I wrote this with my mother for our Indian runner ducks who are always excited to go outside in the morning. We incorporated happy quacking in the tune.

We met with a few locals at Graffy bridge near Glenties when the pubs were closed. There were usually five families of musicians so each part of the tune is dedicated to one of them.

This piece was composed for the thematic Shorelines record which I recorded with Tara Breen and Tony Byrne. The first tune is intended to represent the challenging seaborne voyage of the female adventurer as she first sets sail… with the reel ‘Flow’, I saw the heroine with her sails unfurled- the wind at her back as things take a turn for the better!

Leitrim poet, playwright and friend, Vincent Woods was the inspiration behind this tune.

Three years after the death of poet, broadcaster and translator, Pearse Hutchinson (1927 – 2012), Vincent invited me to Pearse’s house in Rathgar, where he was assembling what would become an archive of Pearse’s work and family history. Among other items, he showed me a tin whistle which had belonged to Pearse’s great friend, Justin O Mahony. Justin had busked in Merchant’s Arch, close to the Ha’penny Bridge on Bachelors Walk in Dublin in the early 1970s, regularly playing this tin whistle. Vincent suggested to me that it would be good to honour Justin by composing a tune in his memory. I composed a reel. As the iron used in the construction of the Ha’penny Bridge came for Creevelea in Co. Leitrim, we decided the tune should be called ‘The Leitrim Iron Reel’. Vincent later wrote the poem of the same name, reproduced here with permission.

I first played this tune publicly at a special ceremony in Maynooth University to mark the formal establishment of The Pearse Hutchinson Archive there. I’m proud that this tune is a small part of that archive and story.

Barr na Cúille was the first tune that ever I composed around 1987 in memory of my father Tom (1915-1984) who came from the parish of Bornacoola in County Leitrim.   He was a fiddle-player and piper who was involved in the the Dublin music scene fron the time he arrived there in  1935. He was one of the Committee members and driving forces in Cumann na bPíobairí Uilleann in the 1940’s and St Mary’s Music Club in Church Street from the 1950s to the 1970s. He was a
founding member of Na Píobairí Uilleann in 1968, the John McKenna Society and the inspiration behind the foundation of the Joe Mooney Summer School in County Leitrim.

Composed for friend and fiddler Troy MacGillivray; I associate G Minor with the fiddle so I thought I’d try a tune in that key in his honour. Troy is also the name of a tiny village in Cape Breton Island, which sports a comically huge neon sign announcing “Downtown Troy”. It always cracks me up when I see it.

This tune was composed to commemorate Celtic Colours Festival, Nova Scotia. It’s a brilliant festival, where I’ve been lucky to make lots of friends over the years. Myself and Troy MacGillivray were artists-in-residence together in 2020, collaborating from afar – hence the title ‘Distant Colours’.

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.

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.

I remember our cousin Kevin O’Brien telling me that as a Strawboy he had danced 40 brides! Let me explain that to you here.

The tradition of Strawboys was very much alive and well when I was growing up in Crusheen. Strawboys would come to the home-coming party of a local bride after her wedding day, dressed in straw costumes and in disguise. I became one of the musicians along with my father Joe and uncle Paddy for our local Strawboys. On getting to the house the floor would be cleared and musicians lined up to play for a Caledonian set by the Strawboys. Kevin’s job would be to dance the bride in the set and he was a good dancer. When the set was over the Strawboys would leave in full costume so as not to reveal their identity. The new bride and groom would issue an invitation for them to come back in to the party to Kevin.

Returning later dressed in our civilian clothes the party would get into full swing with music, songs and dancing going on well into the night. This tradition is still alive and well in parts of Clare. I dedicate this to the memory of Kevin O’Brien of Cappafean. Crusheen, County Clare.

Bóthar na Cearta was a local name to describe the locality where I grew up in Drumbaniff, Crusheen, County Clare long before the English surveyed and mapped the country. Sadly Bóthar na Cearta never made it on to their maps.

After the economic collapse and banking crisis I, like many others, became an economic migrant. Like generations before us we spread across the world in search of employment when there was none at home.

