Chamber dubh from Skye, which is chamber noir rather than gloomy, with elements of folk and electronica dipping between the expansive wide open Island spaces. Another winner from the Clan Chaimbeul.

MORE CHAIMBEULS

What is it about the Gaels, and their complex collective family talents? Ignoring jibes about what else is there to do in the winter time, Sgo is the latest in the run of Chaimbeul prodigies, the family hailing from the Isle of Skye. We know Brighde best, of course, from her exhilarating run of experimental small pipes albums, both solo and in collaboration, but there is also eldest sister, Màiri, who plays clarsach, the Gaelic small harp, with Canadian bands, Aerialists and Quilting, as well as solo. Sgo is the duo of two further and younger sisters, Steaph and Ciorstaidh, now each based in Copenhagen. They play clarsach and accordion, both sing and both, a familial trait, enjoy the opportunities given by electronic sound.

ALL THINGS OGHAM

This album, Eòlas-Charm, features ten compositions, each named after a tree native to the Gaelic world, with their unique signature of harp, accordion, voices and experimental sound design. Like Brighde, the instruments are probably the only overt nod to the Gaelic tradition, other than applying a keen sense of nature and the elements to their unorthodox compositions, all tending more towards the ambient than the obvious. The album links also into how the ogham alphabet manifests symbolically, with each tree, historically, having an ogham “letter”. Or vice versa. (To be fair, my interpretation and understanding between how the individual letters of this alphabet correspond to trees is sketchy, and the academic argument beyond my ken.)

A SENSE OF CEREMONY

Ailme is, seemingly, the 16th letter of the alphabet, and is linked to pine, that knowledge not really helping, as the opening track of that name sounds more like a particularly dreamy choral evensong. Layers of the two voices track together in glorious counterpoint, and that is all you hear in this opener, until a solitary low accordion chord blusters in for the close. This is the sound of a church organ in a landscape and culture where such ornamentation is deemed unecessary, so the feel is probably more pre-religious and pagan. Old gods and goddesses. Irrespective, it is a wondrous start to the ceremony.

That monotone of accordion persists and lingers deep into the next track, Beith, the longest one here. The Chaimbeuls like their drones, and whilst it is sustained no way as long as sister, Brighde, can delight in, it is certainly a minute before any other sound is heard, with that being a string plucked, and, in slo-mo, plucked again. The accordion note, still present, gradually morphs in tonal texture, and the mood is hypnotic, if totally unclassifiable. New age might capture it, but only inasmuch as nobody really knows quite what that means. Gradually, and I mean gradually, the harp notes begin to ripple and flux, as the two instruments glaciate into a meandering melody. (Beith, the first letter of Ogham, signifies beech. Me, neither.)

URGENCY & ORTHODOXY

Coll (9th letter, hazel) possesses a greater sense of urgency, of water dripping from a melting icicle, maybe. The harp and accordion vie for attention without demanding it, the whole as striking as the individuality. A middle section slows and stretches and a returning devotional theme is hanging in the air, if still proudly pagan. Dair (7th letter, oak) is perhaps the most overtly orthodox construction yet, with a Hebridean sounding air wafting between the encircling instruments. Low accordion notes take on the texture of a section of cellos, before said sound puffing out in repeated blasts, like audible spouts from a whale.

Did I say whale? For what sounds like whale song then manifests for Eadha (19th letter, aspen) with pulsatile electronic sonars that flutter across the soundscape. This is, clearly, conjecture on my behalf, there being possibly a clear and obvious correlation between the tunes and the trees. Aspen, for me, is a tree I tend not to think of as real, anyway, occupying only the realms of folk song, English folk song at that. Some spoken Gaelic then takes over, with unearthly creaks and groaning timbers paving the way to a pitter-patter of sound, with voices dipping in and out. The most challenging piece in the set, this is how I imagine 21st century opera must be. Yet, in this small dose it is a pleasing diversion.

SILKIES & SINGING STRINGS

Fearn (3rd letter, alder) is a soothing balm thereafter, almost a song in the conventional sense. One of the sisters coos the melody of a siren, or should that be silkie, over a backing of singing harp strings and sighing accordion, and it is a moment of balm and of calm. Gort (12th letter, field or, I guess, grass) picks up on that with an another Hebridean sounding lament, at least to start, ahead of fragmenting gently in front of your ears. There is the suggestion of something tribal beginning to manifest, out of eye if not ear, becoming some almost Gregorian chanting. I think this one of my favourites. seeping and soaking into the subconscious.

Huath (6th letter, white-thorn, although also seeming to reference fear) shows the instrumental play of the sisters at their most evocative, with tumbling harp and the haunting hum and hover of accordion. Whilst rhythm is only an intermittent element across this disc, this has an accommodating electronic pulse of beats and basslines, anchoring all into place. Not remotely fearful, although there is a sense of running, which may feasibly be away. Iogha, where wiki finally let me down, is a starker piece, my imagination referencing a menhir, or standing stone, silhouetted against the horizon. The harp is almost sepulchral here, which is the cue for the sisters to strike up in vocal harmony. Followed then by some doomy, gloomy squeezed chords of foreboding, that stony sentinel is the last thing to fade into the night.

NO DISTRACTIONS PLEASE

The closing number, or letter, is Luis (2nd letter, herb, if likely not that one.) This feels appropriately end-piece, plucked harp and chorale boosting moods of closure. And so this, is it a cycle, is it a concept, ends. I think it a bold statement and worthwhile addition to the records already extant in the family name. It isn’t, however, a listen to be rushed; the music will wait for you, finding a time to best experience, possibly at dawn or dusk, with headphones, and as light becomes dark or dark becomes light. No interruptions, it is deserving of that and it can then delight. With the sisters being currently the ensemble in residence for Chamber Music Scotland, an organisation devoted to “Celebrating chamber music’s tradition and exploring its future“, Sgo would seem to doing just that.

See if Gort does for you what it did for me:

Sgo info, via Chamber Music Scotland: Website

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