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Concert slide show —be sure to look for set dancers!

Russia Today: Entertainment

March 23, 2008, 22:46

Moscow Reels to an Irish Jig

Before the musicians took the stage, the public had been warmed up by the Moscow band Slua Si. And although an Irish proverb warns ‘never buy bread from a butcher’, the Irish folk from the Russian musicians was very palatable.

Finally the legends of Irish folk came out.

Daithi Sproule doesn't just play Irish traditional music, he used to teach it at Dublin’s University College.

Patrick Ourceau is first fiddle in the world of Irish folk music. Performing traditional melodies, he always adds a twist of improvisation.

Paddy O’Brien knew that his vocation was Irish music from an early age. He has collected more than three thousand Irish melodies.

“The idea of playing a very technically involved kind of jig doesn't necessarily bring out a feeling. Simplicity and beauty, and passion – so far, is my philosophy,” he explains.

It seems natural to dance when you hear the jaunty Irish melodies, and if St. Patrick himself had been present at that concert, it’s unlikely he’d have remained seated.

See the original on the Russia Today website.

There’s something beautifully pristine about the music on this second Chulrua recording–it leaps into life every time. O’Brien has an unyielding respect, even reverence, for the melody. He insists that you hear it in its purest, most memorable form. Not a single melody on the album sounds rushed–the reels have a definite, delicate forward momentum, the jigs jog along delightfully, and the hornpipes are deftly played. In Patrick Ourceau and Pat Egan, O’Brien has found two like-minded collaborators.

Ourceau plays the reels of the title track solo on the fiddle with memorable, maple-syrup sweetness. He seems to reach in and bring out the heart and soul of the melody for our consideration. It’s paired with "Gooseberry Fair," a tune delightfully ornamented with a round of chiming double-stops.

I asked O’Brien to take us inside the making of the album. Where does that vivid, vibrant sound come from? “Our sound has a lot to do with the combination of the warm tone from the fiddle (Patrick plays a wonderful instrument) and the accordion specially tuned to blend with the fiddle tone. It's the choice of tunes, and how they are matched together, really, that determines the pace and speed at which they should be played. This in turn allows the notes to breathe, or make their musical statement. If tunes are played too fast, it can choke the phrasing, if you're not careful. It's all about interpretation, which is so important in getting the feel and emotion out of Irish traditional music.”

O’Brien also talks about “…tuning the tune.” What does that mean, I wondered? “It helps the phrasing knowing the tune very well, so you can develop the melody for more appeal, i.e., the inclusion of certain variations, as in "The Gander at the Pratie Hole." There are nice 'filler notes' in "Wellington's Advance" which give it a better flow and more body, and the few variations enhance the melody. I do this kind of thing as I developed individual tunes, especially tunes I know a long time. There's always something new to discover. I didn't develop "Wellington's Advance" just for the CD; I did it over a long period of time because I enjoyed the tune, and later decided to use it on the recording. I believe Patrick does the same with some of his tunes, e.g., "Eddie Moloney's/Roll Her on the Mountain." That selection I learned from Patrick.”

The version of "The Morning Dew" is especially brilliant. “There is an old three-part version of "The Morning Dew" recorded by Michael Coleman. The version on The Singing Kettle is a two-part version from Joe Cooley. Where he got it, I've no idea. These two Morning Dews are an example of two settings of the same tune.”

I love their version of "The Drunken Sailor;" what’s the modern history of that piece? “"The Drunken Sailor" is usually played in G minor, however, I play it in A minor. The original five-part version is in O'Neill's. Tommy Potts made the tune his own; he played it in G minor, and put in little variations here and there that enhanced it greatly. He was the one who composed the sixth part that I play solo on the recording, and much of the way I play it is from Tommy Potts.”

Patrick Ourceau is a lovely fiddle player. His solo on the title track is a very fine bit of playing. I particularly like the tight unison playing on those tracks where you and he go note for note. Where does he get those chops from? “Patrick Ourceau is no doubt a great fiddle player, and has a great sense of melody. He is very good at honing into the notes and settings of tunes from East County Clare players like Paddy Canny and people like Joe Bane.”

