Glen Urquhart Public Hall, Drumnadrochit, 8 June 2008

Rachel Newton and Lillias Kinsman-Blake.

IT’S 4pm on a hot sunny Sunday afternoon in Drumnadrochit. Wandering tourists are basking in the spectacular scenery while most locals are lounging in their back gardens or taking a long, leisurely walk.

Not too far away, at Dores, the Rockness festival is in full flow. The faint thump of banging techno music can be faintly heard floating down Loch Ness, but here, behind dark curtains at the Glen Urquhart Public Hall, a small, (p)lucky group of people have sacrificed the sun in order to take in the sweet, serene sounds of Rachel Newton and Lillias Kinsman-Blake.

Given the glorious weather conditions, a brief plan is hatched to take the concert outside; however the stiff, warm breeze, ensures the notes from Newton’s harp and Kinsman-Blake’s flute have more chance hanging in the trees like summer fruits than finding its way to listeners’ ears.

So back inside we go. To make things even more intimate, chairs, tables and acoustic boards are creatively positioned so as to make the hall seem less big; a small, standing lamp is perched to Lillias’s right, all in the name of atmosphere you understand. Complimentary cups of tea and jam sandwiches are swiftly passed round, then it’s on with the music.

Promoting their debut album, Dear Someone, Newcastle-based Rachel and Lillias’s material is a melting pot of traditional Gaelic song (the darker themed the better, it seems) [but then, aren’t they all – Ed.], complex melodies, and ethereal highland and Borders tunes, all performed, to put it plainly, with a frisky, funky feel.

Between tunes, both girls like to wax lyrical about where the songs come from and what they’re about. Current boyfriends’ mishaps (involving Rachel’s beau, fiddler Adam Sutherland, a bike, a stationary car, and a £500 bill) and phobias (spiders in this case) are laid out as if we’re all part of the same self-help group, but it’s nice to see the girls elaborate a little bit more than the usual mid-tune blurb about who learnt which tune from whom.

Take, for instance, ‘Sidney Grove’, or, ‘Hoi Lieffie’, as it’s titled on the album sleeve. Named after the street where Rachel lives in Newcastle, the tune starts off as though imitating the soft wings of a butterfly in flight before emerging from its syncopated cocoon to spin a web of trickling little melodies, that, managed to touch the heart as well as the head. Not your average Sunday afternoon songwriting duo.

Then the dark stuff came. ‘Rich Man’s Daughter’ may sound like a breathy Gaelic ballad made perfect for Rachel’s voice box, but its content – about parents killing their daughter – was more than a little unnerving. Which just goes to show you should never turn your back on a creepy-sounding flute.

For the large part, though, this was a chipper, if bizarre, way to spend an afternoon, Rachel’s singing and busy instrumentals an almost 50-50 split. With the girls’ small audience just arm’s length away, the 45-minute set evolved into a little Q&A session from those curious not only about Rachel and Lillias’s instruments, but the murderous background to a lot of Gaelic songs, as well.

Then that was it. A warm round of applause reverberated around the room, thanks were exchanged, and any remaining sandwiches and brownies quickly scoffed before heading back out to enjoy the warm June sun. Rachel and Lillias might have lost out to the big yellow man in the sky on this occasion, but when they come back, presumably in November, there will be little chance of good weather keeping people away. We wish them well.

© Barry Gordon, 2008

Links

• Rachel and Lillias at MySpace