Far from being a spontaneous free-for-all, the Irish music session is governed by a particular etiquette. Traditional Irish music is very specific: specific tunes and rhythms, played on specific instruments. Being aware of the nuances -- passed from generation to generation through the institution of the session -- allows the player or fan to easily follow the music. This book explains it all and includes a glossary and charming line drawings.
Barry Foy was born in a small town in Quebec's asbestos-mining belt in 1954. His family emigrated to a small town in central Indiana when he was three years old. The move guaranteed that he would never progress beyond a rudimentary command of French; on the other hand, it also guaranteed he'd never work in an asbestos mine.
As part of a very Catholic family in a sea of Hoosier WASPS, Foy had a rather insular upbringing, its boundaries dictated for the most part by the parish church, the attached primary school, and the Knights of Columbus hall. Childhood accomplishments included testing into first grade before he was really ready for it, designing a float commemorating John F. Kennedy for the Memorial Day parade, and winning a then-staggering $18 in a cover-all round at the parish bingo game. The Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand" topped the charts at the time, so there was no question but that the money would go toward buying Foy's first guitar.
Eventually, the family moved to Indianapolis, a much bigger place. It was the era of Flower Power, the civil rights movement, and the Vietnam War, and the young brainiac sought to engage with the wider world in whatever way he could. Sometimes this meant gathering signatures for an anti-war petition, sometimes picketing a substandard ghetto grocery store; at other times it meant hitchhiking long distances or simply cultivating as colorful and unkempt an appearance as possible. And all of it was set to music, from Cream to Little Walter to Albert Ayler.
A thing or two has happened since. A stint as an avant-garde composer at a Chicago college ended abruptly in 1975, when Foy discovered Irish traditional music. That began more than three decades' involvement in the music, leading to the writing of FIELD GUIDE TO THE IRISH MUSIC SESSION (pub'd in 1999 by Roberts Rinehart Publishers, reissued in 2008 by Frogchart Press). Other musics made appearances during those years as well, notably rock and Brazilian, played on various instruments.
Late in a five-year New York City residency in the early 1980s, Foy developed a sudden, baffling interest in China. Visits to the region followed, and on the second of them, a planned three-month sojourn in Taiwan stretched out to a full year, 20 minutes of which were occupied by a ceremony at Taipei City Hall that left him married to a Taiwanese woman. They are still together after 22 years.
With Seattle as headquarters, Barry Foy has cluttered up the last two decades with national and international travel, music playing, reading, writing, and strong coffee in the afternoon. He is, by his own sheepish admission, in thrall to an uncontrollable food mania, which explains his devoting three or four of the new millennium's first years to writing THE DEVIL'S FOOD DICTIONARY: A PIONEERING CULINARY REFERENCE WORK CONSISTING ENTIRELY OF LIES (issued under the Frogchart Press imprint in September 2008). Barry Foy is proud to note that this singular book incorporates everything he has ever known about food, none of which is demonstrably true.