How do you go about selecting tunes and combinations/sets for a recording? “As far as the selections are concerned, I usually come up with a basic outline, and we each choose our own solo material. Sometimes we record more than we need, so we're able to pick and choose the best tracks. We do the layout of the tunes in order as part of the mixing, and I do it according to how I feel about the selections. They're all in my mind as I work, and I try to create a mood and a sense of life throughout the album, a sense of movement from one selection to the next. It's a matter of trying to keep the energy of the album up at a certain level. This is not a crowd-pleasing energy I'm talking about now, but the natural energy of the tunes themselves and the way they're played.”

O’Brien is also on record stating that not every jig or reel can be used in track selection. Often a lot of research is involved to find the right tunes. You’re looking for a tuneful blend and older tunes are often better because they may be less contaminated by outside influences.

Pat Egan handles the songs with grace and conviction. Egan is a great collector with a magpie’s eye for shiny little gems. He has two fine songs from Dubliner Mick Fitzgerald. One, "Asha, Asha" turns the old childhood rhyme into a meditation on aging and dying. The other is "The Ballad of Capel Street"–a street that’s heard a lot of ballads over the years, now has one of its own. That song is plucked from Fitzgerald’s brilliant 2003 album, Light Sleeper, but delivered in a more straightforward version. It’s a modern Dublin song with a little Molly Malone tribute in the chorus. "Ashfields in Brine" is from the pen of Archie Fisher, the outstanding Scottish singer-songwriter. And, on the less serious side, a Percy French song, "Bridget Flynn" is given a lively makeover.

An unusual setting of “Drowsy Maggie,” credited to Mrs. Crotty but also known as “The Reel With the Birl,” appears alongside a resurrection of a fine old tune that was a favourite of Clare fiddler John Kelly.

Although Paddy’s splendid playing and deep immersion in the tradition form the sturdy backbone of Chulrua, Patrick Ourceau contributes soulful, stylish fiddling, and Pat Egan’s excellent guitar accompaniment capably supports their melodies. Pat also possesses a wonderful singing voice, but it is shown to less advantage than it could be by the choice of almost uniformly doleful songs, which strike a somewhat lugubrious note in contrast to the exuberance of the dance tunes. The pace of the playing is relaxed enough to underscore the trio’s masterful variations and ornamentations, and serves as a graceful reminder that we often move too fast to appreciate the measured, cyclic passage of time. In its recalling of past masters, in its thoughtful and well-crafted performances, this recording is at once a wakeup call and a reminder of the things that matter in Irish traditional music.

See the original at the Irish Music Magazine website

FolkWorld - Issue 35 02/2008

Chulrua, "The Singing Kettle"
Label: Shanachie; 23002; 2007;  Playing time: 54:48 min

CHULRUA
The Singing Kettle
SHANACHIE 23022 CD $16

Chulrua is Paddy O’Brien, button accordion; Pat Egan, guitar, vocals and Patrick Ourceau, fiddle. Paddy is one of the most respected collectors in traditional music with over 4,000 tunes in his repertoire. This album features the music of Tipperary and Clare, which perfectly suits Ourceau who plays Tipperary style fiddle. Rather than elaborate ornamentation, the duo seek the beauty and depth of the music. Pat Egan’s rhythmic support keeps the tunes moving along at a good pace. Egan also contributes four vocals that coaxes the maximum meaning from the lyrics with his straight forward trad style. The often recorded, Bridget Flynn, finds its way back to its roots in one of the album’s highlights. This is the CD for those who like their trad music pure and free of crossover influences.

Album Reviews

by Jamie O’Brien, The Irish Edition, October 2007  (Philadelphia PA)

Chulrua • The Singing Kettle

You would think that there might be a few problems for a trio spread out between the northern Mid-West and the East Coast. But the miles don’t seem to make much of a difference for Paddy O’Brien, Pat Egan and Patrick Ourceau. Students of the music, masters of their instruments, these three fit together with a tightness and perfection to be envied. Their rich, clear playing is precise as O’Brien’s accordion and Ourceau’s fiddling share the melodies with a lilting warmth and Egan’s inventive accompaniment on guitar provides the strong base from which they build the tunes.

