Multi-instrumentalists Ross Ainslie and Ali Hutton joined by percussionist Paul Jennings and the wonderfully talented Jenn Butterworth on guitar and vocals. Traditional musicians, traditional instruments, modern musical sensibilities. Whistles, bouzouki, tenor guitar and full fat highland bagpipes. Their music is largely self penned, but draws from other sources such as the late Martyn Bennett, and traditional tunes.
What emerges is a complex folk-rock sound that ranges from soft and lyrical to energetically rousing, especially when both sets of pipes come into play. The mix of instruments changes frequently, providing some surprising combinations at times, notable pipes and tenor guitar which turn an ancient sound into something more contemporary. This swapping around, and frequent improvising mean that even largely repetitive pieces have a constantly changing sound. Helped in no small part by the imaginative accompaniments from Butterworth and Jennings.
Jenn also contribute some weel kent songs. Her voice sounded a little strained in the first half, but normal service was later restored and she ended with a superb rendition of Hamish Henderson's Freedom Come-All-Ye. Adding to the entertainment is the banter and there were plenty of laughs, with Jennings' occasional dry asides a highlight.
Great stuff.
Thursday, 12 March 2020
Sunday, 8 March 2020
Aly Bain & Phil Cunningham, St Mary's Cathedral
The tickets say "Aly Bain & Phil Cunningham", but to millions they're just "Phil and Aly", icons of the Scottish folk scene. They've been performing and recording together for more than three decades, but this concert was a bit special. Less than a year ago Bain, now into his seventies, had triple bypass surgery. While his musical progress since then has been well documented on social media, and the duo have recently been busy recording a new album, this marked Aly's return to live performance in front of a large audience.
That meant less of the fast stuff we've been used to in the past, but there's been no fall in the level of artistry, and Aly's fingers still dance mesmerisingly across the strings. The style is very much from the tradition - there's little of the kind of fiery experimentation you'd see from the likes of Ross Couper - but it's the mastery of that style that shines out, the subtle improvisations and the intuitive communication between fiddler and accordionist. Old tunes from Scotland and Shetland and Canada and Sweden, modern compositions for all over the place, many of them by the guys themselves. Cunningham in particular has written so many stunningly beautiful melodies over the years and it was a request for one of those, The Gentle Light That Wakes me, that closed out the night.
It's not just the music that made this special. Cunningham is famous for his anecdotes (although admitting he'd cleaned up a lot of them given the surroundings!) and Bain for his dry interjections. Together they are one of the funniest comedy double acts around, and the audience's grins are brought on by laughter as much as musical enjoyment. What's lovely to see is that, even after so long working together, they clearly make each other laugh too.
Wonderful acoustics, superb music and a lot of laughs. Pretty much the perfect evening.
That meant less of the fast stuff we've been used to in the past, but there's been no fall in the level of artistry, and Aly's fingers still dance mesmerisingly across the strings. The style is very much from the tradition - there's little of the kind of fiery experimentation you'd see from the likes of Ross Couper - but it's the mastery of that style that shines out, the subtle improvisations and the intuitive communication between fiddler and accordionist. Old tunes from Scotland and Shetland and Canada and Sweden, modern compositions for all over the place, many of them by the guys themselves. Cunningham in particular has written so many stunningly beautiful melodies over the years and it was a request for one of those, The Gentle Light That Wakes me, that closed out the night.
It's not just the music that made this special. Cunningham is famous for his anecdotes (although admitting he'd cleaned up a lot of them given the surroundings!) and Bain for his dry interjections. Together they are one of the funniest comedy double acts around, and the audience's grins are brought on by laughter as much as musical enjoyment. What's lovely to see is that, even after so long working together, they clearly make each other laugh too.
Wonderful acoustics, superb music and a lot of laughs. Pretty much the perfect evening.
