, and perceptions structure both individual and group Irish dance practices. Through the case studies presented here on modern competitive step dancing in the United States and Japan, I contribute to Irish dance scholarship examples of Irish step dance practices as they currently exist outside Ireland and outside the Irish diaspora. Additionally, my case study of Tokyo’s Irish step dancers contributes to the growing body of literature on the adaptation and transformation of foreign cultural practices in Japan. In beginning this project, my goal was to go beyond the current literature available on Irish dance—that acknowledged the participation of dancers of non-Irish heritage in Irish dance, but called for more research on this lacuna in Irish dance 333 scholarship—and demonstrate current transnational practices of modern competitive Irish step dance post-Riverdance. Based on my fieldwork in the United States and Japan, I have described how Irish dance is performed in particular locations during the mid-2010s, and demonstrated the way local and transnational values structure and play off one another in Irish dance practices. I also wished to explore current performance practices in feis music, describing not just the relationship between Irish step dance(ers) and accompanying music(ians), but also how feis music has changed since the Riverdance-boom that brought so many into the culture of Irish step dancing. I approached this by discussing feis music performed at a specific event— the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships—and through interviews with the feis musicians who played there, describing their experiences and views on feis music’s development over their careers. Finally, I wanted to demonstrate how a body- centered research approach—though embodiment of a tradition and focus on its kinesthetic aspects, as well as on perceptions of bodies and how they affect a tradition’s practice— could benefit scholars of both music and dance. Through a focus on sensory knowledge acquired through my own body as a research tool, as well as through observational fieldwork, I discussed Irish dance transmission and how the culturally-specific sensory patterns revealed could be used to compare transnational practices. In Chapter One, I introduced my research, my methods and background, my position within the Irish dance communities in which I studied, and provided a review of the existing literature important to my study. I argued for my performance-based method, noting that my regular participation in classes and events was a crucial 334 component of my research, as it allowed me to achieve a higher level of skill that assisted my understanding of the dance steps and rhythms, as well as create bonds with community members. I also discussed my “Beltway ethnography” and the differences between conducting research at home and abroad. Finally, I argued for the inclusion of dance studies within ethnomusicology, noting that both dance and music create culturally meaningful patterns produced and understood by bodies. My training in ethnomusicology has allowed me to study all aspects of the Irish dance genre and its accompanying feis music. I introduced the tradition of modern competitive Irish dance in Chapter Two. In the first section of the chapter, I focused on describing the basic movements and techniques in Irish step dancing and provided a brief overview of the tradition in local, national, and transnational contexts. Additionally, I introduced the components of the teacher and adjudicator examinations and an overview of the world of feiseanna and oireachtasaí—local Irish dance competitions and regional championships—before introducing Riverdance and the show-style dancing that grew out of the competition scene. In the second half of the chapter, I introduced Ian Condry’s framework of focus locations (what Condry terms genba [現場]) as a way to examine how local and transnational flows of Irish dance are grounded in actual locations important to the tradition: the studio, competition, performance stage, and body. It is in these locations that we can see how different ideas come together and structure performances, relationships, and ideas surrounding Irish dance practices. Feis music and musicians at the 2017 North American Irish Dance Championships are the focus of Chapter Three. I used my fieldwork conducted at this 335 focus location to introduce the genre of feis music—a highly specialized and regulated type of traditional