Catherine-Ann MacPhee, Canan Nan Gaidheal/The Language of the Gael (Greentrax, 1987; reissued on CD in 1993)
Catherine-Ann MacPhee, Chi Mi'n Geamradh/I See Winter (Greentrax, 1991)
Catherine-Ann MacPhee, Catherine-Ann MacPhee Sings Mairi Mhor (Greentrax, 1994)

Scottish Gaelic singer Catherine Ann MacPhee is a glorious anomaly. In a genre that is dominated by women with high, often childlike voices, MacPhee has a huge, sensual, smoky, gorgeous alto. Her voice and talent could make her an international pop star. There's only one catch -- she sings only in Scottish Gaelic.

MacPhee is also something of a pioneer. Beginning in the 1980's, her work with producer/arranger Jim Sutherland bridged the gap between traditional and contemporary Gaelic song. The darling of hardcore traditional folkies, she has, nonetheless, recorded songs by contemporary Gaelic songwriters including the Gaelic folk-rock band Run-rig.

Gaelic language enthusiasts revere MacPhee because her pronunciation of the Gaelic is considered a marvel of clarity and beauty. I first heard of her through a Gaelic study group and assumed that her career had begun in Scotland's Royal National Mód, an annual contest of Gaelic language, music, dance and drama modeled after the Welsh Eisteddfod. It turns out that MacPhee's career began in a far less rarified but much more interesting way. In answer to my email, she writes:

"I grew up in the village of Eoligarry in Barra. A village full of fabulous singers, and as I was six years of age before electricity was introduced to the island, we had lots of ceilidhs and social gatherings to entertain ourselves by candle-light and tilly lamps -- what memories! I started singing in the village halls on the island at the age of five or six. Winter singing for family and friends and then putting on our best dresses to entertain the tourists in the summer.

I was approached while singing at a ceilidh at the age of seventeen by a lady called Mairead Ross. She was travelling throughout the Highlands and Islands looking into the possibility of forming a professional Gaelic theatre company. She asked if I would be interested and then contacted me at a later date about auditions. I did this and was accepted and for three years I traveled and sang with them. The company was called 'Fir Chlis' which means 'the Northern Lights.' We were the first-ever professional Gaelic theatre company. However, after many wonderful shows and much happiness there were major budget cuts in the Highlands and Islands and the company had to go. I thought that my acting career was at an end and took myself off to Tobermory on the island of Mull to work in the Mishnish hotel. This was owned by my sister's father-in-law, Bobby MacLeod. I spent many happy evenings singing along with his accordion playing and yet again to the tourists. Then I received a telephone call from John MacGrath of the 7.84 Theatre Company.

John tried to persuade me to join them on a tour and I was adamant that I could not do this. All their acting was in English and I had only performed in Gaelic. He assured me that I would be playing a Highland character and could slip in the odd Gaelic word if I wanted. This did not convince me. He called a few times after that and in the end I told him I would call the police if he did not stop. Poor John was very determined and arrived at the hotel door in Tobermory. How could I say no after that?! So I joined 7.84, the best move I ever made. I traveled the world with them between Russia and Castlebay. I could write novels about those days.

I met with Ian Green from Greentrax recordings while singing at a festival in Dingwall and after my performance that evening he asked if I would be interested in recording an L.P. He and John got together and from that encounter came Canan Nan Gaidheal."

Canan Nan Gaidheal/The Language of the Gael was MacPhee's first recording. It was issued on Greentrax Records in 1987, and was reissued on CD in 1993. Brief notes explain each song and no Gaelic or English text is given. (I have the old 1987 release; this omission may have been remedied in the CD reissue).

While it's the accepted wisdom to begin a recording -- especially a first recording -- with a knock-down, drag-out super-high energy crowd-pleaser, MacPhee is ballsy enough to begin on a fairly low-key note with "Hi Ri Ri o Ra Ill O," a traditional Gaelic love song that is very well-known in both Scotland and Cape Breton. The song has the steady rhythm of a work song. She follows it up with a quiet lullaby, "A Nighean Nan Geug Taladh," which tells of a dead mother's return from the grave to rescue her children. William Jackson provides a masterful yet spare clarsach (Scottish wire-strung harp) accompaniment.

A selection of "Puirt a Beul" follows. "Puirt a Beul," or "Mouth Music," evolved as the result of two factors: the banning of the pipes by the English after the unsuccessful Scottish attempt to restore the Stuarts to the throne, and the Church's attempt to stop the ungodly practice of dancing by prohibiting the playing of musical instruments. The Scots, being practical people, learned to make due with what they had -- their voices -- and developed a tradition of highly rhythmic, highly danceable songs. The lyrics of "Puirt a Beul" are often nonsensical and usually are tongue twisters which the singers are expected to sing faster and faster until they are reduced to stuttering and hyperventilation. MacPhee performs these songs with great energy and drive and a bit of multi-tracking. She is able to race through even the fastest and trickiest of the songs with out any rhythmic hesitation and with no damage to her pronunciation of the Gaelic. She follows up with a slow song, "Soiridh Leis a' Bhreacan Ur/Farewell to the Plaid," a lament on the banning of the kilt by the British.

