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Information on how to plan a visit at... [Singing in Gaelic] In Donegal, when I was growing up, Christmas was family time.
That's what was important about Christmas.
My mother would have the midnight mass and some of us would go down to the choir with her and, when they'd come back, we'd sit around and sing Christmas carols.
See the blazing Yule before us fa la la la la la la la strike the harp and join the chorus That was the tradition that I grew up in: it really meant family.
Follow me in merry measure fa la la la la la la la - One morning LEAH SMITH: Our mother was originally a jazz pianist and she took us on a trip to Ireland.
She started getting into Celtic music.
She said, you know, she wanted to go hear some of the music from Ireland.
She came up to the group of musicians and she said, "You play this amazing music and I'm studying Celtic music" and they said, "Well, where are you from?"
She said, "I'm from Georgia."
They said, "You're from Georgia, oh!
The most beautiful fiddle music comes out of those mountains."
This night is the eve of the great Nativity, Born is the Son of Mary the Virgin, The soles of his feet have touched the earth...
Heaven and Earth glowed to Him... announcing to us that Christ is born.
Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Come now, there it shines so bright to the knowing light of the stable Kneel close to the Child so dear cast aside your fear and be thankful Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
On behalf of this wonderful family of musicians gathered on the stage, I'd like to welcome you to the Atlantic Celtic Christmas Concert.
What we're going to do this evening is take you on a journey, a journey in poetry, music, song, dance, and story, from the Celtic lands and their Christmas traditions all the way across the ocean, 3,000 miles and more, to the Appalachian South and then right here, to the stage of Emory University's Schwartz Center for the Performing Arts.
[Applause] We're so thrilled to be back amongst friends and it's a real family atmosphere here onstage and I have my own daughter Aisling with me for the first time in Atlanta here, so Aisling Jarvis.
We're going to do a very old Gaelic Christmas carol, "Don Oche d i mBeithil", which means "One Night in Bethlehem", and it's the most famous of the Christmas carols.
Don oche d i mBeithil beidh tagairt f ghrian go brch don oche d i mBeithil go dtinig an Briathar sln T grosghrua ar spartha 's an talamh 'na chldach bn fach Iosagn sa chlibhn 's an Mhaighdean dhil le gr Do you hear what I hear?
said the king to his people everywhere Listen to what I say pray for peace, people everywhere Listen to what I say a Child, a Child, sleeping through the night let Him bring us goodness and light let Him bring us goodness and light Do you hear what I hear?
[Applause] -Thank you.
When the Irish emigrated to -- whether it was Scotland, England, or America -- they brought with them their faith and their culture.
I think it's a lot to do with the soul that appears within the Irish music, the Irish culture.
There's a sense of soul; there's a sense of spirit in it.
It's not just written.
Deck the halls with boughs of holly fa la la la la la la 'tis the season to be jolly fa la la la la la la Don we now our gay apparel fa la la la la la la sing the ancient letide carol fa la la la la la la See the blazing Yule before us fa la la la la la la strike the harp and join the chorus fa la la la la la la Follow me in merry measure fa la la la la la la while I tell of Yuletide treasure fa la la la la la la la la la la la la la LEAH: Appalachian music is this magical melting pot.
It has influences that pull from Ireland; it has huge influences from Africa; it has influences from all of the Native people that were here; and it's a poor person's music and I think that's a direct tie with a lot of those places.
It was a front-porch music and you find incredible culture and stories, but nothing calls me like the Southern Appalachians, in particular, this whole region here, it calls me home; it really does.
One morning, one morning one morning in May I overheard a handsome man to a young girl say Go dress you up, pretty Katie and come along with me across the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Allegheny They left before daybreak on a buckskin and a roan past dark, shivering pine trees where the mockingbirds roam past dark, cloudy windows where eyes may never see across the Blue Ridge Mountains to the Allegheny Sunday nights, many years ago, when I was a kid, back in Hartford, Connecticut, I would turn on a little radio that was beside my bed and listen to a program from Nashville, "The Grand Old Opry", and I thought that music I was listening to on "The Grand Old Opry", I thought that was Irish and then, somewhat later, I learned that it's, of course, Southern country music.
But then, I came down here in the South 30 years ago and came back to the view that it is Irish, but Irish with some other factors brought into it.
Somehow, they all ended up here, the ScottishIrish, and Scots-Irish settlers of the South.
They didn't carry much with them, but what they did carry along were their fiddles, their dancing feet, and their rollicking, reverend love of life.
Whoo-hoo!
Whoo-ooh!
Jesse, he's a good-ol' boy Jesse, he's a dandy Jesse, he's a good-ol' boy teasin' the pretty girls -- Fly around, my pretty little miss fly around, my daisy fly around, my pretty little miss almost drive me crazy Whoo!
Hoo!
Whoo!
Yeah!
Thank you.
The two kinds of music, bluegrass music and Celtic music, are really cousins.
I really enjoy it when I get a chance to play some of those old tunes that have traditions on both sides of the Atlantic, where the Irish musicians kind of know them and we know them in bluegrass music and, oftentimes, I find that the trills and triplets that characterize Irish music kind of fell off on the tunes way across the Atlantic, but we definitely share a common vocabulary.
