Today marks the release of Hinterland, the new collaborative album from Lisa Knapp & Gerry Diver. As well as being a Featured Album of the Month, Gerry and Lisa have also written this Track-by-Track guide to Hinterland for KLOF Mag.
In his review of the album (read it here), Thomas Blake writes: “Listening to Hinterland, you get the feeling you are privy to something personal. That is even the case on the traditional songs, which make up two thirds of the album. Part of this is down to Knapp’s singing, which is somehow both ethereal and conversational, often in the same word or phrase.” He later concludes: “Diver has said of Hinterland that he and Knapp wanted to create something ‘raw and real and unrestrained,’ something that flies in the face of the notion that folk music is a static form. They have certainly succeeded: this gloriously free-spirited album is the perfect example of folk’s potential for reinvention.”
Enjoy
Hinterland Track-by-Track
Hawk & Crow
This little gem of a song was collected by Peter Kennedy from Liam O’Connor (in Armagh?) in 1953 and has been rattling around Lisa’s head for years. Lisa and I worked on a different version on another project, but Lisa always wanted to record this particular version as it has something so playful about it. Birds are mentioned a fair bit in folk songs—the small birds, the wee birds, the cock crowing in the dawn, the sweet turtle dove, ravens, crows, the wren, the robin, swans the list goes on and on. Unusually, this particular song is sung from the birds’ perspective and Lisa says she sees it as essentially a sort of origin myth. In terms of the sound, we wanted to explore an otherworldly sensibility in its development. Using dried alder leaves and a basket Lisa made for some of the percussion, as well as odd metallic sounds of fireside tools which Gerry sampled and played live, we combined it with the fiddles and a big drum, which features throughout the album, for some drama. Pete Flood kindly gave us the big drum. It’s quite battered and worn, ripped even in a few places but full of character and is probably about 70 or 80 years old. The deep, resonant sound elongates in a very peculiar idiosyncratic but beautiful way, we think it looks very cool as well. The layered vocals came from a session Lisa did, which were only meant as an experiment. When I (Gerry) heard them, I really loved the sliding dissonant weirdness of some of the layers and thought the colours were perfect to make sense of the uncanniness we were going for.
Train Song
We often have improv jam sessions together and have wracked up a fair library of our own bits of tunes and ideas. The piano riff and sequence here by Gerry, accompanied by Lisa’s long fiddle drone, was the first spontaneous iteration of this piece and whenever we listened back to it we were really drawn to how it felt sort of scenic, somehow—like travelling, looking out of a window. Completely unconnected, I (Lisa) was travelling one wintry afternoon on a train and started writing. I’d been reading Robert MacFarlane’s book ‘Landmarks’ and also Iain Sinclair’s book ‘Lud Heat’ – both authors who write so inspiringly about place. I do love a word hoard so being sat on this train for the duration I thought I’d fill some time by writing exactly what I could see. I love a train journey, the trance-like states it can take you on within yourself as well as through country and town, night and day or, winter afternoon. Then words start to do their magic thing of making patterns and rhyme here and there, and by the time I reached my destination I had a small, strange collection which somehow made sense. When re-listening through our jams looking for possibilities it occurred to us that maybe this little set of words could work on here. Together we built up the track with a train in mind, Gerry coming up with BV notes and the lovely sung riff in the middle, which to me is like when you’re going through a little tunnel and then out the other side. This is Gerry’s debut singing too!
Star Carr
This started out as an instrumental with Gerry developing a beautiful jig motif followed by a section dropping right down to a drone. Gerry was inspired by and drew from the landscape of his home county, Donegal, when writing the tune, its melodic contours informed by the ruggedness of the Inishowen hills where his family live. We thought it sounded very filmic, atmospheric and dance-like, with a strangeness—a sort of shadowy atmosphere. We thought it would continue as an instrumental but Lisa’s inspiration took it in a different direction. Star Carr is an archeological site in Yorkshire, where some extraordinary finds were unearthed just a few decades ago. The archeological dig revealed no less than twenty-one mesolithic antler headdresses, dated to nine thousand BC (9,000!), elaborately made using only stone tools. I (Lisa) find this completely mind-blowing. What were people doing with these things 11,000 years ago? Were they a disguise for hunting? Were they used in some sort of ritualistic dance or performance? Of course, we can’t know for certain but we do know they were important, special enough to get made in the first place. I wonder how many more beautiful secrets like this are hiding under our feet? As an alluring, if perhaps tenuous connection, the county of Staffordshire has a wondrous spectacle in the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance: A traditional folk dance performed every year by people wearing antler headdresses in the village of Abbots Bromley. The horns, kept for most of the year in the local church, have been carbon dated to nearly 1,000 years ago. Could these be related? Is a need to dress up, dance, perform ritual in-built as necessity in the human?
