CELTIC FIDDLE FESTIVAL
Équinoxe
Loftus 003

If the fiddlers of Celtic Fiddle Festival were animals, Ireland’s Kevin Burke would be a chimney swift swooping and diving on the wings of a melody, Brittany’s Christian Lemaítre would be a seal sporting in a musical pool by chasing his own hind flippers, and Quebec’s André Brunet would be a rearing dancing horse whose swaying upper body is controlled by the constant clip-clop clogging of his lower half. This is the second album from the current lineup and it surpasses the excellence of the first. Ged Foley’s steady hand on guitar keeps the fiddlers in line as they work their way through reels, jigs, gavottes, waltzes, and pipe tunes, and the fiddlers let him strut his considerable stuff on “Sir Sydney Smith’s March” which he gives a light classical touch. As the French title suggests, it’s also an album that emphasizes Quebec and Breton accents as much as Irish lyricism. This is a full realized effort by Brunet, the heir apparent to the late Johnny Cunningham bon vivant spirit. His “Reel Desjarlis” set grabs you by the lapels, forces you to dance, and doesn’t relent until you’re exhausted and smiling. But as in all Celtic Fiddle Festival projects, it’s the full ensemble playing that takes us from lofty heights and deposits us atop dizzying pinnacles. “Louis’ Waltz” is suitably subdued, but it gives way to a Swedish schottische that’s considerably quicker in pace. And do check out the whimsical “Reel de Napoleon,” which manages to be simultaneously jumpy and smooth.

There's a good YouTube sampler of the group.

AGING WELL

ARCHIE FISHER
Windward Away
Red House Records 124

Archie Fisher has performed since 1962, but Windward Away is just his sixth solo album. Like the previous five, it’s a keeper. It resembles Sunsets I’ve Galloped Into (1995) in that it’s poetic, instrumentally sparse, and indulges Fisher’s love of horses. It might even be a tad derivative, but since Sunsets is a certified masterpiece, who cares? Among the eleven new tracks are several destined for long lives. Fisher’s sensitive-soon-to-be-definitive take on “Bonnie Border Lass” would be the album’s centerpiece, were it not for the stunning “Every Man’s Heart.” Inspired by the Annie Proulx novel The Shipping News, the song muses on how women complete men. “Before Eternity” will probably also get a workout by performers seeking to set wistful moods. For a man who turns seventy next year, Fisher’s voice retains its distinctive buttery qualities. Although he complains in the liner notes of his “limited range,” one has to crawl pretty far down the low ends to detect a quaver, and the high range never was his turf.
Windward Away comes with eight bonus tracks from a rediscovered master of an aborted project from the 1970s. Among them are the earliest takes of now-cherished songs such as “Ashfields and Brine,” “Cullins of Home,” and “Joy of My Heart.” The master proves several things; first, 1970s arrangements are largely forgettable. When one compares the excess-posing-as-lushness orchestral backing of “The Final Trawl” with what made it to release, it’s hard not to thank Fisher for waiting. Above all, though, the master confirms that Fisher has lost a step, but not a stride.

RAISING THE BAR

RICHARD SHINDELL
Not Far Now
Signature Sounds

This record may be the best release of the decade. Richard Shindell is the master of point-of-view, sometimes playing the dispassionate observer, but often inhabiting the very soul of one of his characters. In “A Juggler Out in Traffic,” he’s the holy fool entertaining the self-absorbed; in “One Man’s Arkansas” and again in “State of the Union,” he’s the American Dream gone busted and looking for the survivor’s edge. Those who caught a Shindell concert last fall may have heard him sing “Balloon Man” as a work in progress; hear it now as a finished product and you’ll understand how editing transforms goodness into greatness. Shindell wraps his poetic vision in moody, moving arrangements. Check out his cover of Dave Carter’s “The Moutain” in which he wrings emotion from minimalist piano. The thinking man’s folk singer has just raised the bar to the next level.

HOT AND SPICY

DAN HICKS & THE HOT LICKS
Tangled Tales
Surfdog Records

Dan Hicks used to drum with the acid rock band The Charlatans. That was the last time anyone could pigeonhole him. Hicks chucked the rock god scene for … you name it! Tangled Tales is musical jambalaya—spicy and chocked full of ingredients. You’ll hear Django Reinhardt licks one moment, Hawaiian guitar the next, plus everything from jug band and country-swing to cowboy jazz and bluegrass. Not even Dylan would recognize what Hicks and slide-guitarist Roy Rogers do to “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” “Blues My Naughty Baby” sounds like jump jazz from the 1940s, and the title track is what you’d get if you threw the Andrews Sisters, Cab Calloway, and bennies into a blender. Quirkiness and dry wit infuse this album, and sidemen like Rogers, Charlie Musselwhite, and David Grissman make sure the jambalaya is well seasoned.

DREAMING OF NIEL GOW

Fraser and Haas in a 2004 performance in Stirling, Scotland.


