I could say that this year has been odd, but then that would be no surprise to anyone. But it has sent me off down a rabbit hole, introduced me to some new artists, reintroduced me to some old ones and made me realise how much I like tunes with a fat underbelly of drones.
The cultural and nostalgic aspects of Christmas far outweighs any drive I might pretend to have about disliking the Christmas aspect of the midwinter. The majority of the Christmas carols have their roots in different times, when magical realism was magical real and when tunes were for all to sing. I turn to these old tunes each year and always welcome an expansion to the list. Say the Never Beyond by Burd Ellen, the first of my top ten, does this and more so. It’s often tempting to listen to anything that Apple Music cites as ‘Unknown Genre” and this is a great album. And I get the fat drones fix.
As the first period of lockdown began to be a recent memory and we thought we would be looking forward to a slightly off-kilter summer, Robb Johnson released Pandemic Songs, his personal journey through the first four months of coronavirus. It wasn’t difficult to share in his worries of the large things in life and his great concerns for the minutiae. Ever supporting the underdog he doesn’t steer clear of direct commentary and, to use a phrase, says it like it is. In August, when the album came out, we all thought it was going to be easier; we know now that it isn’t and Robb’s window on the world is very similar to ours.
There have been a some interesting celebrations of performer’s work including my favourite the Kronos Quartet & Friends Long Time Passing. This tribute to the musical legacy of Pete Seeger is an affirmation of Seeger’s political philosophy and a reflection of the social impact that Seeger had on the USA and on the world. It is also a comment on the fact that the things that Pete Seeger wrote about in the last century are still causing pain and suffering today. I am a great fan of the Kronos and this album sits equally alongside their others. It has all of the necessary elements of creativity, displays their ability to distil the essence of the original, and has a sense of fun and enjoyment that pervades all their work.
The big nostalgia trip for me this year was the release of Trees (50th Anniversary Edition) featuring the two Tree albums and a host of other tracks (outtakes, remixes etc) and written commentaries. It is a shame that it can take such a considerable period of time in order to reflect on a band’s work and that there is so little of it in the case of Trees. However, much better to have your band’s obituaries written whilst you’re still around. I had not really forgotten how much I liked The Garden of Jane Delawney but it was good to revisit tracks that had fallen behind the filing cabinet of my memories. There is also the point made to me by someone much younger, that I have seamlessly slipped into being living history. (That’s them off the Christmas card list!)
Another name from some time ago though not as far back as Trees, is Patti Smith. Always interesting and experimental and stimulating, I found that Peradam by The Sound Collective with Patti Smith absolutely spellbinding. At one level, it is a physical journey (as are the other two albums in the series) but you realise that it will not end, and, you might sense, it has no real beginning. The story of the Peradam, a story-within-a-story maybe, becomes an esoteric conundrum. Perhaps one for three o’clock – in the morning.
I have really enjoyed following the growth of Avocet over the past couple years. Iona Zajac (harp/vocals) and Sam Grassie (guitar) took as a starting point the music of Bert Jansch and his contemporaries and are clearly and unashamedly building on this bedrock. On Lend Your Garden, fifty or more years later, you can hear the same vibe: pacy yet gentle, the clarity of guitar and harp resonating in concert, knitting the music into a wonderful cloth. This album brought together a number of previous singles and EP releases with a couple of new tracks and is never very far from my player. I hope that they continue with this work and I look forward to hearing what they have planned for next year.
All of the albums here, plus a few I could not fit in, are regulars in my ears but the one album that seems to be played the most is Mhairi Hall’s Airs. There are a few reasons why this is. Firstly, it is an excellent album. It has a wonderful effect that seems to suit that time of day when I slump into an armchair and I want to listen to something that is comforting and familiar but not trite and easy. I also love this album as it is one of very few where folk tunes are played on the piano. As a late developer at least as far as playing a musical instrument is concerned and having chosen the piano, I spend a lot of time trying to adapt accordion and fiddle tunes for my instrument. To hear an album of piano music based on traditional tunes is bliss. (And there is a bit of a drone thing at times.)
Now I have come to the rabbit hole and the first of three albums that exemplify how much I have enjoyed and been consumed by contemporary Irish folk music. It sort of started with the conjunction of reading a book about Planxty, the purchase of The Livelong Day by Lankum and the video work of Myles O’Reilly. From there I started listening to lots of music from Ireland and as luck would have it, there have been several releases this year, three of which feature in my top ten.
The Oul Fip by Skipper’s Alley is full of rich and varied interpretations of tunes, shafts of light representing the freer, more liberal aspects of change within the world of Irish music, the thing that the Dublin scene seems to engender, allowing new things and different things to come together in many and varied ways. The future is bright and the heritage is always acknowledged with notes saying from whom the tunes were learned. To the Brit, it may all just be Irish music, but beware, there is a danger of fire and fury if the geographical roots are not declared.
Where Skipper’s Alley told me where they got their songs from, The Bonny Men sent me off on hunting trips with The Broken Pledge. The songs in this collection take a broad look at the social history of Ireland but are able, in the grand scheme of things, to offer a more contemporary relevance as well. There are also some cracking jigs and reels to set you off round the room and leaving you breathless and hopefully a tad more cheerful.
The last of this trio and the last of my top ten picks is Solas an Lae – The Light of the Day by Eoghan Ó Ceannabháin and Ultan O’Brien. Stunning music and a stunning voice, this contemporary approach to the sean-nós singing style was such a find when I first came across it that it has not left my side since. As I noted at the time, for me, this is the complete package: the tune, the words, the presentation, together encompassing the emotional tales of the tragedy of life.
Each of these last three albums demonstrates in their own way that the Irish tradition is not a static beast but one that keeps moving, branching and embracing. Broadening that out, each of these ten albums shows that these artists are on a journey of discovery, perhaps taking maps and re-drawing them, perhaps starting on a road to see where it will take them. What matters is that these people are following their paths and I am very grateful that I can share in what they find, by listening, and by writing about them. Let us hope that 2021 sees their journeys made easier and more profitable. Keep listening and keep supporting the music.