RAMBLIN: Paul Brady: In search of a song

Jan. 22—Editor's note: News of David Crosby's passing came as this article was being prepared for publication. Crosby will be the focus of a future Ramblin' column.

One of the great things about music is discovering new artists — meaning new to the listener although the artists themselves may have been around for years.

Such discoveries usually happen in several ways.

One way is new musical artists release an album or single that catapults them into the limelight, seemingly overnight — although they may have honed their craft through years of performing one-night stands and spending countless miles on the road before ever finding success.

Another way is coming across a singer, musician or songwriter — and often those three are combined into a single individual — who's been around for years, but for some reason or another escaped the listener's attention until a moment of synchronicity brings them together.

I learned long ago not to be too sure I had already heard all of the great musical artists in the world, even with the myriad of technological devices available these days that make the works of countless musicians available by pushing a few buttons.

Such is the case for me with Paul Brady. A few weeks ago I'd never heard of him and now he's one of my favorite "new" artists, at least to me. But he's hardly a new artist to countless others, since he's been performing, writing songs and recording since the 1960s in his native Ireland.

Ironically, Brady learned the definitive version of a song that's considered a favorite among many traditional Irish music fans while he was in the United States.

I've always been interested in the origin of songs, which usually can be quickly ascertained by looking on the credits that accompanies a recording, or through other types of searches — but that's not always the case.

Sometimes, especially with older songs, it can take a little more searching. Folk songs, of course, usually have unknown writers — although sometimes traces of their lineage can be found.

Brady hailed from Northern Ireland, also playing in Ireland, England and other locales. He and a roommate, Mick Moloney, joined a group called the Johnstons, where they sang, performed and recorded as a member of the group. In addition to traditional Irish music, the band also performed and recorded songs by the folk-leaning artists of the day, including "Both Sides Now" by Joni Mitchell, "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" by Leonard Cohen and "Wherefore and Why" by Gordon Lightfoot.

The group moved to London in an effort to expand its listening base, and then, in 1972 to New York City. While in the U.S., the group broke up, which left Brady stranded in the U.S., as he put it, "flat broke." In 1973, he wound up in Rhode Island, staying with a friend.

That friend, Patrick Sky, was an American folk singer, well-known in Greenwich Village circles of then 1960s and '70s, who had recorded albums of his own. While staying with Sky, Brady began getting material together to work up a solo act. One day, while looking through some of the books in Sky's collection, he came across a self-published work by Carrie Grover with the title "A Heritage of Songs."

One of the songs particularly interested him — a traditional Irish song titled "Arthur McBride." Brady was familiar with the song, but something about the version in Carrie Grover's book intrigued him. It had accompanying musical notation, so Brady learned Grover's version of the song.

I thought it ironic that what's now considered the definitive traditional Irish version of "Arthur McBride" had been learned by an Irishman from a book he ran across while in the United States.

Not only that, Carrie Grover was not an Irish immigrant, but had been born in Nova Scotia, before her family moved to Maine while she was still a child. Her ancestry has been identified as Irish, of course, along with Scottish and Welsh. She is believed to have learned the song "Arthur McBride" from her father, and decided to include it in "A Heritage of Song."

Whatever the source, I'm among those who consider Brady's version of "Arthur McBride" as the definitive one.

My interest in the song had been piqued by the recognition that Bob Dylan's 1992 album of traditional folk and blues covers marked its 30th anniversary in 2022.

Dylan recorded that album, along with a followup, "World Gone Wrong," also consisting of blues and folk covers, in between his studio albums of original material.

Dylan's version of "Arthur McBride" had been intriguing and I ran across a passage relating Dylan's version of the old folk song had been based on Brady's, along with other passages regarding the high esteem with which Dylan held Brady. That led to searching out a performance of Brady performing "Arthur McBride."

That's when I ran across a 1970s version of Brady performing the song. He resembled a young John Denver, performing for an audience, backed by himself fingerpicking an acoustic guitar, with an open tuning (an open G tuning, I would later learn).

Brady performed the song with a heavy Irish accent, as befitting a traditional Irish song, delivering a performance filled with his brand of laid-back intensity.

"Arthur McBride" is a song like no other, beginning with two young Irishmen out for a walk, when they encounter a couple of British soldiers, accompanied by a drummer boy. Though it had been the Irishmen's intent, according to the song, to nod and continue on their way, the British sergeant stops to try and entice the two Irish lads to enlist "in the King's Army."

I won't add any more for those who haven't already heard the song, but it's definitely worth checking out by those who are fans of folk music, Irish music or simply a fine piece of song craftsmanship on its own terms.

When I first encountered Brady, I had no idea at the time that his influence spread far beyond traditional Irish music. He's also recorded rock albums and has written songs recorded by artists ranging from Tina Turner to Carlos Santana. He's also collaborated as a songwriting partner with other artists, such as Bonnie Raitt and Jimmy Buffett. He got to know Raitt after she recorded one of his songs for her hit album, "Luck of the Draw."

Brady even lived in the U.S. for awhile, living the life of a Nashville songwriter. While playing with the Irish group Planxty around 1974, Brady adapted a song a departed band member had sang, called "The Lakes of Pontchartrain" and began performing it himself.

Adapted and popularized by other Irish musicians, it's now almost considered a traditional Irish song, although it's believed to have originated in Louisiana and refers to a creole girl who gives a penniless wanderer shelter.

Back in Ireland, Brady recounts how he received a phone call from his agent one day, who told him Bob Dylan was traveling to London to perform a concert at Wembley Stadium and wanted to meet him. Brady said he caught a flighty and was taken backstage where Dylan greeted him. After a bit of talk, Dylan asked Brady to teach him how to play Brady's arrangement of "The Lakes of Pontchartrain."

Brady said he first had Dylan use a different guitar tuning instead of the standard tuning normally used by most guitarists. Even so, it proved a bit of a struggle to teach the most intricate parts of Brady's arrangement. Brady said he had to physically lift Dylan's fingers up and show him where to place them on the guitar fretboard.

Dylan eventually learned Brady's arrangement of the song, and though he's never included "The Lakes of Pontchartrain" on a studio album, he's performed it live at least 18 times.