The Scottish traditional repertoire is filled with songs that reflect the rhythm of daily tasks such as spinning, rowing and waulking (finishing tweed cloth). MacPhee includes a number of work songs with infectious, often hypnotic rhythms. "Iomair Thusa, Choinnich Chridhe" is a 16th century rowing song from the Isle of Lewis. "'S Fliuch an Oidhche/Wet the Night" is a waulking song that praises the seamanship of the men of Clan MacNeill. Waulking was a time and labour intensive process that involved pounding urine-soaked tweed cloth for hours and hours to make it waterproof. This nasty job was done only by women in Scotland, and a tradition of highly percussive women's work songs evolved. Though the work songs were traditionally sung without accompaniment, McPhee uses percussion, clarsach, fiddle, multi-tracked vocals and pennywhistle to give the songs a richer, more contemporary feel.

MacPhee includes three songs by contemporary Scottish songwriters. Though MacPhee's mastery of traditional songs is nothing short of miraculous, it is in her singing of contemporary songs that she really shines. "Canan nan Gaidheal/The Language of the Gael" was written by Murdo MacFarlane, a songwriter from the Isle of Lewis. MacFarlane's use of pop idioms and instruments in his work inspired groups such as Capercaillie and Runrig. "Canan nan Gaidheal," a "rallying song" for the Gaelic language is the most rousing song on the album. It urges the Scots to speak and uphold the Gaelic language. Despite MacFarlane's commitment to pop, the tune has a very modal, Appalachian flavor. Gaelic lyrics with English translation can be found here.

The sea has exerted a powerful influence on Celtic life, both ancient and modern, and MacPhee has included three contemporary songs about the sea. "Oran an Iolaire/Song of the Iolaire" is also by Murdo MacFarlane. It laments the sinking of the ship "Iolaire" and the loss of some two hundred Scottish soldiers returning home after World War I. MacPhee sings this song a capella with great strength and delicacy. I don't associate low voices with a clear, bell-like tone, but on this cut she pulls it off. "Cearcall a' Chuain /The Ocean's Cycle" was written by the Scottish Gaelic folk-rock group Run-rig. It is a gentle contemplative song that compares the course of our lives to the ebb and flow of the sea. "An Ataireachd Ard/The Swelling of the Sea" is an emigrant's lament for his beloved island home of Lewis, penned by Donald MacIver and popularized by Capercaillie.

This is not a recording for everybody. In addition to the language barrier, MacPhee does not get "down 'n' dirty." Scottish songs are traditionally sung without instrumental accompaniment, and perhaps this is why MacPhee's backup tends to be austere and often wispy. She uses Scotland's best musicians -- people like Ossian's late, great Tony Cuffe, and William ("Billy") Jackson, but their playing is extremely restrained and tasteful (I think of the style as "Parlor Celtic"). This does have advantages for a language learner -- because of MacPhee's clear and careful diction and the very subdued instrumental arrangements, I can make out every word that she sings, though the meaning of the words often escapes me. Still, a powerful voice like hers could hold its own against some really kick-ass instrumentation and when I listen to her recordings I often play the game of "what if." How would she sound with Richard Thompson as her sideman? Dick Gaughan? Martin Carthy? The Battlefield Band? The Oyster Band? Run-rig?

Austere accompaniments aside, Catherine-Anne MacPhee sings with understated passion and beauty about a life and a language that is very dear to her.

MacPhee's second album, Chi Mi'n Geamradh/I See Winter, has a more contemporary pop flavor. Producer/arranger Jim Sutherland uses a wide array of musical styles and instruments to create a sort of smorgasbord of sound. There are elements of traditional Celtic style, pop, New Age and World Music. "Chi mi 'n Geamhradh" is a haunting lament on the changing of seasons and the transitory nature of love written by Run-rig's MacDonald Brothers. MacPhee's reading of the song is strong and soulful. The syncopated feel of Savourna Stevenson's harp accompaniment gives it a very contemporary sound. "Chaidh mo Dhunnchadh Dha'n Bheinn/My Duncan Went to the Hill" is a traditional song from the Isle of Skye that MacPhee sings a cappella. The spinning song, "O Hi Ri Lean," is the standout on this album. Its accompaniment is very catchy, characterized by a loping Cowboy rhythm played on an instrument (cittern perhaps?) that sounds remarkably like an African Kora. There are shakers and a strange fiddle-like sound. It's upbeat, funky, and sassy. The accompaniment also presents an odd contrast to the lyrics, since they tell of the death of a sailor sweetheart.

