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Review: “Absolutely Irish”

If you just can’t wait for Mick Moloney’s big musical fund-raiser at St. Malachy’s Church in North Philly—a benefit for the parish’s vibrant and indispensible school on November 2—you can get yourself a great little preview.

Compass has recently released “Absolutely Irish,” the CD version of the April 2007 Public Television show of the same name.

It’s Moloney’s magic that he can bring together many of your favorite artists—you never know quite who will show up for the St. Malachy show, and you’ll kick yourself for sure if you miss it. On this CD, producer Moloney has assembled quite the stellar cast, including guitarist John Doyle, Séamus Egan of Solas, the irrepressible Joanie Madden of Cherish the Ladies, the brilliant singers Karan Casey and Robbie O’Connell, and fiddlers Liz Carroll, Athena Tergis and Eileen Ivers. Also appearing: Susan McKeown, Niall O’Leary, Darrah Carr, Jerry O’Sullivan, Billy McComiskey, Brendan Dolan, Rhys Jones, Tim Collins, Mac Benford, Mike Rafferty and Jo McNamara.

Yikes.

O’Connell and Tergis were part of last year’s lineup at St. Malachy’s. (Read our story.)

It’s hard to pick a bad tune off this CD, though there were a couple of “off” notes.

For example, I didn’t particularly care for Susan McKeown’s interpretation of “Fair London Town.” It just seemed slightly out of her range, and she was noticeably flat on many of the higher notes. She’s a wondrous singer, so figure it was an off night. And I’m a nut for bluegrass, which has deep ties to traditional Scottish and Irish music, but “June Apple,” with Mac Benford and Rhys Jones, was not my cup of tea. It might be yours, though.

As for all the rest, there are few tunes that are now enjoying heavy rotation on my car CD player. Particular favorites were several songs, including “Flower of Kilkenny,” featuring Robbie O’Connell, “The King’s Shilling,” with Karan Casey doing the honors, and “McNally’s Row of Flats,” a great little ensemble tune that Mick and friends performed last year at St. Malachy.

All of the stars get a chance to shine, including Liz Carroll and John Doyle first, then Doyle and Joanie on a blazing set, “Before the Storm/The Black Rogue/The Lass of Ballintra/The (Other) High.” Many of the gang—John Doyle, Séamus Egan, Liz Carroll, Joanie Madden, Tim Collins, Eileen Ivers, Billy McComiskey and Jerry O’Sullivan—get together on a gorgeous set of jigs, “Lark in the Morning/Cannabhan Ban/Humours of Ballyloughlin.”

Listen to the fireworks, too, on a fiddle extravaganza “Never Was Piping So Gay/The Chandelier/Paddy Fahey,” with Liz Carroll, Eileen Ivers, Athena Tergis each taking a turn, accompanied by the inimitable John Doyle on guitar. The three ladies bow at breakneck speed to start, but when Ivers comes in, the whole things slips into overdrive. (At least it seems noticeable to a drummer.) If anyone but John Doyle was playing accompaniment, his arm would be falling off at the end.

October 17, 2008 by
Music

Review: “Sirius” by Aidan O’Rourke

“Sirius” (just released on the Compass label, but originally released in 2006 by Vertical Records) takes some serious liberties with traditional music.

That’s usually OK by me. In this case, I’m mostly OK with Scots fiddler Aidan O’Rourke’s audacious little CD.

By turns jazzy, funky—and yes, traditional—“Sirius” carves out some new territory. O’Rourke swings, he syncopates, and he twists times signatures into exquisite little knots. He also brings together instruments that, some might protest, simply never should be brought together. (To my way of thinking, being told that something never should be done often is the best reason to do that something.) O’Rourke is accompanied by horns, piano, double bass, drums, guitar—and melodeon, flutes and whistles. At times, I felt like I might be hearing Average White Band. Or Lunasa. Sometimes in the same tune.

Of the 10 tunes on “Sirius,” “Lochaber Drive” and “Peoples Park Part 2” are particular favorites. “Lochaber” features an improbable pairing—melodeon, flute and O’Rourke’s fiddle with hot licks from the aforementioned AWB-style horn section. “People’s Park Part 2” starts out all traditional and then quickly transitions into Solas-style syncopation—hey, kids, let’s play “Find the Time Signature!”—and from there O’Rourke starts to coax some slick Eileen Ivers-style squeaks, squeals, whines and moans from that fiddle of his.