In this program, I bring out the jawbone of a donkey.
They refer to it as the jawbone of a reindeer in the show, which, of course, it isn't, but it's a little tie-in to Santa.
[Scat singing] [Hiss] [Cheering, hooting] My mother came from a little valley in the West of Ireland, West Clare.
She often told me about the Christmas celebrations there: gathering the holly and the ivy to decorate the house, making Christmas candles.
And the youngest -- my mother was the youngest -- would lead the family as they lit the first candle and then candle to candle to candle to candle, 'til the whole house was ablaze with light.
Then, precisely at midnight on Christmas Eve, they would be led across those scattered, rocky fields up to a hill, where they'd look down into the darkness, darkest night of the year, and see all those tiny, twinkling candles lighting up the night in order to light the Holy Family on the way to Bethlehem.
What child is this?
The Son, the Son of Mary who, laid to rest on Mary's lap is sleeping whom angels greet with anthems sweet while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King whom shepherds guard and angels sing haste, haste to bring Him laud the Babe the Son of Mary Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh come, peasant, king to own Him The King of Kings salvation brings let loving hearts enthrone Him This, this is Christ the King whom shepherds guard and angels sing haste, haste to bring Him laud the Babe the Son of Mary What child is this?
The Son, the Son of Mary A couple of years ago, I heard the legend of St. Brendan, who was an Irish monk who lived in Ireland around 550 AD and I was really captivated by his story.
The legend is that he sailed all the way from the West coast of Ireland to Canada and back in a leather boat, in the company of 14 other monks, and I've just always been really taken by the courage and bravery and vision that such a voyage would need to have, and so I sat down with my banjo and I wrote a tune to try to commemorate that voyage in a little bit of banjo music and I kind of figured who better than an Irish monk to have a banjo tune made in his honor?
[Cheering] Something really resonated for me when I read the text of "Quis Est Deus" because, for me, it's a sort of prayer about searching, really.
Where is God?
Who is He?
Where does He come from?
It's that kind of positive and active spirituality that is embodied in that prayer that seemed to me to be at the essence of what contemporary spirituality is about.
Because, in a way, I think we're searching more now than we ever were.
Who is God and where is God, of whom is God, and where His dwelling?
- Quis est Deus ubi est Deus cuius est Deus quomodo diligitur?
Quis est Deus ubi est Deus cuius est Deus quomodo invenitur?
quomodo invenitur?
- Quis est Deus ubi est Deus cuius est Deus dominus?
filios et filias aurum et argentum vester?
- Si in caelo an in terra in montanis in vallibus?
- Deus noster omnium hominum celi ac terre maris et hominum Deus solis omnium -- ontium sublimium dominus - Si in caelo an in terra in montanis in vallibus?
Si in caelo an in terra in montanis in vallibus?
- Quis est Deus cuius est Deus?
Cuius est Deus dominus?
Cuius est Deus do... ...minus?
- Cuius in caelo in terra WOODWARD: Is He in heaven or on the Earth, in the seas, in the rivers, in the mountains, in the valleys?
In vallibus Speak to us tidings of Him.
How will He be seen?
How is He loved?
How is He found?
Is it in youth or is it in old age He is found?
[Applause] Now, the first time I heard John playing this instrument, he was playing a slow air and I heard those notes sliding up and down.
You're riding the spaces between the notes and that's where, if the music is soulful, that's where you find it.
[Applause] [Cheering] You're riding the spaces between the notes -- that's where you find it.
"Nobody's Fault but Mine" is a very old, well-known blues/gospel song.
-It's one of those songs where you can throw it into any community.
Everybody's got something their mom taught them and they want to throw their line in, so that song is always growing and changing and evolving and moving around.
[ Scat singing] -[Smiths humming] Well, it's nobody's fault but mine nobody's fault but mine Well, if I die and my soul be lost nobody's fault but mine Well, now, my mama taught me how to pray My mama taught me how to pray, well if I die and my soul be lost my mama, she taught me how to pray Well, it's nobody's fault but mine - nobody's fault but mine Well, it's nobody's fault but mine Well, if I die and my soul be lost it's nobody's fault but mine -[Scat singing] Well, my mama taught me how to stomp and sing my mama taught me how to stomp and sing If I die and my soul be lost my mama taught me how to stomp and sing Well, it's nobody's fault but mine nobody's fault but mine, nobody's fault but mine well, if I die and my soul be lost it's nobody's fault but mine What your mama teach you?
Well, my mama taught me how to wail my mama taught me how to wail Well, if I die and my soul be lost my mama taught me how to wail Well, it's nobody's fault but mine no, it's nobody's fault but mine Well, if I die and my soul be lost it's nobody's fault but mine no, it's nobody's fault but mine No, no, it's nobody's fault but mine nobody's fault, nobody's fault no, no, nobody's fault but mine Well, it's nobody's fault but mine [Cheering] [Singing in Gaelic] [Applause] And then there was St Kevin and the blackbird.
