Caving In to Fame

Recently Brian and I attended the Midwestern Arts Conference out in Grand Rapids, Michigan. It was an opportunity for performing arts center directors from around the country to meet artists hoping to play those centers. Luckily, we have had the chance to perform at a lot of them and have made some outstanding friends of those who direct these bastions of live music.

One such friend, David Fink, director of the Acorn Theater in Three Oaks, Michigan, delivered a remark that really got me thinking. Saying that people are not really truthful when it comes to what would get them to a live music show, he remarked, “You either have to offer someone famous or have a burlesque show to get people to come out." I looked at him to see if he was joking. He was not.   

If one looks at burlesque as the need to arouse the forbidden curiosity in people, I would say David is right.  The runaway popularity of reality television shows certainly provides proof that most people lean toward titillation.  And he’s right about fame.  Merriam Webster dictionary defines fame as a) widely known and b) honored for achievement.  Facebook and YouTube are certainly rife with examples of people searching to be widely known or honored for achieving something, even if it is posting a video of their cat flushing the toilet.  A person who is acknowledged to be famous and has a following of the masses, even an association with something famous, such as being in a movie or play, gets a following.  

So what is a band like ours to do? I pondered this as we started setting up for the cave concert at the Natural Gait. We had no idea how many people would show. Certainly they would not be coming out to see any burlesque. Thank God! As Herb started the tractor to pull a basket holding Nick’s drums on a rope and pulley system up the hill, I thought about fame.

Being famous was never part of the agenda for Brian and me. But why do people come out to see us play? How can we assure festivals and performing arts centers, who are literally looking for “the bottom line,” that we have the draw to bring people in?  It is a dilemma.

Walking up the steep hillside to the cave, I thought back to one evening in the early days when Brian and I played a very empty coffee house in Oak Park. The owner looked at us with something just short of contempt as we started to play to no one.  Finally, three people came in the door after I fervently prayed to God to please get some people to come to the show. The three came in, sat down and started doing sign-language to each other. God does have a sense of humor.

However, being a musician is always about playing for people, touching their souls. That is what matters most no matter what size the crowd. I never really thought about fame, but I did hope that people would come out to hear our music and be moved enough to come out again and bring “twenty of their closest friends.” So the WayGood World came into existence, based on the truth that anyone who believes in our music can certainly help us get it out to others and share in the adventure of music and community. You can play music in an empty room, but you are really making music when you share it with others who complete the necessary circle.

Natural Gait owner Howard Bright had started a fire earlier that day up at the cave and now it was down to red coals with a thin wisp of smoke trailing up and out of the cave and through the woods. The trees were starting to change color and the air was cool.  I thought about the Native Americans who once lived in this cave. Was their best hunter or best moccasin maker “famous”? What was being "widely known" like back then? Did it matter?  

People started coming up the hill. Some had seen us play at other venues and others were there to see us for the first time.  Pretty soon, about 80 people were in the audience waiting for us to start playing. The ages ranged from youngsters to several older folks who made the amazing climb to the cave. Howard got up and addressed the people about the history of the land and the cave.  We began to play and as the evening got cooler, we worked into one set after another, feeling warmer with each note produced. People got up and danced as a whole musical community was created for that night.  There, Iowa stars danced above magic made not just by us, but by our audience joining us at the concert.  

I realize that “fame” is a word with many meanings. With today’s media, being famous can be wholly manufactured by a good PR firm and enough money. For myself, I feel that having fans who believe in our music and share the journey with Switchback is reward enough. I understand though, that one can’t just have talent and succeed. That there is the business side of music and that side demands that you have a big following.  

At the end of the concert, when talking to people who come from miles away to share an evening of their time on earth with us, I can’t help but express the gratitude for friends who believe in our music. I am totally blessed by those who help spread the word about Switchback. If we are to be “well-known” and “honored for achievement,” if we all have to cave in to the business demand of fame, it will only be through the magic that is forged between us all at a concert.   

Looking Ahead

Depending on where you are in the WayGood World, you may be enjoying summer like our fans down in Australia or still battling the last bits of winter like Sir George Philip and Switchback fans up in Scotland (Hang in there, George!).  Here along the upper Mississippi, we have experienced a little of both.

Mother Nature seems a bit confused, and that was best illustrated as we drove south of Lynxville, Wisconsin, on our way from some shows in Minnesota. Outside that town a big pond adjoins the river and half of it was frozen. On this half were crammed about 20 or so ice fishermen, all sitting patiently on pickle buckets, holding tiny fishing poles and watching their holes in the ice. The other half of the pond was ice-free and on that side were about three john boats, each with about two fishermen working together. The temperature was fairly warm and we wondered what the fish were doing on either side of the pond. From the look on the fishermen's faces, the fish must not have been biting.

It's a funny part of the year. We stoic Midwesterners reluctantly bid farewell to winter and accept the greening of the land. And with that comes the restless anticipation that summer will not be too far behind. For Switchback, it means our schedule starts getting busier. We have some excellent opportunities in April for people to see us in some very interesting destinations.

For the first time ever, we will play at a yoga studio. We're calling it a "Holistic Hooley" and it takes place at the Dancing Cranes Studio in Forest Park near Chicago on April 13. The room has great acoustics and we promise to rock everyone's chakras with an extremely intimate, somewhat unplugged, performance.

On April 14, the Steyer Opera House at the Hotel Winneshiek of Decorah, Iowa will be host to a benefit for that amazing radio station KPVL, the "Voice of Postville." Postville is a very historic city, known lately for its amazing cultural mix of South American, New York Hassidic and "Iowa-wegia."  Eating at their restaurants is a trip around the world in itself! The radio station's eclectic mix is perfect for this part of northeast Iowa. We're on board to help raise some funds for them as we continue to support stations that promote live, local music.