Irish dance music that accompanies modern competitive Irish step dancing. Using examples recorded at the NAIDC, I introduced the basic characteristics and types of Irish dance tunes used in feiseanna and oireachtasaí. Drawing on my interviews and observations, I then discussed current performance practices of feis musicians, focusing on the importance of groove and influences for performance and composition. I also discussed the challenges and rewards of performing at feiseanna, highlighting interactions between musicians and the rest of the dance community at these events. Throughout the chapter, I noted the passion with which these musicians approach step dance accompaniment and their strong belief in the importance of providing high quality music for the dancers. Additionally, I discussed the importance of dancers understanding the music they move to. Chapter Four introduced the Culkin School of Traditional Irish Dance as an example of a CLRG-registered Irish dance school in the United States. In the first part of the chapter, I introduced the school’s history, starting with Seán Culkin’s teacher Peggy O’Neill and the significant role she played in the Irish dance and music scene in the greater Washington D.C. area. I then discussed the development of the school and introduced the main teaching staff and school structure. The remainder of the chapter examined the main focus locations of where Culkin students and teacher learn and perform Irish dance practices: the studio, feis, and performance stage. Throughout the chapter, I demonstrate Culkin’s goals of teaching the culture of Irish dance and remaining a key component of the local Irish arts scene while also teaching Irish dance as sport and raising the school’s profile at transnational competitions. 336 The Ardagh School of Irish Dance, Taka Hayashi’s Irish Dance Academy, and the performances of dancer and teacher Satomi Mitera are the focus of Chapter Five. Through my introduction to these Tokyo schools and teachers and discussion of their relationships to the transnational Irish dance governing body of CLRG, I examined Irish dance practices in Japan. I also discussed my experiences in Japan—providing examples of seeing Irish dance blended with Japanese idol pop and céilí dancing with Guinness-fueled and kimonoed enthusiasts—to argue against the myth of an “inherent uniqueness” to Japanese culture. I also compared the Japanese iemoto system to the hierarchies found in the CLRG and CLRG-registered schools, finding parallels between these structures. Finally, in Chapter Six, I argued for the idea of the body as a focus location and a site of the production and understanding of performance that should be examined by both ethnomusicologists and dance ethnologists. Through a focus on the body, researchers can embody—and therefore obtain a deeper understanding of—the kinesthetic practices of dance and music. Examining the body as a focus location also allows us to tap into community values and ideas surrounding the body—such as perceptions of age and gender—and discover how these perceptions affect the transmission and performance of the tradition being studied. In the first half of this chapter, I drew on Tomie Hahn’s framework of sensory knowledge to demonstrate how certain sensory information (oral/aural, visual, and tactile) is prioritized in transmission processes in Irish dance, and how this framework can be used to compare Irish dance practices in different cultures. In Chapter Seven, I examined the role of gender in Irish step dancing, focusing on how ideas surrounding gender—and 337 masculinity in particular—affect movements and relationships in the Irish dance community. Lastly, I discussed the role perceptions of age have in the Irish step dancing community, focusing on dancers who participate in competitions under the adult age category. There are several directions in which I hope to expand this research in the future. In addition to continuing my studies with the Culkin School in Maryland and conducting follow-up visits to Tokyo to chart the growth of Irish dance there, I wish to expand my research to include social media as a focus location. Through apps such as Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, and YouTube, transnational exchanges—both in terms of choreographies and ideas about Irish step dance practices— between members of the Irish dance community are facilitated. I believe that social media is an important context for today’s Irish dancers, as it is