Thursday, 5 March 2020
1917
"Suspension of disbelief"
'The temporary acceptance as believable of events or characters that would ordinarily be seen as incredible. This is usually to allow an audience to appreciate works of literature or drama that are exploring unusual ideas'. (Phrases.org)
Corporals Schofield (George Mackay) and Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) are summoned from a brief respite in the sun to see the general. He needs a message taken urgently to a unit which has orders to attack the Germans at dawn, assuming the enemy are retreating, but now there's new intelligence showing it's all a trap. If the attack goes ahead 1600 men will be massacred, including Blake's brother.
The young soldiers are told there are no Germans between their start point and the colonel they are seeking, but, as the more world weary Schofield points out, if that's true then which have they been given grenades to take with them? He proposes caution and not leaving until dusk. But Blake is insistent. His brother is one of the 1600 and for him it's personal.
They set off across a muddy, cratered, body strewn, desolate landscape, soon filthy, always afraid. The German trenches they come to are empty (and far better equipped than their own hovels), but still dangerous. The mission quickly runs into a string of obstacles and incidents that slow them down, and eventually result in Schofield having to complete the mission on his own. And things get more and more difficult from there. Fights, falls, explosions and an unanticipated swimming session. A baby. And rats. Lots of rats.
It's stunningly filmed, long single shots following our protagonists through every agonising moment, the experience up close and personal. Some heavy handed strings as they entered the first line of German trenches suggested the soundtrack might prove intrusive, but from then on it's the perfect accompaniment, helping to ramp up the tension and enhancing the often spectacular images.
Mackay carries the bulk of the movie and he's superb. His Schofield is hardened, determined, compassionate and partly dead inside. He'll be a star for decades to come.
There are several weel kent faces popping up in cameo roles, the best by far being Andrew Scott's wonderfully cynical lieutenant showing them where the lads can get out through the barbed wire, telling them to go past the dead horses, with the bonus that the stench will guide them back if they get into trouble.
But I return to my opening paragraph. A film that goes to such lengths to accurately portray the horrors of war surely lives and dies by maintaining the viewer's belief in that reality. By the final 15 minutes I was having doubts. Would one man really experience, let alone survive, so many calamities in such a short period (the film only covers about 14 or 15 hours of real time)? When a man who's emerged sopping wet from a tumultuous river experience is able to hand over a bone dry envelope, complete with entirely legible letter inside, all credibility was gone. My disbelief had been unsuspended.
And that's a shame, for this film has so much going for it - performances, cinematography, music, atmosphere - that I wanted to like it, but came away disappointed. Maybe I'm too much like Andrew Scott's lieutenant?
'The temporary acceptance as believable of events or characters that would ordinarily be seen as incredible. This is usually to allow an audience to appreciate works of literature or drama that are exploring unusual ideas'. (Phrases.org)
Corporals Schofield (George Mackay) and Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman) are summoned from a brief respite in the sun to see the general. He needs a message taken urgently to a unit which has orders to attack the Germans at dawn, assuming the enemy are retreating, but now there's new intelligence showing it's all a trap. If the attack goes ahead 1600 men will be massacred, including Blake's brother.
The young soldiers are told there are no Germans between their start point and the colonel they are seeking, but, as the more world weary Schofield points out, if that's true then which have they been given grenades to take with them? He proposes caution and not leaving until dusk. But Blake is insistent. His brother is one of the 1600 and for him it's personal.
They set off across a muddy, cratered, body strewn, desolate landscape, soon filthy, always afraid. The German trenches they come to are empty (and far better equipped than their own hovels), but still dangerous. The mission quickly runs into a string of obstacles and incidents that slow them down, and eventually result in Schofield having to complete the mission on his own. And things get more and more difficult from there. Fights, falls, explosions and an unanticipated swimming session. A baby. And rats. Lots of rats.
It's stunningly filmed, long single shots following our protagonists through every agonising moment, the experience up close and personal. Some heavy handed strings as they entered the first line of German trenches suggested the soundtrack might prove intrusive, but from then on it's the perfect accompaniment, helping to ramp up the tension and enhancing the often spectacular images.
