Image to come These poems, stories, songs, quote, and art have been gathered from all over the world, partly via FIDDLE-L, an online list for fiddlers and those who love fiddle music. dhebert@crocker.com

Why I Play the Fiddle by Kevin Carr The short answer is that I had to play the fiddle. I mean - look at it. It is a beautiful thing; so sensuous yet so taut, so unforgiving and yet so seductive. But the longer answer makes a better tale. I was travelling in Ireland in 1974, searching for pieces of my identity, playing my guitar in folk clubs under the mistaken impression that the Irish wouldn't be able to tell the difference between me and a good blues guitar player. But they were unfailingly kind. In one of the clubs I ran into a band called Pumpkinhead - four Americans (Thom and Kathy Moore, Rick Epping and Sandi Miller) who were living in Sligo and playing Irish music. I recognized a fellow who was sitting in with them from my days in college at UC Santa Cruz. Marty Somberg was and is a fine fiddle player, and after the gig they all invited me to visit if I came to Sligo. Though they were very warm, I said goodbye that night, convinced that my shyness would ensure that that was the last I would see of them. I was driving an old VW camper van and several weeks later I found myself parked by an isolated beach just north of Sligo, still not intending to call Marty or his friends. But when I awoke the next morning, my van refused to start, despite my best efforts with wrench and 'Idiots Guide to the VW' in hand. Nothing to do but go for help. I walked down and hoped for a car to pass by that deserted lane - and within minutes one did. The fellow driving was all smiles, and yes he did know the Pumpkinhead folk, and he was going right by their place, it wasn't out of the way at all. Even though it was 30 minutes away on the other side of Sligo town, as it turned out. Thom Moore welcomed me in as though he'd been expecting me, and said, would I mind, but they were off to visit the grand old fiddler Joe O' Dowd, and would I like to tag along? The visit was full of fierce and tender fiddling and laughs and gallons of tea, and the next night we went to a session in Sligo and the next night more of the same, and it was at least four days till I remembered about my van. By that time I'd agreed to give Marty a ride to the airport at Shannon, with a special stop on the way. I hired a mechanic to come with me out to my vehicle, and he asked me to try and start her up. Well of course, the engine started like a charm and purred away like a cat in the sun. I didn't think much of it at the time, more than that it was a lovely stoke of luck that nudged me to spend some time with a charming bunch of folks. At the appointed time I picked Marty up and we headed south. The special stop was in Peterswell, to visit with Joe Cooley. Joe Cooley was one of the first great virtuosos on the button accordion and he had lived many years in America. He had inspired and taught many people to play Irish music, and Marty wanted to pay his respects, as Joe had recently returned home from the States with incurable cancer. We arrived to discover that a tribute to Joe was on for that night, organized by Cooley protege and RTE producer Tony McMahon. We, being from California, were guests of honor. Musicians of top caliber from all over Ireland were there, and the music roared and surged from every corner of the huge pub. For years after that, whenever I picked up a new recording of Irish music, the face on the cover was familiar to me from that one grand night. And after the festivities at the pub concluded, in the wee hours, we retired to Joe's brother's house where he and his sister entertained us till dawn with songs and stories and dances. I have to say that I was never the same after that night. I just had to learn to play the Irish music. I bought a bodhran the next day and started looking for sessions that would tolerate a beginner. When I came home I met by odd coincidence an Israeli anthropologist who was a mad Irish banjo player, and he introduced me to the Irish music 'scene' in Los Angeles at the time. I was enfolded in a music community that has nurtured me to this day. I found a place to live in an office building in downtown Santa Monica - and my neighbors across the hall were two fiddlers - one Irish style, one old-timey style. They practiced all the time - the music floating over the transom just on the edge of hearing. At the time I was playing tenor banjo, learning tunes as fast as I could, but I felt the fiddle was an instrument out of my range as a musician - though I loved the sound dearly. One day I brought home a book titled "The Fairy Faith in Celtic Countries" by Evans-Wentz. This was a collection of lore taken down by Mr. Evans-Wentz in all the Celtic countries around the year 1900, all supplied by reputable witnesses and all true accounts of unusual experiences. Mr. Evans-Wentz later distinguished himself by befriending the Dalai Lama and being the first westerner to translate the Tibetan Book of the Dead. I was having a wonderful time reading about pookas and fairy mounds, and learning charms against fairy glamour, when I came to the section on Fairy Music. As I began to read, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. It seems the place in Ireland most reknowned for fairy music was the very spot where my van had refused to start the year before - setting off the chain of events that had catapulted my life into Irish music. The very next day I went out and bought a fiddle. Years later, I was playing at a family gathering, and my mother remarked that I was playing several tunes that her father used to play. I stopped, astounded. I had never known that he played - he had stopped long before I was born, and he died when I was seven. Turned out he not only fiddled, but he called squares in rural Pennsylvania. Rumor had it that somewhere in the family someone still had his fiddle. I tried for years to track that fiddle down - till someone finally said to me "What do you want his fiddle for - you already have his music." So what choice did I have? I had to play the fiddle. Kevin Carr plays not only fiddle, but bagpipes, accordion, and banjo, and also sings and tells stories. Kevin's powerful fiddling forms the backbone of contradance megaband Hillbillies from Mars' French-Canadian and Irish repertoire.