Exceptional and unlikely blend, mixing and melding Irish with steel, taking it further than both.

Release Date: 19th April 2024

Label: Rollercoaster Records

Format: CD / vinyl / digital

Gone, or at least fast receding, are the days when pedal steel was a purely short cut to delivering a country punch to western music, it now popping up all over the place, in genres far from home. Part of this is down to the great B.J. Cole, and his application of the instrument into classical, jazz, and ambient formats, that merely touching the sides of his fearless approach, but there are now a whole shed full of other artists testing the limits of, yes, this limitless instrument. With steelers of the calibre of Susan Alcorn, Luke Schneider and Chuck Johnson, the PSG is truly beyond the lazy trope of the honky tonk. (Although I bloody love it there too.) Add now the name David Murphy to that list.

Murphy is from Cork, Ireland, often earning his wedge alongside American artists, as they visit Europe; cue Willy Vlautin, with whom he has worked, as European tour steel player, in The Delines, and Richmond Fontaine before that. But here he takes his instrument into the largely uncharted Irish territory of the classic tradition, tunes by O’Carolan, O’Riada and more. Even good old trad. arr. gets a shout.. None of yer folky diddly-dee, either, this is broader reaching and, dare I say, serious music, the mood coming over more as what might get called New Age, were that not such a passion killer of a handle. Neither is it Murphy alone, some of the tracks are bolstered by judicious addition of cello, fiddle, harp and even trumpet. There is also a delicate backwash, in places, of electronica.

It is Sean O’Riada’s Aisling Gheal with which this disc opens, Murphy here abetted by Anthony Ruby’s uillean pipes, Mark McAusland’s baritone guitar and Murphy doubling up on piano. A pipe drone hovers quietly, with Murphy searing convincingly in with a majestic bend of a note. The air is a gentle construction, with the notes hanging in the air, sliding between the sparse notes. More of an atmosphere than a tune, is that not the purpose of an air? The piano and guitar arrive late to add some sense of scaffolding. Bridget Cruise is maybe more overtly Irish, beckoned in by stately piano, the steel then billowing in with the melody, in part buoyant, in part melancholic. By 17th c. blind Irish harpist, Turlough O’Carolan, my ears hear a hint of Danny Boy (or Londonderry Air) seeping in from somewhere, which actually says more about my ears and ignorance. The support here provided by piano, bass, cello and fiddle, the last three provided by by Graham Heaney, Laura McFadden and no less than Steve Wickham. There are also some subtle harp notes from Aisling Urwin.

For Citi na gCumann, one of the two tunes by the ever prolific trad. arr., Heaney, McFadden and Wickham are back, together with, now, Alannah Thornborough on harp. Rory McCarthy has taken over the piano. None of this embellishment, however, takes any of the focus and attention away from Murphy, whose playing rips through the dainty bed laid down by the others. It is stunning and nails the purpose and poise of this project. If the harp, piano and strings are here to carry the conventional aspect of this waltz with precision, dipping in and out, the steel, with some electronic FX, then sheer it away to a higher level. Altogether astonishing.

Eleanor Plunkett, another of O’Carolan’s muses, is the first tune to even give thought to how and where the steel guitar is more widely known, starting up like the beginning of a sad tex-mex lament. But the harp and strings add a distinctly Hibernian meter to it, with Peter Broderick now picking up fiddle duties. When least expected, some plaintive trumpet breezes in, taking the mood back west, across the atlantic. This comes from Cory Gray, his sometime Delines bandmate. It is an exquisite marriage. The O’Riada’s then get a second helping, from, this time, Sean’s son, Peadar, and his An Draigheann. Starting as a the low rumble of a brewing storm, Murphy throws sheets of extended notes out over what sounds like conventionally plucked electric guitar, all drawn from his set-up. Little added musicians here, bar Ruby’s return, this time for some haunting low whistle, and Urwin returning on harp. The whistle and steel make for a canny pairing, as Urwin tinkles behind them.

The title track is Murphy’s own, and translates, should you need to know, as Memory Glen. It is Murphy’s own piano that opens this piece, moody cello the first added sound, ahead of the steel, with some spare electronic percussion providing an intermittent pulse. Electronica, cello and the steel weave around each other, sometimes together but more often dancing against each other. It is all very ethereal, and synthetic wave noises, from Neil O’Connor, bring it to an evocative close. Ruby’s pipes then open out with the main melody of the traditional Sean O’Duibhir a’Gleanna, with Murphy mainly content to build a sonic surround sound about them, give or take an occasional slide in from the side. Again, the pairing of the old and new is compelling.

With most of these tracks on or around the five minute mark, closer, An Spéic Seoigach is nearly the shortest, the title track the only one shorter, but is still a potent and strident exposition to seal the worth of the project. From the collection of Edward Bunting, a Belfast man, classically trained, and responsible for transcribing large amounts of Irish harp music to the piano, it begins all Nashville, maybe Austin, ahead the structure and pattern of notes reveal the unmistakeable origin. I think the only track that is steel, and steel alone, it seamlessly blends all and any the transatlantic connections.

Who is this record aimed at, I wonder? For sure, yes, it should appeal to many an aficionado of Irish music, even if the tunes take time to make themselves out as what they are. Americana fans with a penchant for pedal steel should likewise find little to repel them. So, taking those as read, might I suggest also those who are fans of the more ambient end of electronica, neo-classical, is it called? For fans of Olafur Arnalds and Nils Frahm, or, indeed, anything on the Erased Tapes roster. Or, given his instrument, Tompkins Square, for that matter. (Irish primitive, anyone?) Or maybe when you want to try something outside any safety zone you have. I promise neither you or your horses will be frightened.

Try Citi na gCumann:

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