And, as I say, I mostly like this intriguing recording. There were moments when I thought we were crossing over into “just because you can, doesn’t mean you should” territory. But whatever faults I might find are pretty minor. And, on balance…it’s a pretty good balance.

Not everyone’s cup of tea, to be sure, but well worth a listen.

September 10, 2008 by
Music

Review: “Starfish,” by Catriona McKay

Comparisons aren’t always fair to musicians. But it’s the only way I can think of to explain the Scottish harper Catriona McKay. If the Swiss New Age harpist  Andreas Vollenweider and the Indie rock guitarist Kaki King were to have produced a love child … ah, but that doesn’t really quite work, either.

And it’s weirding me out.

Catriona McKay is pretty much her own baby.

I don’t play Celtic harp, but I know enough harpers to say … some of you might not like her latest offering, “Starfish.” It’s not the pure traditional stuff. Nothing like it, actually. Like the harper itself, most of this recording (from Compass) is hard to classify. Part jazz, part Celtic …part all kinds of things. However, the whole of this lithe and lively little recording—just 10 tunes—is greater than the sum of its parts. You’ll wonder how two hands can produce such lush, complex and original sounds and rhythmic patterns, all served up with astonishing clarity. One explanation is that she’s playing a Franken-harp of her own creation. You harpers will recognize that it has some really weird tuning. But the more meaningful explanation is that Catriona McKay is just that scarily good, with some truly dazzling left-hand work on the faster numbers, including the title track, the jazzy “Greenman,” and a wild set of tunes called “Lums O’Lund.”

Oh yes, she can play the fast stuff. But she also plays the slower pieces with extraordinary feeling.

A particular favorite is a gorgeous piece with the inscrutable title, “Swan Lk243.” (Harp teacher alert: Your kids will want to learn it.) McKay performed the piece as part of the BBC series, “Transatlantic Sessions.” She is backed up by the great Jerry Douglas on dobro and Scottish fiddler Aly Bain. If this doesn’t melt your heart, you probably don’t have one. Here it is on YouTube.

McKay has some very able backing on “Starfish,” including Fionan De Barra (guitar), Alistair MacDonald (fiddle, guitar and strings), Séamus Egan (nylon guitar), Donald Grant (fiddle), and Matt Baker (double bass). The Red Skies string ensemble also figures prominently. The pairing of McKay with Egan on “Aval Moon” is especially lovely.

You can hear a sneak preview on McKay’s MySpace page.

Then, run right out and buy this one.

September 4, 2008 by
Music

Review: “For Love and Laughter”

Solas, in a Chestnut Hill concert in Pastorius Park.

Solas, in a Chestnut Hill concert in Pastorius Park.

Previews of the new Solas CD, “For Love and Laughter,” have been up on the band’s Web site for many weeks. The clips are short, but tantalizing. There’s just enough there to make it clear that Solas—with the band’s new singer Máiréad Phelan—is evolving.

The clips are just a half a minute long—the merest tease. So you were left to wonder just how much Solas might change following the departure of singer Deirdre Scanlan.

Whatever were you fretting about? 
Solas is still Solas—the band’s trademark sound fully intact—and all’s right with the world. With the new singer and some intriguing collaborations, including cellist Natalie Haas, world music artists The Duhks and the Appalachian multi-instrumentalist Dirk Powell—they might even be better. And of course, no Solas performance would be complete without longtime bassist Chico Huff.

The opening set—“Eoin Bear’s Reel,” “Tune for Sharon” and “The Rossa Reel”—could settle comfortably into any Solas CD to date. With leader and all-Ireland multi-instrumentalist Seamus Egan setting the pace, the rest of this gifted band—the fiddler Winifred Horan, button accordionist Mick McAuley and guitarist Éamon McElholm—merrily bend tradition to their will. The first sound you hear is a sly little smile of a note from Horan’s fiddle. The two tunes that follow are tightly controlled—but just barely—with Horan’s fiddle and McCauley’s accordion playfully crossing paths, occasionally overlapping, then spinning off in opposite directions. This is Irish music as Jezzball. Egan and McElholm close out the set with a strong, percussive “Rossa Reel.”