Mackay carries the bulk of the movie and he's superb. His Schofield is hardened, determined, compassionate and partly dead inside. He'll be a star for decades to come.
There are several weel kent faces popping up in cameo roles, the best by far being Andrew Scott's wonderfully cynical lieutenant showing them where the lads can get out through the barbed wire, telling them to go past the dead horses, with the bonus that the stench will guide them back if they get into trouble.
But I return to my opening paragraph. A film that goes to such lengths to accurately portray the horrors of war surely lives and dies by maintaining the viewer's belief in that reality. By the final 15 minutes I was having doubts. Would one man really experience, let alone survive, so many calamities in such a short period (the film only covers about 14 or 15 hours of real time)? When a man who's emerged sopping wet from a tumultuous river experience is able to hand over a bone dry envelope, complete with entirely legible letter inside, all credibility was gone. My disbelief had been unsuspended.
And that's a shame, for this film has so much going for it - performances, cinematography, music, atmosphere - that I wanted to like it, but came away disappointed. Maybe I'm too much like Andrew Scott's lieutenant?
Friday, 28 February 2020
The Jellyman's Daughter, The Caves
Angus Munro opened the night to a packed out cave. Bristling with confidence, he and his keyboard launched into a series of bright pop songs that had a bit too much of a hint of manilow for my tastes, but you couldn't fault his enthusiasm or commitment to ensure we were all having a good time. A fun opener, but not memorable.
The duo Jellyman were doubled in size with the addition of Jamie Francis on banjo and Herbie Loening on double bass. We've been watching them for several years now and all that early promise is rapidly being fulfilled. Graham Coe and Emily Kelly have developed their own eclectic sound and style, mixing largely self penned material with a few surprising and imaginative covers. While both sing and play, it's Kelly's gutsy vocals and Coe's driving, chopping cello that most strongly identify the Jellyman's signature. They are also a much more assured stage presence, witty, self deprecating, more confident in their craft.
With two excellent albums behind them, and the new EP for which this was the launch gig (I bought it and it offers further development of the duo's unique identity) there's a good fund of material to draw on, and this was a well balanced set, slow and fast, new and familiar. There is nobody else quite like them.
The duo Jellyman were doubled in size with the addition of Jamie Francis on banjo and Herbie Loening on double bass. We've been watching them for several years now and all that early promise is rapidly being fulfilled. Graham Coe and Emily Kelly have developed their own eclectic sound and style, mixing largely self penned material with a few surprising and imaginative covers. While both sing and play, it's Kelly's gutsy vocals and Coe's driving, chopping cello that most strongly identify the Jellyman's signature. They are also a much more assured stage presence, witty, self deprecating, more confident in their craft.
With two excellent albums behind them, and the new EP for which this was the launch gig (I bought it and it offers further development of the duo's unique identity) there's a good fund of material to draw on, and this was a well balanced set, slow and fast, new and familiar. There is nobody else quite like them.
The Orcadians of Hudson' Bay, Assynt, The Mitchell, Celtic Connections
Young trio Assynt opened the show. Fiddle, guitar and mandolin, whistles and full fat Highland bagpipes. The tunes are mostly self penned, but firmly routed in the tradition and many sound as if they could have been around for hundreds of years. The slower numbers are sensitively played, but it's the fast stuff that gets the crowd going, with David Shedden's pipes rousing the passions and bringing the greatest response from the audience. They've got a bit of stage presence too, with the odd amusing anecdote. Great entertainment.