I got an opportunity to go to New York with an offer of a job as a night watchman in a new high rise apartment building that was being built on Madison Avenue in Manhattan. I was given the graveyard shift which was 12 hrs long. The building had no residents at this time so there was a lot of time on my hands and not a lot happening at my end.

One of my duties involved checking every part of the unoccupied building, making sure that everything was in order, safe and secure from the basement to the luxury penthouse while construction was going on. In the middle of December in the height of winter while on one my nightly rounds I could hear the wind echoing off the hard surfaces of the building and making strange noises, some that were almost human like cries to my ear.

Coming down the stairs from the penthouse 40 floors up on one of those nights I suddenly realised that I had been humming a bit of a melody all the way down imitating some of the sounds I had heard of the building being blown by the wind. I sang it into my phone for fear of losing the notes before I got to the foyer even though it was only half a tune at this stage. The resolve in melody came days later when I picked up my accordion back at my apartment in Brooklyn.

This reel is one I composed for my father Joe. He played the accordion and was a fine singer dancer and storyteller and was the main influence on my journey into the world of music. Like his brother Paddy he was also a member of the Tulla Ceili Band in the 1950’s and 60’s. Our home growing up was a house of music too.

By profession he was a Psychiatric Nurse and was the night Superintendent at Our Lady’s Hospital in Ennis. When I was in secondary school at St Flannan’s College in the town, I remember meeting an older man who asked me if I was the Captain’s son? Not knowing who he was talking about, he then asked me if Joe was my father and I answered yes. He then explained to me that Joe was his boss and that he was sometimes referred to as the Captain in the Hospital, a title that went back to his hurling days. He went on to tell me that if they (the staff) wanted to gain some favour from him they would often steer the discussion around to music and if that didn’t work then they’d move on to hurling and dogs, his other passions.

He left telling me that the Captain was a good man and a fair boss to have. I got a lovely insight into my father’s life outside of home from that meeting back in my early teenage years. ‘ One for the Captain’!

This tune is dedicated to my father’s family of Drumbaniff, Crusheen, County Clare. ‘The house at the bridge’ always referred to my father’s home place. Theirs was an open house where neighbours, friends and family went on cuairt after their days work was done. It was a place where music, dancing and singing happened on a regular basis, long before dance halls came along. His father Jim and his mother May were concertina players. Music was carried by them all – it lit them up.

The landscape in and around Cappafean in Crusheen, County Clare is an ancient one. It was carved out and shaped by the last ice age. This is drumlin country with rocks bigger than houses to be seen everywhere, carried by glaciers into the valleys from higher ground and left there long after the ice had melted. This is a remote and wild place, off the beaten-track, untamed. Life began here and remained unchanged for centuries.

Molly O’Brien, my grandmother, was born here in 1900 and lived to be 102. She married John McMahon and they raised a family of eight and worked the land. It was a tight-knit farming community of small holdings and big families living in humble thatched houses.

During the War of Independence 1919 to 1921 they, along with their neighbours opened up their homes, gave food, shelter and refuge to the volunteers who were on-the-run and living in the wilds.
‘The House Under the Hill’ is a musical tribute and a celebration of the role that families and communities (like my own) gave in the struggle for independence.

I wrote this reel directly after the birth of our daughter Nell, in September 2021. I had been attempting to compose a reel in E Dorian around that time as part of my work for the Arts Council / National Concert Hall Liam O’Flynn Award, but I wasn’t producing any satisfactory results. Ríl Nell arrived less than half an hour after Nell herself and I can only imagine the strange looks I got in the hospital as I whistled intensely at a new-born baby.

An tUasal Mac Taidhg is a reel composed for Brian Montague. An incredible man and friend to so many of us, the Chairperson of ITMA and a fine fiddle player to boot! He grew up in Belfast and I managed to get a few triplets in the second part for him to get him to show off that lovely Belfast style of tight triplet playing! 

Note: This tune was published in June 2023 to mark the end of Brian Montague’s time on the ITMA Board.

