Browsing Tag

Reviews

Music

Review: “The Ravishing Genius of Bones” by Brian Finnegan

ravishing genius of bonesBrian Finnegan’s new solo CD is not so much a departure from his other gig—as the whistle and flute front man for the modern trad ensemble Flook—as a huge, breathtaking elaboration on many of the unique and daring themes he has explored with that band over the years.

On “The Ravishing Genius of Bones”—an obscure reference to an accompanying poem about an old accordion player—Finnegan is joined by two of his Flook bandmates, bodhránist John Joe Kelly and Ed Boyd on guitars. You might be tempted to look upon this recording as just a variation on a theme—a kind of “Flook Not Flook.” That would be a mistake.

“The Ravishing Genius of Bones” is Finnegan’s “Lawrence of Arabia,” a musical epic with a cast of thousands. Well, maybe not thousands—but well over 20 world-class musicians representing a variety of genres. In addition to Kelly and Boyd, members of Finnegan’s other band KAN (Aidan O’Rourke on fiddle and guitarist Ian Stephenson) form part of the large, rotating cast of players, along with co-producer Leon Hunt on banjo and dobro (he’s a former student of Bela Fleck), alternative bluegrass band Crooked Still and the St. Petersburg Strings.

Virtuoso mandolin player Rex Preston, part of The Scoville Units with Boyd and Hunt, sits in for a couple of numbers, and banjo player Damien O’Kane (he played on Flook’s “Haven,” and John Joe Kelly accompanied him on his solo album “Spring Hill”) drops in as well.

With so much cross-pollination going on (heck, even steel drums make an appearance), “Bones” was bound to defy easy categorization. Is it Celtic? Jazz? Bluegrass? Indie? Pop? Symphonic? Answer: Yes. It’s all that and more, which is probably just how Finnegan likes it.

There are just nine tracks on the album. Most of the compositions are Finnegan’s own—including my favorite, an evocative air called “Last of the Starrs,” with Finnegan on flute and accompanied by the St. Petersburg Strings. It floats along with gravity-defying lightness and beauty.

The second set features Hunt shifting back and forth on banjo and dobro, accompanying Finnegan on tunes that probably will remind you of some Flook numbers. I’ll tell you the titles—“Lunchtime Boredom,” “Bok-Espok,” “Rusty Gully” and “Superfly”—but I’m not sure they’ll mean anything to you. (They didn’t mean anything to me.) But … no matter. The set starts out slow, syncopated and jazzy—a kind of easy shuffling rhythm. It all ends up scary fast, even more scarily syncopated and jazzy. (Is that helpful?) Anyway, all this bluegrass-tinged Celto-jazz is some of the cleverest work on the album.

Boyd and Kelly charge into the “Back to Belfast” set (with Lucy Wright twanging away on mouth harp), Finnegan jumps in on whistle, and before you know it, we’re all motoring along at, oh, say, 85 mph. Call it a reel set, but most dancers would be dead of heart attacks by the end.

There are other barn-burners on the recording, including “Castlerock,” a Damien O’Kane tune in the sixth set, the appropriately titled “Joy.” It too features some rapid-fire percussion by John Joe Kelly, with Leon Hunt on banjo.

What most stands out about this album is Finnegan’s attention to every detail. “Bones” is not a collection of sets and tunes that merely go together–it’s a complete and unified vision, a kind of giant wall mural of musical ideas and themes.

One last thought. I rarely take note of CD artwork—it always seems to be four or five guys standing in a field with mountains in the background. Inevitably, the guys are holding their fiddles and button accordions, as if a concert is about to begin in the middle of Killarney National Park. “Bones” boasts perhaps the loveliest artwork I’ve seen on an album cover in a long time. It’s all misty twilight blues, an enchanting firefly-lit dreamscape with koi swimming in the grass and fantastical birds sprouting translucent insect wings. Credit Germano Ovani, an Italian illustrator of children’s literature who lives in Edinburgh, for this enchanting vision.

Clearly, Brian Finnegan left not one detail to chance—not even the cover. These “Bones” are fully and exquisitely fleshed out.

