CLANNAD
“E verything that is and was will cease to be.” So says the Connacht Irish proverb adapted by Moya Brennan in Theme From Harry’s Game, the unlikely 1982 Top Five hit. Its two-and-a-half minutes propelled Clannad from niche to known-by-all. Popularised then by its use in a TV series about The Troubles, it featured later in Hollywood movies and Volkswagen commercials, its status as a go-to choice for suggestions of warmth and lushness of sound established. But nothing lasts forever, and to prove the proverb’s point, Clannad are calling time on their travels.
This year sees the Irish folk giants’ farewell tour, after a 50-year career. Over that time they’ve brought Irish music and language to a global audience, winning multiple big-league awards. It’s a demonstration of how music can transcend and translate, even if it seems, upon arrival, designed for a small, specific set of ears. The family outfit has capitalised on the opportunities presented by their surprise crossover, with subsequent records side-lining (to a degree) traditional Celtic folk for appealing fusions with soft rock, pop, jazz and even New Age, the last being a genre they’ve come to almost accidentally exemplify.
As one immerses oneself in the deluxe box set of this anthology, their chronological evolution gradually becomes obvious (this compiles over 100 tracks, including rarities for fans: for those less intrigued by a sort of sonic Stockholm Syndrome kicking in, there’s also a 37-track two-CD/two-LP set, and other tweaked formats). Yes, Clannad are a warm bath at all times, but they subtly shape-shift across the decades. At first they’re Donegal folkies with bells on their toes. Then, as success opens doors, they’re guided towards a more conventionally ‘80s’ sound, at least on their backing tracks, and often singing in English. Their film music sees them cleverly pulling off that strand of ethereal which can also serve as wallpaper, while later they’ve graduated to backdrops not dissimilar to those constructed by jazz-pop star Sade. It may seem to be counterintuitive madness to describe much of Clannad’s music as sounding of its time, but listened to now, it patently evokes an era. (In a parallel dimension, one can conceive of Ivo Watts-Russell signing Clannad to 4AD back then, calling them Le Mystere Des Voix, um, Irish, and their winning a cool credibility).
In A Lifetime
BMG
Who Knows (Where The Time Goes) nods to mortality. The poignancy is strong.
You read that this collection adds two brand new tracks produced by Trevor Horn, and think: ‘What? Have they gone all Frankie Goes To Hollywood? ABC? Yes??’ And then, upon hearing them: ‘Oh, this makes perfect sense.’ Horn’s velvety ushering allows their voices to flourish, and he lets them indulge in the crying of Celtic instruments (the pipes, the pipes are calling). A Celtic Dream, a slightly dull tune, delves into ancient myths and legends, while the portentous Who Knows (Where The Time Goes), nicking a familiar Sandy Denny title, again nods to mortality. If these are their sign-off songs, the poignancy is strong.
Clannad’s music always had a serene, unobtrusive flow (even after Enya left in the early 80s to pursue a solo career). Formed in County Donegal by siblings Moya, Ciarán and Pól Brennan with twin uncles Noel and Pádriag (who sadly died in 2016), they were chugging along nicely, albeit without pulling up any trees, until Harry’s Game moved the goalposts. Something about that sound bewitched and mesmerised many: perhaps it suggested an otherness, an enchanted world away from the yuppie and the Filofax. When eighth album Macalla (1985) yielded another hit, In A Lifetime, with Bono joining Moya at the microphone and calling her “one of the greatest voices the human ear has ever experienced”, they were promoted to next level: Bono was at that time revered as a soulful visionary. The song that gives this set its title is indeed loaded with presence, though your own opinion on Bono will decree whether you feel he’s bringing his A-game or straining like a constipated gnu. The contrast between Clannad’s understatement and his overt emoting is, shall we say, marked.
Clannad pressed on. Not many have collaborated with Paul Young and Bruce Hornsby while also featuring King Crimson saxophonist Mel Collins as a guest. Their music for the Robin Of Sherwood TV series hasn’t aged so well, but I Will Find You, from 1993 album Banba, became the love theme for The Last Of The Mohicans, and remains undeniably haunting. The New Age vibe moves in tides onto their beach from here, and 1997’s Landmarks won the Best New Age Album Grammy. Yet they’ve still picked up a Lifetime Achievement gong from the BBC Folk Awards, so it’s not like purists are moaning that they betrayed their roots.
As Clannad ponder ceasing to be, their legacy is justly respected here. Not with a bang – they never did bangs – but with their uniquely resonant whisper.
AADAL
Silver APOLLON
Stirring debut from genre-hopping Norwegian guitarist.
orwegian guitarist Michael Aadal casts a wide net with