The Orcadians of Hudson's Bay is a project put together by Gnoss fiddler Graham Rorie (and nice to see his fellow Gnossers in the audience to lend him their support) to highlight, in music, how great a contribution the people of Orkney made to the running and success of the famous Canadian trading company - and the impact that had on the islands themselves. To this end he has undertaken a lot of research on the subject, written tunes inspired by his reading, and assembled, with the help of the Celtic Connections organisers, a top notch line up of traditional musicians to perform it with him. Kristan Harvey, Pàdruig Morrison, Rory Matheson, Signy Jakobsdottir and James Lindsay, plus a cameo performance from those magnificent Canadians from le Vent du Nord.
The result is a mix of tales and facts from history, music that takes it's key from both sides of the Atlantic, and a performance that is both lyrical and informative. Who knew that, in the early 19th century, around 80% of Hudson's Bay employees came from that small island group? Rorie's tales brought the subject alive, and the music impressed, if somewhat sedately. That's never a term associated with LVdN, and their contribution enlivened proceedings.
An interesting experiment, and one that deserves future hearings.
The Orcadians of Hudson's Bay is a project put together by Gnoss fiddler Graham Rorie (and nice to see his fellow Gnossers in the audience to lend him their support) to highlight, in music, how great a contribution the people of Orkney made to the running and success of the famous Canadian trading company - and the impact that had on the islands themselves. To this end he has undertaken a lot of research on the subject, written tunes inspired by his reading, and assembled, with the help of the Celtic Connections organisers, a top notch line up of traditional musicians to perform it with him. Kristan Harvey, Pàdruig Morrison, Rory Matheson, Signy Jakobsdottir and James Lindsay, plus a cameo performance from those magnificent Canadians from le Vent du Nord.
The result is a mix of tales and facts from history, music that takes it's key from both sides of the Atlantic, and a performance that is both lyrical and informative. Who knew that, in the early 19th century, around 80% of Hudson's Bay employees came from that small island group? Rorie's tales brought the subject alive, and the music impressed, if somewhat sedately. That's never a term associated with LVdN, and their contribution enlivened proceedings.
An interesting experiment, and one that deserves future hearings.
Wednesday, 26 February 2020
Della Mae, Teilhard Frost, Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, Celtic Connections
Canadian Frost is better known to Scottish audiences as one third of Sheesham & Lotus & Son, but his solo performance contains the same primary elements. A passionate devotion to recreating the sounds of old-time American music, recounting the history of the tunes he's playing. and a lot of humour - even when playing. Fiddle, harmonica, percussion, kazoo, a strong tenor voice combine to bring to life ragtimes, blues, jazz and folk in an eclectic package. Unexpected twists, funny lyrics and Frost's own brand of showmanship kept the audience engrossed, and he received strong acclaim for an excellent set.
Della Mae are a five piece, all-female, Nashville-based band with bluegrass roots but a wide range of influences. Guitars, fiddle, mandolin, washboard and double bass. While both bassist and mandolin player take a turn at singing songs, most of the lead vocals fall to the good-time voice of Celia Woodsmith who gets more Joplinesque the rockier the numbers become. The songs are mostly self penned, and the lyrics interesting, catchy. While there are a few slower numbers for the most part the tempo is rocking, the beat foot tapping, and the solos from fiddle, mandolin and guitar sparkling. Decent bass solo too. They're engaging personalities, there's a lot of smiles and joy in their playing, and that transmits well to the rest of the room. Great stuff and a lot of fun.
Della Mae are a five piece, all-female, Nashville-based band with bluegrass roots but a wide range of influences. Guitars, fiddle, mandolin, washboard and double bass. While both bassist and mandolin player take a turn at singing songs, most of the lead vocals fall to the good-time voice of Celia Woodsmith who gets more Joplinesque the rockier the numbers become. The songs are mostly self penned, and the lyrics interesting, catchy. While there are a few slower numbers for the most part the tempo is rocking, the beat foot tapping, and the solos from fiddle, mandolin and guitar sparkling. Decent bass solo too. They're engaging personalities, there's a lot of smiles and joy in their playing, and that transmits well to the rest of the room. Great stuff and a lot of fun.