We have arranged a unique concert for just 50 people at the beautiful Four Mounds Inn in Dubuque, Iowa on April 21. You can still purchase tickets, but they are going fast. This will be a Nashville-style songwriters in the round program with James McCandless and Scott Momenthy sharing guitars and reaching into their song-bags for some amazing tunes. This is part of our Songwriters Weekend and we have only a few slots remaining for the workshops. We limit attendance to 16 as we create a very hands-on, exciting, and music-filled weekend for our participants.

The annual Spring Planting Concert at Oak Center, that great mercantile music destination in the middle of Minnesota, takes place on April 28.  For us, it means spring has officially arrived. Anyone who has climbed the narrow stairs to that wood-paneled room will attest to it being one of the best listening venues in the Midwest. On break, one can open the fire escape door and take in the smell of freshly turned black soil. It is a smell that is every bit as invigorating as the smell of the ocean or a mountain forest.

We will next head toward Des Moines and a new venue for us called The GrapeVine on Sunday, April 29th at 7 pm. This too is an exclusive show with only RSVPs being accepted. Once the room is filled, that's it. We haven't played central Iowa in a while and so we anticipate a great response. You can lock in your RSVP by emailing afinetime4wine@aol.com.

We keep heading west and onto the high plains of Kansas for some other new venues to play. We will appear at The Barton County Arts Council gallery in Great Bend, Kansas after we present a master class for college students on songwriting.

These are just some of the highlights and by no means the only shows we have coming up for you.  Please check our schedule for the full list of concerts and shows.  Also, please check our Road webpage to see where we've been.  Throughout the season, we continue our mission of reaching into communities and presenting outreach concerts at various churches, retirement homes, and schools.

~ Marty and Brian

Marty's Ireland Journal Day 5

Sunday, September 25


Day Five

Today the tour headed down to the Cliffs of Moher and the Burren. I love to travel across the Burren and enjoy the beauty of the Connemara region. There is no other place like it on earth I feel that combines the sea, sky and land in such wild, stark beauty. But today I had a promise to keep to a fan of ours, Wanda Schoonover from Peoria, Illinois.

Wanda was part of our Switchback Team, which meant that she was involved with helping us reach out to the places and people of central Illinois. Indeed, John Martin with the Peoria Irish Feis would get a yearly call from Wanda, asking specifically if we were coming to the festival. She also would travel to shows throughout central Illinois and eastern Iowa and had attended our Haybarn Rendezvous a couple of times. Peppery and talkative, she was the real item. When she passed away last year, he son John called me and asked if I would be kind enough to bring some of her ashes over to Ireland. “She had always wanted to see Ireland”, he said. “And I am hoping that you can give her that chance.” I immediately thought of a great spot to see so much of Ireland: Croagh Patrick. Some months later, a package arrived that contained a small porcelain vial of Wanda’s ashes in a velvet bag, some pictures, and a badge from the Haybarn Rendezvous that had her name on it. I brought it all over to Ireland and told Fitz that we were going to give Wanda a great send-off and let her finally get to Ireland.

So, with the weather cloudy and with some cold showers sprinkling through, Brian, Maggie, Nick, Annie, and I formed a team to climb to the top of the Reek. It was my third time to the top of Croagh Patrick. The first time I climbed it was back in 1989, when I made the mistake of heading up and down in cowboy boots. I think my feet never forgave me for that, for the memory of that climb came back as soon as I started up past the heather-banked streams that bordered the pathway. I had a backpack on with Wanda and water. I chuckled to myself that I was technically carrying a person on my back up the mountain.

Maggie & Brian FitzGerald on Croagh Patrick

The climb up Croagh Patrick is very mystical, if one chooses to look at the role the mountain has played in the sacred life of the Irish. Way before St. Patrick climbed it, fasted 40 days and nights, and then drove the snakes out of Ireland; the druids had found that the entire mountain worked as a keeper of time, especially the solstice. Unlike the man-made wonder of Newgrange, this solstice worked on a natural level. On each solstice, standing at the right place that was eventually marked with a standing stone, the sun would literally travel down the side of the mountain during the day. At the visitor center there is a great time lapse photo from the standing stone, showing how the sun traveled during the solstice. The pyramid-shaped mountain also had meaning to the Celts, who lit the top with bonfires to mark the solstice, too. Being an agrarian society, it was extremely important to mark these passings of the calendar wheel as they gave the farmers the exact time to plant and harvest.

With St. Patrick’s stay on the top of the mountain, the Reek was Christianized to the extent that a small chapel was erected up on its top. Pilgrims come to climb it still and some of the very reverent will attempt to make it in their bare feet.

As we started climbing, it was easy to feel the heart beating right away. Even past the statue of St. Patrick, the view of Clew Bay and the surrounding mountains was rapturous. We continued on, with Brian and Maggie, known for their mountain climbing prowess, loping up the path until we could only make out the white of Maggie’s hat. Nick, Annie, and I plodded along, stopping to photograph Wanda’s first and final visit to the Emerald Isle.

In the years since I stood on top of Croagh Patrick with my siblings, I was saddened to see that something else has now taken over the spiritual feeling of the mountain, that of the modern day tourist. Along the path were plastic bottles and wrappers, most likely blown out of climbers’ backpacks, but they were an eyesore just the same. About half way up there was a field that had people’s names all spelled out in stone, including a big “I LOVE MEGHAN” with the word “love” a heart-shaped pile of stones that the lover painted pink. It felt like people carved their names on all the redwoods. But still beyond and below lay the turf bogs and the lakes, which were sparkling deep mercury, silver from the sunlight.

A bit from the south came a slow moving rainstorm, right before the final approach to the top of the mountain. We decided to wait it out as Annie had on her office shoes and could easily slip on the slippery shale. Gary and Linda Witcombe were there, wearing plastic ponchos and waiting out the storm too. I was so impressed that these two from our tour decided to climb the mountain as well. We huddled against a cairn and talked as the rain pelted our faces with a stinging blast of cold wind. At that point I was thinking that perhaps a lovely glade might had been a better place for Wanda, but knowing her sense of adventure, I quickly dismissed that thought and was determined to see her to the top. Nick and Annie were as equally determined and pretty soon the rain cloud passed us by and floated on its way toward Westport. Out came the sun and up we went.

