Stornoway, Thursday 17 July 2003

THE MUSIC started early yesterday for this reviewer. The offices of my day job are above the shops in the centre of Stornoway, and from mid morning the sound of buskers wafted through the open windows, a mix of piping, guitar and fiddle duets and that strange background hum that crowds seem to generate just by being crowds.

Street Performers at Heb Celt

The distinctive shape of Lewis fiddler Alasdair White was spotted clutching his fiddle case, and that meant locking the office and following him to the location of his next session. This time around it was The Crown Bar in central Stornoway, and Alasdair was joined by a banjoist and bouzouki player of rare talent.

The three of them kicked into a stream of reels and jigs the pace and heat of which would have set the heather blazing. They were soon joined by five other fiddlers, an accordionist and bass recorder / tin whistler, and the bar was well and truly occupied. What a rare treat it is to have the islands’ home grown talent actually at home and playing live, and how sad it is to reflect on how much good they would do for the future of music making locally if a few were able to stay, perform regularly and make a decent enough living from their island base.

This reviewer fell in with a couple of Canadians who sailed here from Iona, via Skye, only to find out that their compatriot Gael, Mary Jane Lamond, was singing round the corner in An Lanntair. Over dinner they decided that it would be too sad by far to take in that gig having come all this way, and instead, along with a steady column of people, marched out to the Castle Grounds and the light-filled marquee.

The first marquee gig of this year’s Hebridean Celtic Festival saw Galician band Luar na Lubre take the stage, and it was apparent from the outset that the band’s claim of a ‘Galician Celticness’ is well founded. Luar na Lubre have been together since the mid-1980s and are proud exponents of, and advocates for, the very distinctive culture of Galicia, a province in the north of Spain with its own language and culture.

The connections between the Galician Celts and the more northern Atlantic Celtic traditions goes back to the days when Galicia, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall, the Isle of Man and the West Coast of Scotland were key staging posts in the sea routes used by the Vikings and other sea wandering peoples.

In Galicia, the culture of these visitors stuck fast. But, these are not the only influences on Luar na Lubre’s music and that of Galicia in general. For the full force of Spain’s southern and eastern influences can be heard, creating a dazzling hybrid of styles that’s rooted in Celtic, eastern and north African styles.
Interestingly, Luar na Lubre apparently received a boost some years ago when they were ‘discovered’ by Mike Oldfield, under whose patronage their music began to reach a wider audience.

Their music glistens like gold, and has a compelling rhythmic drive that is simply irresistible, Oldfield himself once described their music as ‘like listening to the Sun’. To the islander steeped in Gaelic traditional music Luar na Lubre’s music would sound both very familiar in terms of the reel-like flow of lines, and distinctly different due to the unusual instrumentation.

Band members Rosa Cedron, Xulio Varela, Bieito Romero, Eduardo Coma, Patxi Bermudez, Pedro Valero, Xavier Ferreiro and Xan Cerqueiro play a variety of familiar, and not so familiar instruments including Galician pipes and frame drum along with bouzouki, bodhran and tambourines.

Added to this mix is Rosa’s stunning vocals and fluid electric cello playing. The sheer bravado of their up-tempo playing is spectacle enough in itself but add to that the emotion of their slower material and you have a music that’s compelling listening.

Like so many of the bands that visit Lewis from far afield for the Festival, the gig seems to be over before it has started and it would be good to have bands such as Luar na Lubre perform on consecutive evenings as part of the programme, as a second listening would enable greater appreciation of what is undoubtedly one of the finest bands currently touring.

With the marquee crowd high as kites on the back of Luar na Lubre, on comes Fiddlers Bid. There is not much to add to the superlatives that have been written about this band. They swing and blister their way through with the flaying bows of rhythmic abandon. Compulsive, addictive, intoxicating… or is that the fresh brew from our new local brewery? ‘Festivale’ is a good quaff, pulled straight from the barrel. If there are beer Oscars then it should consider itself nominated in the best supporting actor role.

I left the tent as the last glow was fading from the lighting rig and walked toward the taxi rank, full to the brim with great sounds and a fascinating evening with friends and strangers. But, is there no mercy? As I turned the corner, there was the big man himself, fiddle in hand, and with him the banjo and bouzouki boys in full flight. I joined them and danced with the passing women who also did not want the music to end that night.

© Peter Urpeth, 2003