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Review by Tom Harland
Taking the Caledonian McBrayne Ferry out
of Ullapool to remote Stornoway on the Isle of Lewis on
a grey and misty early evening seems like an intrepid venture
at the best of times. Throw in the islanders' normal penchant
for alcohol; an additional 5,000 or so well-lubricated festival
goers being shipped in daily; 17 fantastic folk bands; one
of "T-in the Park's" cast-off tents and some evil
late licenses in the town's watering holes and you get...a
blinding hang-over when you eventually escape the island
on the first Monday morning ferry!
Seriously, the Hebridean Celtic Festival
2007 was a fine show-case of some of Scotland's in general
and the Highlands and Islands in particular traditional
musicians.
I'll get my gripes out of the way first
so that I can move on to the more enjoyable part of the
review where I write about the music and the craic. Firstly,
the Laxdale Campsite seemed to be the only option for those
whom, like myself, were under canvas for the duration of
the festival. Alas the Garden Session's coffers could not
stretch to a hotel or hostel which are mostly booked out
months in advance of the festival. The Laxdale Holiday Park
grew to be my nemesis. From the outset when I was fleeced
by a canny island taxi driver for well-over the odds for
a relatively short journey, the campsite grew progressively
worse. Bear in mind that I am perfectly at ease with camping,
having spent two months last year in a tent in the middle
of no-where on a folk odyssey. How I longed for the freedom
of the wild in what must have been the most restrictive
campsite I have ever stayed in! Laminated signs mushroomed
everywhere, seeming to govern my every move, the most ludicrous
being on a patch of grass covered in tents which read "no
tents on the grass!". Adding insult to injury, avoiding
the fare-hiking and wallet-draining local cabbies meant
a stiff walk of some 1 and a half miles into town, not the
easiest of missions after a night in the heavy-drinking
estblishments of Stornoway, and ignomoniusly past acres
and acres of flat, empty fields en route. Clearly the festival
receives a great deal of funding, surely a more centrally
located and relaxed temporary campsite could be established
for next year's festival? My other major complaint was that
the over-blown, out-of-proportion security made the festival
seem like a folk's eqivalent to "T-in the Park".
Getting to the main stage tent was akin
to getting through post 9/11 airport security. The beleaugured
folkies had to run the guantlet of mobile CCTV units, sniffer
dogs, cops in flak jackets and all manner of checks and
searches. My new extreme haircut bequeathed by a misguided
night at Stonehaven Folk Festival must have made me a prime
dodgy looking suspect as my guitar case and personal space
were well searched on the way into the main venue. I felt
a bit like some kind of cattle being herded to slaughter,
and that wasn't even on the night the Proclaimers were playing!
The festival organisers should petition the local bobby
to ensure they realise that it is 5,000 lovers of folk music
who are coming over, the island isn't hosting an old firm
game. Finally, I did not feel that the session circuit in
the pubs, McNeills and The Star, compared to other folk
festivals I have been involved in, particularly with Stonehaven
fresh in my mind. This may have been due to the barrell
loads of booze consumed (several pubs ran out of Guiness!),
but it may be wise for the festival to employ dedicated
session leaders to help maintain the rythm and flow of the
sessions.
Complaints over, I'll turn to the feast
of folk that festival goers were treated to. The festival
revolves around two main venues, the fabulous An Lanntair
community arts centre and the Main Stage set up in a vast
high-tech tent in the grounds of Stornoway Castle. Wednesday's
opening concert, Dhachaigh, was held in the luxuriant An
Lanntair, which rivals many of Glasgow's venues and puts
a lot of Edinburgh's to shame. The concert celebrated the
work of Lewis Bard Murdo MacFarlane and featured a dynamic
blend of Highland and Lowland musicians. Ishbel MacAskill,
Christine Primrose, Fiona MacKenzie, Calum Alex Macmillan,
Aiden O'Rourke, Alasdair White, Fraser Fifield and Brian
O'hEadhra brought MacFarlane's work alive in a sensitive
and passionate way, leaving methankful that I could not
speak Gaelic for the music was emotional enough without
throwing understanding of the oft-sorrowful lyrics into
the mix! Stealing theshow for the lowlands was Fraser Fifield's
mesmerising low-whistle and soprano sax playing which added
a silvery sheen to the graceful fiddle of White and O'Rourke.
I ventured to the main stage on Thursday
night (after getting past the dogs) and was treated to dazzling
Galician support band Berroguetto who completely outshone
the comparatively pedestrian Moving Hearts. By this stage
the festival was still to get into full swing and the relatively
small crowd looked rather lost in amongst the expanse of
the strobe-slashed tent.
Ever-loyal to Edinburgh-based folk bands
I forced nyself after much deliberation (approximately 0.0000003
seconds) to forgo Seth Lakeman and the opening of the Proclaimer's
set on Friday night to see the beautiful Nuala Kennedy and
awe-inspiring Lau in the An Lanntair venue. Nuala, along
with the incredibly gifted and pixie-like Claire Mann, played
a bright set which was as refreshing as the "New Shoes"
title of her new album. A worthy purchase. We also heard
the first song in the venue to be sung in Scottish/Irish
rather than Gaelic, which is testimony to the way in which
the festival strives to counter the erosion of Gaelic culture.
Lau were as incredible as ever, nothing appears to stand
in the path of this band's monstrous collective talent,
virtuoso genious and "buff cheeked" banter and
they march with irrepresible force towards the upper echelons
of folkie super-stradom. As I walked through the deserted
town towards the main stage after hearing Lau I was brought
back down to earth by the volcanic rumour of Scotland's
most over-played song - 500 miles - drifting over Stornoway's
peaceful harbour as the Proclaimers milked the pished highlanders
for all their collective voices were worth. Despite living
in Leith I have never been a Proclaimers fan since being
repeatedly force to dance to them in High School discos
so when I ducked my head into the main venue it was a close
approximation to what my idea of hell might be like - 5,000
wild fans belting it out in a tent which you weren't even
allowed to have a cigarrtte under the awnings of, with a
queue literally half a mile long procluding even the beer
tent from my forlorn reach. At least there weren't any midges!
The last night of the festival saw the
main stage reclaimed by the Highlanders, with Blas opening
the show with a touching Gaelic Accipella set. We then veered
madly to Turkey with Oojami's unique (and troubling to a
loather of rap) blend of "folk-rap" which left
the audience a little confused as to how to react. Oojami
redeemed themselves (for the male members of the audience
anyway) with a stunning belly dancer. A chorus of splashes
rose from the audience as jaws dropped into plastic pint
glasses. Fresh on the back of their new album and closing
the festival in style the awesome Skye-based Peatbog Faeries
ripped the stuffing out of any other act which had graced
the stage, and finally got the crowd properly bouncing into
a windswept sea of folkies.
Then came Sunday. The island closed down,
the one open petrol station was in frantic gridlock. The
religious took to the churches, the heathens took to the
beaches. I was lucky enough to be in the "beach sect"
and the lovely photos accompanying this review taken by
Jenny MacKillop show what Lewis has to offer when you escape
Stornoway, by Sunday so imbibed that even the sea gulls
reeked of booze. Battered but happy, I bid farewell to Stornoway
on a bright and calm Monday morning. Good craic, lots of
booze, quality acts, friendly (and occassionlly a tad eccentric)
people, I would recommend the Hebrideas to any folkie who
thinks he or she can handle this beast of a festival!
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