Sound Of Rum Music Festival

18 May 2007 in Festival, Music, Outer Hebrides

Isle of Rum, 11-13 May 2007

Peatbog Faeries (photo - www.peatbogfaeries.com)

THE ISLE OF RUM, eh? Generally frequented by its important colony of Red Deer and Golden and White-tailed Sea Eagles, this island of the Inner Hebrides is so remote and desolate, you could probably walk round it in a day with nothing more than the chirp of a small bird to disturb you.

Normally, only 22 official residents live on the island (many of them children); however, this quaint, eternally sleepy island gives way to over several hundred music-lovers every May, as folk bands far and wide descend upon the 40-square-mile natural nature reserve to entertain at the Sound of Rum festival.

Sadly, this year’s festival is its last. Crammed into three days, a sudden lack of funding (that’s you, Scottish Arts Council) ensured this annual festival would go out with a bang rather than a whimper. Or, as anyone on the neighbouring Isle of Skye would tell you at 4am last Sunday morning – an explosion.

Most of the 450-strong revellers arrived by ferry (others, brave enough, took the rib-boats), an 80-minute sea crossing from Mallaig. Yet despite the drizzly weather, many onboard decided to get the party started early, one or two getting their fiddles out for some pre-fest hilarity on the top deck.

When everyone did eventually arrive in Rum, suitcases, sleeping bags and even a small digger was uploaded onto awaiting trucks to take everyone’s belongings to the campsite, a 10-minute walk from the pier.

And what a campsite. Located under the shadow of Kinloch Castle (a tranquil, 19th-century redstone castle), the marquee tent was merely a beer-can’s throw away.

Somewhat bizarrely, Roald Dahl’s BFG was on hand to direct punters to such odd sights as a chainsaw sculpting event and a solar-powered cinema. The hippies, naturally, banged their drums, their children dancing barefooted around log-fires. T in the Park this was most certainly wasn’t.

By 5pm on Friday afternoon though, it was time for the first band of the evening: Brammax: a bunch of self-proclaimed highland reel filthmongers. They stepped up (or sat down in this case) to play a tub-thumping set that was about as tuneful as a stag in heat.

Unashamedly drunken, the sequin-wearing, combat-attired mob from Skye’s best song came in the form of the self-explanatory ‘I Lost My Maggie To A Lesbian’. Some start.

The Squashy Bag Dance Band then took to the floor (literally) with their own, fiery brand of Celtic mayhem. Featuring Tam the Banjo, fiddler extraordinaire Eilidh Shaw, and Donald “Drummy” Hay, they might have been better suited to a later slot, as the following act, all-girl band Sirens, discovered, somewhat to their displeasure.

With inebriated punters longing for some heads-down foot-stompin’ tunes, Sirens’ highly innovative, serene charm was wasted on those who wanted something a little more upbeat. Featuring award-winning fiddler Shona Mooney, and more than mere eye-candy, the Newcastle-based act skip genres (Gaelic, Bluegrass and Folk respectively) like an Olympic hurdler.

From the fresh-and-funky ‘Dancin’ On A Wire’ to the time-signature-jumping syncopation of ‘Height Of Rudeness’, by the end of their set, even the more drunken audience members had finally succumb to their alluring charm. Sailors beware.

Session A9, however, brought the first night to a resounding close with their fiddle-dominated hijinks. With four fiddlers strewn across the lip of the stage, one of the headiest sounds on the folk scene seemed intent on staking their claim as the fastest band of the weekend.

One minute people were attempting to storm the stage to dance alongside the highlanders, the next inflatable animals were being hurled in their direction. It was that kind of night.

Saturday. Bleary-eyed and in desperate need of hydration (it was a sparkling sunshiny day on Rum), the high tempo of the previous day’s acts continued, best exemplified by Frog In Throat. A bit of a folk supergroup given those onstage (Sirens’ Rachel Newton on vocals, Innes Watson, formerly of Croft No. 5, on fiddle, and leading Bodhran player, Dochas’ Martin O’Neill, who has played with numerous bands), the band received no less than three encores.

In the end, it took a bizarre rendition of the the Four Non Blondes’ ‘What’s Going On’ for the audience to finally say cheerio and welcome perennial festival favourites The Peatbog Faeries onstage.

And party they did. Come 3am, the band were still charging along, bashing out acid beats and fiddle-tastic tunes that almost burnt a hole in fiddle player Adam Sutherland’s bow. With the marquee tent at almost bursting point, it was easy to see why the Peatbogs have won Best Live Act awards in recent years.

Saying that, spare a thought for the fragile-as-crystal harp-duo, The Duplets. Regal in their pseudo-Victorian dresses, two of Scotland’s most promising clarsch players – Gillian Fleetwood and Fraya Thomsen – showcased the instrument’s versatility to spellbinding effect, proving the festival wasn’t all about playing loud, fast and hard.

On Sunday, young folk musicians from Glasgow’s RSAMD School of Music demonstrated the future of folk music is in safe hands, carving out an inventive set of reels, jigs and original numbers. It was the perfect tonic for those still keen on partying hard before the 5.30pm ferry back to Mallaig.

But that was before Edinburgh’s premier 9-piece ska band, Bombskare, closed the official programme in true nutty, rude-boy style. Imagine Madness taking The Specials down a side alleyway and thrashing them with a porkpie hat [only if I must – Ed] and you’re close to understanding the pandemonium they’re capable of dishing out.

A laugh-out-loud version of the Inspector Gadget cartoon theme tune entertained, but it was a gallus version of ‘The Guns of Naverone’ that sent everyone – after three days of alcohol-induced mayhem – skanking their way down to the pier.

It was an odd way to end one of the best festivals Scotland will ever see. And more’s the pity. When you combine the gorgeous setting with high-quality musicianship, unquenchable enthusiasm – and let’s not forget the exquisite hospitality – you could almost feel the tinge of sadness in everyone’s hearts as they stepped onto the ferry and waved good-bye to a truly wonderful festival that will be fondly remembered for years to come.

© Barry Gordon, 2007