June 10, 2010 by
Music

Review: “Seanchas” by Danú

Danu Seanchas“When All is Said and Done,” the 2005 CD by the always thrilling Irish traditional group Danú, exploded out of the gate with a room-rocking set of reels. With the possible exception of lead singer Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh’s soulful rendition of “Cailin Deas ag Crúite na mBo,” the rest of the largely bright, uptempo recording followed suit.

The new, self-produced “Seanchas” (pronounced: “shan-ahas”) shows a more reflective but no less passionate side of the band. There are some foot-stompers in the mix, to be sure—a breathtaking set of polkas on the second track (“Glenn Cottage,” “John Brosnan’s” and “Peata an Mhaoir”) springs to mind. There’s also a pretty set of jigs (“Snug in the Blanket” and “Patsy Geary’s”) at track 4, and a playful pairing of “Murphy’s Hornpipe” and “Lord Gordon’s Reel” at track 6. But “Seanchas” in the Irish language refers to folklore and mythos, and this Celtic concept album is seriously, and at times soberly, rooted in the historical and the traditional. Maybe it’s just more balanced than the last CD.

Consider Nic Amhlaoibh’s interpretation of two standards, “Mollai na gCuach Ni Chuilleanain” and “The Boys of Barr na Sráide,” both of them often recorded. In Nic Amhlaoibh’s capable and caring hands, both are presented with a kind of aching tenderness.

For those who have followed Danú since 1995, there is a special treat. Tenor Ciarán O Gealbháin, who was the band’s lead singer back in the day, joins Nic Amhlaoibh on “Cailín na nUrla Donn” (The Girl of the Brown Locks), a tune typically sung in a mishmosh of Irish and English. (The literal translation includes this gem, “Your waist and bones are nicely situated,” which has to be one of the worst pickup lines of all time.) It’s a sensitive, restrained performance that showcases both singers’ evident talents.

On the instrumental front, of course, Danú has lost nothing, even as some members seem to come and go. (And come back again.) A particular favorite is a pair of tunes, “Clancy’s Farewell to Whiskey” (written by guitarist Dónal Clancy) and the Breton piece, “An Dro des Petitis Bateaux.” Clancy, a founding member of the band, sets the tone for both pieces and turns in a delicate, enchanting performance. It’s the guitar-playing equivalent of diamond cutting. (By the way, the CD is dedicated to the memory of his father, the legendary Liam Clancy.)

As I say, things do liven up with some frequency, especially on the instrumentals. Box player Benny McCarthy is his usual rock-solid wondrous—especially on the aforementioned set of reels, and again on a later jig-reel combination, “Fiona’s Arrival” (written and also played beautifully by fiddler Oisín McAuley) into yet another standard, “O’Connell’s Trip to Parliament.” On bouzouki, Eamon Doorley provides solid backing throughout.

Besides O Gealbháin, other Danú-ites show up on several tracks, including Donnchadh Gough on bodhrán (but, sadly, not on uilleann pipes), and Tom Doorley on flute. Martin O’Neill contributes piano for “The Boys of Barr na Sráide.”

All told, a lovely and memorable piece of work—and perhaps their most musically mature outing to date.

June 3, 2010 by
Arts

Review: “Bedbound” from the Inis Nua Theatre Company

Bedbound

Brian McCann and Melissa Lynch star in the Inis Nua play. (Photo by Katie Reing)

For an actor, playing a part in Enda Walsh’s “Bedbound” must be like running a marathon every night. For an hour and 10 minutes, its two players—a father and his crippled daughter, trying to sleep in the same cramped, filthy bedroom—are ranting, keening, or reacting silently to each other’s torrent of words with an intensity that seems ultimately unsustainable.

“Bedbound,” a production of the Inis Nua Theatre Company now playing at the Adrienne in Philadelphia, is the story of a man whose ambition, formed when he is very young, is to be king of the furniture business in Cork and, later, in Dublin. And he is willing to do anything, including the most unspeakable acts of perversion and violence, to achieve his desires. He delivers the story of his life—the violence, calculated sex, even marriage in the service of his dream–in agitated monologues aimed at the audience while his daughter, bedbound by polio as the result of a freak fall into a sewage tank, acts them out, playing the roles of the boss and the underlings her father has killed. Or has he? The unbelievable is somehow believable in this brutal and, yes, often funny play.

