Gillebrìde MacMillan: Freumhan Falaichte (Hidden Roots)
Dealas – 14 September 2018
To all Non-Gaelic-Speakers, please read on.
This album appeals to me on so many levels that I am unsure where to start. I like it very much.
I don’t think it would be incorrect to assume that a vast majority of readers of Folk Radio UK reviews are non-Gaelic speakers, and this album is presented in accord with that assumption. There are translations of all the songs and notes, and it is these that allow access to the sentiments of the songs without the need to understand the lyrics.
True Gaelic song is a seamless marriage of lyric and melody. It is not poems set to music although the old bards may have used existing tunes as the basis on which to lay new words.
Gillebrìde composed both lyrics and melody and has produced a masterful recording of contemporary Gaelic song. Contemporary because the issues he writes about are modern and relevant and because the arrangements are inventive, surprising, and a tribute to producer Mhàiri Hall in that the ancient sits seamlessly beside the modern.
The ancient is in Gillebrìde’s voice. It invokes in me memories of my youth when Gaelic was the first language of my Island; of when every ceilidh featured only Gaelic singers and of my parents practising furiously for the annual Gaelic singing festival ‘The Mod’.
The singing on “Freumhan Falaichte” is traditional. The music is not, the arrangements are not but the overall effect is timeless.
“Craobh an teaghlaich” (The family tree) cleverly conflates the patronymics prevalent in the islands, and the “tree” to illustrate this timelessness. You can see however that the tradition is changing as the author tells us that the song was composed by Gillebrìde, son of Neil, son of John, son of Neil, son of John, son of Donald, son of Young Donald….no Gillebrìde to be seen! The song itself is a lovely gentle piece with whistle and guitar accompaniment from the excellent Fraser Fifield and Ewan MacPherson.
It is preceded by “The refugee’s plea” which is exactly that. The song has a melodic urgency that reminds me of “Lau” and is haunting; with unexpected twists that underscore the desperation of the refugee’s plight.
“In my country, I was respected and had dignity
But when the war cry sounded
Our grief was everlasting.”
This is one of the most moving songs I have heard in a long time with the vocals emphasised by the driving guitar, urgent cello of Natalie Hass, piano, voices and whistle.
“Justice, a hearing, an opportunity on this land
These are the only things that I need.”
In “Brown-haired girl”, another song inspired by the dreadful scenes of Syrian refugees drowning in the Mediterranean he writes:
“may you find open arms,
may you find an outstretched hand,
with understanding, and longlasting friendship.”
The song is beautiful. Guitar, cello and viola; gorgeous percussion to accompany a melody drawn from the long tradition. The last line of verse one is the last line of each stanza, a fairly common embellishment in Gaelic song that works so well here.
“A Chailinn donn, a nighean donn” “Brown-haired girl, Brown-haired lass”
When you start listening to the album you are hit straight off with a thumping percussive effect from the engine room featuring percussionist Donald Hay. His touch is to be heard throughout but often very subtly. I like “Baile nam bàrd,” the opening song, which is a tribute to the ancient (and modern) bards and their importance in the culture of gaeldom. Producer Mhàiri Hall takes the opportunity to showcase the musicians and the voice of Julie Fowlis.
“Do you have to say it again?” is an anti-war song inspired by the memories of Gillebrìde’s grand uncle in WWI. Again driving rhythms and clever instrumentation push the song to unexpected melodic variations and the band play the song out to convey, to me anyway, the confusion and horror of war.
The writing for this album is astounding and in “The dance” Gillebrìde describes his parents’ attending a wedding when they were infirm and unable to dance together as they had for most of their lives. He believed that they could still dance in their mind and “Float across the dance floor together”. The song is beautiful. Beautifully sung and beautifully played. It has a plaintive, haunting almost sacred quality and instead of invoking the memories of dance the writer celebrates the spiritual magic of fifty years of his parents’ marriage. Harmonium, cello, whistles and more.
It would be easy to go through the entire album discussing each song, but I would only end up repeating superlatives. I had a listen to Gillebrìde’s last album “Air Forladh” to see if there were any clues as to the genesis of “Freumhan Falaichte.” The answer is no. He seems to have absorbed all the influences from his home island of Uist, thrown in some Mediterranean influences and produced some astoundingly original work. Put that together with some of the best traditional musicians in Scotland, and you have produced an album that reduces me to tears each time I listen.
“Tha d’eanchainn àlainn” (Your mind is beautiful) tackles the despair, and then enlightenment of discovering his son was on the Autistic spectrum. The break in the song moves from a fairly traditional tune to a ‘beatlesesque” symphony capturing the desperation of the parents.
“What did we do wrong?”
The song ends positively as they discover, with education and hard work that:
“Your mind is beautiful, your mind is amazing.”
“Santiago” is a song in praise of the city. Gillebrìde lived there for seven years and the last verse, written in Galician, is beautifully sung by Maite Gomez, a Galician singer who also lends her voice to backing vocals on some other songs.
This is a breathtakingly accomplished album. As well as tackling the ‘difficult issues’ Gillebrìde tackles the possibly easier issue of love, both for his wife in “Dìleab,” “Legacy of Love” and for his father in “Tha mi sgìth a-nochd a ghaoil,” “I’m tired tonight my love.” He dedicates the song to all who have been, or are carers to people at the last stages of life. When two people have been together for over fifty years, death and separation are often the end of life for the remaining partner.
“Until we are reunited in the promised land.”
This time the melody is simple, repeated four times; the instrumentation is spare, fiddle, viola, cello and piano and the song pierces your heart with each succeeding verse. The production builds gradually until:
“I will forever feel pain
But with a perfect memory of our time together.”
This song, along with “Am bàl” illustrates the immense power of Gaelic song to communicate raw emotion, and Gillebrìde is a master of this both in his writing and singing.
This is an enormously significant album in the Scottish folk scene and for Gaelic music. The writing is poignant, direct and relevant and the music inventive passionate and appropriate. The singing is powerful but sensitive and the production faultless.
In these days of streaming and downloads, it’s easy to listen to music as a disposable commodity but whilst I hope anyone would enjoy this album for the music alone, the lyric book is highly recommended for non-Gaelic speakers. Please seek it out and enjoy it.
The first public performance of Freumhan Falaichte with full band takes place on 18th October at The Spree Festival. Details here https://www.thespree.co.uk/event/the-paisley-connection/