2005 Festival Reviews - Fèis 2005
SATURDAY | FRIDAY | THURSDAY | WEDNESDAY
FRIDAY
Poet Still off on a Tangent
Another fine day at the festival, this time involving: not throwing children into the air, one of Gaelic culture's most endearing and enduring of institutions and another great festival rumour (or two).
Festivals, like good meals, are remembered in three stages: anticipation, the event itself, and the happy glow of recollection. One regular highlight of the festival for me is hearing how the news of each band's reception spreads through the town and island to the extent that even those islanders who couldn't attend know what it was like to have been at the gig. Many locals who were unable to attend Van Morrison's gig seem to have enjoyed it vicariously through friends' reports. I think people will be talking about that gig for quite some time. (Apart from one old cailleach who couldn't understand why they were all making such a big fuss about Morrison's van.)
A similar sense of 'you should have been there' applies to tonight's concert by the Peatbog Faeries and reliable, perennial favourites Runrig. With concerts like these it's little wonder that Festival Director Caroline MacLennan was heard on Radio Scotland today saying that the festival can't really get much bigger than it now is, due to the logistics of travel and accommodation et cetera. This is a true measure of the phenomenal success of a festival that has seen its audiences grow from hundreds of people and a stray cat to sixteen thousand punters from all over the world within the space of a decade.
I have a suggestion, however, as to how the festival can grow even bigger but still facilitate the needs of all the extra festival-goers. Simple! Let's build an extension to the island. Nobody's using St Kilda much these days. Surely it's not that hard towing an island to a new, more accessible spot? I don't know why somebody hasn't thought of doing this before. We could anchor it there beside Point. Think of what it would do for tourism! I shall be writing to the relevant authorities with this brilliant plan and shall let you know of their response.
The festival has grown in other ways, too, and the fringe events such as workshops and street performances are much beloved by locals and visitors alike. I was initially disappointed, though, when I heard that popular creative chaos merchants te POOKa were juggling with kids in the street - they were actually teaching them how to juggle and not tossing the wee ragamuffins themselves up into the air. Still, the many children participating in this fun workshop were having the time of their lives, so maybe they didn't deserve to be thrown around.
I also noticed some women were doing a charity knit outside the Lifeboat Station. I'm not sure what they were knitting - perhaps an extra bridge across to the magical blue tent.
There was a rumour - more of a conspiracy theory - going round that some local midges had bribed HCF stewards to line up the festival-goers in a formation that best facilitated a decent feed for the midges. (For those visitors who don't know what midges are, they're those wee creatures that are a cross between a near invisible fly and a thirsty vampire. And they're out for your blood. Harmless enough in themselves, but they inflict a kind of mental torture on you after a few minutes of biting.)
The first great crowd-pleaser of an event once we got into the tent was the arrival of the Pipe Band; stirring and delighting the audience, the Pipe Band was a great opener for a night that was charged with feelings of appreciation, pride and - it's no exaggeration - ecstasy.
Now, while it was clear from the fans that most of them were there to see Runrig, whose gigs in Lewis have always been legendary, the Peatbog Faeries were a huge success too. The Faeries from 'next door' (the Isle of Skye) played a great concert at the festival last year, so in many ways they were preaching to the converted.
The Faeries' rich mix of eloquent piping, glossy fiddling, funky bass rumbling, vivacious brass dynamics and muscular percussion energised the audience no end. The band wisely played a good number of songs from their new album, which meant the gig was a treat for fans who'd seen them last year as well. Their latest album is 'Croftwork', and their previous one 'Welcome to Dun Vegas', titles I think are very punny. Were they from Lewis, they would doubtless have named one of their albums 'One Flew Over the Guga's Nest'.
Their gig was dancey, hypnotic and, as was evident from the audience's reactions, supremely enjoyable. One look at the crowd and it was obvious most of them were very much away with the Faeries - a great place to be!
Now, Runrig tickets were almost as popular as the new Harry Potter book released last night. If the rumours are true - and I have every reason to believe they aren't - people were offering to swap their car, house, first-born child or even their pet goldfish for a ticket. Where most bands have fans, Runrig tend to have Fans with a capital F - Fanatics, even.
