Various venues, Shetland, 4-6 May 2007

Boston four-piece Crooked Still.

SHETLAND is generally marketed to visitors as a remote haven of tranquillity, far removed from the hectic whirl of modern urban life. Come folk festival time each spring, however, this famed peace and quiet gives way to a hectic whirl of Shetland’s own, as squads of musicians are shuttled hither and thither throughout the islands, playing to packed houses wherever they go.

This year’s nineteen concerts – packed into three days rather than the usual four, as one of the two main Aberdeen ferries was in dry dock – took place as far afield as Burravoe in Yell, the archipelago’s second most northerly island, and on the tiny outpost of Skerries, a 40-minute sea crossing east from the Shetland mainland, home to fewer than 80 souls.

Most of Shetland’s festival artists arrive by boat, and the 12-hour overnight sail from Aberdeen – weather permitting – often turns into a major warm-up session. With flat-calm seas on this occasion, the amidships bar was abuzz with tunes from around the world until well into the wee hours.

It was thus a distinctly bleary-eyed motley crew that stumbled down the gangway at 7am next day – but Shetland offers no rest for the wicked, with all the acts as usual scheduled to play the opening concert, starting at 1pm sharp.

It’s this local combination of gargantuan musical appetites and boundless hospitality that underpins the event’s legendary international reputation

Just as well, too, given the level of befuddlement by now prevailing among the visitors, as they’re hustled onto a fleet of coaches and minibuses and dispatched off to their sound-checks for that evening, some just along the road, others to tiny village halls up-country.

Friday’s main event was the mighty double header of local heroes Fiddlers’ Bid and Irish heavyweights Four Men and a Dog, at the 800-seater Clickimin Centre in Lerwick.

Having first got together at the local Anderson High School back in 1991, Fiddlers’ Bid have grown up into Shetland’s foremost young musical ambassadors, with a repertoire almost exclusively comprised of indigenous material, whether retrieved from venerable collections, sourced from local composers or newly written by the band themselves.

Their four-fiddle frontline, powerfully backed with piano, clarsach, guitar and bass, forges one of the richest, headiest sounds on the folk scene today, and they brought it home in a manner that must have had every native heart in the hall nigh-on bursting with pride.

Particularly in recent years, “the Bid”, as they’re locally known, have learned to balance massed thrills and spills – based on their ability to play ridiculously fast – with an increasingly sophisticated focus on the panoply of colours, textures and dynamics available to them.

One minute they sounded like an exquisitely honed chamber ensemble, weaving radiant skeins of spine-tingling harmony; the next like some colossal rampaging beast, flyting fiddles and furious grooves chopping away at each other with superbly savage force.

Four Man and a Dog last played Shetland Folk Festival in 1993, an encounter still treasured in the memories of all those lucky enough to have experienced it. Since then, the erstwhile quartet have been rejoined by founder member Donal Murphy, adding his accordion to the already fearsome melodic firepower of Cathal Hayden on fiddle and Gerry O’Connor on banjo.

They operate on an occasional basis these days in between solo projects, taking on only such gigs as they really want to do. The result might be that their many devoted fans get to see them less often – but when they do, they’re guaranteed an electrifying show, and so it proved again here.

The fiddle/banjo and twin-fiddle duelling between Hayden and O’Connor was of such jaw-dropping intensity that each instruments’ strings were virtually smoking, vibrantly rounded out by Murphy’s quicksilver tones, which in turn led off a sparkling set of Sliabh Luachra polkas.

Mood and pace were deftly varied via Kevin Doherty’s sinewy, Americana-hued songs, including the catchily bittersweet “She’s On My Mind” and the slow-burn blues of “Maybe Tonight”. Another slower standout was O’Connor’s tune “Song For PJ”, a beautifully poignant old-time waltz inspired by his late father.

O’Connor was on double duty over the weekend, reappearing next night at the same venue alongside fellow Irish headliner Sharon Shannon, flanked by guitarist Jim Murray. With Shannon swapping between fiddle and whistle as well as her trademark button accordion, she and O’Connor spurred one another on to some truly awesome heights of musicianship, her playing’s unmistakable blend of sweetness, suppleness and strength dazzlingly dovetailed with his intricate, jewel-like picking.

Also on Saturday’s bill were sixteen young musicians from Shetland, the Highlands, Orkney and the Western Isles, brought together ahead of the festival courtesy of funding from Highland 2007.

All aged 13 or 14, they’d spent the week rehearsing with such tutors as Gaelic singer Alyth McCormack, Shetland fiddler Catriona Macdonald and multi-instrumentalist Anna Massie, in preparation for this showcase appearance.

Mostly performing in smaller sub-groups, they captivated the crowd with an arresting variety of vocal and instrumental medleys, distinguished not only by the participants’ precocious technical prowess, but their dauntless approach to demanding material and arrangements, including a brilliantly tricksy, Scandinavian-flavoured waltz penned by Macdonald especially for the occasion.

Next up were the hot young Boston four-piece Crooked Still, whose distinctive twist on bluegrass and other US folk styles has been taking the Americana scene by storm, thanks in large part to the flamboyant maverick presence of cellist Rushad Eggleston, whose growling percussive riffs weigh in alongside Gregory Liszt on banjo and Corey DiMario on double bass.

Stealing the show even from Eggleston, though, was lead singer Aoife O’Donovan, whose achingly pure honey-and-steel vocals cast an utterly beguiling spell.

With the festival’s concerts scattered as far and wide as they are, catching all the performers would be decidedly tricky if it weren’t for that Shetland institution known as a foy.

Translating as a gala or feast in the local dialect, the word here denotes three marathon final concerts on the Sunday night in Lerwick, with all fourteen visiting acts playing a short set at each venue during the evening.

It’s in this setting that the bold breadth and diversity of Shetland’s programming is best appreciated, this time ranging from the marvellously mellow yet gritty country-blues of solo singer-guitarist Ray Bonneville, to the eclectic roots/world/pop brew of Canadian five-piece The McDades.

Madcap Geordie outfit the Baghdaddies covered a dizzyingly wide stylistic spectrum all by themselves, splicing Balkan, Latin, reggae, ska and Middle Eastern influences with tremendous skill and theatrical verve.

From Slovenia, Terrafolk comprehensively demolished all language barriers with their mix of prodigious virtuosity and off-the-wall humour – culminating in a cherishable death-metal version of “You Are My Sunshine” – while the eight-piece Lazy Boy Chair, from just over the water in Orkney, did their bit for traditional inter-island rivalries with a terrifically tight, irresistibly feelgood set.

As well as the official concerts, Shetland’s festival is justly celebrated for its impromptu sessions, featuring both local and visiting musicians, which can be found taking place at almost any time of day or night over the weekend – in Lerwick’s pubs, at the nightly Festival Club or at parties in people’s homes, the last often continuing until well past breakfast-time.

It’s this local combination of gargantuan musical appetites and boundless hospitality that underpins the event’s legendary international reputation, and keeps bringing in the cream of the world’s musicians, year after year.

© Sue Wilson, 2007

Links

• Shetland Folk Festival