Spell Songs

Venue:

Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow

Date: 27/01/2022

Glasgow Royal Concert Hall is a grand, inviting venue at the best of times, but the piped birdsong as we all milled around and got to our seats was an enchanting little touch, instantly setting the pastoral mood. A simple trick, and feels like something Pink Floyd might have done at the height of their experimental phase at the turn of the seventies.

The comparison with early Pink Floyd is apt, because in their own way the Spell Songs folk collective are just as experimental and just as difficult to pigeonhole. I suppose they are more of a kind of supergroup than a collective, as each of the seven musicians (Karine Polwart, Julie Fowlis, Kris Drever, Rachel Newton, Beth Porter, Jim Molyneux and Seckou Keita) has had notable solo success, the Spell Songs project itself being seemingly an interesting little diversion for them all which has grown its own legs. In a live setting, their love of collaborating with each other is palpable. Centred around the animal and nature poems of Robert MacFarlane and the watercolours of Jackie Morris, they come as a readymade package, and everyone gets their turn to shine.

Hopefully the link I’ve posted to a youtube video will work: the Heron song comes as near as you might get to a ‘standard’ Spell Songs sound, the deliciously interweaving guitar/kora combo of Drever and Keita rooting the group in intoxicating, dancing rhythms with exotic time signatures (sounding every bit like the birds and animals they are meant to replicate), and the stunning effect of the ensemble harmonies (Fowlis’ crystalline soprano being the standout).

That’s just one of their bag of tricks though. In this show, they expertly varied the instruments with each song. It was never boring or samey. Just when you started to get bored of the cello, Porter would move to a ukulele and blow you away with some virtuoso whistling. Just when you got used to the penny whistle, Fowlis would kick things up a gear by bringing out an oboe. Molyneux wins the octopus prize for playing most instruments at the same time (percussion, drums, piano AND vocals). And in a final display of consummate showmanship, when you started to get tired of them all sitting in a semi-circle, the whole crew gathered round one of those old fashioned looking big Bing Crosbie mics at the front of the stage for some acapella magic (‘Just call us the SAINT Andrews Sisters’, jokes Polwart).

The cherry on top? Morris was sitting on a big raised platform at the back, doodling watercolours in time to the music, her work displaying occasionally on a big screen. A hokey concept, maybe, but moments like the synchronisation (planned or otherwise) of her adding a big scarlet brushstroke to a sketch of a fax as the group all suddenly harmonised together on the word “Red!” (in Red Is Your Art) were spine-tingling.

The two Spell Songs albums are decent, but can err towards an insipid warmth and cosiness. Seeing the songs played live, however, is a whole different thing. Actually watching these master performers weaving their individual sounds together is absolutely mesmerising. The level of skill shown by the average Celtic Connections performer (this show was part of that season) remains baffling to the layperson, and this sophistication is matched by the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall’s unbeatable sound system and acoustics. (Hands down my favourite venue; I’ve never experienced anything less than superb, warm sound in any concert I’ve attended there).

It was a great night. If I have one criticism, it’s that the whole venture is maybe slightly TOO ‘nice’, too ‘gentle’. This music could quite easily soundtrack a dinner party or a nature documentary, and perhaps left me craving some rougher, more dangerous edges. The most strident they got was Polwart’s protest song about tree-felling in Sheffield (‘Heartwood’), preceded by a little apologetic speech.

The audience:

Comfortable, middle-class lefties. I’m maybe being a little harsh, but I include myself in that description. This is a music and an audience that could so easily look unbearably smug to an outsider.

It made me think..

I much prefer my new music to be live rather than recorded these days. I’m not in a hurry to buy a limited edition Spell Songs vinyl box set (£50 at the merchandise stall), but the memory of this night itself, seeing these musicians weave their spells, will linger with me a long time.

0