Celtic Connections
blogOne my most embarrassing memories is confidently telling the father of a girlfriend — and several of his friends — that I would see them next year at their annual Twelfth Night party. It had been the second year running that I had gone along and I felt secure enough in my relationship to believe that it would last the next 12 months . . . but of course I was wrong. I cursed myself for my arrogant assumption and resolved to never again assume anything when it comes to annual events: I would concentrate on enjoying the one I was at rather than anticipating the one to come. Still, I love annual events and am secretly delighted when I get to do the same thing as the previous year, but with subtle variations.
Last year, Tim took me to the Royal Concert Hall for a evening of delirious folk music, with people like Julie Fowlis, Kate Rusby, and many others all combining to launch Celtic Connections. It had been my first taste of modern folk, which I thought a lot more earthy and authentic than either Sixties folk or anti-folk. There was a lot of talk about where the songs came from, who borrowed what from whom, and a lot of the singing was in Gaelic. But what I liked most was the jigs, and the incredible flights of fancy taken by the main melody (whether played by accordion, fiddle or whistle). I had an inkling that new neuronal connections were being formed as I tried to make sense of the suble variations within each melodic pattern and left the venue feeling thoroughly exhilirated.
This year Tim took me to the Old Fruitmarket to see Lau and Lunasa, both of whom excel in these melodic deliriums. As Tim says, it is the closest that folk gets to techno: mental bleeps and rhythms that cause endorphins to rush around the brain. This time around I learnt a bit more about the range of melodic derangement that is possible in modern folk: Lau (pictured below) were frenetic whereas Lunasa slightly more controlled.
Afterwards, we went to the rather grotty Central Hotel, with its stink of roast dinner wafting down the long corridors, for the famous daily Festival Club. This is where all the musicians that have played across Glasgow come together for various jams and singalongs. Before I lightweighted it home, I saw the excellent Samling (a Norwegian-Gaelic combo whose singer appeared to play a stick).
On Thursday night we went to see Emily Smith and Bella Hardy, who were far more mellow (especially Radio 2 favourite Smith) but still exciting to me. Hardy’s range of tunes and musical accompaniment I found more engaging, but Smith was a lot more polished. Both played ye olde ballads that they had updated as well as their own songs which weren’t very different from modern singer-songwriters. What was different was how incredibly friendly everyone in the folk scene seems to be.
I hope you can make it next year, Tim.