And what material they choose! Here are tunes which may be familiar, but their versions are always a little different, having been collected over the years directly or through friends from such seminal musicians as Martin Mulvihill, Jack Coen and Micho Russell among others. Enjoy the excellent liner notes for the details. Add to this four songs (two of which must surely find their way into my repertoire before too long!) by Egan. He chooses material that perfectly suit his warm baritone and you soon find yourself enveloped in his stories.

Here is nearly an hour of traditional Irish music at its best, well worth listening to.

Read the original from the PDF version

by Siobhán Long, The Irish Times/THE TICKET,  August 17, 2007

CHULRUA • The Singing Kettle • Shanachie ***

Three albums in and with French fiddler Patrick Ourceau now in their midst, Chulrua have absorbed a share of Gallic influences, particularly on The Ballad of Capel Street, replete with box player Paddy O'Brien's plaintive minor chords that'd sit right at home in the café society of the left bank. With tunes drawn largely from east and west Clare and from neighbouring north Tipperary, there's little to fault in Chulrua's tight-fisted delivery, and much to be admired in their choice of a robust version of the long-labouring jig, The Gander At The Pratie Hole, borrowed from charismatic fiddler Tommy Potts. At times, Egan commits the guitarist's cardinal sin of overzealous decoration, but Ourceau's belly-deep tone on The Singing Kettle bespeaks of a musician with a gloriously original voice.

CD Roundup

The Singing Kettle is Chulrua’s third album, and features beautiful and instinctive duo work on a rake of traditional tunes. Their playing together is stellar; it’s like listening to a conversation between old friends, backed throughout by the no-nonsense rhythm guitar of Pat Egan.

The recording features unusual versions of familiar tunes as well as a number of less-often-heard pieces, reflective of the enormous repertoire for which O’Brien has become well known. A native of County Offaly in the Midlands of Ireland, O’Brien now makes St. Paul, Minnesota his home. He is the recipient of a National Endowment for the Arts grant to record and annotate 500 dance tunes—a small fraction of his repertoire. Like O’Brien, fiddler Patrick Orceau is an avid student of the old masters and a virtuoso fiddler in the Clare and East Galway style. Originally from France, he has toured extensively in Europe and North America, and taught at many respected Irish traditional music schools. Though they live in cities thousands of miles apart, they think alike musically, according to O’Brien.

Most of the tunes selected for this recording are from the southwest of Ireland, mostly from East Clare, West Clare, and North Tipperary. Among the thousands and thousands of Irish tunes, there are varied degrees of recognizable melody, so O’Brien and Orceau chose catchy tunes with their listeners in mind.

One of the most interesting on the recording is also O’Brien’s personal favorite, a colorful take on the well-known jig “The Gander at the Pratie Hole.” Originally a piper’s tune, Chulrua’s version here was influenced by the wildly experimental—in Irish traditional terms—Tommy Potts, a Dublin-based fiddler who passed on to the Big Session in the Sky in 1988. While O’Brien lived in Dublin, he was a neighbor of Potts and this version of the tune, O’Brien says, is inspired by learning the tune Potts-style—with melodic variations that suggest a different underlying harmonic vocabulary. Typically a two-part tune, the version here is played as a three-part tune, though the “third” part was played by Potts merely as a variation. “My version is kind of half from memory and half from my own feelings about the tune. I made up what I could not remember and just ended up making that third part.” The way they play the tune is not the way one would recognize it necessarily, and includes a number of subtleties that give the tune unique color. “That gives you an idea of the way we think of the music,” O’Brien says. (Shanachie Records)

Born in Offaly in Castlebarnagh, he remembers his first instrument being a mouth organ purchased for him by his parents. Fondly recalling his mother taking him to local ceilis to hear the music, even as a young lad he knew he had a natural love, memory and understanding of the reels and jigs cascading forth in the local venues. This memory was to serve him well. His parents again bought him another critical instrument—his first button box, a single row Hohner. Receiving it at age 12, Paddy remembers, “The idea of buying an accordion would be a real luxury!” Getting these precepts in hand is critical to understanding the foundation that led to one of the truly encompassing personalities and foundations in traditional music. It starts there. The knowledge. He could hear it. And, as he says, “there was a sweetness inside me for it.”

