One of the issues around late December releases is that they can sometimes get lost in the hurly-burly over Christmas, with deadlines expanding to include Best of Years and then contracting for holiday closures. Turn the year, and to have 2024 releases vying with those brander new, feels tantamount to failure, yet I’m not going to let that stand in any way, such is the quality of Sliocht and the pleasure it has in it and for the listener.
Who Frances Morton? Well, she is both a player and academic, her instrument the flute. Glasgow born, County Galway is now her home, a PhD in traditional music under her belt, teaching by day and a member the vibrant sessions scene by night. An in-demand composer for Irish television, this is her recording debut, launched by no less than Altan’s Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh, towards the tail of last year. If you tire of the sometimes desperate need to embellish traditional fare with bells and whistles, electronics and FX, this is your antidote, a return to the clearer air of when you got what the label said on it.
Not solo flute, here she is joined by some of Ireland’s finest, notably Ciarán Tourish on fiddle. Joining them is the further fiddle of Julie Langan, the bouzoukis of Malcolm Stitt and Ryan O’Donnell, the bodhráns of Mark Maguire and Seamus O’Kane, along with sean-nós singer Doimnic Mac Giolla Brídhe, who also plays piano. In a more significant role is the multi-tasking Eamon McElholm, who, as well as tackling guitar throughout, plays also cello, keyboards and mandolin. He also has a hand, with Morton, in all the arrangements. That list of instruments and players is largely demonstrative of what you are about to receive, giving an unfettered masterclass in Celtic tradition.
Anyone familiar with (largely) instrumental music from Ireland and Scotland will know there are conventions and decrees, not only in the classifications of the style of tune, but in how they are named. That, and the often detailed history within many of the melodies, can sometimes mean that reviews can become long and off-putting lists of classification, writer and lineage. I will try and avoid, as the pleasure should be aural rather than through the accumulation of knowledge. You can check out the album sleeve notes for that and should not be left wanting.
Cutting to that quick, the first track is a trio of tunes from Mayo, ‘Mayo Set’, helpfully annotated as jigs. They kick off the set with a lively flourish, McElholm’s guitar and Morton’s flute initially unadorned, Maguire and Stitt gradually leaping on midstream. It’s a great start, before ‘Frank’s Set’ of, this time, reels. Here there is a distinct tang of the Bothy Band, as I am sure it is clavinet that McElholm is playing, let alone the fiddle and flute interplay, as Tourish bows up.
‘Miss Ramsey’s’ overtly acknowledges Morton’s Caledonian upbringing, as she marries a strathspey with a reel, each of the same name, displaying their likely shared lineage. Strathspey is a particularly Scottish style, not commonly heard in Irish music. Possibly a sore thumb to purists, it sits fine with me, segueing in well, the cello adding a level of gravitas. Picking up on that, the slow air of ‘Fonn Mall’ is more graceful still, an aching yearn over the hillside, the notes of Morton’s flute bending like barley. No guitar, fiddle or bouzouki, just a mournful organ accompanies her strains and it is exquisite.
Jigs return for ‘The Lost And Found Set’, and it is the discipline of the play that remains forefront, without any hint of laxity, that control somehow lifting the lightness of mood. Does that make sense? Regardless, it does, the ensemble working tightly together, with O’Donnell now on bouzouki patrol. As do reels, for the ‘East Galway Set’, and I’ll swear, for the first time, I may be getting the hang of the difference between the two of them. McElholm is now playing piano, reminding me how well the instrument fits into a session, with the fiddle now swapped to Langan.
Should anyone be tiring of flute, a) they are on the wrong page, but b), worry not, Morton is also a dab on the penny whistle. Which she employs for, surprise, ‘The Whistle Set’. Whistle, piano and bodhrán make for a grand combination, with background bouzouki creeping in. ‘Lovely Molly’s’ has team Tourish and O’Donnell back on board, these three reels graced with O’Kane on bodhrán, he also on the track preceding.
Mac Giolla Bhríde finally gets his turn in, for Malaí Mhómhar, the song ‘Gentle Molly’, sung in the Irish language. He has a delicate drone of a voice, that has an appealing wobble, accompanying himself on piano, with Morton on harmonium, so to give him maximum exposure, which can only harken well for their duo performances. She does eventually add in some plangent flute, and the album has suddenly struck another seam of gold. Glorious.
‘The Engagement’ is a set of jigs that returns to the all instrumental, notable in that the third tune, the one that gives the set its name is of Morton’s own composition. Lau’s Aidan O’Rourke gets a name check for next up, ‘Miss Irene Meldrum’s Welcome To Bon Accord’, given he taught Morton the tune when they played sessions together at Edinburgh’s Tron. A striking and unusual tune, it melds flute and piano, principally in what is near a march, the flute now sounding as close to pipes as the instrument can. Cello hums in the wings and it is another highlight.
All too quickly this record is coming to an end, signing off with another rousing round of reels, ‘McDermott’s’. This sort of sums up all that this project offers in one final bite, the balance between all the instruments impeccable, if undoubtedly the centre of attention still clearly Morton. That it was jack of all trades McElholm, who also produced this, should be little surprise, not least as some of the parts, notably Stitt’s bouzouki, were added elsewhere.
Sliocht means seed, or lineage, and here, I guess, refers to Morton being the conduit of all coming before her. Yet, in my mind, she has also sewn a special seed for the restoration of a formal complex simplicity to this sort of music. More, please, from this ‘County Scotland’ (as Scots are deemed in Irish competition) flautist!
Seuras Og
Artist’s website: www.francesmorton.com
No relevant video (or even sound files) available, but you can listen to Sliocht on Soundcloud.
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