Celtic Connections: The Bothy Band
Glasgow Royal Concert Hall - 22/01/24
The word on the pavey was that festival director Donald Shaw had been trying for many a long year to land the Bothy Band for Celtic Connections. Finally they were here and the steady stream of musicians I saw coming up the aisles at the break was testimony to the respect and affection in which the now legendary band is held by several generations of players. For older musicians, the Bothy Band’s series of albums in the 1970s were practically scripture, their tunes aired at pub sessions and their arrangements inspiration for new approaches to traditional music in group settings.
Assembled were all seven surviving members of the varying line-ups of the band. Kevin Burke was joined by original fiddler Paddy Glackin with the melody section completed by Paddy Keenan on uillean pipes and Matt Molloy on flute. Donal Lunny, the eminence grise of innovation in Irish music, was joined by Tríona ní Dhomhnaill on clavinet, the instrument which was a major contributor to the ensemble’s distinctive sound, and Seán Óg Graham on guitar, standing in for Tríona’s late brother, Micheàl. The artful deployment of the rhythm instruments is a major feature of the Bothy Band, a mix of suppleness and drive that perfectly supports the melodies, scudding over the peaks and dropping back down to the valleys, constantly adding interest.
Surprisingly the first song of the evening came not from ní Dhomhnaill but from Donal Lunny whose vocals are rarely heard. The song was learned from his mother, Mary Rogers, and was prefaced by a piece written by him for her. When Tríona did come to sing she chose ‘One Starry Night’, a number by the great Dublin songwriter Liam Weldon. Her voice maybe doesn’t have the force it had in her younger, brasher days, but what it lacked in power it more than made up for in delicacy. When she came to sing the classic ‘Do You Love an Apple?’ she was well supported by an audience which knew every word.
The familiar tunes that they helped to make standards kept on coming: ‘The Kid on the Mountain’, ‘The Butterfly’, ‘Rip the Calico’, the ‘Kesh Jig’. With Lunny hammering his bouzouki, and the band at full throttle, all engines roaring, there is no sound like it. Any worries about whether the septuagenarian troupe would still have the magic that sealed their reputation were quietly parked. Their playing was as tight and dynamic as it ever was. The audience, denied the thrill of that sound in a live setting for so many years, cheered a clearly delighted band to the rafters, with possibly a cheer or three in there too for Donald Shaw and his persistence.
Cover photo: Kris Keziak