A New Altan Record For St. Paddy's Day

 

 

 

Altan

Donegal

 

What could be better for St. Patrick’s Day than a new Altan album? And what could be more appropriate than one named Donegal, the Ulster County from which the band hails and which has produced some of the finest music in the Emerald Isle?

 

The usual formula for an Altan album is a “big set” of raucous tunes followed by a Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh song. (For the non-Irish speaker, that’s roughly, Mah rayad’ nah weenie, the Irish equivalent of Margaret Mooney). She has been both one of Ireland’s finest singers and fiddlers for nearly 40 years. Donegal instrumentals can often be differentiated from others in Ireland by the use of two fiddles instead of one. Within Altan, the literal second fiddle is usually Ciarán Currain, who is also the band’s bouzouki player, though sometimes young fiddle whiz Clare Friel does that duty. That’s much the same way that it depends on schedules whether Mark Kelly or Dáithí Sproule is the guitarist. Martin Tourish mans the squeeze boxes.  

 

Notice I said “usual formula. Donegal opens with “TheYellow Tinker,” which was also on the band’s The Red Crow (1990). It’s a reel, but in 1990 it was played fast but on Donegal it’s an unhurried slow reel. Don’t write it off as getting older. “The Donegal Selection” contains three fast reels that are joyous and chase their own tail as only reels can do. The middle one is titled “Tommy Peoples” and pays homage to the great Donegal fiddler (1948-2018) of that name.

 

In many ways, though, Altan seeks a different vibe on Donegal. Just about the time I went into mourning for the retirement of Clannad, Altan has caught much of their vibe. That’s no accident; Clannad was also a Donegal band and Ní Mhaonaigh is pals with Clannad’s Moya Brennan, whose vocal style is similar, as well as Moya’s younger sister Enya. “Faoiseamb a Gheobhasda” has a discernible Clannad feel in its delicacy, its moody interludes, and swelling instrumental meshes. These dovetail beautifully with Ní Mhaonaigh’s bird-like vocals.

 

What’s an Irish album without a set of jigs? Tunes beginning with “Port Arainn Mhór” fit that bill, but to return to an earlier point, they are lively but with a lighter touch than burn-down-the-hall big sets that bring the noise. Close your eyes and you could imagine  Ní Mhaonaigh and Brennan sharing leads on “The Barley and the Rye.” It’s as if Altan is inviting us to feel and dream rather than dance and shout.

 

There are exceptions to this. The fiddling on “Gabhaim Molta Bride” is melancholic with a tinge of Roma tears and a perfect example of why Ní Mhaonaigh is so revered in Irish music. And yes, Altan will make you jump up and kick your heels on the four-reel “Letterkenny Blacksmith combo. What a delight that after 15 studio recordings, numerous compilations, and a live album that Altan still has tricks up its collective sleeve.

 

Rob Weir  

 

Hear Maired and Moya  share a song here. 

Altan in truncated band for TV. Mairead goes to town.