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The Gloaming

Venue: Vicar Street
Town: Dublin
Date: 12th May
Website: http://www.facebook.com/TheGloaming2

Special guest Sam Amidon wandered on stage at ten past the hour, and for forty minutes or so proved to be a rivettingly engaging presence, his folksy humour and material underpinned by the piano playing of The Gloaming's Thomas Bartlett, as he ranged in repertoire from songs and anecdotes about Kirsten Dunst through hymns from his home state of Vermont to a spine chilling version of Talk To Me of Mendocino, requested by Martin Hayes, seated beside us for the evening's first part. In a different setting, I -and the first lady- could have listened to him all evening, but the main bill of fare was what brought us there.

There have been several moments in the history of Irish music when our understanding of what it is has been stood on it's head, Sean O'Riada, The Clancy Brothers, The Bothy Band and Planxty being some of the major markers. This was another such intimation, where fiddles, guitar, the human voice, and the presence that is Thomas Bartlett on piano served to have those in attendance re-evaluate their thinking as to how this great music is shaped and delivered. The opening piece, with Iarla O'Lionaird on vocals , began with Caoimhin O Raghaille providing the architecture, and then the build up intensified, with each instrument-Martin, Denis, and Thomas creating another layer of sound as the vocal segued into a jig, and a series of pieces and tempos brought things to a magical crescendo.

This set the tone for the evening in which, incredibly, only 6 pieces comprised the formal programme. Martin began to talk about structures, by way of leading into The Sailor's Bonnet, and a magical odyssey ensued, himself and Caoimhín , in particular, extending the possibilities of fiddles interplaying before our very eyes and ears. If this was a trial, one would have a hard time believing the evidence presented!

There have been only only a few times in my life where conventional language comes up short in describing music that I have heard. This was one of them, where the music was taken to a whole new level, and past conceptions lie dusty in the road. Power, subtlety invention, and the constant abilty to surprise were in evidence throughout. I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll be buzzing for weeks on foot of this remarkable gig.

As if that weren't enough, there was an encore, which began with a song of Peadar O'Riada's, and the band, joined by Sam, virtually lifted the roof from it's moorings. Oró sé do bheatha brought things to a conclusion, but all of us knew that alchemy of a magical nature had happened before our eyes. Now for the live album!

Oliver P. Sweeney