a new location in which Irish step dancing is made and happens, affecting and being affected by Irish dance’s other focus locations. I also plan to expand my writings regarding perceptions of age and gender in Irish step dance, as well as transmission. I believe in the not-so-distant future that more non-diasporic Irish step dancers and teachers (particularly those coming out of countries in the Mainland Europe region, such as Russia, as well as dancers who are part of the Mexican Irish step dance schools in the North American region) will play a significant role in the transnational community, and I wish to travel to these different areas to learn and share their stories and practices.   338 Appendix 1: Selection from 2016 Feis Culkin Syllabus CHILDREN'S COMPETITIONS - SOLO DANCES Beginners - A beginner is a competitor who has not taken a full year of Advanced Beginners - An Advanced Beginner who wins 1st, 2nd, or 3rd Irish Dance lessons. A Beginner must move into the Advanced Beginner place will advance to the Novice category in that particular dance. category for the next year. (Please note dance speeds below) (Please note dance speeds below) Light Slip Single Trad. Trad. Light Reel Jig Jig (Hop) Jig Treble Jig Hornpipe Reel Jig Slip Jig Under 5 17R 17J 17SJ 17HJ 17TJ 17H Under 5 10R 10J 10SJ Under 7 18R 18J 18SJ 18HJ 18TJ 18H Under 7 11R 11J 11SJ Under 8 19R 19J 19SJ 19HJ 19TJ 19H Under 9 12R 12J 12SJ Under 9 20R 20J 20SJ 20HJ 20TJ 20H Under 11 13R 13J 13SJ Under 10 21R 21J 21SJ 21HJ 21TJ 21H Under 13 14R 14J 14SJ Under 11 22R 22J 22SJ 22HJ 22TJ 22H Under 15 15R 15J 15SJ Under 12 23R 23J 23SJ 23HJ 23TJ 23H 15 & Over 16R 16J 16SJ Under 13 24R 24J 24SJ 24HJ 24TJ 24H Under 14 25R 25J 25SJ 25HJ 25TJ 25H Under 15 26R 26J 26SJ 26HJ 26TJ 26H Per An Coimisiún rules, Beginner and Advanced Beginner competitors may only wear traditional class costumes or long/short sleeve blouses/polo tops 15 & Over 27R 27J 27SJ 27HJ 27TJ 27H and skirts/tunics that conform to the regular costume length rules Prizewinner - A competitor who does not qualify as a Beginner, Advanced Beginner or Novice. (Please note dance speeds below) Novice - A Novice dancer who wins a 1st place in a dance will advance to the Open (Prizewinner) category in that particular dance. In addition, if Reel Slip Jig Treble Jig Hornpipe there are twenty or more dancers, a dancer who wins 1st place or 2nd Under 7 38R 38SJ 38TJ 38H place in a dance will advance to the Open/Prizewinner category in that Under 8 39R 39SJ 39TJ 39H particular dance. Under 9 40R 40SJ 40TJ 40H (Please note dance speeds below) Under 10 41R 41SJ 41TJ 41H Light Slip Single Treble Under 11 42R 42SJ 42TJ 42H Reel Jig Jig (Hop) Jig Jig Hornpipe Under 12 43R 43SJ 43TJ 43H Under 7 28R 28J 28SJ 28HJ 28TJ 28H Under 13 44R 44SJ 44TJ 44H Under 8 29R 29J 29SJ 29HJ 29TJ 29H Under 14 45R 45SJ 45TJ 45H Under 9 30R 30J 30SJ 30HJ 30TJ 30H Under 15 46R 46SJ 46TJ 46H Under 10 31R 31J 31SJ 31HJ 31TJ 31H Under 17 47R 47SJ 47TJ 47H Under 11 32R 32J 32SJ 32HJ 32TJ 32H 17 & Over 48R 48SJ 48TJ 48H Under 12 33R 33J 33SJ 33HJ 33TJ 33H Under 13 34R 34J 34SJ 34HJ 34TJ 34H Under 14 35R 35J 35SJ 35HJ 35TJ 35H Solo competitions will be danced at the following tempos: Under 15 36R 36J 36SJ 36HJ 36TJ 36H Beginner/Adv Beginner Reel - 118, All Other Reel – 113 15 & Over 37R 37J 37SJ 37HJ 37TJ 37H Light Jig – 116 Single (Hop) Jig - 120 Beginner/Adv Beginner Slip Jig - 118, All Other Slip Jig – 113 Sets Treble Jig (Traditional) - 92, Treble Jig (Non-Traditional) – 73 Hornpipe (Traditional) – 138, Hornpipe (Non-Traditional) – 113. Novice and Prizewinner Traditional Sets** Under 9 50TS Under 11 51TS Adult Competitions - Solo Dances Under 13 52TS (Please note dance speeds above) Under 15 53TS Light Trad. Under 17 54TS Reel Jig Slip Jig Treble Jig Hornpipe Sets** 17 & Over 55TS Beginner 57R 57J 57SJ Novice 58R 58J 58SJ 58TJ 58H 58TS Prizewinner 59R 59J 59SJ 59TJ 59H 59TS ** Traditional Set Dances: St. Patrick’s Day - Speed 94 Blackbird - Speed 144 Job of Journeywork - Speed 138 ADULT COMPETITION - ADULT IRISH DANCE MASTER CUP Garden of Daisies - Speed 138 98 Jockey to the Fair - Speed 90 Open to adult dancers currently competing at Novice or Prizewinner levels King of the Fairies - Speed 130 for all dances. The competition will be judged as a solo grade competition Three Sea Captains - Speed 96 (i.e. one adjudicator), with competitors dancing a choice of slip jig (females only, 40 bars/2 1/2 steps) or reel (48 bars/3 steps), and a traditional set dance. A perpetual cup trophy will be awarded to the winner. Competitors in this event may also compete in the regular Novice and Prizewinner grade level competitions. Please note: This event will only be held if there are at least five registrants. 