Lynched
Album: Cold Old Fire
Label: Self Released
Tracks: 12
Website: http://www.lynchedmusic.com

Every once in a while comes a record from Ireland that stands out from the standard fare because it incorporates a cheeky and cheerful strand of weirdness that's intrinsically Irish (no insult intended), allied to a healthy degree of entirely natural, innate musicianship. This album is one such, a real gem - and a killer to boot - from what sounds one of the strangest of Irish folk bands, one that to my infinite regret I've never encountered before. Self-styled Dublin folk miscreants Lynched involve the talents of brothers Ian and Daragh Lynch, who, legend has it, formed their own "experimental folk-punk psychedelic duo" around a decade ago. Their uilleann pipes, whistle and guitar are now joined in the band by Radie Peat (concertina, bayan, whistle) and Cormac Mac Diarmada (fiddle, banjo). Together these musicians provide a full-bodied but not in any way overwrought sound with plenty of individuality to complement the sheer upfront energy of the singing.

Ian takes the majority of the leads, his delivery suitably gutsy, raw and strident with real character, but Radie also adds considerable weight to the proceedings with her very distinctive voice and her acutely-turned (and surprisingly doleful) Appalachian-style interpretation of the ballad of The Old Man From Over The Sea; here, the refrains are boosted by chilling supporting harmonies from the men, but in truth tight and well-coordinated vocal work (both harmonies and unison) are a hallmark of Lynched arrangements generally. Radie coaxes an unusually powerful, at times almost unearthly tone from her concertina, and even more sepulchral is the drone of the bayan (a large bass accordion of Russian origin). There's some magnificent interplay between fiddle and concertina on the pair of old-time tunes that forms the vigorous (and unexpected) coda to The Old Man. I like the way that Lynched feel they can take their time over their music, and their respect of, and commitment to their chosen material disarmingly overrides any potential listener concerns regarding the refreshingly unhurried sense of pace they adopt for the ballads especially. The album's balance is around equally divided between traditional and newly-composed songs, and each category can be judged well served by the originality and unerring conviction of the band's enterprising treatments.

Of the contemporary selections, I'd readily single out Drinking Song From The Tomb, a deliriously sinister jig-like setting of part of a short story by cult author H.P. Lovecraft, and what might seem to be its companion-piece, Lullaby, whose brooding and demeanour and ominous half-heard whisperings demeanour seem to betoken alarming visions and insights bestowed on mankind during sleep. I was reminded here of the nightmare world of the ISB's Swift As The Wind, and by uncannily swift coincidence the very next track turns out to be a deeply thoughtful, uncommonly tender cover of Robin Williamson's prescient Cold Days Of February pared right down with only Daragh's own stark but inventive solo guitar for accompaniment. The other side to the Lynched coin is a total contrast: a decidedly whimsical eccentricity (rather recalling Dr Strangely Strange, especially on the catchy title song), coupled with a pronounced penchant for semi-nonsense comic or music-hall numbers like Daffodil Mulligan and Father Had A Knife, which, occurring as they do primarily in the early stages of the disc, may give a slightly misleading initial impression of the band's predilections. Having said that, along the way they also treat us to a welcomely sensible rendition of the rousing Cork street song Salonika, while at the end of the day it's fitting that the disc should close on Love Is Kind, an extended anthem-cum-shanty culled from the singing of Robin Roberts (a song-collecting colleague of Alan Lomax). Which is but one of the fascinating background facts we learn from the informative booklet notes (quality not altogether unexpected, given that Ian has a folklore masters degree and works in the Irish Traditional Music Archive).

So, if committed, atmospheric, wyrd and yes, at times slightly oddball or addled performance of folk music (not just Irish in origin, but with its roots and branches in other British traditions) is your thing, you really couldn't spend close on 70 minutes (for that's the glorious length of this disc) in better musical company than with this inordinately fine Lynched CD. And then afterwards, while you're at it, go check out their spellbinding and passionate YouTube performance of Rosie Reilly, which is both intensely beautiful and something really, really special.

David Kidman