(In fact, the whole album is percussive. Perhaps because it was recorded and mixed by Solas associate and drummer John Anthony, who plays on several tracks, “For Love and Laughter” seems like the most percussive Solas recording since 1997’s “Sunny Spells and Scattered Showers.”)

A later set—the improbably named “Vital Mental Medicine” paired with “The Pullet”—cinches the deal. The first is a scary Rubik’s Cube of rhythms and counter-rhythms, Egan leading the way on banjo. The whole “Mental Medicine” gives way to a furious interpretation of “The Pullet.” If you’ve ever seen Horan play, you know that she does cruel things to bowstrings. It’s a pretty good bet she shredded a few on this number.

That’s the Solas we know. But what about the new singer?

Máiréad Phelan gets a chance to earn her pay early on. She is front and center on the second track, “Seven Curses,” and she more than holds her own.

It’s clear from the start that Phelan does represent something of a departure. Her voice is softer and breathier than Scanlan’s. And she’s not a belter like the diminutive Karan Casey, Solas’s first vocalist. Think Heidi Talbot or Pauline Scanlon. That’s closer to the mark.

Phelan’s voice stands out on its own, but she is often supported by harmonies from McAuley and McElholm.

The material is generally very well matched to her talents, perhaps especially the haunting traditional long song, “Molly na gCuach Ni Chuillean.” It sounds like a tune she was born to sing. Once again, McAuley and McElholm join in on harmonies. Natalie Haas also makes her first of three appearances. (A later pairing with Horan on the instrumental “My Dream of You” is dreamlike and nothing short of inspired.)

Probably the best overall vocal performance features Phelan with accompaniment by The Duhks on the bluegrass-flavored “Merry Go Round,” written by frequent Solas contributor Antje Duvekot. If there is one number destined to become the perennial crowd-pleaser, this one probably is it.

McAuley’s vocal talents also are showcased on the tune’s title track, with superb harmonies from McElholm and Phelan. During the brief period in which the band was without a lead singer, McAuley and McElholm (who also plays piano and Hammond organ on some tracks) stepped into the breach. It’d be nice to hear more from them.

At the heart of it all, of course, is Seamus Egan, who plays no fewer than nine instruments on this album—crushingly depressing to those of us who play only one, and not as well. Certainly not to discount the contributions of others—notably, the wonderful Winifred Horan—Egan pretty clearly remains the soul of Solas.  So long as that is the case, the band can weather personnel changes, as it has many times in its 13 years.

You can see and hear the proof for yourself September 21 at 7:30 at World Café Live.

You’ll also be able to hear the whole album—and not just our few clips—when “Love and Laughter” goes on sale August 26.

August 8, 2008 by
Music

Review: The Big Spree (Compass)

“The Big Spree” is a big darn deal from a hot little Scottish band.

I’ll admit to being hooked from the first track, featuring Breabach’s two pipers Donal Brown and Calum MacCrimmon on a perky little traditional tune, “John MacColl’s March to Kilbowie Cottage,” which gives way to a more contemporary piping number, “Davy Webster’s.” Accompanied by Patsy Reid on fiddle and Ewan Robertson on guitar, Brown and MacCrimmon set just the right tone for a CD that artfully blends the ancient traditions with a more updated approach to Celtic music.

Like most contemporary Irish and Scottish traditional bands, Breabach boasts an abundance of talent. Brown and MacCrimmon also play flutes and whistles; Reid plays cello and viola, and sings; and Robertson is also the band’s lead vocalist. The band invites comparisons to ensembles like Lunasa, Danú, Flook, Old Blind Dogs and Solas. “Super group” is an overused description. But don’t let that stop me. Breabach is super.

Breabach’s debut album features 11 tracks, all firmly grounded in the music of Scotland, whether it’s an up tempo version of a classic piping tune like “Merrily Danced the Quaker’s Wife,” or “Caber Feidh,” a lush version of “Hector the Hero” or Ewan Robertson’s spirited interpretation of Scottish folk singer Matt McGinn’s “Rolling Hills of the Borders.” (With tight, bluegrass-like harmonies from Reid and MacCrimmon on the last.)

