It seemed appropriate for my final concert at this year’s Celtic Connections in Glasgow to be hearing a fair proportion of piping. Making choices at this festival is never easy, and on this particular evening, I would happily have cloned myself and also seen Rokia Koné, but in the end, I had no reason whatsoever to regret choosing former Breabach member James Duncan Mackenzie’s live performance of his latest album Fibhig. He was joined on stage by several of the musicians who played on the album.
James is from the Isle of Lewis and plays highland pipes, flute and whistle. He explained at the start that the album was recorded during lockdown and was named after a small village on the west side of Lewis, not far from where James lives.
The music began with a whole bunch of marches, that most classic of highland pipe tunes; first up were two marches from Lewis (in 6/8 for those to whom that might matter) – Peter Eckwood and Dalintober – played by James on solo pipes, then a set, titled the Katie Mackenzie Set (in 2/4 this time) after one of the tunes which James wrote for his wife, with John Lowrie joining on piano part way through, adding some lovely touches; and Luc McNally joining on guitar for a set of two tunes called John and Jill’s Welcome. James introduced that third set apologetically as it began with yet another march but promised that relief was on the way in the shape of the second tune, which was to be a reel. I like a march, but the shift in gear was welcome.
Just when you think you’re getting a handle on tune types, James announced that the next set – Ian’s Last Munro – were ‘hornpipe type reels’, with Alasdair White making the final part of the evening’s musical quartet on fiddle. Whatever the tune classification, these were typical of James’s considerable compositional abilities –bright, winsome melodies, played at a good lick but never overdoing the pace. An energetic set of jigs –Inspector Campbell Ness/Donald McLean/Flora MacIssac/Old Blind Dog – unsurprisingly from Lewis, some from a set on the album and some not, built nicely from only pipes and fiddle to a bigger sound with the whole band.
The versatility of James’s musicianship was on show as he picked up the whistle and then flute for the next three sets of tunes. The playful Harbourmaster and The Archivist Set saw James and Alasdair both playing low whistle. For The Breasclete Monkey, a very pleasing set of jigs – named, James told us, for an alleged sighting of a monkey in the Lewis village of Breasclete (he seemed a little sceptical as to the veracity of the story) – he shifted to flute, continuing on flute for the first half of the next tune, the album’s title track Fìbhig, before reverting to pipes. It was fascinating to hear the same tune played consecutively, with barely a gap, on the two instruments, sounding in many ways quite different but working equally well both ways. I’d happily hear more of James’s flute playing – he creates a sound that is sunny but also has real depth – a delight to listen to.
The final set – the Smelling Fresh Set – included a tune James told us that he had written ten years ago for his grandfather’s 89th birthday (the set which was the opening track on James’s first eponymous 2013 album) and as his grandfather is still here, James dedicated the set to him. Modesty clearly goes along with James’s quiet, unassuming manner on stage: his set list had written at the end – ‘Encore if needed’ – he may not have been sure beforehand, but the audience were in no doubt about the need for one more when the time came. So, a set of jigs – Hen’s March/The Seagull/Boys of Ballymore – provided a rousing finale to a fabulous set of mostly original compositions, with top-drawer playing all around; I imagine anyone who didn’t already have a copy of James’s album Fìbhig didn’t leave the building without one.