Employment with the national peat board, Bord na Móna in Boora, Co. Offaly and other efforts never took him far from the music. He didn’t ever want to be far from the music. The early gigs revolved around fondly remembered stints with fiddler Dan Cleary and The Ballinamere Céilí Band in Offaly, and then a transitional moment when Paddy joined The Castle Ceili Band upon moving to Dublin in 1968. It was around this time that he had his first tour with Sean and Kathleen Ryan. He laughingly recalls, “I got stung by the American bug.” Along the road, he found the button box still closest to his heart. It is a Paolo Soprani, tuned to B/C, “before Christ,” laughs Paddy. It is one of the rarest—the gray model, made in 1948, when the company still made them by hand. It originally belonged to the well-remembered and regarded Sonny Brogan.

Needless to say, the amazing amassing of tunes in that memory had become fully formed, and they kept pouring in. Much more on that particular encyclopedia later. He moved to America and New York full-time in 1978 with fiddler James Kelly and guitarist/ singer Dáithí Sproule. Their first regular gig was in the famous Dubliner Pub in Washington D.C. This is the fond stuff of memory. A gifted musician meets America and the Irish community there, loves it and makes a career of it. That would surely be enough for most. We are the beneficiaries of these musicians’ talents. That is really all that is necessary. But not if you’re Paddy O’Brien.

Here comes the “memory thing” again. Brace yourself. It is no exaggeration to say that there are over 4,000 tunes inside his brain and musician’s hands. 4,000. And, he good-naturedly corrects the acolytes who refer to him as a “collector.” Most would consider that he would be listed among the great collectors such as O’Neill, Frank Harte, Breathnach, and the Clancys. But Paddy does not see it that way. Paddy says: “I don’t collect. I accumulate.” The difference? He continues, “I’m not a collector. I never set out to collect in an academic sense. I’m not a crusader. Never planned on a book or anything like that. I guess I’m an accumulator. I’m surely a student. I love the tunes. Maybe it is that easy.” Well, love or not, 4,000 is a staggering amount. Oh, he had his idols as a young player, all right. Joe Burke and Tony MacMahon come quickly to mind. But again and again as one speaks to this musician, there is a quick shedding of the personal, the introspective. If you want Paddy O’Brien to talk, ask him about the music.

“There are still geographical, stylistic differences within Ireland but they are disappearing. That is sad. I fear a lot of the music is coming out of books today, and is not being heard and understood before being played. This music takes time; it’s a long-term listening process. Simply playing notes is not enough.”

Asked what styles, or tunes still hold him Paddy shares another insight gained from the decades with those tunes. “A lot of the tunes were originally simple. Dance tunes. Then there were some wonderful pipe players and fiddlers who got hold of those tunes, as an example in West Clare, and actually added variations, phrasings, and filigrees and turned them into masterpieces. I especially love the West Clare way of playing jigs.” Does he still hear a tune that really hits him that he hasn’t heard before? “Well, not often, but sometimes. That is great, really great when it happens. You also hear wonderful and different styles of playing the same tune. Those tunes change titles so often. I first heard a famous tune as, ‘Around The World For Sport,’ but then years later Matt Molloy played it for me and titled it, ‘The Sword In The Hand.’ That also is fascinating.”

We caught up with him just back from a national tour in America. He had returned to his home in Minneapolis and reflected on his group, Chulrua. It includes Patrick Ourceau on fiddle, and Pat Egan on guitar and vocals. Chulrua’s first album was 2000’s, Barefoot On The Altar on an independent label. The group was picked up by Shanachie for its second album, Down The Back Lane, released six months ago. “We really want to do a new one and we will release it sometime next year. I also am working along on a solo album, but that is still a ways off.”

