f54 Glasgow Nights
It’s January, it’s Glasgow, it must be Celtic Connections. Sarah Coxson heads north to hear a lot of music…
C
eltic Connections is an institu- tion. It’s almost a verb; quite a hardcore verb. Something that has ‘happened’ to people in Jan- uary since 1994. A verb that that spirits them to Glasgow and galvanises them with wall-to-wall roots music mak- ing. A verb that warms the cockles of their hearts whilst simultaneously wrestling with their livers for the best part of three weeks.
It’s a sprawling and wondrous economy- boosting beastie taking in a huge spread of venues across the city – all shapes and sizes, open all hours – from atmospheric church- es to art galleries; from heaving pubs to hotel lobby sessions; from 12,000 seater stadium to a grand concert hall; from sedate theatres to sticky-floored indie cel- lars and Festival Club mayhem. Some 20 or so venues, some 300 or so events, some 2000 or so artists and some £1.15 million worth of gross ticket sales. This year’s attendances stretched to 110,000. In fact during just two of the days that I was there (around Burn’s Night) there were 25,000 bums on seats counted within 48 hours alone. It’s that sort of a beastie. Who dares says culture doesn’t pay?
In its 21st year, there seems little risk of director Donald Shaw falling into any formulaic ‘safe-bet’ booking policy. The healthy diversity of the programme reach-
Rant
es beyond the homegrown and Celtic dias- pora to traditions and cultures from around the world. During my short stay, various head-spinning choices were pre- sented. Gaelic-singing queen Julie Fowlis, as well as new supergroup The Gloaming, played on the same night as Amadou and Mariam. Greek Cypriot torch-singer Alki- noos Ioannidis, collaborating with Karine Polwart, played a raw set to a largely ex- pat crowd, while Peatbog Faeries and Budino ripped the O2 ABC apart. Del Amitri played to a near-capacity audience at Hydro Arena while the effervescent Raghu Dixit crowd-pleased at Oran Mor. A mega Burns Night show clashed with the find of the week, Parveen Sabrina Khan playing ancient Maand songs from Rajasthan at the Tron.
Acting partly out of self-preservation, I failed to visit some of the outer-lying venues – missing some gems I know – and focused on city centre concerts, each one of which had a notably healthy turnout. It felt like places were often filled with peo- ple stepping into uncharted territory, try- ing something new: not only a reflection of the energising self-belief, confidence and investment in traditional music and culture in Scotland, but also indicative of a ‘brand’ trust in the festival’s programming choices. I sat next to someone at a double bill of the charming Georgia Ruth and
marvellously angular Alasdair Roberts & Friends who had encountered neither before. He left happy, with two new dis- coveries under his belt.
My favourite festival venue by far was the beautiful Old Fruitmarket, a tradition- al market-hall space, all wrought iron columns and wooden panelling, with a wrap-around balcony clad with faded gro- cer’s signs and lightbulb festoons. Gracing the stage at various points during my visit:
Rant, bringing together four fine Scottish fiddle players (Bethany Reid, Jenna Reid, Sarah-Jane Summers and Lau- ren MacColl), fulfilled the promise of their mighty debut album in their live show here. A balance of grit and grace, they are a dynamic chamber quartet fusing multi- textured layers of harmony, rhythm and tone with melodic lyricism.
Similarly, Salt House, also featuring Lauren MacColl’s firebrand fiddle – along- side beguiling singer Siobhan Miller, gui- tarist Ewan MacPherson and jazz bassist Euan Burton – proved their live mettle with a fresh and rounded selection of orig- inal and traditional songs. Siobhan’s evocative reworking of Byron’s She Walks In Beauty as a bleak murder ballad was particularly striking.
Salt House were supporting Elephant Revival, the “transcendental folk” five- piece from Colorado, featuring three dis- tinct voices and a classy multi-instrumental groove driven by washboard and djembe percussive drive. A subdued, slow-build set switched between Bonnie Paine’s ethereal wispiness, the more visceral, evocative pin- ing of Daniel Rodriguez and electric banjo- wielding Sage Cook.
The festival is noted for unique permu- tations and new collaborations between artists, often leading to new platforms for music. Meeting last year, Karine Polwart and Alkinoos Ioannidis share an interest in song- writing and social change. A star in his native Greece, reflected by a large ex-pat turnout, Ioannidis was centre-stage for most of this set, a Brel-esque melancholy to his voice, accompanied by eloquent arrange- ments and playing on lyra, cello and ney. A little relentless (without translation), the bilingual collaboration with Polwart offered welcome lift and tonal colour for their handful of poignant, well-crafted songs. Support came from Papon, a folk singer from Assam, with a soaring gut-powered voice, showcasing his impressive, ornate vocal mastery over a bland, beefburger-gui- tar-led four-square rock band. Some fusion ideas just don’t work, a bit like having two haircuts in one. This was a definite mullet.
Photo: Sean Purser
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84 |
Page 85 |
Page 86 |
Page 87 |
Page 88 |
Page 89 |
Page 90 |
Page 91 |
Page 92 |
Page 93 |
Page 94 |
Page 95 |
Page 96 |
Page 97 |
Page 98 |
Page 99 |
Page 100 |
Page 101 |
Page 102 |
Page 103 |
Page 104 |
Page 105 |
Page 106 |
Page 107 |
Page 108