Tuesday, 25 February 2020
Ross Couper & Tom Oakes, Duo Ruut, Luke Daniels and Rihab Azar, Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, Celtic Connections
A concert featuring three very different acoustic duos, from very different cultures. Something for everyone or an incongruous mish-mash?
First up was Irish guitarist Luke Daniels accompanying young Syrian oud virtuoso Rihab Azar. The tunes came from all over the Middle East and North Africa, plus the challenge of a set of Irish jigs , Daniels' home territory. The rhythms might be different from what we're used to, but the delicacy and speed of the playing draws the listener in and it quickly feels natural to be tapping the feet to a different beat. Plenty of interesting background information too, with Daniels an accomplished raconteur and Azar often amusing in her charmingly accented English. A lovely experience to start the evening.
From Estonia came Duo Ruut. Two women, one instrument. The instrument in question being a Kannel, an Estonian variant of the zither family. Normally played by one person, the two friends picked one up and, without anyone to teach them, developed their own style of playing. This resulted in a unique style, both musically and visually. They play the kannel in a variety of ways, strumming, plucking, bowing and percussively. And they sit facing one another, side on to the audience, the box balanced on their knees, the pushmi-pullyu of musical acts. Add in ethereal singing and sensibilities steep in Baltic folk music, and you have a very unusual sound. Plaintive, eerie, ghostly, romantic, surprising. At times a little repetitive, and I'd have liked to have heard them using more vocal harmonies, but frequently surprising and they never lost the listener's interest. Oh, and they laugh. A lot. Impossible to dislike.
And finally the headline act, Ross Couper and Tom Oakes, fiddler and guitarist, bringing their Shetland and Devonian backgrounds, mixing them up with Scots and Irish influences, and then playing the hell out of the resulting tunes. If you want to sum up the two men in two words then Funny and Fast would do well. Lots of laughs, and well capable of playing the slow sensitive stuff, but renowned for the fireworks and sweat playing that brings wild grins to everyone in the room. Outstanding.
So to my answer my earlier question - yes, definitely something for everyone, and a learning as well as a musical event.
First up was Irish guitarist Luke Daniels accompanying young Syrian oud virtuoso Rihab Azar. The tunes came from all over the Middle East and North Africa, plus the challenge of a set of Irish jigs , Daniels' home territory. The rhythms might be different from what we're used to, but the delicacy and speed of the playing draws the listener in and it quickly feels natural to be tapping the feet to a different beat. Plenty of interesting background information too, with Daniels an accomplished raconteur and Azar often amusing in her charmingly accented English. A lovely experience to start the evening.
From Estonia came Duo Ruut. Two women, one instrument. The instrument in question being a Kannel, an Estonian variant of the zither family. Normally played by one person, the two friends picked one up and, without anyone to teach them, developed their own style of playing. This resulted in a unique style, both musically and visually. They play the kannel in a variety of ways, strumming, plucking, bowing and percussively. And they sit facing one another, side on to the audience, the box balanced on their knees, the pushmi-pullyu of musical acts. Add in ethereal singing and sensibilities steep in Baltic folk music, and you have a very unusual sound. Plaintive, eerie, ghostly, romantic, surprising. At times a little repetitive, and I'd have liked to have heard them using more vocal harmonies, but frequently surprising and they never lost the listener's interest. Oh, and they laugh. A lot. Impossible to dislike.
And finally the headline act, Ross Couper and Tom Oakes, fiddler and guitarist, bringing their Shetland and Devonian backgrounds, mixing them up with Scots and Irish influences, and then playing the hell out of the resulting tunes. If you want to sum up the two men in two words then Funny and Fast would do well. Lots of laughs, and well capable of playing the slow sensitive stuff, but renowned for the fireworks and sweat playing that brings wild grins to everyone in the room. Outstanding.
So to my answer my earlier question - yes, definitely something for everyone, and a learning as well as a musical event.
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