Mareel, Lerwick, 18 November 2012

IT WAS my own fault, I admit.

CHOOSING a CD for the car on Sunday evening, for my journey into town, I had opted for Randy Newman’s bizarre and hilarious Faust album, which was probably a mistake. The sound of Newman and James Taylor doing battle as the devil and God, respectively, with an angelic choir behind them, made for an enjoyable half hour drive, but it also left me in rather a peculiar mood – quite the wrong mood, in fact, to listen to Dougie Maclean.

Dougie McLean

Don’t get me wrong; I like Maclean very much. As a songwriter he ranks among the best that Scotland (or indeed Britain) has ever produced. But nevertheless, I associate his work with a certain distinctive atmosphere: mellow yet reflective. The kind of time when good whisky seems not just appropriate but inevitable. And this was not how I felt on Sunday night when I sat down in my almost-brand-new seat in Mareel’s almost-brand-new auditorium.

It is a testament, then, to the man’s great talent and warmth that before the first song was finished I was won over. Almost from the moment Maclean began to sing, in fact, the cynicism and dark humour of Faust was left far behind and my mood had changed entirely.

This concert was the third and final night in Mareel’s ‘official opening’ event. For one weekend only, islanders were asked to forget that they have been attending films and concerts in the venue since the beginning of September, and to give thanks to Shetland Arts and their funders for finally getting the place up and running. (Okay, perhaps not all of my cynicism was left behind).

There was, consequently, a rather forced and awkward atmosphere of celebration in the building over the course of the weekend – the highlight, for me, being the delicious free fairy cake that I was handed on Saturday afternoon when I popped in for a coffee.

What the event did mean, however, was that audiences in the islands were treated to three great concerts on three consecutive nights: Scottish band Aberfeldy on Friday; a ‘Shetland-meets-Appalachia’ evening on Saturday, featuring fiddle player Bruce Molsky together with numerous local artists; then, completing the weekend, Dougie Maclean.

The involvement of local musicians in these concerts was important, I think. Mareel may be a world class cinema and music venue, but it is also, crucially, a community resource. So it was great to see three Shetlanders given the opportunity to provide support on Sunday evening. Reesel, featuring Liza Fullerton and Danny Garrick on fiddle and Alison Kay Ramsay on guitar, were a refreshing opener, playing a variety of tunes from Scotland, Ireland and Shetland. Throughout, they seemed to be enjoying themselves, and so too did the audience.

Strolling out to the microphone after a brief interval, Dougie Maclean himself looked for all the world like a man who has never suffered stage fright in his life. He has a natural confidence and a relaxed presence that immediately puts the crowd at ease. And this is part of his charm.

There is something about a solo performance, after all – particularly a solo singer – that is not always conducive to relaxation. When the attention of a whole room is drawn to one place, it can make for a very intense experience. Maclean knows how to use this intensity to his advantage, but he knows, too, the importance of including his audience and of making them feel like part of the show.

This knack comes, most likely, from his schooling in two quite different traditions. There is the singer-songwriter tradition, shaped by Bob Dylan and others, where performer and audience are held apart. The role of the crowd is to gaze at and admire the person on stage. But Maclean also follows an older tradition, in which singing is something done at home, in the workplace and in pubs. It is a communal activity, and the performer is together with, and part of, the crowd.

A Dougie Maclean concert combines elements of both these traditions. His songs are very often highly personal; they are lyrically clever and engaging. His guitar playing is subtle and distinctive. He is every bit the ‘solo artist’. And yet, when the choruses come . . . well, what are choruses for if not for singing together?

On many of the tracks, the audience already knew the words. Songs such as ‘Ready for the Storm’, ‘Broken Wings’ and, of course, ‘Caledonia’, were all given an enthusiastic welcome. But on newer or less well-known numbers, Maclean simply told us what we had to sing, and we sang it, willingly and loudly.

Having begun the night entirely in the wrong frame of mind, I ended it by singing along and cheering for more. Such is the talent of Dougie Maclean.

 © Malachy Tallack, 2012

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• Mareel
• Dougie Maclean
• Malachy Tallack