The saint is kneeling, arms stretched out, inside his cell, but the cell is narrow, so one turned-up palm is out the window, stiff as a crossbeam, when a blackbird lands and lays in it and settles down to nest.
Kevin feels the warm eggs, the small breast, the tucked neat head and claws and, finding himself linked into the network of eternal life, is moved to pity.
I wrote this poem based on one of the folk tales, really -- I grew up around them -- a wonder tale about his closeness to the natural world and his pity for all living things.
St. Kevin -- the story about him is that his arm is out the window and a bird lands in it.
And it's quite easy to imagine here in this situation, actually.
Kevin praying, hand out the window, little bird lands.
Kevin has to keep the bird in his hand, sit here for how long it takes a bird to hatch.
I don't know.
Three weeks?
Holding the bird.
It could've happened.
[Chuckle] But sie the whole thing's imagined anyhow, imagine being Kevin.
Which is he?
Self-forgetful or in agony all the while, from his neck on down out through his hurting forearms?
Are his fingers sleeping?
Can he still feel his knees?
Or has the shut-eyed blank of underneath crept up through him?
Is there distance in his head?
Alone and mirrored clear in love's deep river... he prays, a prayer his body makes entirely for he has forgotten self, forgotten bird and on the riverbank forgotten the river's name.
Come and stand in that river current gentle and slow send your troubles downwater down on that water flow When you stand in that river angels sing in your head secrets beyond every worry dreams beyond every dread Tell me, sister, tell me, brother where does that river flow?
It flows down to the great water where, soon, my people will go Come and stand in that river current gentle and slow send your troubles downwater down on that water flow [Cheering] I think that 3,000 miles away, in the hills of Appalachia, somebody must've looked up, the maker of this song, at a starlit night and wondered about all that mystery of Christmas.
I wonder as I wander out under the sky how Jesus our Saviour was born for to die for poor on'ry people like you and like I I wonder as I wander out under the sky If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing a star in the sky or a bird on the wing or all of God's angels in heaven for to sing He surely could've had it for He was the King I wonder as I wander out under the sky how Jesus our Saviour did come for to die for poor on'ry people like you and like I I wonder as I wander out under the sky [Applause] Oche chiin oche Mhic D cach faoi shuain solas geal ghl leanbh Iosa ceansa simh Muire Iosaf's aingil D Crost 'na chodladh go smh Crost 'na chodladh go smh Silent night holy night shepherds quake at the sight glories stream from heaven afar heavenly hosts sing alleluia Christ the Saviour is born Christ the Saviour is born I'm going to do a song here, it's a Christmas song called...
I wrote it, actually, for the many, many years that I spent at home, singing songs and playing music with my family.
Especially at Christmastime, we used to maybe start in the afternoon and we would try and not repeat a song and sometimes it would go until very early in the morning.
Of course, we did repeat songs, but we never knew.
[Laughter] [Strum] So here you go.
Merry Christmas to all and goodnight The moon's rising and we watch the sight One more song before leavin' no more sorrow or grievin' Can we put all these past wrongs to right?
Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Peace to you all and sleep tight slumbering children will wake at first light Bright smiles all glowin' and joy freely flowin' Their hopes must be met with delight Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Do ah ah ah do da ah da da da ah Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Well, the wild geese have all taken flight and the lone dove awaken with this last drink we've taken so close the door, turn out the light Merry Christmas to all and odnight Merry Christmas to all and goodnight [Applause] Thank you.
-[Whistle] LEAH: "Breakin' Up Christmas" is an old fiddle tune.
It's a tune that was played when everyone was working on farms, they were all providing their own Christmases.
They would start on Christmas Day and they would celebrate for 12 days and everyone would go from home to home in the neighborhood, on foot, with all their instruments and they would have a party and dine together at each place.
And on the 12th day, they would get to the last house of theelebration and they would play this tune, "Breakin' Up Christmas", and that was the signal that it was the end of the festivities; that was the song that said "Party's over."
Hooray, Jake; hooray, John breakin' up Christmas all night long All night long, all night long breaking Up Christmas all night long [Exclamation] Santa Claus had come and gone breakin' up Christmas all night long All night long, all night long breakin' up Christmas all night long Santa Claus has come and gone breakin' up Christmas all night long All night long, all night long breakin' up Christmas all night long [Cheering and whistling] Whoo!
Yeah.
Merry Christmas.
Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia I was imagining Kevin simply absorbed in meditation, self-forgetful.
I suppose, if you're lucky in meditation, in prayer, or in composition of poetry, you are self-forgetful.
That self-forgetfulness that I imagine in Kevin, I suppose you could project it onto the state of a writer in the best conditions.
- Kneel close to the child so dear cast aside your fear and be thankful Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a Come now, there it shines so bright to the knowing light of the stable Kneel close to the child so dear cast aside your fear and be thankful Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia Alle - alleluia -a -a This program is brought to you in part by Tourism Ireland.
Jump into Ireland, where tradition is alive and well throughout the island.
Jump into Ireland's authentic tastes and Irish hospitality.
Information on how to plan a visit at...
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