The neo-trads, Niteworks, bid a stonking farewell to London and, indeed, England.

GAELICTRONICA BEHEMOTH

Rurairidh Graham clearly enjoys his work, as the staunch sticksman and pulse of the Skye gaelictronica behemoth, Niteworks. Tonight though, maybe more so than usual, his enthusiasm bursting over, as he launched into into an impromptu speech, just as the houselights were coming up for the last time, wondering quite how four wee lads from Skye could come to this, bringing 17th century Gaelic songs to a sell-out London audience and having the audience sing them back. As the other three wee lads, fiddle player Fiona McAskill, and singers, Beth Malcolm and the trio of SIAN, hugged each other, grinning, greeting or both, the emotions were high. If this is how they feel here, Lord help them, and the audience, at their final shows, back home.

But we are ahead of ourselves, rewind a couple of hours or so, a healthy queue building around the exterior of London’s The Garage. Not to buy, the show having sold out some time back, just to get in and grab a decent vantage point in this mid-sized venue. Capacity 600, this one time billiard hall has been welcoming bands since 1993, initially opening their doors to Pulp. A standing venue, this was ideal for the Skye fusioneers and their exuberant brand of neo-traditional music.

A RIPPLE OF ANTICIPATION

The lights went down again around 8.15, with the stage garbed in a dim red glow, a ripple of anticipation sweeping through the audience, rising as the figure of Graham became apparent behind his kits. To the swell of synths, and a thump of his tubs, so the rest of the band became apparent in the murk. Fiona MacAskill, as ever, is the first sound and sight of their heritage that emerges, her fiddle a vibrant signpost to their sound, swiftly joined by the bagpipes of Allan MacDonald.

Always the bridesmaid, given her permanent presence in the band since early days, I have never understood why the Kinnaris Quintet fiddler has never been granted full band membership, but she remains part the ineffable link between past and future, heritage and technology, that define their sound. MacDonald, by default the shy frontman of the band, still carries an endearing sense of awkwardness that never quite shifts, happier honking on his pipes than the expectation placed upon him to dance, his fists and/or bagpipes in the air moments as few as he can get away with, however large the cheer resulting from either.

Innes Strachan is forever hunched over his bank of devices, visible largely through the light that reflects from his shaven pate, whilst Christopher Nicolson stands stolid, plonking on his bass or behind another set of keys. They are as joyously unshowy as when I first caught them, in the dance tent at Bearded Theory 2016, still looking the slightly nerdy set of chums they must have seemed, at school in Portree.

SOUND AND FURY

It became quickly apparent that tonight was going to be much more about ‘tronica than folk, such was the sound and fury of this aspect of their oeuvre. This didn’t mean there wasn’t ample presence of the Gaelic culture they champion, but there never any pretence of them being, tonight anyway, anything other than a dance act who happened to play a bit of folk. None of yer fiddle-de-dee with beats, this was all unadulterated doof doof. And glorious.

As such, following Ellen MacDonald coming on for Gura Mise, it was with a brace of instrumentals they followed, moving from Dookin’ to Guns of Ajaccio via Iain McGee’s. I note, from an earlier album review, a suggestion that Gura Mise had sounded then like Goldfrapp, and I had no reason to alter that opinion tonight. The sound was loud, solid and well-balanced, allowing the undercurrent nuances of melody to slide between the beats without being drowned.

Somhairle, a pounding monster that starts as a backdrop for the voice of Sorley MacLean, the Bard of Raasay, to offer his stark commentary on the potential fate of the Gaelic language and of island life in general. If you are unfamiliar, seek it out, a track on their eponymous first album, which never fails to reduce me to tears. Tonight, with a film screen as backdrop, alternating large print phrases lifted from his warning, in both Gaelic and English, with scenes of Raasay. MacLean died eight years ago, but his (echoed) Emigration-gration-gration remains as potent as it ever was.

