IT WAS no coincidence that the new Sharon Shannon CD landed on my desk the same day that the good weather arrived. It’s as if her music transmits ultra violet light which not only gets the feet tapping but also tickles the endorphins secreted within the brain and nervous system that activate the feel-good receptors in the body.
This is Sharon's 10th album and, as before, she takes her bosca ceoil on a world cruise, sitting in and jamming with whatever comes her way. It might not be everyone’s cup of melanin but there is the cliched something for everyone on Sacred Earth, a title that says a lot about Sharon herself.
She has always been interested in animal welfare and the environment but her new venture is connected to food. Her Garden of Vegan has got together with the Good Food Truck Company, a fully dedicated vegan food truck which goes to festivals, events and corporate functions throughout Ireland and Britain to provide high quality organic, vegan food which anyone can enjoy.
That could be said about Sharon’s music, of course. Her music is authentic, adventurous, globally respected and will put a smile on your face.
Sacred Earth starts off with Rusheen Bay, named after the village on the Galway coast that has become a haven for surfers. But the Wild Atlantic Way could be swapped for the blue skies above the coasts of Africa before we head back to the last of the track’s three phrases for a more traditionally Irish sound.
The African connection is no surprise as the record was co-produced by Justin Adams, the guitarist in Robert Plant’s band, The Sensational Space Shifters, and an expert in African styles. He produced that great Malian band Tinariwen.
“Ever since a late-night music session at her house in Galway, I've been aware of the joy and openness that goes alongside Sharon's rootedness in tradition,” says Justin. “My musical passions that have led to immersion in Blues North and West African music and Reggae sit easily with Sharon's dancing rhythm, and show the ancient connections from South and East to West and back again, connections we need to celebrate more than ever.”
It’s a fine start to the album and it is followed by the title track with lots of hand clapping, what could be native-American chanting in the background, and a fine percussive rhythm keeping things going. Again the track changes tack and moves into a more Cajun/Irish mode.
The third track is a song called The Machine by Lyra Rose. For those not in the know, “Where moon child meets the blues and sings butterflies from the mouth of pain is where Lyra Rose's songs are born again.” This, I have to admit is not evident on this version of the song.
The message is great – don’t let your passions die – and the wall of sound is fine but the rapping is of the in front of the mirror type rather than the angry, articulate rage against the machine it should be.
Bas Pelle is an altogether different track, more classical than anything and it features Rushad Eggleston, who is fast becoming akin to Zelig in this column, so many people have mentioned their collaboration or their admiration for the former member of Crooked Still and an innovative cellist and, er, kazoo-player.
Rushad joins in again on Pull Out the Stops, a guaranteed dancefloor filler for anyone with the requisite number of right and left feet (one each) and when the excitement dies down, then you can grab your partner, bring them up close and listen to Finbar Furey intone the old Jim Reeves classic He’ll Have to Go.
It’s a song that would have accompanied the lovelorn as they danced their way around ballrooms of romance all over Ireland from Caherviceen to Ballycastle. It used to be a favourite at sing-songs at our house long ago when the female adults would sing their individual party pieces over some knitting, tea and biscuits and I was shocked to hear Ry Cooder’s version, so accustomed as I was to the more genteel version.
The version on Sacred Earth is more in keeping with the singsong around the fire, 4.08 minutes of pathos vibe until we are jolted out of our reverie with Frenchie’s Reel, a tune Sharon learned from the New England/ Canadian border tradition. However, to add to the cosmopolitan, bringing-it-back-home mix, six Shetland fiddlers were recruited for a rousing ceili sound.
And then, given the Celtic leaning towards bipolarity, we move into The Merry Widow, which again I remember from childhood when it was played on the Light Programme. The accordion is a really suitable instrument for the Merry Widow Waltz, which I also remember as a song, but there is no time to wallow in its lovely waltiziness as we are straight into swinging around the dancefloor to the rocking blues of Let’s Go, with Buddy Guy’s son Greg on guitar.
We’re clocking up the armchair air miles again for the penultimate tune, Sea Shepherd, with the virtuoso sounds of Seckou Keita on the Kora, an African harp, to produce an amalgam of the familiar and the exotic.
The final track is Bull Fiddle, for a trip round the planet and mind the dresser.
Sharon has been mixing styles since she was with The Waterboys back in the 1980s and while they don't always work, there is enough in all her albums to make the listen worthwhile.
If the weather is still good by the time you read this, get the barbecue on, open a bottle of something refreshing, alcoholic or otherwise, and let the music take over.
