CD Reviews
- Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid
Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid, called for a hill that divides the parish of Gaoth Dobhair from Cloich Cheannfhaola in North-West Donegal, is described as a traditional Gaelic choir. Formed by Doiminic Mac Giolla Bhríde, a young local sean-nós singer and musician, this first recording bears witness to the birth of an interesting musical project.
The choir’s members are drawn from this Gaeltacht region and are all recognised solo singers in their own right. It is a difficult endeavour to bring solo singers together in a choral situation and an equally challenging task to forge a distinctive voice for such a vocal assembly. This recording achieves that aim admirably, never completely subjecting the individuality of each voice to the desire for a complete sound.
Although it makes for occasional ragged endings and notes that some would question, an overarching desire to achieve tonal accuracy would have made this a weaker recording in my view. While admitting many influences, the sound produced belongs to itself with no one trend dominating. The vocal approach is squarely grounded in the clear, intelligible pronunciation of Gaelic texts, as befits a gathering of native and habitual speakers of Irish. This is a great advantage of the choir, one that they capitalise upon and that makes the songs a pleasure to listen to.
Most of the songs are also local with some interesting exceptions. The opening number, Peadar Ó Doirnín’s ‘Úrchnoc Chéin Mhic Cáinte’ superbly projects an exuberant, optimistic sound, reminiscent of some festival choirs on Alan Lomax’ Mediterranean recordings. This impression is strengthened by the addition of piano-accordion accompaniment – giving a French café style overlay that augments the southern, Latin feel. The accordion is also used on a number of other tracks, most notably on the final, ‘A Phaidí, a Ghrá,’ a Tory island song with a fine modal melody. This arrangement achieves pathos through marrying the sean-nós roots of the song to harmonies which highlight the poignancy of the lyrics. Other echoes include Vaughan Williams, Les Voix Bulgares and inevitably of course, Skara Brae. A Hebridean Gaelic song – Murchadh MacPharlain’s ‘Canan nan Gaidheal’ has been ably translated by Neilí Nic Giolla Bhríde, incidentally the director’s mother, as ‘Teangaidh na nGael.’
The CD rewards repeated listening, growing in appeal with each turn. Cór Chúil Aodha or Anúna this recording is not, managing to create a unique sound based on the contributions of a living community of singers. It’s an auspicious and rather daring beginning and a fitting tribute to the late Alan Boyd, a member who died in 2006. Gura fada, buan, ceolmhar, Cór Thaobh a’ Leithid.
- Niamh Ní Charra
Ón Dá Thaobh/From Both Sides
Imeartas Records IMCD001
An apt title reflects Ní Charra’s fluency and proficiency on both concertina and fiddle, as well as her ability to fluidly slide between different refractions of the music. The sleeve notes emphasise her grounding in the Kerry tradition, and it’s almost a cliché to mention that this evocation of place contributes to establishing the music’s authority and authenticity as a continuance of a hallowed regional style. Unlike the fairly recent CD of Paudie O’Connor’s though, which concentrated on local repertoire, the selections here stray far beyond the borders of Kerry, with expected detours to Scotland, North America, and Cape Breton, and less familiar ones to Hungary and Switzerland. Hence the range of material here is diverse, and in a sense mirrors Ní Charra’s journey as a musician, who has spent no less than eight years touring with Riverdance.
However, if the bricolage of tunes reflects the globalisation of the tradition associated with Riverdance, they don’t simply ape its popular approach, and the music and its treatment here display high levels of creativity and individuality. This individuality sometimes borders on the eclectic, and particularly intriguing is the witty and attractive Allegretto by Giulio Regondi (who was one of the early virtuosos of the concertina), played here with panache and invention. Equally unexpected is the Hungarian czárdás set, which is taken from Muzsikás’ The Bartók Album (a longtime faourite of mine), but here I felt that the borrowed material didn’t fit as well. A much more satisfying track groups two jaunty hornpipes from Ryan’s Mammoth Collection, where the deft humour of the playing is perfectly complemented by an old-style piano accompaniment. Those hungry for fresh repertoire will be well served by several new compositions, which are mostly modern and virtuosic in style – and incidentally, are all in minor keys! Counterbalancing these are two emotive airs, bleak and beautiful as unadulterated solos here, the second interweaving the song version as well, sung by Brendan Begley. Begley also helps to reground the CD after its globetrotting excursions, contributing to the final set of slides, which form a satisfying conclusion to this well-rounded musical portrait.
