The name Lorraine Nash may be new but the array of well-polished styles offered is ageless, yet still contemporary.

(Re-)Release Date : 7th March 2025

Label : Self-Released

Format : CD / digital

THE FUTURE OF IRISH FOLK?

OK, so not a brand new record, but one we missed first time, with now the opportunity to make good, through the circumstance of an expanded deluxe edition, containing the original album of 12 songs , together with a further 4. As too why the debut full length release by a largely unknown singer, still in her mid-20’s, should warrant this, well, I guess that depends on which side of the sea you stand. Or ocean, possibly, as I sense the U.S. market may be the trajectory this County Kerry native is being directed, with strong Americana fumes of country ‘n’ Irish informing much her muse.

Maybe not, however, as those good folk at the Irish Independent newspaper have also called her “The Future of Irish Folk”, with others picking up on a sound pop sensibility that suggests a knowledge of Brill Building songcraft. Which is a lot to package into one piece.

TOPLOADED

Helpfully, the deluxe addition messes little with the original release, merely adding the newer selections to the end of the, originally, 2023 version. As such it remains toploaded by the opening track, Sing With Her, an agreeable twangathon with a wagon trail vibe.

Her voice is a classic construct for this style, enough sass apparent to temper too much sweetness. A fiddle saws and a piano tinkles, as choral non-verbals soar around the loping rhythm, the whole of great appeal to anyone with even an ounce of mid-west pioneer spirit. But, rather than pursuing that posse, she then switches tack entirely, for the vibe of a music hall on the banks of the River Lee, in Cork. Strings bathe her Mary Coughlan-esque delivery, if a younger and less, sorry, battered, Coughlan. It’s rather nice, a song I can imagine the Late Late Show busting a gut to feature, live, augmented by the full RTE orchestra.

BLENDING STYLES

The Fire, The Flood blends both styles, a song seemingly of mending broken bridges: “And I’ll see you friend, at what we will call that end, we can start up a conversation; there are bridges we can mend“. The fiddle and piano are again prominent features, as is some earthy whistle play, as the song builds. A shock comes with the realisation that it is Nash providing all of these, as well as any acoustic guitar. Bar the bass and drums, each from Jason O’Driscoll, this is near a one-woman show. (The strings in the track before come from Maria O’Connor, cello, and Maria Ryan, violin, mentioned as they each return later).

Bittersweet is then a piano led ballad, which hoovers in a sense of a Carole King fronted Hothouse Flowers, perhaps appropriately, as she is shortly to accompany that very band on tour in Ireland and the U.K. The cello of O’Connor adds a rich depth to this one, as a well-textured balance to her impassioned vocal, giving rise to wondering who is producing. Well, that’s Nash, too, if abetted by the mixing of Pat Herring Ahern.

A SONG IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING

Sweetly strummed mandolin, from Richie Delahunty, graces the sway of Wolves, a song in sheep’s clothing, applying a fatal farewell to a presumed ex: “And I won’t take it back, every wolf has had a pack once before, and I gave to you all I now lack, oh the wolves are howling at the door“. Her voice takes on a measured calm for this one, a halfway house between Bonnie Raitt and Dolores Keane, and the choral lupine ow-oos are deliberately restrained and sweet, thereby packing even greater a bite.

February Snow then offers a bluegrass flavour, no silos left undisturbed. I’d have left off the strings that seep in around half-way, they adding more saccharine than the song needs. The rather more rustic swagger of I’ll Go proving much more satisfactory, with Delahunty switching to 5 string banjo. The relatively simple construction shows off her vocals at their best, gliding effortlessly up hill and down dale of the melody.

WEST CORK CAROLE KING

The West Cork Carole King comparisons sweep back for A Minute, a sombre piano ballad, largely stripped back of other than choral embellishment. This and Wandering Song are two definite high points of the record, the country and Irish of the latter especially affecting, a song which cries out for playing, as the credits roll for the next series Taylor Sheridan (Yellowstone, 1183, 1923) might have up his sleeve. But before sinking into widescreen, I Don’t Care swiftly bursts out the speakers, with a burst of Stephen Springhall electric jangle, evoking prime period Mary Chapin Carpenter. A richly commercial confection, this song closed the original release. Here it is pushed a little higher in the order, presumably to apply a greater contrast. It’s terrific.

Lowlights is another piano smoke’n’burner, this becoming, perhaps, her preferred metier. The drums here, however well played, are a little superfluous, but the mult-tracked choir of Nashes is at its most unctuous. So much so that Open Hands falls a little flat, maybe more a vehicle to show off her deftness with a finger picked acoustic. Consider it a bridge into the new quartet of songs, which leads off with a further piano ballad. However, should that give any suggestion of further too many, strangely, it is Warren Zevon I am picking up behind Winter Sun, unless those earlier ow-oos have planted that seed. Be that as it may, the Brill Building feels the other side ofa big country. The strings of the two Marias are exceptional for this one.

CANDY FLOSS POP FROTH

An additional spring in her step is offered by the candy-floss pop froth of Getting Started, possibly a nod in the direction of the Taylor/Billie/Miley, should any of that trio wish to take on a jugband style. Superior country-pop, it comes as some slight surprise, given the company of the surrounding material but is no less welcome. I confess I didn’t that much take, yet, to Steel Hearts, maybe the desire to capture as much across any musical palate becoming too ambitious. It’s fine, but I’ve sort of had enough by now, harsh though it sounds and with a final track still waiting. But, against all the odd, the closer is such a side-swerve as to hamstring fully that prevailing moment of doubt.

Carraig Aonair is not only the only non-original here, being 500 years old, or as near as, in Irish to boot. And it is phenomenal. True, attention has been given to the current predilection for drone, and it is to a background of ominous fiddle sounds that the ancient song plays out. Nash sings with an icy precision, at odds with any of the voice(s) already demonstrated, and the album is suddenly transformed. Double tracked harmonies give a siren like urgency and eerie seabirds caw over a turning of a tumbril wheel, bringing it to a shuddering close. That I didn’t predict!

HOW MANY LORRAINE NASHES?

How many Lorraine Nashes are there, I wonder, thinking this record contains the templates of provision for at least three and possibly four different directions of flow. The next set is going to require some careful sorting, to avoid confusion in the even the cross-over ranks, but this, as a upgrade, if you will, from her initial iteration is certainly something to covet. And, as a final point, any thoughts as to which 2025 Glastonbury headliner she may have been addressing, with the cover of this record?

It may not be representative of the rest of the record, but is impossible not to be the vid to go to. Available also as a single, released 5/3/35. Carraig Aonair:

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