He had been grooming her to follow in his footsteps when she contracted the disease that has left her with a still, twisted arm, a hunched back, and paralyzed legs. His shame led to his nightly ritual of remodeling his home so that her room has become progressively smaller and smaller, as though he were building her a coffin. In that room, her now dead mother once slept beside her and read to her from romance novels, hushing her fears that the walls are closing in on her by telling her that it was “all a fairy tale.”

For the young girl, played in the Inis Nua’s production by Melissa Lynch, the stories, as horrifying as they are, are life to her. “What am I if not words? I am empty space is what I am,” she says. And it’s the empty spaces, the rare moments of silence, that bring the most terror to these two tortured characters who, in the end, turn to talk to one another, ending this emotionally exhausting play with an unexpected and poignant note of redemption and hope.

Brian McCann, who plays the father, deftly draws a character who is both despicable and strangely endearing, a psychopath with a sense of humor and, as McCann subtly suggests, perhaps even a heart of gold. Melissa Lynch’s performance as the physically twisted daughter of an emotionally twisted man is a tour de force. She ranges from helpless cripple to crotchety boss to obsequious underling to angry daughter so seamlessly that it’s as if she has multiple personalities constantly jockeying for center stage. Even when the father is raving loudly, your eyes are riveted to her face for her reaction, as though everything you needed to know was there.

Director Tom Reing has done a masterful job in bringing a difficult and demanding play to the stage. “Bedbound” is an emotionally taxing play for both actors and theater-goers, but is ultimately touching, satisfying, and memorable in the best possible way.

“Bedbound,” by Enda Walsh, runs through April 25 at the Playground at the Adrienne, 2030 Sansom Street, Philadelphia, PA. For tickets, call 215-454-9776 or order online at the Inis Nua Theatre’s Web site.

April 16, 2010 by
Music

Review: Ceol & Cuimhne (Music & Memory) by Téada

Teada

The band Teada in a pensive pose.

We’ll start with track 4 from the new Téada CD, Ceol & Cuimhne. It’s a set of reels including “The Russians Are Coming,” “The Miller’s Daughter” and “The Boston-Sligo Reel.”

The set begins with a few bars of airy bouzouki flatpicking by Seán Mc Elwain. It’s a deceptively light introduction to a sudden, frenzied duel between flutist Damien Stenson and Tristan Rosenstock, the band’s bodhrán player. By the time fiddler Oisín Mac Diarmada and Paul Finn on button accordion jump into the set, just before the transition to the second reel, things are already rocketing along. If there is some physical law of music that says a performance cannot exceed the speed of sound or light, or the bounds of good sense, these boys just broke it.

They can get away with it. Téada is just that good.

Whether they’re playing the foot-stomping “Circus Polka” or the tender “Sligo Air” (accompanied by the gifted County Mayo harper Gráinne Hambly, who has performed with the band on its annual Christmas tour), these five young exponents of traditional Irish music don’t make artistic compromises. Expect excitement, expect invention, but don’t expect trade-offs. They’re like the Blue Brothers of trad–they’re on a mission from God.

“Ceol & Cuimhne”–Irish for “music & memory”–is all about fidelity to tradition. Téada is demonstrably bound by an obligation to the past, but with their exuberant style of play and the sheer force of their virtuosity, the band succeeds wonderfully well at making the old tunes revelant and compelling here and now. For Téada, temporal convergence seems to be a recurring theme. Their 2006 album, “Inne Amarach” means “yesterday tomorrow.”

Like “Inne Amarach,” “Ceol & Cuimhne” is also a loving tribute to the legends of traditional Irish music, like Junior Crehan, Paddy Fahy, Michael Coleman and Philadelphia’s own Ed Reavy. Diehard traditionalists will find a lot to like in tunes like “Paddy Cronin’s,” “All Around the Room” and “Seamus McKenna’s.”