Is i ndilchuimhne mo Ghranny, Mary Ellen an ríl seo. Mhair sí béal dorais agus théinn sall chuichi na haon lá tar éis scoile chun package taytos (agus crunchie foth-uair) a ithe agus néal codlata a dhéanamh ar an sófa agus í ag faire ar Dallas ar an dteilifís.
This reel was composed in loving memory of my Granny, Mary Ellen. She and my grandfather lived next door to us as I was growing up and I used to go over to her everyday after school to eat taytos and the odd crunchie and have a nap on the couch while she watched Dallas on the television.

Las Vegas, in the United States, is one of the most surreal places I have ever visited. My brother, Kev, and his wife Marie were married there, and I had the honour of being accompanied by Elvis on ‘Love Me Tender’ as they walked down the aisle.

This reel was written for them in what I perceive to be an older Irish-American style, in that there are lots of triplet runs which are not found as often elsewhere.

Sometime after composing the Outsider Jig, with it’s pessimistic tones, I realised just how incredibly lucky I am to have a life revolving around Irish music, which has given me so much joy and happiness all my life. This reel is meant to be optimistic, upbeat and full of jolly G rolls for the fluters. I called it the Insider as that seems to be the logical opposite of the Outsider.

Back in 2005 I was involved in a project for the Arts Department of Sligo County Council, along with singer and flute player Colm O’Donnell, to write some music based around the relatively recently written traditional song, ‘Horses and Plough’. As the song mentions Ploughmen, I was reminded of the Ploughman’s Lunch which was a meat, bread and cheese meal popular in British pubs from the 1970s, before sophistication set in. I, of course, wondered what they ate for the breakfast.

This a reel dedicated to a great friend of ours in Ennis who passed away this year, Liam Murphy. A wonderful singer and guitar player, his innate rhythm was a constant driver of sessions and his sense of humour a constant source of joy.

Ballybeg Woods is a beautiful spot on the outskirts of Ennis for a walk and a bit of reflection.

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.

Emer Mayock was putting together a collection of New Music of Mayo and she asked Joe to write some tunes as part of the project.

In this area there’s a lot of bog so I thought I’d have to name the tunes for it.

Emer Mayock was putting together a collection of New Music of Mayo and she asked Joe to write some tunes as part of the project.

In this area there’s a lot of bog so I thought I’d have to name the tunes for it.

A reel written during the summer while I was on a break away from everything and everyone! I was in Gleann Cholm Cille in SW Donegal and spent an evening down by the Murlin river listening to the water, birdsong and the breeze. This is the story the river told on that particular day bringing “Faoiseamh”.

The Bridge Mills, Nun’s Island, and University Road are well-known to Galwegians, and collectively comprise a small contiguous area in the west of the city – an area which I’ve criss-crossed for almost my entire life – from my primary school days onward, and right throughout my 35 year teaching career in the neighbouring Sea Road.

The span of the route, from the Mills to the very end of University Road, represents no more than a leisurely 10 minute stroll, and the area has retained much of its old-world charm during my lifetime.

Notable landmarks on the route include the majestic Galway Cathedral and the Eglington canal which connects Lough Corrib and Galway Bay.

The Bridge Mills, Nun’s Island, and University Road are well-known to Galwegians, and collectively comprise a small contiguous area in the west of the city – an area which I’ve criss-crossed for almost my entire life – from my primary school days onward, and right throughout my 35 year teaching career in the neighbouring Sea Road.

The span of the route, from the Mills to the very end of University Road, represents no more than a leisurely 10 minute stroll, and the area has retained much of its old-world charm during my lifetime.

Notable landmarks on the route include the majestic Galway Cathedral and the Eglington canal which connects Lough Corrib and Galway Bay.

I am often too fond of the hours after midnight. The stillness and peace it brings helps my creative side open up more, sometimes playing fiddle until the early hours of the morning.

I walk through the Glen in Ennistymon, immersing myself in nature, surrounded by dancing bluebells in the wind everywhere. As this experience lights me up I am filled with inspiration to write music.