Liz Carroll, the Irish fiddler and composer, has been thinking lately of the path her musical life has taken. It’s been a road rich in traveling companions, with inspiration from stops along the way. And now, with Half Day Road, her duet album with guitarist and pianist Jake Charron, just released in 2019, and with a new book of tunes, Collected II, published in March of 2020, there are new horizons ahead.

Since she was 18, when she astounded the Celtic music world by winning the Senior All-Ireland Championship, Liz and her fiddle have been amazing audiences around the globe. She has been honored with many accolades, including a nomination for a 2010 Grammy, with John Doyle, for their duet album, Double Play. In April of 2011, Liz was awarded the Cumadóir TG4, the first American-born composer honored with Ireland’s most significant traditional music prize.

Liz’s recordings are in the majority her own compositions, and they have given her a stature equal to that of her playing. When you listen to a Liz album, you’re hearing the music of a composer celebrated for invigorating the traditional styles of Irish music. Her tunes have entered into the repertoire of Irish and Celtic performers throughout the world.

2016 saw the release of a new collaborative album, produced as companion music to an exhibition at the Art Institute of Chicago – “Ireland: Crossroads of Art and Design, 1690-1840 – The Music.” A mix of period music and new compositions by Liz, the other artists include Liz Knowles, Kieran O’Hare, Tríona Ní Dhomhnaill, and Catriona McKay. Daniel Neely of the Irish Echo praised it, saying:

Liz’s 2013 solo recording, On the Offbeat, is another collection of original compositions – of the 24 tunes on the album, 23 are hers. Produced by Seamus Egan of Solas, Offbeat has been greatly praised, including by Siobhan Long of The Irish Times:

It’s these tunes, as well as Liz’s vital performances on concert stages, television and radio, that have established her as one of traditional music’s most sought after performers. Neil Tesser of the Chicago Reader marvels that “her quicksilver lines can captivate violin admirers way beyond the bounds of Hibernia.” P.J. Curtis of the Irish American says that Liz “conjures up a dizzying mixture of the sweetest tones, the fastest runs, and the most dazzling display of musicianship imaginable.” One of Liz’s proudest concert moments was at the 1st American Congress of the Violin, hosted by Yehudi Menuhin.

In 1994, the National Endowment for the Arts awarded Liz a National Heritage Fellowship for her great influence on Irish music in America, as a performer and a composer. First Lady Hillary Clinton presented the award which bestows national recognition on artists of international stature.

Liz was born in Chicago, Illinois, of Irish parents, and is proud that she was awarded a fellowship in 2019 by the State of Illinois in Ethnic and Folk Arts.

(text from www.lizcarroll.com – Image by Marianne Mangan)

Before and during the pandemic I had a lot of problems with my left hand. Along the way there were many times I could hardly play, but I could write tunes. Nuala Kennedy, the great flutist and singer, along with a gaggle of friends, kept in touch. I sent Nuala tunes and she sent me tunes, and we went along like that, and we still do. I can’t thank her enough for all the hilarious chats and sharing and music.

Swanny is our name for the Celtic Week at the Swannanoa Gathering in North Carolina.

This is the first tune I wrote after the start of the pandemic. My last gig was on March 6, 2020, and this tune presented itself on March 20th. You wouldn’t think a reel would come first, but there was emotion in these notes that day–prayers for people suffering, and hope for a solution.

I found a quiet spot (that wasn’t my home) to play my fiddle during the pandemic–a room at The Adler House, in Libertyville, Illinois. I usually go to the practice rooms at the music department of the local college, College of Lake County, when I want a real piano to suss out chords. But anyway, this was a step up–a nice big room.

I’m not sure why I wrote this reel in measures of three beats but I’ve always played around with beats to the bar. I particularly like what happens in the third measure of the second part. There’s a little play there, where I think of the first beat being on its own in that measure, and then the two beats after being together. Think: 1-2-3 | 1-2-3 | 1-1-2 | 1-2-3. Kinda fun!

