Belfast has brought the Fleadh to a whole new level… it’s a far cry from when traditional music was ‘an embarrassment’.

Posted by Jim on August 12, 2026

9 Aug 2026 3:10 PM

Standing on Royal Avenue on Friday at around 5pm amongst an estimated 100,000 people, it was difficult to imagine a time when traditional Irish music was considered a bit of an embarrassment.

But pre-1960s and the onset of dynamic new bands like Planxty, The Dubliners and The Clancys, traditional music was viewed by many as something best left behind. A waste of time.

Broadcaster Ciarán Mac Mathúna travelled Ireland in the 1950s seeking out traditional fiddle and flute players to record before their songs were lost forever. He told RTÉ some would arrive hiding their fiddles in case they would be seen to be traditional musicians.

Paddy Moloney of The Chieftains said it was “a complex” people had about the music that had turned them away.

If only those few hundred people who kept the music alive could’ve been in Belfast this week to see kids on every street corner playing reels, jigs and hornpipes.

I consumed the Fleadh for the first four days via social media in a small town near Bilbao where I was on holiday. As a journalist I follow all the main political parties and their members and it’s fair to say some were enjoying the festivities more than others.

The business owners I know in the city seemed more sure and the footage of heaving streets suggested the public were on board.

I was looking forward to returning to experience it myself because I have history with the Fleadh. I lived near Cavan town when it was awarded the event in 2010 for three years.

I’ll never forget visiting on day one. It was like someone had waved a magic wand over the town. Thronged streets, music everywhere, and an incredible buzz. I was hooked.

The next year I invited my Australian brother-in-law to visit. To this day he says Cavan is the best small town in Ireland he’s ever been in. I think even the most devoted son or daughter of Breffni would struggle with that description, but when your only experience of a town is when it’s Fleadh week, it makes sense.

Derelict buildings are repurposed, extra effort is put into cleaning, musicians from all walks of life break out the instruments and the welcome mat is rolled out to the world.

I missed its visit to Derry but was back in Drogheda when it hosted the Fleadh in 2018. Fears a bigger town, better able to cope with the crowds, would impact the atmosphere were unwarranted. It was like Cavan, only bigger.

But what of Belfast? Would the largest location for the Fleadh yet be able to step up? When I finally arrived in the city centre on Friday I have to say I couldn’t have been prouder of my home town. It has grabbed the opportunity the Fleadh presents with both hands.

The thousands of people milling around catching performances, both organised and impromptu, combined with a wonderful atmosphere without edge or menace — it was the Fleadh brought to the next level.

And I was to find out I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.

I ran into a politician who shall remain nameless. He’s not from a nationalist party but he said it is, in his opinion, the best thing that’s ever happened to this city. He was almost emotional.

This is what a publican I spoke to felt as well. He said as he approached the beginning of the Fleadh he was wishing it was all over because of the extra paperwork he and his fellow publicans had been subjected to.

Five days in he said there is nowhere he would rather be, such was the impact it had had both on business, and on the city. He said beyond the expected teething problems, everything had gone smoothly.

A lot of this, he said, was down to local government. He had huge praise for the Department for Communities, whose officials he said were very easy to deal with, along with their city council colleagues and the PSNI.

His experience had been that a common sense approach was applied to the week and the event was much the better for it.

I ran into old friends and colleagues and they were all buzzing. A schoolfriend who now lives in Tokyo scheduled a trip home around the Fleadh and he was in shock at the transformation of the city.

One former colleague who has no truck with things considered ‘nationalist’ even came in to see what all the fuss was about. She told me she “ticked the box”, but would probably be back next year.

I caught too many performances to mention them all, but among the best I saw was Britain’s Got Talent semi-finalist Niamh Noade, who packed out the council’s wonderful 2 Royal Avenue venue where she played a set of traditional and contemporary songs.

And the best thing of all? Every Fleadh gets better the next year when it stays in the same location because lessons are inevitably learned. So roll on 2027.