I also fell in love with Reid’s sweet vocals on “Lochaber No More,” a classic farewell song with lyrics by the poet Allan Ramsay, written in 1724.

Hope for a tour. And while you’re waiting, “pick up The Big Spree.”

July 29, 2008 by
Music

CD Review: Lunasa’s “The Story So Far”

The Lunasa retrospective “The Story So Far” showed up in the mail the other day, and I thought: Great … what can I say about a compilation? How do you review tunes that already have been released and reviewed years before?

The answer is: You mostly don’t.

I say “mostly” because, even though all the tunes have been previously released on Lunasa’s previous six CDs, there are, as it happens, two brand-new recordings to reflect the band’s current lineup.

“Morning Nightcap” and “Aibreann” have been dusted off and given not remarkably new treatments—but they are still lovely to hear again, anyway. all the same.

“Aibreann” actually sounded better, I think, the first time I heard it, on the band’s 1998 debut album. The new version, produced at Compass Records in Nashville, does sound much cleaner—you can really hear guitarist Paul Meehan’s lush chordwork, and that’s unquestionably a good thing—but the more recent effort lacks the energy of the original.

“Morning Nightcap,” on the other hand, definitely sounds fresher and crisper, and, if anything, tighter than the already pretty fantastic version recorded in 2002 on “The Merry Sisters of Fate” (Green Linnet). Again, it’s not remarkably different from the original, but it’s a fuller, more complete and more vibrant performance.

As for all the rest, if you are a Lunasa fan, you’ll be happy to note that most of your favorites are there—”Eanair,” “The Miller of Drohan,” “Casu,” “Punch,” “The Floating Crowbar” (I just love that title) and more. (There are 16 tracks in all.)

If, like me, you already have all of the previous recordings, is there any reason to have this new CD? I would say yes, if only to have the benefit of a much more polished sound. And if, also like me, you keep your CDs in the car, they are caked with french fry grease and Coke syrup. It’s about time for a new one, anyway.

I’d recommend “The Story So Far” for newbies. If you haven’t heard Lunasa—and weren’t they great at the 2007 Ceili Group Festival?—this is surely a terrific introduction.

And it’s not as if all the rest of their stuff is merely passable. It’s all pretty phenomenal. So let this new CD be your first, and you’ll see what all the rest of their fans are raving about.

May 12, 2008 by
Music

Review: Capercaillie’s “Roses and Tears”

Twenty years together, and Capercaillie is still solidly Celtic … and, yet, still defiantly hard to pigeonhole.

With “Roses and Tears,” the Scottish band’s latest release on the Compass label, it’s clear the band has lost none of its creative energy. On the contrary, they’ve continued to advance the strongly percussive, polyrhythmic approach that had landed them pretty squarely in the “World” section of the CD sale racks since, um … forever.

Karen Matheson is, well, Karen Matheson. I first heard her years ago, before I even knew what a Capercaillie was, on a 1995 Putamayo “Celtic Women of the World” compilation. She was singing Dark Alan (from “Rob Roy”). Even then, her voice reminded me of single malt. Smoky, velvety, sweet, with a bit of an edge. (Bonus: No hangover!)

On “Rose and Tears,” Matheson’s voice seems to have entered a new level of maturity. I’ll admit that my judgment in this regard is colored somewhat by her performance on one particular tune, John Martyn’s anti-war song “Don’t You Go.”

This is the second CD from Compass in a year to include in-your-face ant-war material—the last being Michael Black’s eponymous debut album. In the ’60s, the airwaves were full of the stuff. You don’t hear it now much, except in the folk genre.

But back to the point … “Don’t You Go” is just a lovely song to begin with. Anyone could sing it. But when Karen Matheson sings it, you can truly feel the mother’s heartbreak that underlies the lyrics, especially in the wrenching last line.