Mirella Murray, the great piano accordion player with Cherish the Ladies, after learning about my and dancer Kieran Jordan’s harrowing walk in Manhattan late at night, thought someone should write a tune and that it should be called, with homage to Joanie Madden’s The Cat’s Meow, The Rat’s Meow. I submitted this one to her and the gang. The first part is, or can be, scary, while the second part’s melody is happy–us arriving at our destination unscathed.

My grandfather, Tom Cahill (my mom’s father), played the fiddle. I heard him play when we went to Ireland for the first time in 1962. By 1967, when we went for the second time, I was able to play along with him. He played hearty music in that West Limerick / Kerry style–with his bowing and his feel. I’ve always loved slides and polkas, and I know this is why… they’re like home to me.

I enjoyed writing this one.

Bassist Trevor Hutchinson asked me some time back if I’d ever write a tune for him to play and maybe record for a solo project. I think of this as a muscular jig for the bass–a chordal playground for the oh-so-talented Trevor.

I love finding humour in the music, so Nuala Kennedy’s experience with a music-hatin’, flute-hatin’ neighbour gave me the opportunity to write this tune. Some of those old, fancy (and frankly diabolical) hornpipes in Cole’s One Thousand Fiddle Tunes came to mind when I chose this tune type. This tune’s particularly annoying second part was just made for Nuala to “throw it back” at the neighbour while he banged the bins.

Bobbi is a great friend and fiddler from the west coast of America. I wanted to write something for her for some time when I hit on these notes one day. Each part introduces a melody in four bars and then repeats (sometimes with a nice tag.) But also, within the four bars, every two bars are answered using a change of chord. Example, in the 1st part, 1st measure: BAGB e…; 3rd measure: BAGB A…. It’s a fun study in how tunes are shaped.

Liz Doherty, the great Donegal fiddle player, reached out to me in June of ’22 to ask me to write a piece that could be played for the opening TG4 program at the All-Ireland Fleadh Cheoil in Mullingar. I had just written a slower tune and so I combined it with a couple of new reels to make “The Homecoming.” Liz thought the last tune could be brighter–in ’A’ maybe–so I sat down and wrote this one. It was a thrill hearing the tune played by a mass of young fiddlers (students of Louise Hunter and Geraldine McGlynn) alongside a stellar brass section, guitarist Sean Og Graham, percussionist Colm Phelan, bassist Conor McCreanor, and the phenomenal fiddler April Macaulay.

In 2022, my great friend Marty Fahey (button accordion, piano) asked me to compose music for a project titled, “Who Do We Say We Are?” This was a wonderful chance to respond to painting and artwork from the O’Brien Collection in Chicago, in collaboration with the Centennial Exhibition at the Trinity Long Room Hub in Dublin, that specifically recalled an
exhibit of Irish art in Paris in 1922.

I wrote this melody for the artist Paul Henry’s 1919 painting of the same name; a spare tune for a misty, cloud-filled scene somewhere in the west of Ireland. The wonderful “The Seamus Egan Project,” with Jenna Moynihan on fiddle, recorded the tune for this project.

Swanny [comp. Liz Carroll], slip jig
Bobbi Nikles [comp. Liz Carroll], reel
Bang the bins [comp. Liz Carroll], hornpipe
All about that Trevor [comp. Liz Carroll], jig
The rat’s meow [comp. Liz Carroll], reel
Tom Cahill’s polka [comp. Liz Carroll]
Mullingar or bust! [comp. Liz Carroll], reel
The path forward [comp. Liz Carroll], reel
Reflections across the bog [comp. Liz Carroll], air

Photograph of Liz Carroll by Marianne Mangan

This is a tune for all those flute players who complain that my tunes are not flute-friendly. In an effort to win their approval- here’s a tune that is in D and doesn’t go below the fiddle D.

The very first thing I thought of, getting to write tunes for this project, was I’d like to write something for children.

I wrote a fairly serious dirge in the early days of the pandemic, so I felt like I got that off my chest and wanted to think positive. This is the tune that came out! My husband’s father used to make up stories for my husband and his siblings when they were young, all starring a mouse and a shrew. When our own children were little, my husband also made up stories for them which followed the exploits of Mouse and Shrew.