Monaghan Jig Set
Gerry: I came across these two tunes from different places. The first jig I learnt in Manchester, many years ago, where I learnt my Irish traditional music. As a child in the early ’80s I went three times a week to have lessons with fiddle player, Delia Buckley. I was a member of the O’Carolan branch of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (Irish Musicians association-dedicated to teaching Irish music etc) and was part of a very vibrant and strong Irish community. My dad is from Donegal and my mum is a Coen from Tuam, Co. Galway. I’m very proud of my Irish roots, these tunes really stay with you.
The second tune the Monaghan jig, I got from playing and recording with the ’90s London Irish fusion band Sin É whom I joined for their final few years. Those were great times and I’ve fond memories of that whole late 90’s period. I also lived in Monaghan for a year in my twenties playing in a band so I suppose the tune has a bit of extra resonance on that front as well!
I Must Away Love
There is a plethora of songs on this theme of ‘night-visiting’ within the traditional canons of Britain and Ireland. This particular song is from the singing of the legendary Luke Kelly. Some versions are a tale of a night-time tryst between lovers, but in many versions the visitor is of supernatural origin, male and/or female, coming for one final goodbye on their way to…beyond. Like a visitation of some sort I imagine. They often have to leave before daylight, as the cock crows. Lisa sang this a lot during lockdown in her online performances when, sadly, quite a few people we knew passed away (though not necessarily from Covid), so, like Loving Hannah, it has a feel of remembrance for us. It’s also sung quite a lot by friends at local Irish music sessions. We liked the idea of developing it with synth sounds, loops, and drones with just a touch of banjo. I (Gerry) co-wrote some film & TV scores with David Holmes a while back and during those sessions David and I explored the idea of letting repeating loops trip over themselves – so as not to be rigid. Some of that thinking from those Belfast sessions made its way into how I approached the production. The idea of repeating loops which don’t adhere to the song’s inherent pulse or beats is like the magical randomness of life and nature.
Long Lankin
Lisa: As well as songs related to people, some songs were chosen for this album as they related to a place we have an attachment to. Long Lankin is a meaty, rich, bloody, gothic tale of revenge, betrayal and murder. The earliest Long Lankin originates in Scotland but this particular version, well known since being published in the very first Penguin English Folk Songs by R Vaughan-Williams and A L Lloyd, is collected from Hampshire, my mother’s home county. I have a really strong and cherished memory of my Mum singing the “children’s” version of this as “Wee Willie Winkie” to me as a child, trying to get me into bed using a little bit of, well… fear. Classic 70’s parenting style! Distilled over time and in this version having lost its original revenge story, this narrative has become a myth of menace and fear of the wild and unknown, as well as an horrific treachery, I think. An aspect I really love of songs which travel like this, over time, is how they morph, twist and change into different beasts, casting off and acquiring as they travel through different mouths, bodies and times. As if they were entities in themselves.
In her lovely, very animated Hampshire burr, my mother used to speak this little rhyme to me;
Wee Willie Winky
Running through the town
Upstairs, downstairs
In his nightingown,
Tapping at the windows
Rapping at the locks
Are all the children in their beds?
It’s past 8 O’clock!