The final approach of the mountain summit is pretty challenging in that you basically have to climb it somewhat prostrate. Imagine an almost vertical slope of loose gravel with a harsh wind and you get the idea of what the climb is like. Brian said it gave him a deep appreciation of true mountain climbers and what they have to face. We picked our way carefully up the side of the mountain, greeting people coming down from it along the way. There were young kids and adults, ladies moving with their dogs, all of it sort of surreal and encouraging at the same time. “Good luck,” they would say, “not much further now.”

And then we saw a stone enclosure and pretty soon the white chapel at the top of the Reek. Brian and Maggie were there to greet us and we walked around a bit taking pictures. Some pilgrims would stop and kneel at an indentation in the ground that had the sign reading “Saint Patrick’s Bed.” The breeze was strong on the top and the view as commanding as I remembered it to be.

We decided to build a little cairn for Wanda on the east slope of the mountain, weighing down the pictures with stones and placing the applewood Rondy disc in the cairn as well. I took out the vial of Wanda’s ashes, and we discussed the best way to open them. Annie suggested that Fitz take a big stone and smash the vial, which he did. It broke near the top and I picked it up and held it up to the wind. A beautiful gust of wind picked up her ashes right from the vial and quickly she was off to see Ireland. “Blessings on your journey, Wanda,” said Annie. “Enjoy your stay in Ireland!” A small bit of Wanda’s ashes remained on the hillside, which I covered with the big rock. And like all great things Wanda is truly off on a mystical journey from a mystical mountain. It felt joyful and sad at the same time.

After we sent Wanda off on her journey, we were met by a very friendly ewe. The type of sheep in Ireland has horns for both the ewes and the rams. Apparently this was a ewe that had learned that a lot of tourists come to the top of the Reek with snacks. She hung around us and I decided to feed her some peanuts, much to the enjoyment of our party. About this time, Gary and Linda had made their ascent. In the breeze Gary looked a bit like St. Patrick himself, with the wind blowing his beard and a climbing staff in hand. We all took pictures and started down the mountain.

The descent was interesting. For one thing, we came across a football team of young men who were making the climb in their bare feet. It was something to see them going along. “How far?” one lad gasped. “Not too much further,” said Annie, who was delicately picking her way down the slippery stones. I don’t know if the young guys were doing it out of team pride, religious duty or just a dare. But they went on their way and we went along on ours.

Next came a TV crew. They were working their way up the hill with a microphone and camera system. We were a bit puzzled by that one, especially with them carrying such expensive equipment up a fairly challenging slope. But our questions were answered as we continued to descend. There was a young man with a reddish-brown beard, wearing a tweed suit and clutching the broken remains of a television set.

“Can I help you?” I asked. “Ah, no, I am fine,” he replied. “What are you doing?” we asked. He would close his eyes as he replied to our answers. “Ah, I am doing a television show for the local channel here. It’s called Shamrockracy and we are filming a bit about how people are too attached to mass media.” “Oh,” I said, “that’s why you have broken television set?” “Ah, yes,” he replied, a bit out of breath and humoring my obvious observation. His crew yelled from above. “Ah, I got to get going, good luck!” he said and hoisted the broken television set on his shoulder. We watched him pleading to surprised climbers as they made their descent. What would St. Patrick say?

And what would he say about all the trash? I made a point of picking up as much as I could on the descent and pretty soon had my hands full of bottles, cans, and wrappers. We made it down past the statue of the venerable Saint himself and deposited an armful of windblown bottles in a bin. A short while later, we were whisked by taxi back to the hotel.

Later that night after dinner, we stopped off at Matt Molloy’s to help honor his wife Ger, who had died from cancer a few years back. There on the stage was Matt and his son, along with a Canadian dancer from Riverdance, giving the packed house a rousing air and dance. Canadian step dancing is like a cross between Irish, clogging, and tap. The dancers’ hands are not bound to the side but loosely swing about as they complete some very intricate steps. It somehow belies the freedom of the new world in a way by a carefree sort of look. The people were wild. Our friend, Seamus Geraghty came up to us. “You are going to perform in 10 minutes,” he said. “We are?” I said. “Yes, Brian said the other night that you could.” I looked over at Fitz and was sure he did not have much recollection of it. The band “The Wild Geese” had taken the stage and was playing. They were an Irish group out of England and they had a very good sound. Takeshi had his bodhran and I decided that it would be great to give the audience the full Switchback sound, so I ran down the street and over to our hotel, quickly grabbed the bass and my cowboy boots, and ran back. The Wild Geese were just finishing up and Seamus motioned us toward the stage. Fitz grabbed a guitar from one of the band and I plugged in my bass. There was some sort of problem with Fitz’s sound and so the crowd seemed a bit restless as they waited. I decided to sing a cappella or sean nos, a song called The Wind That Shakes the Barley. The audience got really quiet, which is a mark of respect for the singer that truly only occurs spontaneously in Ireland. It is a high and sad song, a true Irish lament about the fighting of 1798, and people were quite moved. Someone muttered “beautiful” and it felt really good to look over and see my friend Matt beaming. After I concluded the audience set up a roar and I yelled at Fitz to jump into Connemara Man. Takeshi jumped up on stage with us and we gave a great show. It was nice to have the boots on as I could really stamp on the stage for the necessary percussive sound. We finished and the audience was now up on its feet. We quickly followed with “Go Lassie Go” and I invited everyone to sing along and dedicated the song to Ger. Her sister afterward pulled me aside to say that it was some of the most beautiful singing she had ever heard, which really felt good. Our last number we featured Fitz and tore it up on Folsom Prison Blues, which is a perennial Irish favorite. I looked across the room and saw Annie, along with Sue and Andy Arnold, clapping and giving encouragement. The folks from our tour who were there said it was the highlight of the tour.

Confession, Berserkers, and Corpus Christi, Ya'll!

