cultureMARCH09
66
finalsay
Tom McConville,58, fiddler, of Keighley.
Music is so connected with where you are from. I play music from
the heart and soul of Newcastle.
My dad was the landlord of The Globe pub on Scotswood Road.
I was affected by the people who came in; Irish, Scots and Geordies
from the shipyards and the armaments factory.
The pub regulars all sang and one Irish man used to play the
fiddle. I was transfixed by him.
I started playing violin when I was six years old at my junior
school. Academically I wasn't regarded as first division but I was top
of the class at the fiddle. It wasn't any effort, I just used to
practice.
I was thrown out of the recorder class at school. I wasn't any
good at recorder, but I loved the fiddle.
When I was seven I started performing. I would get ready for bed,
put my pyjamas on, and then people would come upstairs and I
would play the fiddle for them.
It was wonderful getting rounds of applause. But the women
with moustaches would kiss you.
I remember having a serious accident when I was nine, I
punctured my spleen on a gatepost. I was dying at the time but I lay
in bed holding my fiddle.
Someone said to me that if you play the fiddle every day you must
play it like it's your last day.
I play for three or four hours a day if I can. If you're born a
genius perhaps you don't have to. But if you are an ordinary lad from
Newcastle who loves the fiddle, you have to practise.
Traditional music is the well you go back to.
A studio is an unnatural place and it is difficult to be yourself.
The technical side of things takes over your brain.
If playing the fiddle becomes too technical, you can end up losing
your identity. No matter how clever you get on it, you have to be able
to say, `this is what I'm talking about.'
Scotswood was a really tough area. People down south would
talk about economic depression and Geordies would wonder what
they were on about because we were constantly depressed.
There was always someone in the pub who was funnier than
anyone on TV. There was also always someone there to say, `don't
get above yourself.'
I started work as a lab assistant at Newcastle Poly but in 1972 I
packed the job in and went off to Ireland. I met some Geordies who
said, `why don't you come and live in Leeds', and that was it.
I didn't have a clue, I had no work and no transport. It was very
rough and ready but there was an innocence about the music
business in the `70s. I learnt a lot from travelling around and meeting
people.
One of the first gigs I did was with a comedian called Mick the
Mouth and he taught me about performing.
We played `floor spots' where you played for nothing, and they
hired you if they liked you.
Folk clubs were much kinder than working men's clubs. It was
tough in working men's clubs. Some people weren't bothered if you
were there or not - they would have their backs to you or be reading
the paper.
The first lesson I Iearnt in this business was to accept the
knocks.
I am happy but never satisfied.
The biggest compliment you can get is someone wanting to
come and see you play.
I'll play at Hall 2 of the Sage, and people will say, `you're just
about good enough now'.
Tom McConville was named Musician of the Year at the BBC
Radio 2 Folk Awards 2009. His latest album is Tommy On Song.
He plays the Community Church Centre, Hexham on February 28,
Gala Theatre, Durham on March 8 and Theatre By the Lake,
Keswick on March 17. www.tommcconville.co.uk

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