SINCE the 1960s, traditional music has developed a considerable commercial life in this country. Top of the league in this are Riverdance and big festival concerts, lower on the financial scale each week are scores of commercial, pay in, amplified gigs. Most of the music played at these gigs is older, never copyrighted tunes, with a sprinkling of newer pieces; certain performers specialise in their own compositions.
Royalties for new tunes are collected as an annual venue licence payable to the Irish Music Rights Organisation (IMRO), the composers' collection agency, of which many, but not all, traditional tunesmiths are members. It collected £8.27 million last year, mostly for other forms of music, with much, by reciprocal agreements, going to composers abroad. Without such a body it would be impossible for any individual to keep track of, let alone get, any royalties.
However, by far the more popular playing and listening format is the "session", established in its present popularity within the past 30 years. Participants in these are peers, friends or neighbours who get together at an organised venue casually, if not by chance. And, like the pay in gigs, the repertoire is mostly out of copyright tunes. The session has diversion, entertainment and education, expertise and ego rubbing shoulders with learning and humility. Close as it is to the notion of "the fireside", it has now become an institution.
Ireland has scores of them every night, hundreds at the weekend and daily during the summer months. Licensed premises are the usual venues, and pubs often pay a token sum as retainer to one or two musicians, sometimes to support a local Comhaltas branch.
However, this easygoing camaraderie is now coming under threat, for IMRO has lately begun demanding royalty payment from some session venues, causing fury among publicans and outrage among players. Musicians see the music as the work of other generations hands, held in common trust to be passed on, belonging to the nation.
The issue is complicated by the numbers involved in traditional music there may be 6,000 old dance tunes in circulation. Individual musicians will play slightly different versions of them, and few in the past ever claimed copyright. But those who record albums will, with general peer approval, usually declare "Trad. Arr." - a traditional tune, arranged by the player, who in these cases is assumed to be part composer. Since tunes are thus acknowledged as being changed constantly, "in the hands of each player", IMRO, in pursuit of extending copyright control to sessions, now encourages all musicians to register their own personal "arrangements".
Session players are then expected to send IMRO the year's gig list, the programme for each gig, and make a royalty claim. This might seem ridiculous, but if all musicians were registered, the process would seem vaguely democratic, since the panel of musicians at any moment in time are the "tradition carriers". But most are not in IMRO, and few seem to want to be bothered with joining. They feel that if they are not members, if they haven't arrangements" registered, then IMRO is losing nothing anyway. If an IMRO licence were to be charged to the premises owners for their sessions, money would be going to people not present.
IMRO employs no specialist traditional music expertise in its initial assessment of venues, although it has recently recruited a young musician to research the whole issue. Some musicians feel its decisions on whether or not music played is "in copyright" are taken by people who cannot - no more than the average publican - tell Riverdance from The Liffey Banks. Some publicans challenge these decisions and among the 800 publicans currently being brought to court by IMRO there is a sprinkling who dispute paying a licence fee for their sessions.
"Copyright is the law," IMRO's Hugh Duffy says, "these people are defrauding composers." But it is unclear which composers are being defrauded. The opinions of musician/ arrangers and composers have never actually been sought, and Duffy holds that IMRO is not obliged to have, has not had, and does not believe it should have, consultations on tune "ownership" with any of the bodies involved in traditional music, not even the Irish Traditional Music Archive at Merrion Square, Dublin, the only State funded reference point.
Small wonder that Comhaltas Ceoltoiri Eireann, representing a large number of non professional players, has had a motion passed at congress pledging non involvement with IMRO. Its director, Labhras O Murchu, will not discuss the issue of IMRO's involvement in traditional music. CCE's subsidiary union, the Association of Irish Traditional Musicians, dismisses IMRO as an "English import".
The Vintners' Federation is also against IMRO's involvement: "The pub session is not full blooded, public entertainment, and players' arrangements are not new tunes," its chairman, Tadhgh O'Sullivan says, "and anyway, the way that IMRO levies charges why should a Kerry pub that has only a handful of customers at a session for the whole winter be obliged to pay the same as a similar premises in Dublin that is packed the year round?"
His words represent the feelings of the many genuinely music loving publicans, even if, in a lot of the newer session pubs, musicians are treated appallingly and their music is seen as no more than in fashion, profitable, aural wall paper.
Most musicians and composers recognise that only an act of faith distinguishes some of the bigger, regular sessions from "commercial" music: "But if they are playing old, non copyright music then what's the problem?" says harpist Maire Ni Chathasaigh. "Personally I would be only delighted if people were playing my tunes in sessions anyway.
"That kind of recognition is superior to any payment," says fiddler Ma ire Breathnach, who is also adamant that "the session should not be taxed. Even if "copyright" tunes are played there (3 per cent might be the average), few feel deprived and most see it as validation by peers.
Flute player Desi Wilkinson makes a clear distinction between sessions and gigs: "The session is not the same as performance - it his social work, animation, it is music in the community and should be treated quite differently." Others are concerned that the session might be snuffed out by licensing interference: "It could become another 1935 Dance Halls Act," says Prof Micheal O Suilleabhain, referring to the ways in which that legislation's prohibition factually shifted older music practices from free, public spaces to commercial, licensed enclosures.
Yet Hugh Duffy still holds that his members "arrangements" are being played, are not being paid for, and so IMRO has moved to tax sessions. But a straw poll, among those whom IMRO otherwise ably champions in the commercial world, suggests that such licensing is not valid, and/or is not appropriate.
IT is clear that outside supervision of traditional music copyright assessments is needed, a body which might set rates, hear appeals and gain the confidence of traditional musicians and publicans, which IMRO appears to lack. An intellectual reference point would also seem necessary to adjudicate disputes about traditional tune copyright. But perhaps the issue would never shave arisen if - in accordance with most musicians beliefs - the notion of "Trad. Arr." were to, be only applicable as ownership for recorded music, its public airplay, organised concert and gig performances. it is hardly valid for sessions where everyone plays together.
Should the session be licensed at all though? Musicians could legally avoid licensing by wearing the hair shirt and playing or singing nothing new. But if it were serious about it, IMRO could, if it hired the expertise, estimate the percentage of in copyright tunes likely to be played, and so establish a blanket session rate.
Beyond such a blanket rate, licensing of the session based on "arrangements" would seem crazy, legally demanding millions of transcriptions, logging of repertoires, and the creation of royaltied and non royaltied castes of musicians. It would also put publicans in dread of players joining IMRO. It would create the principle of a small number of individuals being paid for what is popularly seen as the fruits of the voluntary teaching and organisational work of many others over the years, the creative work of people long dead.
The issue certainly demands communication, and seems like ideal territory for an MRBI poll.
