Inexplicably missed in action at the time, but never too late to remedy, a masterpiece in any genre from Sian.

How the flip did this slip out under the radar, this second release from the three Gaelic sirean? Sirens, in case you wonder, and the trio of Ceitlin Lilidh, Eilidh Cormack and Ellen MacDonald are unquestionably the Supremes of the Highlands and Islands. Each established soloists in their own right, and/or with leading roles in other bands, it is when they come together that the magic really cooks. You may have heard them with neo-trad Gaelictronic band, Niteworks, with whom they were frequent collaborators. Since their eponymous debut in 2020, they have now officially added Innes White to full official membership, playing guitars, piano and producing. White seems the current go-to for any Scots singer worth their salt, a member of bands, Staran and Assynt, and who has recently toured, as right hand man, for both Hannah Rarity and Kim Carnie).

A STATEMENT OF NO SMALL INTENT

The development from the first album is immediately apparent. Where the eponymous debut was predominantly voices with only minimal accompaniment, Ceòlan launches the album with a cooing chorale, over a resplendent piano backdrop, sounding midway between evensong and some lochside pagan ceremony. Just a minute or so, but a statement of no small intent. A glorious ripple of double bass, who else but James Lindsay, then beckons in the sombre melancholy of Seo A’ Bhilladhna, with the piano setting the tone for a glorious string arrangement, care of Charlie Stewart. As the three women, individually and collectively, trade verses, so the A team of Seonaid Aitken’s string quartet, Megan Henderson, Patsy Reid and Alice Allen gild their lilies. Muted percussion from Phil Wilkinson is the final cherry for this first full formal introduction to the main participants.

Electric bass, still Lindsay, appears for the trad funk samba of O Hoireannan, Wilkinson now laying down some backbeat of precision and taste, with White clipping some chips on electric guitar. My copy doesn’t say who sings where and when, but each of the three have individual cadences that take this beyond a uniform soundalike vocal wash. Chi Mi A’Ghrian then starts up as a near acapella vocal solo, before the entry of synth, piano and percussion. Stewart, meanwhile, is adding peals of angsty fiddle from the sidelines, the whole a moody atmospheric.

Is this a waulking song? That seems apparent in the lilting melody, but never heard quite at this slow speed. Cum Na Ghealladh almost probably is, with a conventional rhythmic propulsion, with conventional ornamentation from Seonaidh MacIntyres’ whistle and the accordion from Megan MacDonald, from Heisk. (There is a wonderful moment, as it ends, perhaps a little falteringly, with audible giggles then flowing forth.)

A CHILL WIND & A PLANGENT LAMENT

The midpoint of the set is recognised by the bleak and baroque strings that bedeck Fear A’Bhàta, a plangent lament that blows a chill wind beautifully. Stewart adds bowed bass to the string quartet, filling further the icy orchestration. The three voices hit a perfect storm, dipping in and out between solo, duo and three part harmonies. That highpoint can only be managed by then something different. as all the songs so far have been traditional and arranged by the band and their musicians. Adelaide is a new song, written by Cormack, not that the melody suffers from any lack of connection to the rest. White’s piano ripples attractively. It is probably overdue to note also the role of Innes Strachan, who adds synthesiser and possibly provides the percussion here, and across the album.

Pèidse Fir Ròdhaig then ramps up again the new funky side of Sian, with motorik handclap percussion. I can hear a slightly ballsier Fleetwood Mac, 1980’s style, in the mix, along pebble dashes of synth, again from Strachan, and the strings, always so welcome. Another step back from orthodoxy, as Lilidh pens a new tune for Fear Nach Ainmich Mi, with just some sparse acoustic from White. I have tried to avoid ethereal or to mention sirens too often in this review, but this Iberian-esque tune stretches that capability. And, as if then unbridled, the trio then see Julie Fowlis’ Lon-Dubh (Blackbird) and raise her their Smeòrach. Otherwise known as Christine McVie’s Songbird, their Gaelic version is superb, suggesting those earlier hints of the Mac were not imagined. The voices are serene and sumptuous, ably abetted by Stewart’s fiddle.

A CIRCLE CLOSED WITH A FLOURISH

Tir Mo Bhradair closes the album, with a flourish that closes also the circle. Starting, over picked electric baritone guitar, almost like a slow and stately country Americana waltz, this final traditional song has also a new set of notes, again from Lilidh. As it builds, so to returns the same sort of cooing that opened up the album so memorably, doing the same at this end. A terrific end to a gorgeous album. A chum has commented that, with voices like this, he would happily hear them sing the Portree phone book. And, with my little Gaelic, perhaps they have, but he’s right, you know, he’s right.

STOP PRESS: One of the advantages of a delayed review is that this gets written after the trio scoop the much coveted MG Alba (“The Trads”) Album of the year. Congratulations!!

Pèidse Fir Ròdhaig, the video:

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