When Beoga plays, the joint is jumpin'.
Beoga is endowed with massive musical talent. Much of “The Incident” is simply thrilling, an auditory high-wire act without a net. Button accordionist Damian McKee, in particular, is consistently acrobatic in his play, and bodhran player Eamon Murray is one high-flying goat whacker. I’m convinced that pianist Liam Bradley hasn’t encountered a sound or style he can’t play brilliantly. Let’s not forget the world-class Seán Óg Graham, who plays button accordion, guitar, bouzouki, banjo and low whistle on the recording. Finally, we have Niamh Dunne, the classically trained fiddler who also is blessed with a lush, luxurious voice.
With so many gifts, a band like Beoga simply has to push the boundaries. They can do anything—and they do. At times, the result is dazzling. At other times, it’s distracting. You find yourself scratching your head and asking yourself, “Why did they do that?”
Case in point: “Mister Molly’s,” a delicate set consisting of a slip jig and a jig, both masterfully executed. I very much liked some of the band’s artsy touches, including a few bell-like dings and even the cute whistling and hand claps on the exit. But in the midst of the set, right at the transition from the slip jig to the jig, we’re treated to a low whooshing sound effect that sounds like either a sink draining or a toilet flushing. Or maybe a jet taking off—it’s hard to be sure.
On the opening number, a rollicking set entitled “Lamped”—a set that gets progressively more rollicking as it goes on—the transition from a tune called “The Pandoolin Dumpling” into the reel “Silly Batteries” is marked (or marred) by a fire siren. We know the set is getting hot; we don’t need the clues.
There are more examples of gratuitous little excesses—musical nervous tics—but not worth dwelling on. Beoga is a fusion band, perhaps the purist and fullest expression of Celtic fusion I’ve heard. And if it seems like the lads (and one lass) of Beoga didn’t quite know how, when and where to curb their creative impulses, that’s both the blessing and curse of fusion. A pioneering band like Beoga takes risks, and there are far worse faults.
To adopt too purist a pose would be to miss out, for example, on the performance of Niamh Dunne on a Paul Kennerly tune, “Mary Danced with Soldiers.” The liner notes say Beoga became familiar with the tune from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band and Emmylou Harris. Dunne’s voice is perfectly lovely on this heartbreak song. Her spare singing style also well suits the closing tune, “The Best is Yet to Come” and the soulful “Strange Things.”
Nor would you want to miss Murray’s creative bodhran pyrotechnics, which reminds me of John Joe Kelly.
Several sets, grounded in tradition but taking some creative liberties, are memorable. My favorite is called “The Flying Golf Club,” which starts out with something quirky that sounds like a horah, and moves into a seriously stellar set of reels, including “The Gooseberry Bush.”
“The Bellevue Waltz” is also particularly lovely.
So bring on the Hammond organ sounds and the kitschy Klezmer clarinet, and park your traditionalist expectations at the door. Here’s a band that will challenge those expectations and take you on quite a ride. It’s a bumpy ride at times, but a kick nonetheless.