339 Championships Other Competitions Preliminary Championships Figure and Ceili Dances Under 9 161 2 Hand 3 Hand 4 Hand 8 Hand Under 10 162 Preliminary Championship: Dancers are Reel Reel Dance Dance Under 11 163 required to dance a slip jig (females only) Under 9 81F2 Under 12 164 or a reel, and a treble jig or hornpipe at Under 10 Girls 81F4 81F8 Under 13 165 the discretion of the dancer. Reels and Under 10 Mixed 81F4M 81F8M Under 14 166 treble jigs are danced for 48 bars; slip jigs Under 12 Girls 82F2 82F3 82F4 82F8 Under 15 167 and hornpipes are danced for 40 bars. Under 12 Mixed 82F4M 82F8M Under 16 168 Under 15 Girls 83F2 83F3 83F4 83F8 Under 18 169 Under 15 Mixed 83F4M 83F8M 18 & Over 170 Championship stages will be 15 & Over Girls 84F2 84F3 84F4 84F8 32’x32’. Younger dancers 15 & Over Mixed 84F4M 84F8M should be prepared to dance 3 at a time. Adult Ladies 85F2 85F3 85F4 85F8 Adult Mixed 85F4M 85F8M All students on a team must be from the same school. On a mixed team, Open Championships at least 25% of the total number of dancers must be male. Any 4 or 8 Under 9 171 hand dances must be from Ar Rinci Fiorne. Either the first or the second Under 10 172 figure may be danced (chosen by dancers) and dancing ends after top Under 11 173 Open Championship: Dancers are required to couple completes the selected figure except in: Humors of Bandon in Under 12 174 dance a slip jig (females only) or a reel, a which the body is repeated, Sweets of May which is danced through the Under 13 175 treble jig or hornpipe, and a set piece of the second figure, The Three Tunes which is danced through the Hook and dancer’s choice. Reels and treble jigs are Under 14 176 Chain, and Gates of Derry which is danced through the Swing Around. danced for 48 bars; slip jigs and hornpipes Under 15 177 All other dances (2 and 3 hands) will be danced for 48 bars following an are danced for 40 bars. 8 bar intro. Under 16 178 Under 17 179 Under 18 180 18 & Over 181 Treble Reel Novice and Preliminary and Prizewinner Open Champ. Under 10 91 95 Preliminary Championship Sets Under 15 92 96 Under 9 161S* 15 & Over 93 97 Under 10 162S Open to all dancers registered for Adult 94 Under 11 163S Preliminary Championship Competitors will dance one step, one at a time in order down the line. Under 12 164S competitions: Dancers may choose Under 13 165S any set dance, except Under 9 Under 14 166S competitors must choose a traditional set dance. Competitions will be Under 15 167S adjudicated by a single judge Under 16 168S Soda Bread Competition Under 18 169S * U9 - Traditional Sets only 99 18 & Over 170S Please deliver wrapped bread to Registration area by 11:30 pm. Judging will be at approximately1:00 pm. Results will be announced at the Championship awards podium - a time for the announcement will be posted. 340 Appendix 2: Set Dance Tunes Traditional Set Dances (required speed in parentheses) Hornpipes (2/4 or 4/4 Time Signature) Blackbird (An Londubh) (144) Garden of Daisies (Gairdín na Nóiníní) (138) Job of Journeywork (An Greas Giúrnála) (138) King of the Fairies (Rí na Síog) (130) Treble/Heavy Jigs (6/8 Time Signature) Jockey to the Fair (An Marcach Chuig an Aonach) (90) St. Patrick’s Day (Lá Fhéile Pádraig) (94) Three Sea Captains (Na Trí Captéin Mara) (96) Non-traditional/Contemporary Set Dances Hornpipes (2/4 or 4/4 Time Signature—Minimum Speed 76) Ace and Deuce of Pipering (Aon agus Dó na Píobaireachta) Bonaparte’s Retreat (Cúlú Bonaparte) Garden of Daisies (Gairdín na Nóiníní) Job of Journeywork (An Greas Giúrnála) Kilkenny Races (Rásaí Chill Choinnigh) King of the Fairies (Rí na Síog) Madame Bonaparte Planxty Davis (Plancstaí Daibhéis) Rodney’s Glory (Glóir Rodney) The Blackbird (An Londubh) The Blue-Eyed Rascal (Cladhaire na Súile Gorma) The Downfall of Paris (Titim Paris) The Four Masters (Na Ceithre Máistrí) The Hunt (An Fiach) The Lodge Road (Bóthar An Lóiste) The Piper (An Píobaire) The Rambling Rake (An Réice Fáin) The Roving Pedlar (An Mangaire Fáin) The White Blanket (An Súisín Bán) Youghal Harbour (Cuan Eochaille) 341 Treble/Heavy Jigs (6/8 Time Signature—Minimum Speed 66) Humours of Bandon (Pléaracha na Bandan) Hurry the Jug (Cuir Thart An Crúsca) Jockey to the Fair (An Marcach Chuig an Aonach) Miss Brown’s Fancy (Rogha Iníon