Rolling west from Columbus, Ohio back home to Chicago, Christine Pardee got a message from her nephew reading, "I went to confession for the first time in a long time, so I wrote down a list so I wouldn't forget any sins.  About halfway through, the priest pointed to the list and said, 'We don't have time for all this!'"  That kind of reminded us of our weekend in Columbus - far too many things to recount!

It was a weekend of firsts for our drummer Nick Hirka - his first time in Ohio, his first time playing banjo, and his first time singing in public.  Our first stop was at The Forums retirement home for a St. Patrick's Day concert.  The seniors clapped and sang along and had stories to tell of their own music and times gone by.  Christine found a particular friend, a gentleman named Al, who told us of a quasi "Antiques Roadshow" experience where he found a rather small instrument case that he bought for $10 at a flea market.  He put down his cash and went home with a beautiful antique mandolin valued at over $4000, and he still plays it!

From there it was on to Sue Gall's greatest little listening room in the Midwest, the Hey Hey Bar and Grill.  As southern Ohio braced itself for the severe storms heading their way, the Hey Hey braced itself for the "Switchback Berserkers!"  The Berserkers, three very enthusiastic fans (all named Mike!) kept the room laughing and kept the band playing lots of rowdy Irish rebel songs.  A fourth Berserker wanted to be sure we knew how he felt by telling us from across the room "I love ya'll!" and invited us to come play in "Corpus Christi, ya'll!"  Our good friend Patrick, who was named Columbus's "Bartender of the Year" in a contest we suspect he ran himself, kept the drink orders filled and the Berserkers kept us laughing.

We had a full band at the Hey Hey as Soupbone with his wife Monica, who are both blind, took the Greyhound up from Cincinnati to keep beats on a whiskey barrel.  For an encore, he even got up on stage with the band to belt out a rousing version of "Mustang Sally" with a Wolfman Jack shtick.  As usual, Columbus stalwart Mike Wielbacher had a request list of at least 20 songs.  Mike has been with us for some most unusual sightseeing ventures, including The Ohio Diner, Home of the Dagwood Sandwich.  The Dagwood is a roughly three pound sandwich served with fries.  The record for demolishing one is three and a half minutes.  We opted for oatmeal and eggs.

Then it was back to the Hey Hey where the Shamrock Club and Daughters of Erin came by for their yearly tradition of painting a shamrock in front of the door of each of their favorite pubs.  The boys serenaded the painters with "The Hangman" and the "Michael Collins Reels."

Next we were off to St. Mary's Parish to practice for tomorrow's Mass featuring Switchback's liturgical music, an easy rehearsal with their talented choir.  We got to see Miss Maggie Gall, Sue's daughter, who was working at the Hey Hey over the weekend.  In the six years since we'd met her she'd grown from a charming girl to a lovely young woman.  Soupbone was equally smitten, and attempted to Braille read her foot tattoo until Monica put her foot down!

Our second night at the Hey Hey was a continuation of the party started on Friday, with the exception of one Berserker who had flown back to "Corpus Christi, ya'll!"  Dancing, singing, and lots of laughter were the rule for the night with everyone rocking out to Switchback classics and the new songs rehearsed over the weekend.  Up on Sunday for a home-cooked farewell breakfast with Sue and Tim, it was then back to St. Mary's for a quick rehearsal, the Mass, and back in the van where the message was received from Christine's nephew as we headed home.

~ Christine and Nick

Marty's Ireland Journal - Day Four

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Day Four

Morning came really early and I got out of bed feeling a bit wobbly from jet lag, Jameson, and Guinness.  Brian stayed up later than I did last night so I don’t know how he looks so much more awake than I do, but somehow he does.  We had our Irish breakfast and all climbed into Michael Feeney’s car with Annie sitting on my lap and waved goodbye to the tour group who are heading up to Sligo and Donegal today.  We were taking our instruments to a military dedication for Tom Carey of Bekan, who was part of the U.S. Army and was killed in World War I.  Our friend Pat Gorman from Dixon, Illinois, has been working with Michael to help locate graves of American soldiers who did not receive plaques of honor from the U.S. government.  This grave was found through Pat’s research and Michael’s on-the-ground hunting for the actual grave site.  When Michael found it, it had been forgotten, covered with leaves and grass and needing an immediate sprucing up.  He and Ernie took it on, coming out to help power-wash the grave site and remove all the years of overgrowth.  Some relatives were found living not far from Bekan, and they had been invited to the cemetery.  One of them could remember visiting and seeing a folded American flag sitting in Tom Carey’s mother’s home.   

The  day was very cold with a stiff wind blowing from the East, but the sun managed to break through the clouds in time for the ceremony to begin.  Standing there was Ron Howko, an American veteran who fought in Vietnam and is now the post commander of the John Barry VFW post in County Mayo. (Yes, there are enough veterans of Irish descent and Americans living in Ireland that there are VFW posts here.)  In addition, there were four other veterans who had fought in World War II all the way through Vietnam.  They were here, each decked out in medals and wearing the distinctive military hat of the the VFW.  A representative of the British Army was also on hand as well as a member of the Irish Defense Forces.  A piper played a lament after the American National Anthem.  I stood there with Brian, hands over our hearts, and sang the anthem.  It is one thing to sing it on American soil, but quite another to be the representatives of America singing the the anthem.

It hit me that Michael Feeney had not only brought honor to people who live in Northern Ireland and the Republic, but he also had conveyed the understanding that no matter how they served and where they lived, they are still all Irishmen and women.  I felt a chill go up my spine as Ron Howko read the history of Tom Carey and how he served his adopted country and died.  Ron went on to talk about the great love that America has for Ireland and the debt it owes this nation for sending so many of its people to our country.  How many of these people willingly gave their lives for this new nation that offered them a decent chance at having a good life!  It was a sacrifice that Tom Carey made without ever having the chance to get married and have children of his own.   At several points during his talk, Ron paused, getting choked up with emotion.  I looked at the other veterans and understood from their faces that knowledge they each have to carry after being in war and seeing comrades die.  It was something that thankfully I never had to experience.

