• Biography
• Classic Recordings
• Paddy Reynolds Memorial Scholarship
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The Classic Recordings Album

Produced by John Daly and Cleek Schrey

I spent many weeks in the late fall of 1986 in anticipation of meeting Paddy Reynolds. I lived in Longford then, just a few miles from where Paddy was born and raised. Longford box- player Gerry Gorman and his wife Maureen invited friends and musicians from everywhere to a house session when Paddy came ‘home’ on vacation that year. Gerry and Paddy had been friends for more than 40 years at the time. If first impressions last, they certainly did in this case. Paddy arrived dressed in a suit and tie (“a serious musician should present themselves properly”, he insisted years later). Greeting old friends with grace and warmth, their being there obviously meant a great deal to him. When asked to play, one knew Paddy was delighted to be there too. His rich deep-toned fiddle could have belonged to any concert violinist. He played Jennie’s welcome to Charlie, The Pride of the Bronx, Farewell to Ireland and more. Although Paddy was much shorter in stature than I had expected, his earnest demeanor and engaging presence gave the impression of a very formidable character indeed. He exuded a nobility of effort, and just as he was emphatic in everything he said, one knew he meant every note he played. An artisan and his art. Nobody could play like that without having something really special. Those impressions did last, as long as I knew him.

During that trip to Ireland, Paddy traveled around Longford, Leitrim and Cavan to sessions with Gerry Gorman and other friends. I needed little persuasion to join that entourage. The same characteristics of Paddy were evident every time. For him, music was social, it was friendly, it had great worth and value. It was his connection with his roots, not just an ideal or an escape. It was his true art; his passion. Watching a man live his passion is inspiring. Meeting Paddy in Ireland was the beginning of a friendship with a deeply complex musician, a man it would take years to get to know. He visited his native Longford just a few more times after 1986.

A business trip brought me to New York in 1990 and I visited Paddy in Staten Island for the first time. Moving to Chicago in 1997 enabled me to visit Paddy and Lily three or four times a year since. Sharing freely with me some of the music and techniques he had been taught, Paddy as a teacher gradually emerged over the years. He was a tough task-master but a wonderful mentor. He was well able to read and write music, which I could not at first. He helped me with that in no small way. Paddy understood bowing very well too, citing Martin Wynne as the expert.

He shared his respect for the playing of many people with me, but there was only one person to whom Paddy attributed the term ‘genius.’ He regarded James (Lad) O’ Beirne as a genius.

Almost twenty years have passed since that night in Gorman’s house. Paddy was in his 60’s then and playing some of the finest fiddle music I have ever heard. In recent years, I watched him play less and less until he could no longer finish a set of tunes. Just as it is inspiring to watch a man live his passion, it is difficult to watch him surrender it. Paddy’s legendary candor made him realize that he was beginning to relinquish his playing ability around the late ‘90s. Ironically, it was the same emphatic candor that brought this compilation album about. All his life Paddy revered Lad O’Beirne. He looked up to him musically, as a personal role model and as a remarkable leader in New York’s Irish music landscape. Paddy wanted to ‘prove’ to me the genius of Lad as a musician during a visit in 2003. He went to his bedroom to find me a tape of Lad’s playing. Returning with a box of tapes, CDs and photographs, war ensued when the Lad O’Beirne tape was not among them. Most of the time, I can quote Paddy directly, but this time I don’t think I will.....

Tape by tape we listened. I was a little surprised he had never produced this box before but more surprised by what was in it. When we came to the tape of Paddy with the late Jerry Wallace on piano, it obviously brought back memories for him. He said he hadn’t listened to it in years. Paddy was not one to hide his emotions... any of them. He reminisced fondly on what a fine fellow and great musician Jerry was and how they had planned to do a solo ‘record’ many years ago. He wryly said “ and I wasn’t too bad myself then either, was I?” The piano accompanied tracks on this album are all that remain of that effort. Then we came upon tapes with guitar accompaniment. I realized that the music he made with Louise Barnes O’ Shea took him back many years too.

The idea of modern technology and the help of admirers and friends turning what we had just heard into a solo album left Paddy stuck for words; a rare occurrence but a real one that day. Between amusement at the idea, and crying at its possibility, all he could think of saying was “Where would I be going with a record at this hour of my life? I’m over 80 now you know...” I knew Paddy well enough to know he was up for the idea.

Anticipation of the album filled each subsequent visit and seemed to keep Paddy in touch with his art. He told me one day that he’d love to see the ‘finished article’ before he died. Tony DeMarco, whom Paddy described as ‘one of the finest Irish fiddlers alive today’ was there to share the moment when Paddy did get to see and listen to the ‘finished article’ just weeks before the day came.

— John Daly, July 2005

On July 20, 2003, John Daly and I drove from the Catskill Mountains to a Staten Island hospital to meet and visit Paddy Reynolds. Shortly after that visit, I received a phonecall from Paddy wanting to play a tune! It came as a great surprise to me that Paddy Reynolds would have such an interest in playing with me, a 19 year old college student with an inordinate interest in the fiddle.

Paddy loved visits, and I visited him many times playing tunes with him and for him. He criticized, critiqued and praised my playing in his usual straight forward manner.

Paddy was a living link to an amazing era of Irish music in New York and he could bring that time to life with his vivid tales of Lad O’Beirne, Andy McGann, and all of the other characters that made up the music scene during that time. The fiddle playing on this recording, with its tasteful phrasing, fine settings, and careful execution, brings us back to those times in another way. I hope you enjoy the music on this recording.

— Cleek Schrey, July 2005