"What do you play?" "The bazouki." "Cool. The bazouki. I don't even know what that is." "It's Michael Flatley's fault. I'm a Riverdance addict." "I play everything from Planxty to the Pogues."

The 25 students at the first Blas international summer school of Irish traditional music and dance are exchanging credentials over their first meal together at the Irish World Music Centre in the University of Limerick (UL).

They range in age from 86 down to 17, and come from the US, Japan and Gran

Canaria as well as different parts of Ireland and Britain. Most have a musical background and an interest in Irish music and want to take it further.

Some are already playing their instruments or singing in sessions as far afield as Florida and San Francisco. The youngest, Johnny Tennant from Dublin

(17), has even brought his own home-made didgeridoo, put together out of Wavin pipe. "I was at the Willie Clancy Week recently and I did some step-dancing lessons. But the Willie Week doesn't cater for beginners," says Anne Drumm from

Whitehall in Dublin. "This school is a chance for me to learn an instrument or sing. It's also a chance to see famous people up close, like Altan and Martin

Hayes."

Other well-known musicians who are giving tutorials include percussionist

Tommy Hayes, singer Noirin Ni Riain, and pianist and composer, Micheal O

Suilleabhain. Dr O Suilleabhain, who is Chair of Music at UL, set up the Irish

World Music Centre three years ago.

Although there are many summer schools specialising in traditional Irish music around the country - the Willie Clancy and the Joe Mooney schools are two of the best-known - Blas is the first university-based course of this kind, offering a chance to earn academic credits (there is an optional exam at the end). The students have a varied programme of lectures, tutorials, and concerts. There are also plenty of informal sessions where they can show off the skills they've learned and play late at night in pubs with their more experienced instructors: button accordion player Niall Vallely, flute player

Niall Keegan, singer Sandra Joyce and fiddle player Maire O'Keeffe.

Quoting the legendary Finn MacCumhail, O Suilleabhain claims that "the finest music in the world is the music of what happens" in his opening speech on the first night of the course, adding: "We are going to work you hard but we've left you spaces to explore the music of what happens." Visiting expert Ciaran

MacMathuna, explains: "The hidden Ireland of music and dance has moved out from the country kitchens and asserted its vitality in towns, cities and concert halls all over the world." Afterwards there is a lively ceili, featuring impressive solos by course instructors Catherine Foley, Damien Noone (who will appear in Riverdance) and sean nos stepdancer Mairtin MacDonncha. The students all take to the floor for The Walls Of Limerick, The Siege Of Ennis, and various set dances, polkas and waltzes. The indefatigable Dr Foley calls out instructions and there are enough experienced dancers in our ranks to keep the breathless, giggling lot of us from whirling completely out of line. Two keen dancers on the course are Karen Thomas from Cardiff and Javier Pastor from Gran

Canaria. Karen, who suffers from cerebral palsy, is a fan of Michael Flatley and

Riverdance, and her place on the course has been sponsored by the Riverdance production company, Abhann Productions.

"I've been studying Irish dancing for about six months. When I saw Riverdance

I just knew it was what I wanted to do. Javier teaches dance at the University of Gran Canaria and wants to learn Irish dance because "if I can learn the dance of the people I can learn their culture".

There are two participants from Tokyo, who found out about the course through the Internet. Karina Hashimoto has been learning the button accordion since she came to Ireland six months ago: "I learned the electric organ in Japan. I

thought the accordion would be easier. But no!" She also plays the harp.

Day one of the course is packed with options and insights. O Suilleabhain

gives a lecture explaining that the spark in Irish music comes from the tension between tradition and innovation.

"Good music," he opines, and we hang on his every inspirational word, "is like a great film that brings us somewhere dangerous, safely, as though we are in the hands of a good driver".

He brings us on a mystical journey which ranges from Jung and Elizabeth

Bishop to entering the fairy fort at midnight. Then he talks about the "science"

of music and we have a quick guided tour of terms such as tempo, pitch and phrasing, with more dizzying allegories, from Lego to broken cups; pizza and yes, cars again ("the rhythm in Irish music is quite motoric, like a car").

In his tutorial he asks the students to play for him and a voluble session ensues. Paul Davenport from Florida, plays My Darling Asleep on his bazouki.

"You are interested in playing dance music and putting in some rhythmic riffs," notes Dr O Suilleabhain. One woman has played in a country and western band. A man recalls Sean O Riada's concert in Earlsfort Terrace in 1963. All the while Dr O Suilleabhain is hopping up and down from the piano, dispensing nuggets of information and intuiting what each person might need. "Slow airs sound romantic on the piano, like Chopin. It's nice, if that's what you want."

Teresa Fitzpatrick from Dublin plays Hungarian music on her large black piano accordion. "The piano accordion is the interesting instrument in Irish music,"

comments Dr O Suilleabhain. Johnny Tennant (clearly the wag of the group) adds irreverently: "Welcome to heaven, here's your harp. Welcome to hell, here's your accordion." Later I go to Sandra Joyce's singing class where I learn there is a tradition of bawdy ballads. We start off by singing one of these, The Haymaking

Song, about "five and 20 boys and girls a-tumbling through the hay" and the unfortunate consequences nine months later.

THEN there's the button accordion tutorial given by Niall Vallely. There is one student, Josie Davenport from Florida, who plays the flute but is a beginner on the accordion. He shows her how to hold the instrument: "Hold it so your hands are more strapped in. Your fingers are freer that way."

Josie asks if he always plays tunes the same way. He replies: "Ninety per cent of the time. But odd times I throw in something different. I've no control over it. My fingers just do it."

At the end of their first full day, the students still have enough energy to gather in the Castletroy Hotel for their first session, playing all their instruments into the wee hours with a mixture of delight and gravity. Mairtin

MacDonncha rounds off the night by singing extremely long ballads, all the while clutching and pumping the hand of the nearest attractive woman to keep up his morale. Obviously this is yet another ritual which is an integral part of the history of Irish music.