Ron called the soldiers to attention, and they slowly folded up the American flag.  Brian and I walked over with Ernie and solemnly rolled back the black cloth that was covering the bronze plaque.  After a short talk by Michael Feeney, we proceeded to play Falling Water River.  My cousin Liam suggested that it would be a fitting piece, and I told the crowd there about the song and how my own grandfather was very much like Tom Carey, that he came over in 1916 to America and was immediately made part of the U.S. Army Military Police.  He luckily didn’t see action but easily could have and just as easily could have been in a grave over in Ireland.
We took some pictures with the various branches of military and then headed off to Liam and Kay’s home which was not too far away for tea and cakes.  Later we spent time at Seamus’ home in Claremorris and had a nice dinner before saying our farewells and heading to Castlebar for the second evening’s performance.

The show was quite special in that the band felt much more relaxed.  During the performance, Brian, Nick, and I headed to the front of the stage and played an acoustic version of Climb That Mountain.  And the dancers really did a fantastic job!  Colleen Kosier, the director of the studio, explained to the audience how clogging was named that by Queen Elizabeth.  The dance is truly a mixture of Scottish, English, Irish, African, and American Indian dances…all coming together in the mountains of Appalachia in the early 17th century.  Hearing this, I think the audience was able to appreciate even more the girls’ dance steps.  I was very proud that they could now claim that they have performed internationally!

After the concert, we headed back to the hotel to round up all the folks to head back to Westport.  I walked into one part of the pub, and there were a good number of our tour, surrounded by the most ancient of Irish customs—Saturday night dancing.  There were teenagers dressed to the limit…the limit of taste perhaps and all heading onto the dance floor.  The music was terrifically booming, and I had to grin, as nothing had changed in the over 20 years I have been visiting Ireland.  What made the whole scenario great was that just down  from the gaggle of giggling girls and gawking guys were two elderly ladies, dressed in nice skirts and sweaters, each holding a glass of cider in their hands and looking around with sort of a bemused expression.  It was something that has always made Ireland special, that Saturday night is not just limited to the young, but an opportunity for everyone in the community to head down to the pub and socialize, even if the traditional music has been replaced with the thumping and bumping of hip-hop.

Switchback's new additions!

We would like to introduce you to the musicians who sometimes accompany Switchback on the road:  Nick Hirka on drums and ukulele and Paul Russell on violin and guitar. You may have been fortunate enough to hear them play along with Switchback at some of our recent shows.

Nick Hirka is a drummer from Des Plaines, Illinois. He met Brian and Marty quite fatefully at a church picnic/anniversary celebration in nearby Rosemont.  Nick got the call, heard that "an Irish duo" was headed in to write and perform the Mass, and, interested, headed over for their first meeting and rehearsal. Switchback and Nick would meet again to play the outdoor Mass on a beautiful summer day, and after sitting in for a few post-Mass original numbers, Marty and Brian invited Nick to the Haybarn Rendezvous in Iowa that coming weekend. It took just that one weekend at the Natural Gait for Nick to be sold...

Nick told us:

...I was in. That festival changed my musical outlook. I'd been drumming seriously since I was 12 or so. I struggled the romantic struggle of a high school musician. I played in several bands after graduating, played all Chicago's venues...Then suddenly, I'm in a candlelit cave, legs sore from a forest-path load-in, playing Celtic songs. It was calm. Eclectic. Free. I felt at home.

I work a day job as a tutor, in perpetual search of high school English teaching jobs. Students I tutor think I'm cool because I cancel sessions to travel to gigs. Parents dislike me for the same reason. I'm a jack of many trades, master of drums. I can get by playing piano, and I play bass guitar fairly well. I picked up the ukulele last summer and have somewhat vigorously taken to it - Switchback has worked it in to the set at points. I have a 5-string banjo being built for me by a luthier in Arizona. I draw pretty well. (With ink.  I'm not a 'slinger.)

I've already met a tremendous number of wonderful people while traveling with Switchback, and I've already seen some wonderful places with them. I've started documenting, in loose diary form, places I've played, something I hadn't done until I started playing with Marty and Brian. I look forward to more shows, always - this band is something I've started into and am engrossed in. I have trouble wrapping up projects, trips, and ventures. And written pieces!

Paul Russell, on top of being a gifted musician, an adventurer, and a blacksmith, happens to have known Brian FitzGerald all of his life since he is Brian's sister Sheila's son and thus Brian's nephew.  Paul provided the beautiful violin accompaniment on our Ghosts of the River Folk album.  How did Paul get into music?

Paul told us:

On a quiet evening I took a walk with my father to a shop on Roosevelt Road.  When we got back home, I started scratching away on my first violin.  I was five years old.  Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Go Tell Aunt Rhody, and Hot Cross Buns were among my first accomplishments, and before long I was playing concertos in D flat major and mazurkas in B flat minor.  I had a good go with classical music into high school, but after discovering improvisational music, a new path was found.  I attended Columbia College in Chicago for a year and a half, majoring in music composition.  Like classical music, it was a good experience, but something was not fitting.  You can find me now on the day to day at Lawndale Forge and Tool Works where I work for my Dad and Uncle, who worked for their Dad, who worked for his Dad, and on and on.  My Great-grandpa made horseshoes and shoed horses in Chicago.  I plan to continue playing music as long as I've got fingers on my hands and brains in my head!

One of Switchback's most recent tours with Nick and Paul included Switchback's New Year's Eve performance in Ontario. Imagine being in Canada for the first time and not freezing your behind off! Had they been with Switchback on the previous year's tour, they would have had the normal 20 below experience. When asked about their time in Canada over the New Year's holiday, here is what Paul and Nick had to say:

Paul told us:

'Twas the best of times, 'twas the worst of times.  Most importantly it was New Year's in Canada.  Moose and partridge were eaten, scotch was drunk, music was played, and sap was tapped from the island maples for premium maple syrup.  In short, people were hospitable and gracious.  In long...well, the drive was pretty long!  Just before leaving Chicago, I had the front ball joints replaced on my car because they were about to pop out at the next big pothole. When the car started bouncing and swaying back and forth during the first half of the drive, I figured the mechanic (who happened to be Nick's dad) had messed up.  Then Nick and I heard a flapping sound, and the right rear tire blew out at 70 mph.  We had a spare though and were back on course in no time.  So it wasn't the mechanic's fault after all and the car drove fine for the rest of the time and to this day.  Yes sir, 'twas the best of times, 'twas the worst of times, it was New Year's.