There are many standout performances on this recording. Fiddle fans will savor Oisín Mac Diarmada’s fresh interpretation of “Clothiers,” a march here presented as an air. “All Around the Room,” the middle tune in a set that includes “Miss Cassidy’s” and “The Ballingra Lass,” showcases the fine talents of Paul Finn, as does “Merty Rabbett’s.” And of course, Damien Stenson is everywhere, generally setting things on fire.

A comment or two on Rosenstock and McElwain. (Sounds like a law firm.) Rosenstock is like the Ringo Starr of the bodhran. (Which would make John Joe Kelly, what … Keith Moon?) As with Ringo, I think it’s easy to underrate Rosenstock. He just sets down a rock-solid rhythm, really knows the tunes well, and sticks to the other players like glue. Do I like the flashier stuff? You bet. But I can also appreciate the artistry and sensitivity with which Rosenstock plies his trade.

In much the same way, I think it’s all too easy to overlook McElwain. He’s always in the background. But if you listen to what he’s up to, you realize that the question of whether a tune holds together or falls apart often hinges on how well he plays. A band couldn’t have a better backbone.

The point is, they’re all world-class. And “Ceol & Cuimhne” is a world-class contribution to the tradition.

April 8, 2010 by
Music

Solas: The Perfect End to St. Patrick’s Day

Solas on stage at World Cafe Live, banging out reels, jigs and songs: If there’s a better way, a better band and a better place to close out St. Patrick’s Day, I haven’t heard of it.

Starting with a foot-stomping set of reels and ending (an encore, of course) with the wildly rhythmic “Coconut Dog,” the Irish-American band headed by native Philadelphian and multi-instrumentalist Seamus Egan kept the joint jumping all night long.

If you weren’t there—and I probably shouldn’t tell you this because you’ll be heartbroken—Solas was joined onstage by Mike Brenner on dobro (he appears on the band’s most recent release, “The Turning Tide”) and by longtime collaborators Ben Wittman on drums and Chico Huff on bass. Normally, Huff is the only non-band member to accompany the band in local performances. This was a much fuller sound, more like what you hear on recordings. Quite the treat.

Highlights of the evening:

•Winifred Horan’s lovely performance of her tune, “My Dream of You;”
•Singer Mairead Phelan’s sensitive rendering of the Josh Ritter song, “Girl in the War,” with accompaniment by Brenner and harmonies by guitarist and keyboard player Eamon McElholm;
•The band’s killer performance of “Hugo’s Big Reel,” the opening track from the new album;
•A weird and wonderful little story from Winifred Horan about the hilarity that ensues when a fan confuses “fairy forts” with “fairy farts.” And probably enough said on that score.
Oh yes, one other highlight, maybe the best of the night: a sweet a capella performance by Phelan of the old standby, “A Parting Glass.” We were in pin-drop territory on that one. Even the servers stopped buzzing about.

Truly, “goodnight and joy be with you all.”

We’ve a couple of videos from that performance.

March 18, 2010 by
Music

Review: “Exiles Return”

Exiles ReturnImmigration, whether now or in the 1840s, has always been a wrenching story. You can read all about it in the history books—or in today’s New York Times. But no medium has ever told the story better than a song.

The new instant classic by Karan Casey and John Doyle, “Exiles Return,” is full of them. Not every tune, certainly, but more than half of the 12 tracks are sensitively rendered tales of loving, longing and leaving. We’re not talking about overexposed, overproduced tunes like “Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears,” either. It’s easy to trivialize the experience of leaving a land, and a lot of artists can’t resist the temptation. These are not the kinds of tunes that can easily be summed up, as Seamus Egan of Solas has put it, as “a story about a man, a woman and some farm animals, ending in disaster.”

