This effervescent debut proves the Bal is definitely at the back of Newcastle’s net. Result!!

Release Date : 24th October 2025

Label : Self-Released

Format : CD / digital

A SUMPTUOUS FEAST OF SIX COURSES

There are few things as uplifting as hearing new music, by a new band, especially when applying new skins to the cat. This E.P. provides all of that, a sumptuous feast, even if only spread over six courses. Hearken Quartet are yet another in the long list of vibrant combos emerging, at least in part, out of the Newcastle Uni degree course in Folk and Traditional Music. Is this the most potent petri dish in the land, vying only with Glasgow’s Conservatoire in pumping out the folk legends of tomorrow? (Whilst you tot up the scores of each, give this debut release a listen.)

Bruce Lambelle-Rudd and Bob Downham met in 2017, bonding over their shared love of European dance music; balfolk by any other name. Performing first as a duo, the mix of diatonic button accordion, Lambelle-Rudd, and uillean pipes, Downham, was already sufficient to carry some extra nuance into the tunes of France, the low countries and Scandinavia, but it was as they expanded, in 2021 that they really discovered their lodestone. Bringing on board the clarinet of M. Lomas and the guitar, keyboards and electronica capabilities of Alex Walters, this was a master stroke. A lot of European dance styles are based on repetition, as is a lot of current minimalist electronica; here the two meet and match as if that were a foregone conclusion. And, as they say, it is now.

PIPES SQUEAL MAGNIFICENTLY

I’d love to tell you the meaning of Hÿd, but I can’t. With 3 dots above the y, something my keyboard cannot even reproduce, I suspect a chain is being yanked. Is it “how ya’ doin'”, with a Scandi inflection, maybe? Regardless of that query, let’s move briskly on to the music, with the album opening with a paired set of bourées, Olaus II and Le Prevo. The first a joint composition between Lambelle-Rudd and Downham, refers, of course it does, to an annoying magpie outside Downham’s window, and starts with a hypnotic revolving accordion motif, to which Lomas adds some complementary clarinet.

On around the 3rd circuit Downham’s pipes squeal in magnificently, before they take an excursion of their own, double speed around the circle. It is glorious, as lead instruments then get passed between the participants. Some surreptitious stomp becomes apparent as the tune sways out of the first and into the second. This tune, by Lambelle-Rudd alone, brings in some boulevardier vibes, or did to me, some deeper bass textures arising, presumably via Walters. Electronic handclap style percussion comes in, at the last gasp, to close the track, a stealth bomb of no small surprise.

A SASHAYING WALTZ

Cachou is completely different, a waltz that sashays in on Walters’ glossy piano flourishes. before Lomas adds his woodwind textures. For so long clarinet has been a stranger in modern music forms, apart from maybe klezmer, always tainted by the spectre of bowler hats on the shoreline, when trad jazz held pole position on saturday night TV variety shows. Of late it seems to be creeping back into favour, and I am all for that. This is a tune from the repertoire of French box-player, Paul Fermé, and is evocative of a sunny day somewhere in the Auvergne, poppies glinting between the corn. Whistle, from Downham, plays in harmony with Lomas, and I couldn’t shake it out my head.

SIGN ‘EM Up, ROSIE!

Without making it too obvious I am reading the info direct from the album sleeve, it is a lively pair of schottisches that follows, The Martini Frog, from Downham, which then becomes Sandpipers, written by Toon Van Mierlo, of Naragonia, both the duo and quartet version. Keeping the listener on their toes, whether listening at home, or even dancing, this bounces out in a complex mash of whistle, clarinet and strummed guitar, a box drone holding up the bottom end, some percussion in there somewhere, too.

The individual tones seep in and out, before a wash of synthesiser sweeps in, over which the uillean pipes spark then deliciously into life. The backdrop becomes increasingly dense, a slow basement beat driving the whole forward. Gradually the individual components drop back, melodeon holding the baton, as clarinet waits to pounce. The beats have become a deeper and deeper drone, before a whoop captures back the core theme. Sign ’em up now, Rosie Butler-Hall, director of dance at Shrewsbury Folk Festival; I’m sure they do ceilidhs.

THE BELLOWS AND THE BOX

After all the electronic jiggery-pokery garlanding about that track, Walters is back to the piano for a tune the band learnt from melodeon whizz Julian Sutton. As his fingers skip across the keys, whistle and accordion are limbering up on the sideline. The melody becomes unison, with clarinet joining the three already on the pitch. The melody meanders between the contrasting elements, gambolling towards another entirely satisfactory conclusion that provides, again, proof of just how well the bellows and the box go together, the former slipping in slyly just before the end.

CONFOUNDINGLY INFECTIOUS

Delicate notes from an electric guitar drop as the opening textures to what, nominally, started life as traditional Breton dance tune. The clarinet and accordion dip in, a whistle lowing gently in the background, as all gradually, falteringly, find a common direction. With a stomp beat then signposting the way, the differing components come together, only then to all drift apart, with more picked guitar holding the silence.

From there it is almost a repeat performance, except the notes and the order of instrumentation is now all different. At a little over 8 minutes, Boullettes (An Dro) is a confoundingly infectious construction, threatening to hurtle off, yet then holding back again, time an time again. The pipes carry a greater weight, and this then does give the impetus sought, as the four musicians play hard with the melody, allowing their individual tones sequential prominence, each grabbing your attention in turn. A staccato conclusion sees it close on what even they would have to conclude is a killer riff.

GUNG HO HOOLINESS

Never quite lauded for my brevity, maybe forgive the longform opportunity this shorter record allows, my aim only to turn the ear of any reader toward this exciting instrumental band. And there is still one final track, a couple of reels, which see the album producer unable to keep his hands (and feet) out of it. I dare say he may have brought these tunes, Sean At The Wheel and Epic Reel to the party, he being Arthur Coates, the fiddle toting podorhythmie practioner from Aberdeen, a master of all musics Quebecois.

After the relative discipline of the album thus far, this sees he and the band lay down a gauntlet of gung ho hooliness, Starting relatively sedately on an accelerating clarinet pattern, unison play has them hit the tarmac with a degree more abandon. Walters and Downham become akin to, if not the Memphis horns, then maybe the Mackem horns, if you disregard the Tyne, parping their wares gloriously, like a North East Moving Hearts. Coates, as well as having his feet all over it, chucks in some searing salvos of fiddle. It is a cracking finale and definitely leaves the listener wanting more.

Here’s that bloody magpie again, the opening track!

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