The Fleadh, another unpronounceable Irish word like foilte and slainte, is one of Ireland’s most popular music festivals. In a different city each year, young musicians and dancers line the streets, busking for coins.
I’ve had the good fortune to attend twice in my life, and it’s always so fun to see. I love Ireland and I love Irish music.
Music is such a visceral pleasure, and playing an instrument, singing, or dancing well is one of those rare experiences in life that can be both deeply rewarding and overwhelmingly fun at the same time.
We’ve all been to a concert where everyone is singing along, or to a club or rave where everyone is moving together to the beat. These experiences give us hints of what humans used to have when we caroled together at Christmas parties or sung hymns in beautiful cathedrals or danced around the Maypole every spring.
I love music. My taste ranges from Mozart to Eminem, from Johnny Cash to Disturbed. I love guitar riffs and opera arias and Irish drinking songs. I love music. And we are blessed in the modern world to have unrestricted access to centuries of the greatest music ever written and performed. But it has come at a cost.
When we outsource music to the experts, we lose the motivation to seek out that visceral experience of making it for ourselves.
I don’t always have a call to action in my essays, but in this case, I have nothing remotely insightful or unique to say.
All I want is for more people to follow the example of Ireland. Teach your kids to play musical instruments. Pick up the one you haven’t touched since childhood. Bring it out at the birthday parties, the family get togethers, the neighborhood barbecues, and make music with your friends and family.
Music is fun, it brings people together, it burns calories and reduces stress. Making music together is pure good. Don’t start a band, don’t practice every day, don’t compare yourself to Jimi Hendrix.
Just play.