A CHILLING INTENSITY

Maraiche saw Ellen MacDonald back to belt out this electro ballad, her vocals pealing loud and clear above the maelstrom, before back to instrumentals, Highlander’s Farewell and Café del Mar. The moment as MacAskill starts to saw is almost chilling in the intensity, lifting a little further as Allan MacDonald picks up a whistle to play alongside her.

I am sure the band said they were going to put Café del Mar to bed, after their headline gig at Barrowlands all of five years ago, but am secretly glad they never meant it, this old staple of Ibiza nightclubs never quite leaving their set or sound. Seeing no need to add any Hebridean spin to the straightforward trance of the original, it gives the boys in the band a chance to just get lost in the groove.

AN EERIE WAIL

The slow and sinuous Old Ghost’s Waltz followed, a tune that reeks of the Islands, bringing it all back to earth, seguing into the brooding Cumhachd, the bagpipes an eerie wail in the mist. Quietly or not, the realisation drops that this band have several settings and speeds and relish in each. Each-Uisge, the opening track from A’ Ghrian then acted as a sort of introduction to their second wind, another piece of many parts, relentlessly upshifting the mood and momentum.

Tribute due here to Graham, who had somehow lost the hat of his hi-hat, necessitating an on the rhythm rapid fire repair. With assistance offered by both Strachan and Nicolson, together with a roadie and a strip of tape, the drummer gallantly played on, never missing either stroke or strike.

POWERHOUSE VOCAL TSUNAMI

Looking anxiously at my watch, and the still unused second third and fouth microphone stands centre stage, surely, then, the time to introduce more song? And that, as if prompted, is what happened next, as the three women of SIAN trooped onstage. Ellen MacDonald we had already seen, but Eilidh Cormack and Ceitlin Lilidh we hadn’t, the three as bonny a picture as you could wish. Recent single, An Toll Dubh, the old Runrig song, which the band released as a recent single, and as a taster for this farewell tour, was the song and, shhhhh, transcends the original version. With the girls reamining in place, they moved swiftly into Teannaibh Dlùth, the powerhouse vocal tsunami that is a centrepiece of last year’s album.

Leaving to much applause, perhaps even more came as the next figure came onstage to replace then. If the slight figure of Beth Malcolm might suggest sweetness and light, clearly you haven’t heard her in full pelt. John Riley, the song from the 1800’s she has made her own, is both the most striking and the most overtly commercial song in the Niteworks canon, propelled by her astonishing vocal pyrotechnics. Like a tornado going off in your head, it is nothing short of earth shattering and shaking. Follow that? Well, it’s difficult, but it is by a return to core values that they finish, with a brace of instrumental bangers, another trance warhorse, Binary Finary, and their own Obair Oicdche, from debut EP of that name, back in 2011.

SUB DISCO

With a good old fashioned encore experience, we are made to wait and sweat, clap and whoop for any return, but return they do. Starting instrumentally with what I later learn they give a working title of Techno Belter to, and, another cut from 2011, Sub Disco. Each are prime EDM and, actually, superior disco, with it being as much pleasure to watch the lads bash it all out as to listen to. Without a pause, back on come SIAN, for the title track of album number two, another of my favourites and, clearly, of the audience, given the response. Cue Graham’s emotional speech and you’d think that was that, but, no, not yet, as all but SIAN leave the stage.

A vast red orb: the sun, or a’ghrian in Gaelic, fills the backdrop and the unmistakeable prolonged chords of A’ Ghrian, the ancient melody, chime out. This is a song I have never heard them play before, and, in the absence of Kathleen MacInnes one I have always felt them incapable of reproducing. Indeed, that was always their excuse as, believe me, I have asked often enough! But tonight, with Cormack taking on the mantle of MacInnes, abetted by the harmonies of her bandmates, she/they nailed it and heaven was made, here in North London. With tears pouring down my cheeks, what better end could there be to my Niteworks journey?

In the absence of a live A’ Ghrian, here’s a John Riley from a year ago:

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