De Brún) Planxty Drury (Plancstaí Drúirí) Planxty Hugh O’Donnell (Plancstaí Aodh Ó Domhnaill) Rub the Bag (Cuimil An Mála) St. Patrick’s Day (Lá Fhéile Pádraig) The Blackthorn Stick (An Maide Droighnéan) The Charlady (Bean an Ghlantacháin) The Fiddler Around the Fairy Tree (An Bheidhleadóir ag an Crann Sí) The Funny Tailor (An Gaueger Meisceach) The Hurling Boys (Na Buachaillí Báire) The Orange Rogue (An Rógaire Buí) The Sprig of Shillelagh (An Geag Síléaladh) The Storyteller (An Scéalaí) The Three Sea Captains (Na Trí Captéin Mara) The Vanishing Lake (Loch an Rith Amach) The Wandering Musician (An Ceoltóir Fáin) Treble/Heavy Jig (6/8 + 9/8—Minimum Speed 66) Is the Big Man Within? (Bhuil an Fear Mór Istigh?) (Sources: An Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha 2016a and 2016b) 342 Appendix 3: Frequently Used Terms Acronyms: ADCRG: Árd Diploma Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (adjudicator certification) CCÉ: Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann—The Organization for Irish Musicians. Transnational organization dedicated to the preservation and promotion of Irish traditional music, dance, and culture. The two local branches of CCÉ discussed in this dissertation are the O’Neill-Malcom Branch in Washington D.C. and CCÉ Japan Branch in Tokyo. CLRG: An Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha—The Irish Dance Commission, also referred to as An Coimisiún or The Commission. The oldest and largest governing body of Irish step dance. Several other governing organizations exist such as Comhdháil na Múinteoirí le Rincí Gaelacha Teoranta (“The Congress of Irish Dance Teachers,” also referred to as An Comhdháil), The Festival Dance Teachers’ Association, and the World Irish Dance Association. IDTANA: Irish Dance Teachers’ Association of North America—The governing body for Irish dance in North America, works in association with the NAFC and CLRG TCRG: Teastas Coimisiún le Rincí Gaelacha (teacher certification) THIDA: Taka Hayashi Irish Dance Academy TMRF: Scrúdú Teastas Rince Céilí (céilí teacher certification) SDCRG: Scrúdaithoir Coimisiún Le Rincí Gaelacha (examiner diploma) NAIDC: North American Irish Dance Championships NAFC: North American Feis Commission—Organizes and regulates feiseanna in North America, works in association with IDTANA and CLRG Irish-Gaelic Terms: Céilí: (pl. céilithe or céilis) Both a type of group/team dance and a social dance event. The official thirty céilí sanctioned for competition by CLRG are found in the publication Ár Rincí Céilí. Feis: (pl. feiseanna) Literally “festival,” refers to a local Irish dance competition 343 hosted by a dance school or other organization. Oireachtas: (pl. oireachtasaí) Literally “deliberative assembly,” refers to a Major Irish dance championship (i.e., the Southern Region Oireachtas is the regional championship for the Southern Region of the IDTANA) Sean nós: Literally “old-style,” type of traditional Irish dance originating in the Connemara region of Ireland Japanese Terms: Genba: (現場) Comprised of the kanji characters gen (現), “to appear,” and ba (場) “place,” roughly means “place where something appears” or “is made.” Condry suggests use of “focus location” as alternative English language term (2006). Iemoto: (家元) Comprised of the kanji characters ie (家, literally “house” or “family”) and moto (元, literally “foundation” or “origin”). Refers to the pyramidal hierarchical structural system utilized in many traditional Japanese culture practices. Nihon buyo: (日本舞踊) “Japanese Dance,” the generic term for traditional Japanese dance Feis Music/Competition Step Dance Types: Hornpipe: 4/4 or 2/4 time signature, typically characterized by dotted eight note— sixteenth note rhythmic pattern although often played as triplets in performance. Danced in hard shoes. Slow speed hornpipe steps are performed at 113, fast (or referred to as traditional) steps are performed at 144. Jig: There are several different types of jigs performed in competition: Double jig: 6/8 time signature—if performed in soft shoes is referred to as a light jig and performed at speed 116, if performed in hard shoes is referred to as a treble/heavy jig. Slow speed treble jig steps are performed at 73 and fast (or referred to as traditional) steps are performed at 96. If the treble jig is a set dance, the minimum performance speed is 66. Single jig: 6/8 or 12/8 time signature—danced in soft shoes, performed at 124. 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