Nick added: 

O Canada!

That cold and distant land!

(True, but not for us...'twas 45, just grand...)

With glowing hearts we see thine lights

The Clansman, finally!

Tucked in, inside,

O Can-I-sleep while moose cuts wait for me?

God, let me drum well on New Year's Eve

O Will-I-starve while partridge waits for me?

O Canada! It's been too warm indeed.

O Canada!

Where pines and maples grow

Bears rest outside, during our five hour show

As midnight falls, the temp it drops

But indoors faces glow!

Folk of the isle,

O Can-ya-yell, "It's New Year's on St. Joe!"

Those who I met were "maple syrup" sweet

O Can-I-stay with Colonel's family... if

SO, Canada, you'll see returns of me.

Please join us in welcoming Paul and Nick, our newest members of the Switchback team!  The next time you are out and see them with us, please come up, introduce yourselves, and help make them feel like part of our WayGood World.

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

Save the Last Dance

New Year's brought about what has become an annual trek up to Michigan and Ontario, which we call the Northern Lights Tour. Now, it's a rare occasion when either Brian's or my wife will go along for the ride, but my wife Annie decided to travel the nine hours it takes from Chicago to northern Ontario. I was glad, too, because the Canadians were beginning to think that Annie was a figment of my imagination.

Annie is no stranger to Switchback road trips. When we first met, about 10 years ago, she used to accompany us on lots of road trips. The truth is, going out to a gig usually means getting into the already crammed and questionably hygienic minivan ("Smells like bachelors in here," she used to say), traveling for hours on the road while we practice our vocal exercises, and arriving at the gig to help us unload equipment and watch us work. With 200 shows a year, that can put a dent in one's personal life. But, enticed by the chance to head up to Canada, Annie said yes. Then she asked me if I would dance at least one dance with her on New Year's Eve. "Sure," I said, "No problem." The fact was, it was going to be a challenge. Playing in the band means that I would have to figure a way to get someone to play bass while I dance with Annie. How was I going to figure that out?

Brian and I headed up north first, so Annie didn't have to ride this time in the "bachelor van." We had some great Michigan shows, including a sold-out performance to benefit the Historic Elk Rapids Town Hall. Stephanie O'Dell, a great singer and friend of the band, joined us onstage to sing several holiday songs, including "I'll Be Home for Christmas," which she dedicated to her Navy boyfriend, Brent. It was a tender moment in the show and everyone got a bit misty-eyed.

After another successful concert in Grayling, MI to benefit the local Rotary Club, we headed over the Mackinac Bridge and into the U.P. Finally, it was time to cross the vaunted US-Canadian border. At the border, the Canadian customs guy was friendly-like. "Where are you going?" he asked.

We have learned that to cross easily you don't say, "I am going to see my friends and stay at their cottage on St. Joseph's Island." No, you have to lean slightly out the window, nod your head a bit, and say, "I'm headin' to my friend's camp on St. Joe." If you have a St. Joe cap, that helps even more. Of course, I didn't have my cap on and my long hair always gets a question or two.

"Where did you meet these friends?" he asked, leaning a bit toward me, "At a terrorist convention?" I think he was trying to throw me off a bit. He was successful.

"Um, no, uh, they're fans," I stammered. Should have put the hair in a ponytail.

"And why would anyone live in Iowa?" he asked, looking at our Iowa plates.

That one stopped me for a second. "Uh, he lives in Iowa," I said and pointed at Brian, "And someone has to live there, sir?"

"Go ahead," he said, handing me our passports and waving us out of his life.

Annie came up that night from Chicago with our fan club president Chris Pardee. Of course they had no problem at all crossing the border.

By the time they arrived, we were already set up at Central United Church for the big holiday concert. Another benefit, this concert would help finance a new roof for the church. Central United is a beautiful building. One striking feature is that it boasts one of the largest pipe organs in Canada. The organ, built in Holland, is impressive, with pipes reaching for the ceiling and bristling outwards toward the congregation like a battleship swinging all its guns to port, impressive and beautiful. The real beauty of it was the life that came out of it when Paul Dingle, the musical director, proceeded to play. Meeting Paul was like meeting a brother. He instantly understood what we were trying to do with our music and it was as if he had been part of the band for years.

A great number of our Canadian fans had arrived from different parts of the province. Over four hundred people packed into the church. And there were a lot of folks who had never seen us before. We brought Paul up to the organ to play "Love Won't Run Away" and I got chills as the organ created the deep mood of a dark Irish sea. The audience was thrilled, including some folks who were from County Mayo, Ireland. I introduced Annie to the audience and she smiled and waved with some polite embarrassment. It was nice to finally have our Canadian friends meet her.

New Year's Eve arrived along with the rest of the full band, Paul Russell on fiddle and mandolin and Nick Hirka on percussion. The Colonel came in with his recording equipment and we recorded a new song, "The Measure of the Master," for a sound check. Things were looking good. It was time to head back to our rooms to get ready for the evening. Annie put on a beautiful Chinese silk gown. "You look great," I said.

And like the other concerts, we had a great turnout for the event, another sold out evening. Folks were treated to prime rib, champagne, and of course music. I realized we were surrounded by a wonderful mix of Canadian and American fans who came up to see us play. And for me, the greatest gift was that my wife was there to share the evening with me.

We started our first set at 8 p.m. and proceeded to play as the party horns and hats were passed out in anticipation of 2011. I looked over at Annie and mentally made a note that I would have to pick a time to get out and dance with my wife.