So, then, there it is. All done, all down. Wrong! There is so much to say, and the main new plan comes forth in an excited rush. “What I’m really working on now is an ongoing project with Patrick Ourceau. He is a really marvelous fiddler, wonderful. He has such a deep knowledge of the music and he also favors the East Clare style of fiddling. He really is extraordinary, how he deals with a tune, how he deals with the sensitivity he has with the heart of a great tune. What we are really into now is melody making. It is our goal to play the music by putting the expression into it that is normally only offered by a solo musician. This is really difficult, but we feel deeply it is worthy of the music, if we do it right. We are going to do a CD, and we are also touring Ireland in September and October of this year.”

If traditional music is anything like it is thought to be; if it is respectful of its history, if it is sharing with other players, if it is important, then it is worthy itself of people like this. No hype. A love of the sharing with other musicians. Need help? Need a tune? A note? A grace? There are these fountainheads. The aforementioned Frank Harte. Kevin Henry in Chicago. Thank God there are still these men and women around. Musicians come and go. Styles do, too. Everything changes. But to the Paddy O’Briens of the world, before anything else—albums, money, tours, teaching, learning—there is one light over the whole adventure. The notes. The tunes themselves. The music. Alpha and omega.

Green Man Review, December 2003  (reprinted with permission)

There couldn't have been much more than thirty people in the audience when I saw Chulrua, but then the room couldn’t have held many more. Though crowded, the small venue had its positive features. The view of the performers was very good, as there was little distance between them and the audience. Pat Egan (guitar, vocals), Tim Britton (uillean pipes, whistle, flute, mandolin), and Paddy O'Brien (button accordion) sat in a row along the wall, in handshake distance of the listeners. The sound, too, was terrific with minimal amplification — the guitar was plugged in, and there were microphones for the voices (and flute and whistle), all running to a single speaker set atop a nearby piano. Short a stand, O'Brien laid his microphone on the piano, retrieving it whenever he chose to speak. The accordion and uillean pipes were not amplified, but could be heard clearly.

The trio opened with a set of lively "reels named after people." Egan sat hunched over his guitar, coaxing out rhythms. O'Brien looked around the room while his fingers darted across the buttons. In the middle, Britton seemed to be in constant motion, rocking back and forth, foot tapping, as his fingers and elbows worked the pipes. Chulrua's performance took place on a night when the venue normally hosts a session. Most of the audience members were session regulars, so when Britton introduced a set of tunes by asking if anyone did not know what a slip jig was, not a hand went up. Britton smiled and said, "Cool!" Chulrua's first set was energetic, and the audience, although mostly seated, was always moving.

In contrast, the second set felt more sedate; the tunes played tended to be slower, and there was less movement among the listeners, as though the audience was worn out from the vigor of the first set. Although more placid, it was no less musical. Egan sang a tale of unsuccessful gold prospectors in New Zealand ("This is a happy song; it only has one minor chord"), and O'Brien was featured on the American hymn "Wayfaring Stranger". The performance ended with a driving set of reels "to get back on track" that raised the adrenaline level in the room.

As one local piper remarked, "That’s the stuff!" Yes, indeed.

As soon as I got into my car, I popped Chulrua's newest release, Down The Back Lane, into the CD player. It seemed oddly familiar; I'd heard many of the selections earlier in the evening. The timbres of the accordion and uillean pipes blend together remarkably well to produce a full sound, supported rhythmically and harmonically by the guitar. The dance tunes are energetic, but unlike in the live performance, not to the point of exhaustion. The opening set of slip jigs and the closing set of reels are particularly tasty. O'Brien's version of "Wayfaring Stranger" is included (the arrangement makes me think of a funeral march), and paired with the Bill Monroe composition "Crossing The Cumberlands." Britton's expressive piping shines on the slow air "Dark Loch na Gar." Egan has a soulful tenor voice, and it's heard on four tracks. Two of these are especially noteworthy. "One Day In Sligo" has an odd incomplete feel, a disquieting minor jig melody that sticks in the head. Possibly my favorite cut, "The Drover," is a poem by Padraic Colum that Egan set to music, a haunting melody that mesmerizes. Down The Back Lane is a lovely second effort from this group.

