Fringe by the Sea: Aly Bain and Phil Cunningham

Big Top, North Berwick - 07/08/23 

Living in Edinburgh for twenty-one years, trekking off energetically to see far-flung places, it never occurred to me to visit our own Holyrood Palace. It had always been there, after all; always would. 

The same mindset had me living in North Berwick throughout all her 15 Fringes-by-the-Sea without ever thinking to see Aly Bain & Phil Cunningham. Year after year, they always turned up. Always would…  Ah, but would they? With all three of us beginning to live on borrowed time, it might be now or never.  

Phil turns out to agree. He opened the show last night by saying how lovely it was to be here– “in every way” (namely, in North Berwick, the Land of the Living, and compos mentis). He mentioned that they always use this (guinea-pig?) gig before their EIF concert to launch their annual tour of thirty destinations. 

They followed their opening medley with a clutch of jokes, delivered with timing as impeccable as their playing. Then emerged two French-Canadian tunes: a waltz zinging with the ecstatic partnership of fiddle and accordion– like a dancer pirouetting about the broad, undulating back of a chestnut horse– then seguéd into a reel, speeding ever faster, faster, triumphant to the finishing line. 

The pace softened for the accordion’s pensive, eloquent dedication to friend Neil, and for a classic that Phil originally “scribbled hastily on a napkin” during a charity event. To those attending, he had auctioned off the privilege of assigning a title to the new song. Said Phil, “The winner named it ‘Sarah’s Song’, for his wife – Mary.”    

There was plenty of spontaneity, including a half-remembered tune to oblige an audience member who had played it with them as a boy bugler in Harrogate, although “We don’t normally do requests unless we’re asked”.  

Throughout, intensely expressive moments were interspersed with more relaxed, routine medleys.  Aly’s “solo” spot featured a stunning performance of ‘Midnight on the Water/ Bonaparte’s Retreat’. The bouncing bow evoked at one moment the galloping hooves, at another the snorting horses, the soldiers’ whoops. It was lovely to watch Phil’s discreet support – letting his accordion just breathe and hum, sometimes a light touch of the keys– and how he would take his cues by fixing not on Aly’s bow but on the thoughts that crossed his face. 

Happily, the audience, albeit largely old and greying, at the end made enough noise, cheering and “One more tchooning” to woo them back for a brilliant encore: the exquisite ‘Lightly Swims the Swan (over the dark water)’. You can hear this beauty recorded with the organ in Dalmeny Kirk, on their latest album. 

I had been expecting a show of consummate virtuosity, polished and presented with wit, but perhaps overly laid-back. I and my companion (who had seen them twice before) were blown away by the sheer freshness of the performance, and how intently these long-time partners engaged with each-other, and us, through tantalising fiddle, delicious accordion, and general joy.