Gerry: When I heard Lisa’s original demo the dark, gruesome story of this murder ballad immediately sparked a multitude of (mainly dissonant!) ideas. It’s always exciting, for some reason, to bring out the darker side of folk music and both the lyrics and the minor mode were a perfect bedrock from which to explore the ideas of menace. We tried a few different approaches, and I eventually found the constant, ominous 2-note ringing of the glocks and plucked violins alongside a deep, earthy bass really pushed the piece along while giving space for the vocal, which is very visual. Co-incidentally we both independently thought a constant ride cymbal might work— unusually for us with a jazz vibe — and drummer, percussionist and long time collaborator, Pete Flood, ran with that idea to an exquisite effect.
Penumbra
Lisa: Doodling around on my fiddle, I was learning some new jigs one afternoon and getting tired and bored of my playing, so I started playing around with just a jig rhythm. The beginning sequences of this pattern started to appear out of nowhere, so I recorded them and worked on it from there. I’ve no idea where this came from or what it means, just that it seemed to have something I liked from the off. I like how the two violins are doing the opposite things, one arpeggiating up and down, the other holding notes, both pushing against each other sometimes in harmony other times not. We experimented with putting more sounds with it, but decided we liked it best quite bare. For some reason, for me, it has a sky-like quality.
Loving Hannah
As a duo, we had been working on a few different projects leading up to and during Covid. One of them was for music journalist and writer, Colin Irwin. As well as a luminous career as a rock journalist Colin was a devoted champion of the folk scene—hugely important in both our careers as a cheerleader and a friend. When he asked us to perform in a play he had written with Leitrim/Galway singer and dramatist, Mary McPartlan, about the life of the inimitable singer Margaret Barry, we both said we’d love to. Loving Hannah was a song Lisa performed with Mary as a duet in the play. Mary sadly passed away in 2020 and then, shockingly and out of the blue, Colin died suddenly just a few years ago. A part or one of the functions of singing and music, in my view, is remembrance and for us that was a big part of why we chose to record this song. It comes from the beautiful, fluid singing of America’s Jean Ritchie who hailed from Appalachia and who is an important figure in America’s folk song history of the 20th century
Lass of Aughrim
This song appears in a scene from a film called The Dead (directed by John Huston, starring his daughter Angelica Huston) and is an adaptation of a short story by James Joyce. Irish tenor, Frank Patterson, sings it in a spell-binding, spine-tingling scene. It’s as if time stands still when this song appears and Patterson’s voice is utterly tremendous singing it. Odd, because I (Lisa) don’t usually like folk songs sung in a classical way at all, but somehow the sheer beauty and keening quality of his voice and the song in this entirely circumnavigates ‘style’ to a stunning effect. We adore the tune in this version because of its own mournful quality.
This bitter story is told through the narrative of two lovers, one a young woman, babe in arms, begging to be let in or to see the father of her child who evidently made promises to her. The other, a young man, Lord Gregory (and in some versions his mother), denies knowing her or having anything to do with her. The young woman provides evidence and testimony but over and over is rejected until she and her baby die in the subsequent storm.
The rain falls on my yellow locks
The dew wets my skin
My babe lies cold in my arms
Oh Gregory let me in
This is an Irish version of the ballad, also known as the Lass of Roch Royal and Lord Gregory, found in Scotland, Ireland, Canada and all over America and is included F J Child’s Ballad collection. There are a few variations on some of the story too. English poet, John Clare, published a narrative poem of this story called The Maid of Ocram or Lord Gregory andits said he was influenced by travellers and may have heard this song from them. A broadside ballad called The Lass of Ocram was printed by J Pitts of Seven Dials, London, approx. 1825, or thereabouts. As far as I know there is an Aughrim in Co. Galway and Co Wicklow. I can’t find any place historically or otherwise called Ocram so it could be a corrupted spelling of Aughrim or maybe a place that doesn’t exist anymore.
Hinterland (7th March 2025) Ear to the Ground (ETTGM005CD)
Order: https://knappdiver.ffm.to/hinterland
Bandcamp: https://lisaknappgerrydiver.bandcamp.com/album/hinterland
Upcoming Dates:
LIVERPOOL – 21 March – Royal Philharmonic Music Room – Tickets
MANCHESTER – 22 March – Hallé at St Michael’s, part of Manchester Folk Festival – Tickets