Soon it was 11 p.m. I was getting nervous about how I was going to be able to dance with Annie. I had hit a snag. It seemed impossible to figure out how to pull it off. All the slow songs were sung by me. Perhaps if I could get another band member to take the bass? We were in the middle of the set and I turned to Paul Russell. "Can you play the bass?" I asked. "What?" he asked. At that moment, Brian's guitar went out, leaving Paul holding the melody on the violin. Exasperated, Brian called for a break, we got off the stage, and I sat next to Annie. I could see Fitz fuming on the stage, pulling cables and trying to figure out what had happened to his guitar. It turned out to be one cable that decided not to live to see the New Year. He got it fixed and we took to the stage.

Soon, Neil Caughill, our official St. Joe timekeeper, came up to the stage and showed that it was five minutes to midnight...just one more song in 2010. It was now or never to keep my promise. So, I jumped down from the stage, bass and all, and proceeded to "dance" with Annie -- that is, play my bass and hop around while she put her arms around my neck with the guitar making a wide gap between us -- as we played "Jesse Taylor's Nightmare." Brian jumped from the stage as well and soon everyone in the hall was on the floor dancing. Annie shook her head at me and smiled. It wasn't exactly what either of us had in mind for the last dance of the year, certainly not the romantic slow number that I had envisioned.

Our success in Switchback comes from a great deal of support (and sacrifice) from friends and family. They have helped us through every twist and turn on the trail. Our wives, especially, have been very patient and committed to our dream of being independent musicians. They have celebrated our successes and bolstered our confidence during the low times. It is difficult when we are apart, and sometimes the best we have to offer them is an awkward last minute dance when we are together. But awkward or not, it's a great gift to be able to share your passion with someone who believes in you and sees you for who you are. I can't ask for anything more when I am attempting to dance with my wife with a big acoustic bass between us and she is willing to put her arms around me, smile, and dance the last dance of the year with me.

Happy New Year,
Marty

Concert Review: Switchback fills Town Hall with holiday spirit

It’s amazing how much sound can come from two guys with guitars, using no percussion other than foot-stomping and guitar-slapping. No electronic mumbo-jumbo like beat boxes or pre-recorded back-up music was present, which is a welcome treat and a tribute to tradition.

Martin McCormack and Brian FitzGerald have been performing together for a long time, and it shows. Their camaraderie is obvious and their timing, accompaniments and harmonies are impeccable. Also impressive is their sense of mixing up the selection and tempo of the songs they play—a wonderful mix of ballads, rabble-rousing, original and traditional.

I saw them perform in Elk Rapids, Michigan December 28, 2010 (to a full house), a benefit concert for restoration of the venue, the historic town hall. Marty told the audience that he and Brian have an affinity for tradition, which explains some of the music that Switchback performs, but also is the reason they often play in old buildings with a history and, hopefully, a future.

At this particular concert, they threw in a lot of Christmas favorites and sing-a-longs. It was a few days past Christmas, but there was still plenty of Holiday spirit in the crowd, which was remarkably in tune. Sometimes when a band asks the audience to sing, it is fun, but audibly grating. Not the case here. It almost sounded like a practiced choir. Switchback does a great job of including the audience in their musical magic.

I was with my wife and three of my grandchildren (7-8-year-olds). Granddaughter Jenna showed a knack for music reviewing when she noted how amazed she was that Brian could play so many different instruments. She wondered why they played some songs with no words. So that night she learned a new word: instrumental.

The prowess of Brian on guitars and mandolin made my fingers hurt just watching him, and prompted grandson Max to ask “how does he strum so fast?” He also noted that Marty can really kick his legs up high.

Local up-and-comer Stephanie O’Dell joined Switchback at various times on stage, and she was superb. She got understandably emotional when she pointed out her significant other in the audience, who was home for the holidays from the Navy.

Switchback and Stephanie made this more than a concert. It was a true community gathering.

–by Don Weeks, Elk Rapids, Michigan, with help from Jenna & Max
photo by Jim Sundberg. Originally posted on Elk Rapids Live 12-30-10

http://www.waygoodmusic.com/

Jingle Keys, Jingle Keys, Jingle all the Way

Saturday night was the annual Midwestern Christmas Concert held at the Thrasher Opera House in Green Lake, WI. The Thrasher Opera House is a beautiful building, built by one Charlie Thrasher back in 1910. Edifice it is not, rather a practical structure, with a good sized stage on one end and a modest balcony on the other end. On the floor between the two are plush red cushioned chairs, which have come a long way from the original wooden kitchen chairs that were part of Charlie’s decor. Above these chairs, spans a delightful tin ceiling that curves on the sides, giving the ceiling a modest arch effect. This arch helps the acoustics in the building quite a bit and it is easy to stride from the microphone and deliver a song from the edge of the stage. Cheery and intimate, it is the perfect place for us to have a Midwestern Christmas.

So what makes a Midwestern Christmas show? First it needs to have good winter weather. Last night was brisk, about 15 degrees outside, and the snow was pretty thick on the ground. One doesn’t wish to have a raging blizzard or a snow melting, grass revealing rain. It just needs to have enough cold and snow that it sets the scene for what is to happen inside. Last night also had a bright, three-quarters full moon, which was a bonus.

Next, you need good Christmas decor. In the Midwest, that means something not too over the top. Leave the shaking, singing Santas and blinking pink and purple lights for another part of the country. The Thrasher nailed it, with a Christmas tree on stage, some wreaths either side, some simple pine bunting and little candles in the window. It brings back a nostalgic air of yesterday, when things were a bit simpler and less commercial. Of course, that is today, because Midwesterners pride themselves on keeping things good and simple.

The delivery of the show has to be laid back Midwestern. Brian and I came out on stage and immediately launched into some nice Irish jigs. The first thing I heard was the soft thumping of feet on the floor, keeping perfect rhythm to the music. “Veterans”, I noted to myself. Other folks were looking around, sort of amazed at this display of impromptu audience participation. So, when we finished, I asked how many folks were seeing us for the first time. About half of the theater raised their hands. Now, one must tell Midwesterners that it is OK to relax. Especially Minnesotans as the Norwegians are the toughest ones to crack. Or else it could be a quiet, polite evening. So we told them to clap their hands when they want, make a comment when they wish, hoot, whistle, stomp feet and cheer, as after all, this is their show. And thus freed, they did. You don’t get this behavior every day. So it makes a Switchback Christmas show uniquely special.

