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AS THE Gloaming file onto the stage, the audience erupt. The reason is simple — this quintet is a rare phenomenon.
While most of their work abides by traditional Irish musical forms, with the elementary grammar of the reel performed in simple rhythmic meters repeated in uncomplicated configurations, it is the sequencing, improvisation and instrumentation that take that ancient sound way beyond mere repetition of sentimental nostalgia.
The band are spellbinding, with a virtuosity that stems not just from the astonishing mastery of instruments but also the emotional charge and experience they imbue with every phrase and note.
The lyrics are drawn from Irish literature, with Freedom adapted from Sean O Riordain’s Saoirse (Freedom) which, according to singer Iarla O’Lionaird, is about the still relevant sacrifice of individualistic liberty to communitarian values.
An 800-year-old Irish poem about a man who sees the woman he loves in his dreams is the inspiration for Song 44 and it’s sung hauntingly by O’Lionaird in Gaelic, the language employed on all bar one of the songs he delivers.
Since their first arrival on the scene a few years ago, The Gloaming seem better suited to concert halls like the Barbican, whose sophisticated acoustics favour their rich sound and glittering arrangements.
Tonight that’s abundantly in evidence, from the single incisive notes delivered by Thomas Bartlett on piano to the combined frenzy of Martin Hayes’s violin, Caoimhin O’Raghallaigh’s fiddle and the measured percussive beat of Dennis Cahill’s guitar.
O’Lionaird’s voice compels with its potency and range while never losing its intimate quality, notably in Cucanandy, a lullaby of captivating tenderness.
An evening of rare and memorable beauty.
Michal Boncza reviews The Gloaming
