We share an exclusive excerpt from the recently released book Tommie Potts: The Sorrowful and the Great, authored by Seán Potts and published by the Irish Traditional Music Archive (ITMA).
This marks the first full-length biography dedicated to the legendary Dublin fiddle master Tommie Potts, delving into his extraordinary life, innovative artistic approach, and enduring influence on Irish traditional music.
Seán Potts, the author’s grandnephew and son of the late Seán Potts (a founding member of The Chieftains), draws on deep family connections and archival sources to trace key chapters of Tommie’s journey: his early years immersed in a rich musical household in Dublin’s Liberties; the profound trauma from surviving the devastating Pearse Street fire as a young firefighter in 1936; his deep bonds with Clare’s renowned traditional players; the creation of the iconic The Liffey Banks album; his close ties with composer Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin; and reflections on his lasting impact from today’s leading musicians.
The Fateful Night at Luggala: Capturing a Reluctant Genius
On August 11, 1971, Jim Furey—Tommie Potts’s son-in-law—was tasked with transporting the hesitant fiddle virtuoso to the stunning Gothic hunting lodge in Luggala, owned by Guinness heir Garech Browne. After persistent encouragement from Browne, Chieftains founder Paddy Moloney, and Seán Potts, Tommie finally agreed to record an album for Claddagh Records. What follows is a condensed account of that unforgettable evening.
Everyone knew of Tommie’s deep aversion to formal recording sessions, so Garech Browne cleverly chose the relaxed atmosphere of his historic 18th-century lodge—built by the La Touche family—to ease the fiddler’s nerves. “I brought him to Luggala because I believed a home setting would make him far less anxious than a sterile studio,” Browne later recalled. “Ironically, I ended up more nervous myself—I struggle with dance tune names and worried about what to request next. But Tommie was brilliant; he simply played on contentedly.”
Paddy Moloney described the setup: “We used an old EMI quarter-inch tape machine, with young English engineer Ioan Allen handling the technical side. Tommie was positioned in the dining room and played freely.”
The scene was eccentric: the nearly 60-year-old Potts, after a few pub stops and additional drinks upon arrival, found himself performing before a lively gathering. Jim Furey vividly remembers the surreal gathering: Seán Ó Riada recording on an 18th-century harpsichord, Margaret Barry, Pecker Dunne, members of The Chieftains, and a circle of guests that included Lady Elizabeth (who insisted on being called “Tiger”), an American psychiatrist who overstayed his weekend visit, and an Indian woman captivating Garech’s attention.
“I was introduced to everyone, with Tommie on my left and this elegant lady on my right. When I asked her name, she replied, ‘Call me Tiger.’ It was Lady Elizabeth Countess of Cowley. The group chatted about tomorrow’s plans while I sat thinking, ‘This is the performance of a lifetime, and they’re planning breakfast!’ But once Tommie began, silence fell—no one dared speak. He’d shoot a glare that stopped you cold.”
— Jim Furey, recalling the evening
By 10 p.m., in the grand dining room, Tommie rose to share his deeply personal, “developed” interpretations—his humble echo of heavenly, unbroken melodies. He performed primarily for producer Paddy Moloney (hands-on with the setup), his supportive nephew Seán Potts, patron Garech Browne, fellow musicians like Seán Ó Riada, and a group of somewhat inebriated socialites. Despite occasional interruptions—where Tommie might halt mid-tune to share a story—Moloney persevered, editing the sessions into a cohesive masterpiece.
Twenty-two tracks survived to become The Liffey Banks, including six haunting slow airs that showcase Tommie’s unparalleled tone, Allen’s engineering precision, and Moloney’s production skill. The album remains a landmark in Irish music, a testament to that magical night.
Shortly after, Seán Ó Riada recorded his planned harpsichord album at Luggala, featuring works like ‘Hercules Dux Ferrariae’ and settings of poems by Kinsella, Montague, and Heaney. Tragically, just weeks later, Ó Riada was hospitalized and passed away on October 3, 1971.
As dawn approached, a relieved yet reflective Tommie Potts bid farewell to the harpsichord and departed with Jim Furey under the moonlight on Lough Tay. Back home in Walkinstown, the quarter-inch tapes awaited their transformation into the enduring classic The Liffey Banks.
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