One tradition that started in Green Lake is the famous Christmas Key Choir. Sort of like a handbell choir for those who prefer driving cars to playing handbells. We started in on Silver Bells and immediately the choir took its place, bringing out Fords, Chevy’s, Toyotas, home and business keys and shaking them in a nice soft jingle that sounded like a far away horse drawn sleigh coming through snowy woods. The Christmas Key Choir was in wonderful form that night, with a rousing solo on Santa Claus is Coming to Town and a frenetic paced Jingle Bells. Some of the folks who had fancy cars were a bit hampered by the plastic encased keys that have electric door gizmos on them. One newcomer, a young lady, mentioned that she was caught unprepared for the Christmas Key Choir. “I just had a few keys, they didn’t jingle so well,” she said, holding up a Lexus key gizmo thing. “But, I will be bringing more keys next year!” I smiled. Now, that’s a Midwesterner, getting the right number of keys so the choir isn’t let down.

Another important item is the selection of songs. In the Midwest you have to pick some good old Christmas carols as everyone knows these by heart. Young and old have no problem singing Christmas carols in the Midwest. You might have someone who is too shy to sing on any other night of the year, but start in with Away in the Manger and the inner alto or tenor comes into blossom, and strangely on key, too. And even harmony! The best Christmas Carol is Silent Night. I bet even the most ardent atheist would have felt a bit verklempt as we all sang together without any accompaniment, just the voices swelling in a reverent, beautifully balanced version:

Round young Virgin,
Mother and Child,
Holy Infant,
So tender and mild

Our folks were such great singers that Brian and I asked them to join in a Switchback Carol called The Little Stranger in the Manger. A call and answer type of song, they did fantastically well, and soon we had the place rocking like an old fashioned tent meeting. Several times during the evening, Brian and I stopped singing altogether, letting the audience sing away.

They were also wonderful with special effects. Brian introduced Hockey Games and suggested that we need appropriate ambience for the introduction. Immediately some whistling wind and lonely wolf howls filled the hall. All Brian would do was mention, “Ambience!” during the song and everyone joined right in. You can view the video by clicking here.

Speaking of animals, the other must-have for a Midwestern Christmas is the presence of one at the show, preferably a dog. Midwesterners, even the city dwelling type, are truly only a step or two from the farm. They know how vegetables are raised and that the ground beef was walking a week ago. And with this rural mind-set, a traditional winter evening gathering of hearth and fire, with a faithful friend at one’s feet, is hot-wired into the psyche; a return to the pioneering days perhaps, or at least to watching Little House on the Prairie. We were blessed by a beautiful golden retriever that accompanied his master to the show. A Seeing Eye dog, it was quiet and well behaved and laid down at the foot of the stage, napping during our numbers. It was a perfect addition to a family-style evening.

Finally, the true Midwestern tradition had to be present: A door prize. Before the show, we asked Martha from the Thrasher Opera House to pick a chair for us to tape a copy of the Turf Fire DVD under. I memorized the location...row three, seat three. Or so I thought. I was flummoxed to see that during the show that seat was empty, being used for a coat rack. So before our last number, I called out, “We have a door prize!” An excited buzz filled the Thrasher. Since I thought it was the empty chair, I told folks to look under the empty chairs. Nothing. I told them a big hint, the only empty chair in row three. Nothing. Now I was really confused. Brian then mentioned to me sotto voce that he thought it was row four, seat three. “OK,” I said, “Everyone look under your chairs!” And with that folks went diving under their seats and one happy lady came up with the prize. We autographed it for her after the show.

We shook everyone’s hands and bade everyone a Merry Christmas as they headed out into the cold night. People were already talking about next year. And some folks mentioned they had traveled from over three hours away to be part of this night, which was a real honor. The pedal steel player from the band, the Yellowhammers came all the way up with his wife from Chicago. Their friend went home with a Switchback jacket. We told them how excited we are to have the Yellowhammers play at the Haybarn Rendezvous this coming August.

Within minutes, the Opera House was deserted; the stage cleared of the guitars and packed up into the idling van. We shook Reilly the soundman’s hand, thanked Roby for letting play at the Thrasher and gave Martha and all the lady volunteers a kiss. And with that, we were off, driving down snow banked country roads with the moonlight gleaming on fields. We passed a silo that had a big Christmas star gleaming on its top. I watched it get smaller as we headed south toward home; another Christmas celebration in the heart of the heartland.

And to all, a good night.

~ Marty

Switchback at The Center for Head Injury Services in St. Louis

One of Brian and Marty's favorite things is to reach out to the community when they are in town for a concert. And that is what they did this past Monday, when they visited the Center for Head Injury Services in St. Louis. A part of St. John's Mercy Medical Center, the center is a place to help people have a full and vibrant life.

A full and vibrant show was what took place, with residents getting in on Switchback's act. There was dancing to Switchback originals as well as some "spotlight" moments, such as when one resident lead everyone in singing "I Got Friends In Low Places". Switchback made friends in a great place that afternoon and presented the center with a DVD of the Americana Sessions to watch. A return in the summer is planned that would incorporate a picnic for residents and their families.

Hi Marty and Brian,

I just wanted to thank you again for coming to perform for my group on Monday...they really enjoyed you guys. We watched the DVD yesterday and everyone clapped and cheered after each song (it was really cute!). I hope that you had a safe trip home and that the holidays bring you both happiness and peace!

P.S. Regina says that you both have a little bit of "Soul" in you!

With Kindness,

Lynne Cruse
Reb. Specialist
The Center for Head Injury Services
http://www.headinjuryctr-stl.org


http://www.waygoodmusic.com/