"Bidh Clann Ulaidh/The Ulster Men" is a lullaby that tells the baby that the king's clan and all the foremost clans of Scotland and Ulster will come to its wedding. It features a very New Age accompaniment using harp, rainstick, bass guitar, synthesizer, percussion and a heartbeat mixed way back. "Mile Marbhphaisg Air a' Ghaol/A Thousand Death Shrouds on Love" is a traditional waulking song, but the use of synthesized and highly syncopated percussion, harp, Jews harp, drum machine, bass guitar, and whistles gives it a rock edge. The other waulking song on the album is "'s Muladach Mi's Mi Air m'Aineol/I Am Sad Here Among Strangers." This waulking song is in the great Celtic tradition of dissing other clans. The singer wishes MacAllen, the leader of a rival clan, drowned and his wife in the arms of a servant, his son in the kitchen baking bread and his ally, MacNeil, begging for the crumbs.

Chi Mi'n Geamradh is a very imaginative, beautifully conceived collection of songs. My only quibble is that the arrangements present a rather bewildering array of musical styles in quick succession, jumping from World Beat to New Age to traditional. It is almost as though the recording has multiple personalities.

Mac Phee's third recording is Catherine-Ann MacPhee Sings Mairi Mhor.

A protest singer almost a century before Seeger and Dylan, Mairi Mhor, or "Big Mary of the Songs," was an outspoken foe of the Highland Clearances and oppressive landlords. She eventually became Bard of the Land League. This recording is the soundtrack of a made-for-TV bio pic which celebrated Mairi Mhor's work as "one of the glories of Gaelic Song."

Because this is a film score, and because it deals with a specific time period (mid to late 19th century), the arrangements are much less adventurous than on Chi mi 'n Geamhradh. It feels as though Mairi Mhor wrote new words to Gaelic "old chestnuts," for I kept thinking I'd heard these tunes before. Since Mairi was writing protest songs for her neighbors, the words were the most important things and the tunes she selected were probably ones that she felt anybody could sing. Therefore, the tunes aren't as vocally challenging and interesting as the songs on MacPhee's previous recordings.

Once again, there is no Gaelic text given, just English translations, which seems odd since Mairi was, among other things, a champion of the Gaelic language. There is also no background information on events referred to in the songs, such as the Battle of the Braes. An explanation of the Highland Clearances would have been very useful for American listeners.

MacPhee is in stunning voice on this recording. Her pitch is dead-on and, while her voice retains its warmth, every word is so clear it's as though it was etched in glass. She sings four songs a cappella and is joined on the final track by Banal, a superb waulking group based in Glasgow. On the remaining seven tracks the instrumentation consists of clarsach, keyboards, pipes, whistles, fiddle, percussion and whirlie tubes.

Once again, MacPhee's accompanists are first-rate. Especially notable is the beautiful interplay between Allan MacDonal's whistles and Mary Ann Kennedy's clarsach and keyboards on "Nuair Bha Mi Og /When I was Young." It provides the perfect foil for MacPhee's wistful vocal. Other standout cuts include the haunting "Eilean a Cheo /Island of Mist" and "Soraidh Le Eilean a' Cheo/ Goodbye to the Isle of Mist," where whirly pipes, bagpipes, synthesizer and harp are used to capture the interplay of light and mist that Mairi Mor describes in the lyrics of her song. The recording ends on a note of high energy with the waulking song "Faistneachd Agus Beannachd Do Na Gaidheil/A Blessing and a Prophecy to the Gaels," which features the powerful, percussive singing of the Banal Waulking Group.

MacPhee is also represented in several compilation albums, including A Greentrax Showcase, Ar Canan 's Ar Ceol, A Clear Day's Dawnin': Music to Welcome a New Parliament, Orain nan Gaidheal, The Music and Song of Greentrax and Celtic Connections.

Three years ago, Catherine-Anne MacPhee moved to Ottawa, Canada. She's been teaching Gaelic singing and traveling between Toronto, Seattle, North Carolina and Cape Breton. Her most recent news is that she has just completed a new recording, which should be released in March of 2004.

In her e-mail, she writes:

"I've called the album Suil Air Ais which means 'a look back.' The idea behind this one is that I am recollecting early memories of songs and singers that had an impact on me or that I grew up listening to.

My favorite guitarist and friend Tony McManus flew here to accompany me and produce the album. We had four days to get it down and went into the studio at mid-day on a Thursday. At 4 p.m. that day the lights went out -- it was the big power outage. So by the time the power came back on we had two days to do the entire album. Tony then set off to Edinburgh without me and had a great time in the studio with my pals back home adding various other bits.

My love of Gaelic music is pure as it is my life...My children ask why I never stop singing, they tell me I'm always singing...It's like breathing, I can't stop...I even sing as I'm typing, going 'round the malls which really embarrasses the kids, but I sing very quietly. I guess I'm not even aware of it. I am also a country music fanatic not the new Shania Twain type of country but the old Dolly Parton, Jim Reeves type of music. Some of my best performances are at social gatherings -- off stage, of course -- that go on after 1 a.m. Then Gaelic sleeps for the night and the Country'n'Western Cathy-Ann comes alive. I've never done this on stage, of course. I guess nobody ever asked me to do this. Boy, would it shock some of the old Cailleachs [reviewer's translation: "old gossips," "yentas"] back home if I did!

My Gaelic reputation would be in tatters..."

[Liz Milner]