It's little wonder. What Runrig have done for music over the years they have also done for the Gaelic language and culture itself. This is the kind of achievement only a handful of bands on the planet are capable of. I mean, for a band to have such an effect on people that they will travel halfway across the world to learn that band's native language - as many Runrig fans do - for a band to have that kind of positive influence on people's lives, they have to be something very special indeed.
Well, Runrig are. And though they have been round for many years, no one takes them for granted. This is because Runrig are not about image, they're not about manufacturing artificial sentiment, they're not about shifting units. They are about songs.
And what songs! The opening number, surprisingly, is not one of the massive Gaelic anthems for which they are best known, but an evocative and moving piece on the midi bagpipes by Malcolm Jones. It receives an enormous cheer from the crowd, which gets even louder as the rest of band come onstage. At all points during the night the crowd threaten to blow the tent away with their cheers of appreciation and spirited lungbuster singalongs.
The setlist consists of old classics and newer post-Munro material which goes down equally well. The video projection screen occasionally uses powerful imagery - seascapes, eagles, emigrants, soldiers - to provide a strong visual accompaniment to the songs. In a typically warm gesture, there is also footage from a drive around night-time Stornoway. And when Malcolm Jones - clearly enjoying himself - played 'Make Your Way to Stornoway' in tribute to the locals, everyone went wild (for the millionth time during the gig).
Among the older songs played were 'The Greatest Flame', 'Fichead Bliadhna' and 'Alba'. Many of the classics were delivered in versions that differed subtly from the album versions - they were more refined, somehow. Bruce Guthro has made the feel of the band his own since taking up the task of replacing Donnie Munro. There had been a rumour (yet another) going round that Munro would be turning up to do guest vocals on a number. Uh-huh. It's time I started a rumour of my own, but keep it to yourself for the moment, okay?
I know for a fact - because a friend told me - that none other than Elvis Presley - who recently discovered he has Scottish roots - is about to make a comeback, only this time he has remodelled his singing style to suit traditional Celtic music - and why not? You can judge for yourselves how successful this transition is as he plays in the Festival Club in the Legion tonight (Saturday) after we all leave the magical blue tent. I'm told his versions of 'Blue Suede Wellies' and 'Hoi Blone, Are You Lonesome Tonight' are cracking.
Oh yeah, back to Runrig. Whether all joining together on the drums, singing rousing ballads, or blasting out their classics old and new, Runrig gave the fans the tremendous concert they were all hoping for. But the star of the night for me was Malcolm Jones. I'd always thought of him as a good guitarist, but seeing him playing live onstage, I came to recognise that he is a true artist. He handles his guitar with uncommon feeling. It's more than talent. It's more than craftsmanship. It's something close to genius.
Music played at this level empowers an audience and no one, I think, left this gig less than thrilled at an unforettable performance they had not just seen but participated in. At its best it was awe-inspiring.
Kevin's Random Bit at the End
Food of the Day: Oh boy, the home-made lentil soup from Fiona's Kitchen (on-site) is simply great soul food. And well done on catering for vegetarians, too.
Bizarre sight of the day: Is it just me, or do you also find it surreal watching people using bins as beer tables? Why not go the whole way and use a skip as a dining table? Or tip your beer into a wastepaper basket and drink it straight from there? Oh, I see, your wastepaper basket is full of holes. Fair enough.
Tasteless joke of the day: Someone who should probably remain nameless but won't (arise, Sir Billy Matheson) caused a stir on Isles FM with a tasteless but highly amusing tribute to local radio advertising today. While delivering the weather report, he claimed it was sponsored by 'Angela's Ashes', a local company that has been 'cremating your loved ones for over 30 years'. His credibly-delivered performance ended with the memorable catchphrase 'You bring in dead James, we'll cover him in flames.' Sick, Billy, but very entertaining.
'Give the man a big hand' of the day: Rory MacDonald, Runrig's bass player, who, though he couldn't play bass due to severing two tendons and nerves in a finger on his right hand, none the less gamely added his full, enthusiastic and charming presence to the gig, singing wholeheartedly and telling the crowd, 'Hand or no hand, this is the place to be!'
'Go and get a room' award of the day: The teenage couple who spent the ENTIRE Runrig concert snogging each other's faces off.
Lost item of the day: A conversation between a German and a Scot got lost in translation yesterday. If anyone finds it, could they hand it in to one of the stewards.