Scottish fiddler Alisdair Fraser and cellist Natalie Haas walked silently to the sanctuary-turned-stage of Brattleboro, Vermont’s First Baptist Church on Friday night. They led with a lament so delicate that the audience was hushed and on the edge of their seats. A particularly beautiful passage from Fraser slid naturally over to Haas, who put aside sonorous tones in favor of rhythmic bops that invited Fraser to hurl himself into the rousing “Calliope Meets Frank” reels. When they finished, the room erupted in cheers.

With that done, Fraser jokingly announced that he and Hass intended to spend the evening “rummaging around in the Scottish condition.” For the next several hours the duo put on a performance that left a standing-room crowd uncertain whether they should howl with delight or stand in silent awe before the display of precision and majesty they had just witnessed. Fraser evoked the 18th century Perthshire fiddler Niel Gow, who used to perform with his brother Donald, a cellist. As Fraser explained, the idea that fiddle should be paired with guitar or accordion is of recent vintage; Scottish musicians once blissfully ignored the lines between Baroque, classical, and folk traditions. In that spirit Fraser and Haas proceeded to obliterate boundaries. Is “Valley of the Moon” a Scottish reel or free-form jazz? Is “Alien Celidh” an experimental composition or a dance tune with a funny name? Who cares? The evening was, by any standard one wishes to apply, one of the most stunning musical performances imaginable.

Now in their ninth year of touring, the musical dialogue between Fraser’s fiddle and Haas’s cello has matured without losing a flicker of the fire that first drew them together. Fraser plays with the seeming effortlessness that typifies the great masters, while Haas attacks her cello with gusto; after all, she has a lot more instrumental space to cover. She also plays with great confidence; little nods on the stage signaled the respect between tutor and former pupil, but small sideway glances also conveyed her independence. Haas’s solo introduction to “Josephine’s Waltz,” the tune that opened the second set, was particularly soulful and commanding.

The level of musicianship was so high that it’s almost a sacrilege to single out specific moments, but two come to mind. “John MacDonald’s Reel” is a lovely tune on its own, but Fraser and Haas slow it down to wrench primal emotion from it—short notes echoing each other as if being etched carefully on a sheet of thin glass. Another highlight was “Trip to Pakistan,” which Fraser cracked “opens the door for Scottish belly dancing.” Well … maybe not, but Haas was suitably bohemian and Fraser played it with rakish bounce.

Haas and Fraser have recorded two albums on the Culburnie label, Fire & Grace (2004) and In the Moment (2007). Each is a masterpiece, though neither is as good as witnessing a live performance. I cannot emphasize this strongly enough—go out of your way to see any project in which Alisdair Fraser is involved. Watching Fraser play is like attending a performance of Cirque du Soleil; you see it happen but you still can’t believe that it’s possible. --LV

FIRST THINGS FIRST

KATHERINE FIRST
Sweet Spot
Fiddle First Music 001

As anyone who has ever picked up an instrument knows, taking it to the next level happens in bursts rather than steady increments. For years I’ve enjoyed Western Massachusetts-based fiddler Katherine First as she played at pub sessions and with a local Celtic rock band. Her debut solo album, however, took me from admiration to awe. She’s always been technically proficient, as befits someone who grew up playing classical music, but if you want to hear why Celtic musicians go to sessions to hone their craft, this album reveals the answer. Skilled Celtic musicians play tunes from inside (the tradition) out (to an audience), whereas mere technicians do the opposite. First’s sensitive cover of “The Island of the Woods” captures the lyrical elegance of Liz Carroll’s original, yet puts First’s own stamp on it in ways that embody deep familiarity with how tunes circulate in the folk community. In like fashion, her original material is at once timeless and innovative. You’ll also hear fresh takes on tunes penned by
Phil Cunningham, Dave Richardson, Maurice Lennon, and Peter Ostroushko. Katherine First has taken her music to the next level, and even greater things are yet to come.

PICKER'S CHOICE

TONY McMANUS
The Maker’s Mark
Compass 7-4500-2

Tony McManus has long been a guitar-player’s guitarist, a musician who matches skill to an intuitive sense of how to go beyond the notes and shape a tune to the atmosphere at hand. On his latest recording he’s become a guitar- builder’s guitarist. It’s fifteen tracks and fifteen different guitars on an album appropriately subtitled The Dream Guitar Sessions. Although many of us would lie, cheat, and steal to lay hands on any one of these magnificent instruments McManus plays, each is particularly glorious in his capable hands. True to the theme McManus opts for a quiet album, its dreamy ambience enhanced by ringing harmonics and such a heavy emphasis on treble notes that the bass runs smack like a heavy right cross following a series of light jabs. There’s a bit of everything here—a cover of a Bothy Band favorite (“The Maids of Mitchelstown”), some Romanian music by way of Québec (“Parov’s Daichevo”), a touch of Spanish flair (“Chalareru”), a dash of Italian melody (“Si Dolce è’l Tormento”), loads of Scottish and Irish favorites, and a 12-string Québeçois finale (“Valse des Bélugas”). This is a perfect album for background music, close listening, or picker’s envy.--LV