Mary Jane Lamond, Storas (Turtlemusik, 2005)
In recent times, recordings of Gaelic song have had a tendency to be shrouded in cod-mysticism, stripped of their soul to the point of blandness, or at the other end of the spectrum completely drowned with modern beats and electronic sound that betrays the organic nature of the material's origins. There is no such danger with Mary Jane Lamond's Storas, which brings together an enchanting selection of traditional Gaelic song, without indulging in the cliches that so often hamper this genre.
Lamond's crisp, earthy vocals rightfully take centre stage throughout the recording, faithfully delivering this ancient material with a crystal clear timbre. Her vocals alone would be enough for me on the majority of the songs on Storas, possessed of a natural rhythm and organic tonal qualities that perfectly evoke the sounds of the traditional instruments by which she is accompanied.
"๑ran Luaidh" is a brisk milling song where the rhythm of the lyrics provides a natural pace for the accompanying instrumentation. A fiddle is well employed to supply both soaring melody and commanding rhythm, alongside a stirring bass arrangement, considered percussion and wistful guitar. These layers of sound and tempo intertwine delightfully with Lamond's voice to offer a mesmerising, almost hypnotic effect.
The exquisitely intense lament "Blàr Inbhir Lòchaidh" starts unaccompanied, giving way to minimal accompaniment; a haunting yet soothing cello backdrop and restrained, plaintive bagpipes.
In the middle of Storas you stumble across "Bal na h-Aibhne," which was recorded with the Cape Breton band Beolach. The song begins with a fairly low-key sound with great harmony vocals on the chorus, collecting pace to eventually include perfectly executed jig, reel and strathspey. Ultimately, this is likely to leave you wishing that you'd been there to see this track taking shape in the studio -- it sounds like great fun!
Another spirited performance can be heard on the port-a-beul (mouth music) of "Cailleach Liath Ratharsaigh," where once again the fiddle provides both melody and rhythm, and the percussion builds to deliver a sound akin to amassed dancing feet. The album closes with another milling song, "Tha Mo Bhreacan-sa Fo'n Dile," this time sung largely a cappella but for the beating drum in the background. The chorus is given a delightful rounded sound courtesy of the four accompanying vocalists, who also provide the giggling that precedes this track.
