Finally checking out some fine music on my checklist

Whoa – an entire month has flown by without any blog posts. Good excuses, though: day job hassles, preparing for some gigs with my band (rock, not folk) and – most of all – a nine-day visit to the Southern and Inner Hebrides + one day in Oban. Loved Islay, adored Iona, was blown away by the mountains of Mull. Heard no live music at all during our very nature and history focused trip, except a trad jam session in Glasgow’s Babbity Bowster on our way back from the islands.

Since returning home, my listening has been more or less sporadic, mostly older stuff that has been on my “check this out” list. That checklist is tragically long and contains both new releases and older albums I haven’t heard yet. I hope to get at least halfway through it before I’m too old and decrepit – unfortunately new music floods into it all the time… 😉 But now a few words on some albums I finally did check out!

*****

I have no idea where I bumped into Talitha Mackenzie’s album Sòlas (1994) but it must have come from the recommendation engine of either Tidal or Apple Music. And I’m glad for that, because the American artist’s mostly Gaelic-language outing has stood the test of time pretty nicely. Capercaillie’s Delirium, Secret People and To The Moon also came out in the first half of the 1990’s, marrying electronics and digital with Scottish folk in a unique way.

The Mackenzie album is very much in the same vein, so if you enjoyed those Capercaillie outings, you will probably like this as well. The American musicians (their names ring no bells here) do a fine job and the fretless bass and the occasionally funky bits are reminiscent of the brilliant Bad Haggis as well, so there’s another reference if you like that band’s groove and style. I have no idea what Talitha Mackenzie is doing these days, 30 years after this album, but at least I appreciate what she did back then.

*****

Brittany’s Sylvain Barou is one of the most amazing flute players in the modern Celtic scene so I was happy to dig into Liamm (2020), an album by Breton piper Xavier Boderiou in collaboration with Barou and string instrument master Antoine Lahay.

It’s a fairly amazing outing, one of those albums that leave you wondering how three people on acoustic instruments can create such a rich spectrum of sound and color (and it comes with that stunning cover art, too). Both Breton and Scottish-Irish styles are represented, usually in a fairly traditional setting. The one exception is Lament for A10, a severly trance-inducing acoustic-psychedelic pipedream with some digital sounds and a mighty running time of 10 mins 36 secs. It’s followed by the joyful and blindingly fast Wedding Reels and I must confess I exhaled in relief 😉

And just to note: Brittany has a amazing Celtic folk scene and I heartily recommend you check it out, in case you haven’t done so already.

*****

And then on to the Nordic region. Danish fiddler Kristine Heebøll is the primary artist and composer here, collaborating with our (in my case Finland’s) folk music legend, pianist Timo Alakotila, whose own music you must check out (again in case you haven’t done so by now).

I don’t know if the title of Pernambuk (2020) is a totally made up word, but the subtitle translates as “A journey of discovery in 11 chapters”. It’s an absolutely lovely album, her melodies and playing representing the sweeter side of modern Nordic folk; it’s music like a summer’s day, makes you feel warm and happy to be alive. And Timo’s playing is, as always, full of heart and innovation, lovely little details and harmonic ideas filling the space behind her fiddle. Together, these two have created music that both stays within and reaches beyond the Nordic folk elements – but most of all, it’s panacea for your soul, without being at all saccharine or cloying. Very, very warmly recommended.

*****

When I got a recommendation to check out the Irish singer-songwriter Lewis Barfoot, I expected the artist to be a bearded guy with an acoustic guitar and smart lyrics, and Irish equivalent of Sam Carter or Jack Badcock.

But no – Lewis Barfoot is a she and comes not with a typical singer-songwriter arsenal. Her 2021 solo debut Glenaphuca is a bold, adventurous, playful and strong. When listening to it, two things ran around in my head: 1) I need to know more about the stories behind the songs, and 2) Queen, as in Queen the band.

For 1) , I checked out her web site and learned what I was looking for, also where the name of the album comes from. As for 2), Queen in their vintage era could do any kinds of songs on an album and it made some crazy sense as a whole (re: Sheer Heart Attack, Opera, Races). Lewis Barfoot is very far from Queen, of course, but Glenaphuca also comes with quite a diverse array of music and it all makes sense as a whole. So that’s the comparison.

The album’s first tunes set this scene. The opening, Fisherman, is a beautiful, gorgeously arranged piece of modern chamber folk. And then comes White Dress, about a funeral, comes across almost as a super-elegant 1920’s lounge ballad (barring the lyrics, of course). It’s followed by the bright, light shuffle of Sweet Dreams, bringing a smile and a softly tapping foot. And so on, every song brings a new chapter in the tale.

Her lovely delivery and the very fine acoustic ensemble keep things nicely together, so you probably won’t even notice how diverse the material here actually is. All this makes Glenaphuca exciting and entertaining and quite original. I will soon get into her second album, HOME (2023), because this debut certainly raised my curiosity and offered definite artistic gems to savour.