- Aoife Granville
Sráid Eoin Shuffle
AG001
This solidly traditional album comes from an interesting musician – Aoife Granville is a typically bimusical traditional player, with a long history of involvement in art music in addition to her deep roots within local traditions in Kerry. This is interesting, but not surprising, as it acts as a reminder of how once-simple categorisations such as traditional, popular and classical (or ethnic and imperial for that matter) fail to address the multiplicity of sounds accessed by musicians today, and the fluidity by which they can move between these sounds. Here Granville locates herself within the wider Kerry tradition, and articulates this heritage by drawing on local repertoire, although her palette is not limited to this, and in a varied program she incorporates material from the Scottish and Cape Breton traditions also. Coincidentally, her flute playing is at its strongest and most convincing in the sets which accentuate this regional identity, particularly the earthy and punchy rendition of the slides and the Wren tunes. Even better though is the affective and powerful air, ‘Caoineadh Uí Néill’, which forms the centerpiece of the CD. Granville’s expertise in this facet of the tradition is confirmed by two songs, performed in an understated and wistful manner. The second of these, the beautiful ‘Lios Bhaile Dháith’, reinforces her continuity with the local tradition, as it comes from the singing of her grandmother.
Granville demonstrates further versatility through being a dual-instrumentalist as well as a singer, although I didn’t think her fiddle playing had the same fluency, and it works best where she duets with herself. Although not contributing any self-penned compositions, Granville’s no-nonsense and authoritative playing makes a strong case for the many new tunes here, in particular ‘John Joe Moroney’s Favourite’ and ‘The Slatted House’, although ‘Conal’s’ reel sounds tame after hearing Beoga’s treatment of it – but then what wouldn’t! There’s also good variety in the backing, which never threatens to overpower the melody, and its conventional approach is in keeping with Granville’s straightforward and uncomplicated playing. A CD then which doesn’t stretch the boundaries of the tradition, but at the same time makes for a stimulating and enjoyable listen.
- Donnacha Dennehy
Elastic Harmonic
NMC D133
Joanna MacGregor, Tatiana Koleva, Crash Ensemble, ensemble Intégrales, Darragh Morgan, RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra/Gavin Maloney
The direction at the beginning of the score for Glamour Sleeper, the track that opens this first full-length survey of Dubliner Donnacha Dennehy’s music, reads ‘Attack violently but with panache’. That playful but pointedly made instruction seems wholly apposite for one of the most intelligently eclectic composers of his generation.
Written in 2002, Glamour Sleeper is heard in the version that Dennehy re-worked for German outfit ensemble Intégrales. It explores in typically robust fashion the sonic collisions between (amplified) chamber ensemble and electronics. There’s a hint, a pulsating scent, of Roger Doyle in some of its darker nooks and crannies, but in its bright, buoyantly brusque handling of the material, it could only belong to Dennehy.
Rhythmic vitality, a Dennehy signature, finds exhilarating expression in the following year’s Paddy which plays inventively with the varying timbres and textures of skin, wood and metal instruments, and sounds like a gamelan orchestra on speed. Fleet and febrile, it coils tightly around abrupt exchanges of duplet and triplet rhythms that bounce back and forth against each other, accelerating and decelerating across two ever-changing tempi like electrons colliding in atomic freefall.
1997’s Junk Box Fraud, Dennehy’s inaugural work for his own Crash Ensemble (who deliver it here with proprietorial authority), contrasts the eloquently provocative design of the score – blending clarinet, trombone and a brace each of pianos and voices with electronics – with the chaotic interjections of a seemingly disconnected text written by the composer’s father. Edgy, excitable and entertaining, humour and humanity is never far from the engaging surface of this multi-faceted and deliriously original piece.
The Crash Ensemble also bring a rough-hewn, street-savvy deliberation to 2003’s Streetwalker – a suitably concrete-edged response to the heady, hallucinogen-tinged experience of modern city life that subtly calls Varèse to mind.
Elastic Harmonic, the disc’s title track, is the most recent piece here. It is also the most superficially conventional work; an intensely lyrical violin concerto in all but name. Dennehy constructs some of the most sublime sonorities to be found in contemporary music, each liquescent layer of sound simultaneously fixed to and free from its now reflective, now opaque mirror. It sounds like Vaughan Williams re-worked by Helmut Lachenmann and soloist Darragh Morgan simply shines in this premiere recording.
pAT, written in 2001 for pre-recorded tape and pianist Joanna MacGregor (who reprises it here), is a playful, intricately constructed puzzle that goes to the compelling heart of Dennehy’s music-making. If Junk Box Fraud summons up Joyce, pAT calls Beckett to mind in its, to quote from Bob Gilmore’s excellent and informative booklet notes, ‘amusing atmosphere of purposeless exactitude’.
Performances throughout, from an impressive array of soloists and ensembles, have a biting, pleasingly muscular conviction. As an introduction to Dennehy’s work, this compendium is a timely and welcome release from the ever-enterprising NMC label, one that should do much to further his profile and deserved regard at home and abroad.
- Ian Wilson
Veer
Riverrun Records RVRCD77
The Callino Quartet
With a playing time of just one hour, this concentrated clutch of three string quartets and a suite of ‘elegiac pieces’ offers itself up as a clenched fist of a programme that the listener must attempt to prise open with each listen, one or more of its fingers always remaining clamped shut, as if clasping something valuable and vulnerable to itself. The white-knuckle intensity of the experience obliges you to keep returning to these emotionally charged, tautly coruscating and fiercely realised works in an effort to understand and then appreciate. And, indeed, vice versa.