“Exiles Return” is an altogether different type of album. It features traditional tunes like “Sally Grier,” “The Bay of Biscay,” “The Nightingale” and “The Flower of Finae,” along with a couple of more recent tunes, “The Shipyard Slips” by David Wilde and the title tune, “Exiles Return,” by Doyle himself. What makes the CD different is not so much the songs, although they’re all choice. Casey and Doyle, with some help from Michael McGoldrick on flute and whistle and producer Dirk Powell on banjo and double bass, have created an unembellished recording in which the pure emotion of the songs can be allowed to shine through. Probably the best example of that approach is Casey’s riveting unaccompanied performance of the tender love song “Out of the Window.”

“Unembellished” doesn’t mean “Exiles Return” is completely devoid of instrumentality. How disappointing that would be for fans of the great John Doyle! There’s probably no guitarist on the planet more consistently inventive and adventurous. Longtime Solas bassist Chico Huff, talking about accompanying Doyle, notes that he never plays the same thing twice. Every verse brings new layers and textures, new chord progressions, phrasing and licks. If you’re a Doyle devotee, you won’t be disappointed. His muscular strumming on the opening track, “The False Lady” and on “Madam I’m a Darlin'” show why Doyle is the standard against which all others are judged.

Karan Casey, who previously performed with Doyle in the Irish-American supergroup Solas, was simply born to sing these songs. Like Doyle, she’s one of a kind. No one sounds quite like her. Whether taking the lead or joining Doyle in harmonies—and there are many delicious harmonies on “Exiles Return”—she has the talent for infusing every tune, including some that might be hundreds of years old, with fresh new energy and deep layers of meaning.

Lovers of songs will also appreciate that many of the tunes invite audience participation—even if you’re in the car alone, driving to work. They’re just very singable, with catchy refrains. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself wandering down the fruit and veggie aisle at the Giant, singing sotto voce, “Madam I’m a darlin’, a die row dither-o, madam I’m a darlin’ a die row day.”

“Exiles Return” finds two great traditional artists at the top of their game. Don’t wait to join them in song.

February 15, 2010 by
Music

Review: “The Turning Tide” by Solas

Solas keeps reinventing itself and yet somehow manages the trick of always staying the same: reliably, predictably brilliant.

This kind of success is all the more remarkable considering the number of personnel changes since the band burst upon the scene in 1994. Only multi-instrumentalist Seamus Egan and fiddler Winifred Horan are original members of the band. Over the years, though, the rest of the lineup has changed: three guitarists, two button accordion players and three singers. That’s not to suggest tumult is the inevitable result. On the contrary, every new musician has brought fresh perspectives to the party, and so the band and its sound have evolved. You can hear subtle changes in each of the nine albums Solas released between 1996 and 2008.

Now, along comes album No. 10, “The Turning Tide,” the second featuring singer Mairead Phelan. All of the essential elements you’ve come to expect from Solas are there. Start with mind-blowing, high-energy arrangements from Seamus Egan (“Hugo’s Big Reel”) and guitarist Éamon McElholm (“The Crows of Killimer”/Box Reel #2″/”Boys of Malin”/”The Opera House”). When the band performs at the World Cafe this St. Patrick’s Day, you can predict that those will inspire enthusiastic “whoops.” The band has been cranking out bread and butter numbers like that from day one. Add in a clever confection from Winifred Horan—”A Waltz for Mairead,” which reminds me a bit of “The Highlands of Holland” from the 2003 album, “Another Day.” Now tack on the happily tangled rhythms of box player Mick McCauley’s “Trip to Kareol” (which reminds me vaguely of “Who’s in the What Now” from “Edge of Silence”).

It could all seem formulaic, but if it is, it’s a formula for sure-fire success. At its core, regardless of who is playing the guitar or accordion—and Solas attracts the best—the band remains consistently excellent. And even if some of the selections seem familiar, Solas infuses fresh new energy and excitement into them.

Into this dependable mix steps Mairead Phelan, who joined Solas in 2008, replacing Deirdre Scanlan (who replaced Karan Casey). Phelan made her debut on the last CD, “For Love and Laughter.” Her first outing provided a tantalyzing clue as to what was to come. On “The Turning Tide,” she really comes into her own, and adds her own special imprint on the band.

