Few slips twixt cup and TRIP here, as the pan-celts odyssey continues.

Release Date : 11th April 2025

Label : Self-Released (via Birnam)

Format : CD / digital

Upper case quandary

What is it about upper case and the celts, there by now being a veritable panoply of bands who ride on that affectation? There’s RANT and there’s RURA, and there’s, um this one, but I am sure there will be another one along in a minute, to play merry hell with any poor proof reader. I used to think it possibly the initials of the members, like ELP, CSN and REM, but clearly not, as there are six of ’em in TRIP. I’m guessing it is as each have had to take a TRIP, or a JOURNEY, to Glasgow, where they are based, their music uniting the kindred Celtic traditions of Scotland, Ireland, Northumbria and the Isle of Man; a reflection of where each band member hails from.

Now we have that out the way, let’s dig a wee bit deeper, as this is their second release, which, given they are all also active in often multiple projects, means some complexity of diary synchronisation. And when you appreciate it a mere three years since their debut, one we liked, at that, well, that is some planning and some deliberation. So, all due credit to Michael Biggins, Tiernan Courell, Isla Callister, Alasdair MacKenzie, Rory Matheson and Craig Baxter for prioritising this alongside due diligence elsewhere, in, notably, Gnoss, FARA, The Canny Band and HEISK, although all have featured at some time else on these pages. (As well as FARA being a fourth set of capital-ists, and HEISK a fifth, my wondering now whether it is an Orcadian thing?)

A forest fire

The 50 Reels is track one, and literally rolls out the traps on a flurry of quick fire piano repetitions, ahead the fiddle sweeping in. With Biggins in the team, you might assume he responsible for the former, but no, here he is the box player, with Matheson in charge the keyboard. It is a grandstand start, with Allister bowing for her very life to keep up. The tiniest of a pause and, immediately it is all six in full fire, the flute of Tourell, Mackenzie’s guitar, bodhran from Baxter and, yes, Biggins’ accordion providing a veritable forest fire. It is a terrific start and as tight and exciting as ensemble play can be. Each get a moment in the spotlight, but never for more than a moment, to leave you gagging for more.

With all tracks composed by the band, it is clear their Scottish, Irish, Manx and Northumbrian heritages have steeped them all in a sense of tradition, the past leaking out into the vibrancy of their present. Not A Cloud is a slower piece, with sidesteps of piano for Courell and Biggins to waft their instrumentation effortlessly into the air. I may have said before how remarkable piano can be in these styles of music, being as much metronome as melody. Matheson distinctly confirms that point, aided and abetted by the steady presence of Baxter’s confident pitter patter of the goatskin.

It becomes then almost a surprise as it is a song up next, I having forgotten what a warm lilt of a voice has Mackenzie, his Blessed Are The Meek (TRIP’s version) a rich broth of melody that allows his voice to be the essential ingredient, however fluently the band accompany him. Again, it is Matheson and Allister who shine through.

Some swoozy hebridean

Octopus Circus is a launchpad for, first, Courell, to fly, followed swiftly by Biggins. The tune circles around on itself, the feel of a bird of prey, high in the sky, ever alert on the ground far below. Jointly and severally, the play here is astonishing, truly a supergroup in an arena where there are many. Glasgow’s Royal Conservatoire, where all six first came together, must surely now have wrested the crown from Newcastle Uni, as the premier hotbed of traditional music scholarship, even if, as a Scot, I would say that anyway.

Anyway, onward with the paired offerings of Tune For Rogan and An Ghrian ar Bhinn Ghulbain, the first beginning on quavering and extended flute notes, over paired guitar and piano. Biggins picks up on some swoozy accordion, for his chums to join in on. The mood is as Hebridean as it gets, even as some jazz notes squeak into the piano bridge, effervescent flute then triggered, fiddle and finally box slotting in. An Ghrian ar Bhinn Ghulbain means the sun on Ben, or Mount, Bulben, in Co. Sligo, so we have headed a little further westward again. But the sun is clearly shining.

Sadness Passed is a further song, and as far in style removed, if not substance, as anything else much yet heard. Mackenzie sings over his own picked guitar, almost ragtime in meter. His brogue might blur the message, but the sleeve reveals it a strong salutation to his faith, the subtitle of The God Song a further clue. My problem, I know, but I find this just a little too evangelical for my natural heathen tendencies, oddly a bias I can manage in, say, gospel music. As I said, my problem.

Wondrous bombast

Sutherlands has us back on terra firma, an instrumental march that carries an image of a steadfast victory parade. Biggins and Courish lead the column, in turn, as Matheson plunders any unused notes for some spiky chords, often struck against the footprint, which makes for a fabulously dramatic whole. Possibly, as I am stuck now with religious imagery, I can imagine twirling batons, which is a bit off-putting, but it is still a wondrous bombast. Some further finger picking introduces the final song, Hit The Road, a introspective paean to the open road, and leaving the wiles of the modern day behind, or dreaming about it. Baxter adds his bodhran at the half-way point, as if to give the dream a grounding, fiddle and flute applying a nostalgic hue to the reverie.

The final fanfare comes with August Ascent, an energetic hoy that adds instruments, one by one, until the promised momentum is met. Like the opener, this shows the ensemble at their helter skelter best, controlled fission of the six elements, cleaving together into a exuberant whole. Play it loud on a sunny day, like today, windows open to give the rest of the world the benefit. As it all goes ballistic, for the final few bars, your neighbours will certainly thank you.

The 50 Reels may well contain more:

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