Matheson is clearly the band’s anchor, but even without her, you’d recognize the sound as distinctively Capercaillie: Michael McGoldrick on pipes and flute, Donald Shaw on accordion, Charlie McKerron on fiddle and Manus Lunny on bouzouki. Propelling the band along, of course, is Capercaillie’s very own version of the fabulous Funk Brothers, the rhythm section: Che Beresford on drums; David Robertson on just about anything else percussive, and Ewen Vernal on the bass. I judge rhythm sections by how much they make me want to bang on the steering wheel. Let’s just say I bang … a whole lot.

It all comes together in several places on the CD, but probably my favorite is the fourth track, entitled “Aphrodesiac,” a wild collection of jigs, with McGoldrick just wailing away like a, I don’t know, wild wailing kind of thing.

The album, all too short at just 12 tracks, features many newly discovered traditional songs culled from the Gaelic song archive at the School of Scottish Studies. Capercaillie applies the good old reliable Capercaillie touch, and suddenly even old tunes sound fresh and vibrant.

All of which sums up what you get on “Roses and Tears.” It’s more of the same.

Ain’t it great?

May 1, 2008 by
Music

Review: The Chieftains at the Kimmel Center

There are some who say the Kimmel Center’s Verizon Hall is shaped like a giant cello.

An untrained eye would make that kind of mistake. But anyone who attended the Chieftains concert at Philadelphia’s world-class concert hall could tell you: It’s a big Irish fiddle—obviously.

In a stellar Saturday afternoon show, the band managed to turn the city’s premier symphonic concert hall into an intimate Irish house party. Certainly, it had most of the required elements—whoops, foot stomping, sing-alongs and even, at the end, a bit of dancing. Indeed, our photographer Gwyneth MacArthur, in her first visit to the Kimmel, wound up—with a gaggle of other delighted audience members—dancing a kind of “hora” on stage with the show’s rubber-legged dancers Jon and Nathan Pilatzke, Cara Butler, and a whole troupe of Shirley Temple-wigged dancers from the Ryan School of Irish Dance. (Shyness was never Gwyneth’s problem.)

The show actually began on a bit of a disconcerting note. On their flight into Philly, the airline lost the band’s luggage—including the uilleann pipes played by Chieftain-in-chief Paddy Moloney. (Something similar happened fairly recently to a treasured banjo owned by Solas leader Seamus Egan, I believe. There are certain things you should just not check in.)

But this is a band of long experience and struggles, and they soldiered on, serving up a couple of hours of brilliant, often breath-taking, Irish music. All of it was clearly rooted in Irish musical tradition, but there were the usual departures, including such tunes as “Cotton-Eyed Joe,” from the Chieftains’ 10th album. Bluegrass star Ricky Skaggs did the vocal honors on the album, but the Chieftains’ bodhran player and singer Kevin Conneff filled in more than ably.

As promised, the Chieftains also dabbled a bit in music from Scotland. Alyth McCormack, from a little island called Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, has a high, clear voice (marred somewhat by intermittent feedback). She dazzled the crowd with a display of that peculiar act of Scottish lyrical tongue-twisting known as mouth music. “You’ll see why they call it that,” she said before she sang. And, yes, we did see.

Introducing McCormack was a piper who played a lovely, haunting version of the standard pipe band tune, “The Rowan Tree.” The Chieftains blended in along the way with Matt Molloy’s flute, Paddy’s chirping tin whistle and Seane Keane’s fiddle. It wasn’t the first or the last time that night that Gwyneth’s eyes misted over.

No Chieftains show is complete without some dancing pyrotechnics from the Pilatzkes. They joined with Cara Butler for one of the most peculiar—and, at the same time, inspired—dance routines you’ll ever see, performed entirely while seated on chairs. Most of us were falling out of our chairs at the end.

Harper Triona Marshall and Irish singer Carmel Conway also joined the show in Philly. Conway performed an achingly beautiful version of the “The Foggy Dew,” and Marshall pretty much set the stage on fire with her version of “Carolan’s Concerto.” Before the concert, Paddy mentioned that it was the best version of the piece he’d ever heard. I wouldn’t argue.

The Chieftains clearly relish playing in the Kimmel—and who could blame them? It’s not really St. Patrick’s Day in Philadelphia until the Chieftains play there, in that lovely place. I wish we didn’t have to wait ‘til next St. Patrick’s Day to hear them there again.

March 15, 2008 by