It helps that she has great material to work with. I’d love to know the process Solas follows for picking tunes. On “The Turning Tide,” as always, the band has discriminating taste—for example, “A Sailor’s Life,” the old English folk song popularized by Sandy Denny and Fairport Convention; Bruce Springsteen’s “Ghost of Tom Joad”; and “Girl in the War” by Josh Ritter, whose writing invites comparisons to Springsteen and to the young Dylan.

But great tune selection can only take you so far. The singer has to be up to the task.

Mairead Phelan is there.

I was prepared to like “Ghost of Tom Joad”—it’s a great song to begin with—but Solas adds its own intriguing interpretation. Seamus Egan opens on banjo, and what follows is an arrangement that sounds more like a slow march than a folk tune. Phelan’s soft, sweet voice lends a plaintive quality to the Springsteen lyrics. The Boss would be pleased.

“A Girl in the War” was an interesting choice. Posters on the lyrics boards seem hopelessly divided on the song’s meaning. Does it have religious overtones, or is it an explicit anti-war tune? I’ll side with the latter. Check out to the lyrics and draw your own conclusions: “Peter said to Paul/You know all those words that we wrote/Are just the rules of the game and the rules are the first to go/But now talkin’ to God is Laurel beggin’ Hardy for a gun/I got a girl in the war, man I wonder what it is we done.”

Phelan’s reading of the song is spot on. She draws you in and makes you feel every note of this gorgeous, haunting song. And, again, it helps that she has a superb band behind her—on this tune, including the Philly dobro player Mike “Slo-Mo” Brenner—and the advantage of a lovely, restrained arrangement to match her delivery.

So what’s new about this version of Solas is clear in the form of a talented singer whose talents are really still just emerging.

Along with Brenner, “The Turning Tide” features contributions by long-time members of the Solas extended family—drummer Ben Wittman (he blows the doors off in “Hugo’s Big Reel”) and bassman Chico Huff, with percussion by John Anthony, who also recorded, mixed and mastered the CD.

Take a listen to “The Turning Tide.” (You’ll hear tracks on Marianne MacDonald’s radio show “Come West Along the Road” on WTMR AM 800 Sunday at noon.) I promise you’ll hear something new. And yet the same.

January 27, 2010 by
Music

Review: The Irish Tenors Christmas

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Yes, I know we haven’t even gotten past Halloween yet. The Reese’s cups are still unopened in the cabinet. (Unopened so far, anyway.)

But, still, when “The Irish Tenors Christmas” CD arrived in the mail from the Tenors’ promoter, I just had to plug it into the player and start the Season of Joy a couple of months early. A weird sort of thing to do when the daytime temperature still occasionally bumps up into the 70s, but there it is.

If you have an Irish Christmas music collection—we certainly do, and feel free to tell us what’s in your collection—you might want to add this one to your play mix. There’s much to like about this collection of standards, sung by one of the best classically-trained ensembles—and thoroughly Irish.

I have to say that not all of the tunes are a complete success. Classically-trained tenors can do a superb job on most of the standards—as witness the opening track, “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” and later tracks “Mary Did You Know” and “Silent Night.” These are particularly listenable—tailor-made to show off the superb voices of Finbar Wright, Anthony Kearns and Karl Scully.

And there’s an interesting surprise in the mix: Shane McGowan’s great and heart-breakingly beautiful “Fairytale of New York.” I didn’t expect to like this at all. It just didn’t seem to be a good choice for guys who sing in tuxedoes.

And yet, somehow it succeeds beautifully, lush orchestration and all—and cleansed of some of the darkness. Perhaps it is a testament to the strength of the song. Maybe you just can’t hurt it. (Unless the Jingle Bell dogs do it.) But I have to say, the Tenors’ approach to the tune is respectful and restrained. I’m a believer.

Still, two of the selections just don’t work at all: The “Feliz Navidad Medley” and “Jingle Bell Rock.” All of those trilled R’s just sound silly in the old Bill Haley standard. (“That’s the Jingle Bell r-r-r-r-r-r-rock.”)

But on balance, I think you’ll be happy to add it to your stack of holiday CDs—when we get closer to the holidays, that is.

October 29, 2009 by