It's four a.m. on a Tuesday. The chairs at the bar are empty at Mona's, an Irish pub in Manhattan, and Patrick Ourceau's fiddle case is still open. "How about 'The Galway Rambler?'" he suggests to Eamon O'Leary, who's sitting next to him. O'Leary responds by picking the first few notes on his guitar, and his partner confirms them on fiddle. Into the tune after a false start, Ourceau's bow slowly sweeps across the strings. His notes are lifting and lyrical and bounce with each stroke. Even at this hour, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are intense. Besides O'Leary, the only person appreciating his deliberate old-style tempo is a bartender, taking a break from cleaning pint glasses.

A slow tempo is key in Ourceau's style, and he doesn't recognize that priority in many of his contemporaries. "It's a mistreatment of the music, going full speed ahead in one direction without even considering what you're leaving behind. I cannot allow myself to or treat the music disrespectfully. It can be an empty bag of tricks, and there's a great lack of integrity and respect in it. Tradition is a journey; it's a journey in which you know what came behind you and then you carry it on."

Full text of article on the Fiddler Magazine site

The News-Star    April 20-26, 2001          Monroe, Louisiana  (reprinted with permission)

On the Button:  Unusual accordion player fronts Irish trio
by Nick Deriso, News-Star

Their name translates from Gaelic as "Red Back," the name of the favorite wolfhound of ancient Irish hero Fionn MacCumhaill. But what it sounds like is what they most definitely are, cooool. It's certainly a don't miss moment for the area's growing legion of Irish music fans. Chulrua performs Tuesday at Enoch's in Monroe. Chulrua (pronounced Cool-ROO-ah) is a neat trio of traditional Irish musicians led by Paddy O'Brien, a legend on the button accordion. A native of County Offaly, O'Brien has spent more than 40 years hanging with older musicians throughout Ireland—collecting rare versions of tunes and quite a few stories. Throw in the artistry of old-school blokes like Tim Britton and Pat Egan and you've got a trio that's already treasured by aficionados worldwide. "The rarely heard combination of button accordion and uilleann pipes has never sounded sweeter," writes Don Meade in The Irish Voice. The trio's driving rhythms and delicately beautiful interaction were recently captured on the delectable 71-minute CD, "Barefoot on the Altar."

Green Man Review, November 2000  (reprinted with permission)

Chulrua (pronounced cool-ROO-ah) is not only the name of this amazing trio of celebrated musicians but the name of the favourite wolfhound of the ancient Irish hero Fionn MacCumhaill. It translates to English as "red back." Personally, I love how traditional Irish music is infused with so much history; it adds a depth and richness which makes it even more enjoyable.

The members of this trio are Paddy O'Brien (button accordion), Pat Egan (guitar, vocals), and Tim Britton (uillean pipes, wooden flute, whistle). Together  they play the old instrumental dance music of Ireland, as well as walking marches, slow airs, etc. They present it as if they were in a traditional session,  which can be held anywhere but is best in small and intimate settings. This music is something the trio strive to present in keeping with the old tradition, passed from generation to generation. The group also do teaching workshops, and school residencies, and play a wide range of venues.

Barefoot on the Altar gives us a sampling of all aspects of Irish music, from jigs to airs. All are played with a skill and passion which make the music itself seem as if it were a living entity. The majority of the 17 tracks are traditional; the entire 70 minutes are a journey to another time, another style of life.

"The Foggy Dew" is perhaps an older harp tune, according to the liner notes. The lyrics were supplied by Peadar Kearney, who composed the Irish national anthem. It is a song lamenting the loss of so many Irishmen to WWI, and points out that they might have been much more valuable fighting at home. "It was better to die beneath an Irish sky..." War is always a sad affair, and this song holds the mournful wail of mothers, wives, and daughters, and all who lost their loved ones.