The quartets – Numbers 4 (Veer), 5 (…wander, darkling) and 6 (In fretta, in vento) – are the products of an intense 18-month period around the turn of the millennium when Wilson was forced to flee from a NATO bombing campaign in his adopted Belgrade to reluctant repatriation in Ireland. The Sixth is corralled between Wilson’s reflections on the terrorist atrocities of the 9/11 attacks and the death shortly afterwards of the composer’s grandmother. In the collision between public tribute and private grief, these works of outrage and protest vehemently strain against the implacable provocations of brute violence and, occasionally fruitfully, go steadfastly in search of spiritual solace.
Such an instance occurs in the dying moments of the Sixth, whose title translates as ‘Hastily, into the air’, when Wilson movingly quotes the Bach chorale O Traurigkeit, O Herzeleid! (‘Oh sadness, oh sorrow!’). It is the most bittersweet of moments, at once fragile and defiant and wholly typical of the compassion that informs every note that Wilson sets on a stave.
The Fifth Quartet burns with the darkest of flames, communicating with a peppery, Berg-like rush of repulsion and razor-sharp horror, its sharp, slicing, shivering string textures tumbling over each other in tumult and turmoil. Nearing the end of their first decade together, the Callino Quartet play with a controlled and incisive dexterity that emphasises clarity of expression and suggests the maturity of a considerably older ensemble.
Veer, Wilson’s Fourth Quartet, differs from its two companions in length – at under 10 minutes it is half as long as the Fifth and four minutes shorter than the Sixth – and structure, conceived as it is in two compact movements. To know that they draw their inspiration from Edvard Munch’s paintings The Scream and Melancholy tells you something about them, but not everything: Veer is more concerned with an unspecified quest than the obvious quarrels that the Fifth and Sixth Quartets pursue and is somewhat more gnomic as a result.
By comparison, and in stark relief – in both senses of the word – the most recent work, 2004’s wistful seven-part Lyric Suite (the title is a nod to RTÉ Lyric FM, who commissioned the work), communicates with meditative moderation and offers necessary balm after what has gone before.
- Phil Ware Trio
In Our Own Time
Pewter Music (689076561365)
The English pianist Phil Ware is a familiar figure on the Irish jazz scene. His trio’s Monday-night residency at JJ Smyth’s in Dublin has served as a lightning-rod for visiting talent, and their backing of Dublin-based singers Maria Tecce and Cormac Kenevey, both in concert and in studio, has been consistently strong and sympathetic. With the release of the trio’s much-anticipated debut album, In Our Own Time, listeners have an opportunity to hear Ware and fellow musicians Dave Redmond (bass) and Kevin Brady (drums) demonstrate their cohesive interplay, high level of musicianship, and considerable writing skills across nine excellent tracks.
Blues, ballads, and bop make up this varied collection. Ware is a marvellous stylist, comfortable in diverse settings and sensitive or swinging as the occasion demands. The material is well-tested (the trio has been performing together for four years) and presented in an order that does full justice to its range. Each of the musicians contributes two original compositions to the album, all of which are fresh and distinctive, and the collective performance is inventive, equal-voiced, and subtle, reminiscent of the classic Bill Evans Trios.
The group’s bop credentials are best displayed by their interpretations of Jackie McLean’s ‘Dr Jackle’ and ‘Llareggub’, from Stan Tracey’s Under Milk Wood jazz suite. Quirky and fast-paced, both tunes move assuredly through jazz history, invoking not just McLean but the great bop pianists Thelonious Monk and Bud Powell. Bebop’s angularity and odd harmonies also inform several of the album’s originals, including Brady’s ‘Fat Tuesday’ and Redmond’s ‘Mind the Gap’, full of surprising tempo changes and supportive interplay. The trio can also strike up a groove à la the Blue Note stable of the late fifties and early sixties – Ware’s ‘Hipatitis’ swings like Horace Silver or Bobby Timmons, full of call-and-response blues and funky melody.
But the album’s three ballads strike the most authoritative note. Attaining heights of lyricism comparable to Evans or Brad Mehldau, Ware establishes a connection with the listener that is intense and moving, while effectively creating space within the easy tempos for Redmond and Brady to weave their contributions into the emotional fabric of the tunes. Redmond’s ‘Callisto’ and Brady’s ‘Goodbye, Mr Munch’ share a plaintive, mournful mood and build carefully constructed melodies that are played with great finesse.
The third ballad, which closes the album, is the old Bond theme ‘Nobody Does It Better’, played, as standards should be played, with control and care, allowing us to enjoy our nostalgia of the piece without sliding into sentimentality. And when the tune concludes with a funky, foot-tapping extended riff, it is as if the band is underlining the joy of playing that is evident throughout this fine album – a timeless, passionate contribution to the great jazz trio tradition.