The Mirror and the Scene

I first heard Paul Brady's music about ten years ago while visiting my friend Peter Stone Brown in Philadelphia. One night up in his office-come-music-treasure-trove he said, "you have to hear this" and proceded to play me Brady's interpretation of Arthur McBride. I can't be sure, but I believe the version I was hearing for the first time was the recording from Nobody Knows: The Best of Paul Brady. The room buzzed for a moment as new sounds provoked new sensations. Apart from the acoustic songs on Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks it was probably my first real conscious exposure to open tunings. The first thing that struck was not necessarilly these beautiful passing and picked double-toned chords pulsing through the narrative of that soldier who always is decent and clean, but the voice. Paul Brady is one hell of a singer. 

Arthur McBride

At this point my knowledge of folk was pretty slim, and certainly still is. Music is a lifetime  auto-didactic accumulation and anyone who invests in a love of music listening and music making like I try to spends periods of time being amazed and shocked by the profundity of new music and new combinations of sounds and sometimes conversely periods of equal disillusionment. This was before I discovered Nic Jones, another great guitar player, who I would discover bending the notes in his open-c tunings, something unheard of in folk apparently. 

In a way Bob Dylan brought me to both Brady and Jones, through his good nowhere-near-as-great interpretations of Arthur McBride and Canadee-io, which were more than just a nod to the musicianship and influence both Brady and Jones obviously had on him. I still remember the night I heard Arthur McBride as being one of the best examples of those magical moments of exposure to something new. 

Andy Irvine & Paul Brady - Streets of Derry

 Soon after I heard The Lakes of Ponchartrain and would go on to discover the album Paul recorded with Andy Irvine, which included Arthur McBride and Mary and the Soldier (also recorded by Bob Dylan and intended for inclusion on World Gone Wrong). Another highlight of that record is Andy Irvine's rendition of Streets of Derry, which opens with a mystic melodic hurdy gurdy drone and slips into a simply beautiful juxtaposition of morning, evening and 'another day' against the passing of 'false love' and the coming of 'true love'.

The Lakes of Ponchartrain

Some years after this initial discovery I met an old school friend - who's family were of Irish descent - on a train, and I happened to be listening to a song called The Island by Brady. He was stunned that I knew of the song and told me how much that song meant to him. We never connected at school, and never will again, but at that moment we had something in common, that Brady was like a great secret, one of the best kept secrets in music and we were one of those who had heard him and knew how great his stuff was.

We both agreed it was a song, that even before it really kicks off, can bring on a storm of tears. He talked admiringly of Brady's music as he knew it from growing up in a household of musicians and I was envious  wishing that I had been brought up in a family of musicians. I learned guitar only at 17, but luckily Brady was one of my first influences.

Crazy Dreams - Live on Jools Holland (1996)

My next hallelujah moment with Brady's music came from seeing a performance of Crazy Dreams on Later... with Jools Holland. I had heard the original, but even though I knew it was a great song and in so many words a kind of hit song for Brady, it wasnt till this performance that I realised how great a song it was. Again, it was Brady's voice that cut through. His sharp cluster of chord inversions shooting up the guitar neck was like the 'blizzard blowin' in from off the river' as he fires the verse at the studio audience. The power and panache of Liam Genockey's crazy beard and crazy drums, the tap dance of the late Kenny Craddock's piano and the steadfast bass of John Illsley make this song and performance a classic. I must have played that performance on repeat countless times over the past year or so since I discovered it.

My next shock and awe moment came at the Transatlantic Session's at the Sage in Gateshead last year, with a beautiful meeting of celtic music, bluegrass and what I guess was Appalachian folk featuring who I would later discover more of, the Shetland fiddler Ally Bain. At some point during the night, Brady took the stage and I didnt even realise it was him at first, but as soon as I heard that voice I couldnt help myself. I kept saying to those around me, 'that's Paul Brady up there'. The audience roared after his performance and although this was not the place where musicians compete, Brady really did grab the audience. If I remember correctly they all rounded off the evening with a tribute to Gerry Rafferty.

Anyway, Paul Brady is one of those great performers and songwriters that you sometimes accidentally come across and  who never fails to take you by surprise with his effortless talent and craft.