"Springhill Mine Disaster" was written by Peggy Seeger as a tribute to a tragic event in the coal-mining town of Springhill, Nova Scotia in 1958. Underscoring the terrible price of coal often paid by miners and by their families, the song describes a major "bump" (cave-in) in 1958 which killed 75 men. Some miners were rescued, but the price was a horrible one to pay. "There's blood and bone for miners lives, and roads that never see sun or sky/ ...through all their days, they dug their graves..."

Another track which I readily enjoyed and is not so dark and tragic, is "Slip Jigs: The Whinny Hills of Leitrim/The Arragh Mountains." We are treated to  two different versions of "The Whinny Hills of Leitrim," the second version played in two different keys. The third piece, according to the liner notes, was composed by Paddy O'Brien, the box player of Newtown, Co., Tipperary, who recorded it with fiddle maestro Seamus Connolly of Killaloe, Co., Clare, on an album called The Banks of the Shannon.

This is a perfect CD for a quiet day where you wish to indulge yourself. It was recorded live, and there has been no overdubbing, mixing, or other artificial enhancement or modifications. As the cover notes state: "In stark contrast to modern recording trends, this approach renders the music as it is, in all its vulnerability, intimacy, and raw power. We feel this best serves the music as we know and love it." And it is music to love!

Dirty Linen    February/March 2000

The popularity of Irish music has spawned a large number of American bands playing in Irish pubs and folk clubs around the country, but their recorded efforts are usually intended for sales at gigs. The best American players can keep up with pretty fast company, however, even if the serious American audience is—unfortunately—likely to view them with suspicion. Tim Britton is an excellent uilleann piper from Philadelphia, where Mick Moloney lauded his playing over 20 years ago. Now based in Iowa, he has joined forces with accordionist Paddy O’Brien and guitarist Pat Egan to form an exceptional American-Irish group. The tunes, which include some unusual settings, are attractive and intelligently programmed. On the whole, this is a very enjoyable CD.

Irish Voice   December 17, 1999   New York, NY

The rarely heard combination of button accordion and uilleann pipes has never sounded sweeter than on "Barefoot on the Altar," an independent release by Chulrua, a trio that includes County Offaly box player Paddy O'Brien with piper Tim Britton and guitarist/singer Pat Egan.

Irish Voice   Volume 13, No.22   May 26- June 1, 1999   New York, NY

Surprisingly, these two popular Irish instruments have hardly ever been recorded together. Perhaps this is because it takes a true master of the uilleann pipes to play that contrary instrument in tune with an accordion and a very sensitive accordionist not to overwhelm the pipes. Philadelphia native Tim Britton and Offaly-born Paddy O'Brien are just such a virtuoso pair, and they have now collaborated with Tipperary guitarist/singer Pat Egan to make what is undoubtedly the finest-ever full-length recording of pipes and box.

The trio, based in the midwest, call themselves Chulrua after the favorite wolfhound of Finn McCool. They call their CD "Barefoot on the Altar." They did, in fact, record it on the altar of a old church in Bentonsport, Iowa and were literally barefoot in order to suppress the sound of their tapping feet. The feet are still in the mix, along with some glorious duet and solo playing on Paddy's accordion and Tim's pipes, flute and whistle. It's a great mix of tunes, some of which are old favorites and others interesting obscurities. Pat Egan adds sophisticated guitar backing and three strong songs, including an excellent, heart-felt rendition of the classic "Foggy Dew."

The Sunday Tribune   20 June 1999   Dublin, Ireland

Tim Britton and accordion player Paddy O'Brien anchor guitarist Pat Egan with beautiful piping in 'Ballyloughlin' and 'Flowers of Munster.' Performance oriented perhaps, but song and whistle don't quite gel, and (a fine) guitar forefronts the melody excessively at certain points. O'Brien's 'Pástín Fionn' emphasizes a lack of solo accordion, but a dozen high-interest tracks with his stamp — notably 'Walking March' — are terrifically crisp and clear unison music.

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