It's not every day that matters of international import are writ large in traditional music collections. But Róisín Elsafty has an uncanny ability to marry traditional themes with politically charged reflections - with two parts gravitas to one part sleight of hand. Elsafty's Connemara sean nós roots are never far away, nor is her Egyptian heritage, but she renders sean nós's impenetrable qualities gloriously transparent with her delicate ornamentations, which betray the subtlest of Arabic influences.

Elsafty invigorates Casadh An tSúgáin with a refreshing attention to the inherent flightiness of the rhythm. Her choice of A Mhuire na nGrást is shot through with a grief born of its music, composed by her mother, sean nós singer Treasa Ní Ceannabháin, on the occasion of the death of a newborn cousin. Fittingly spare, Elsafty's plaintive voice reads the mood of the sentiment perfectly. Motherhood hovers over the collection, embracing the genteel lullaby, Seoithín Seó and Hó-bha-in. The muscular core of the album, though, lies in Elsafty's own composition, Alí - Dílleachtín Gan Bhrí, a damning indictment of the travesty that is the Iraqi invasion (with orphaned victim, Ali Ismaeel Abbas the song's sung hero). The song is bathed in gorgeous Elsafty sibling harmonies, Ronan Browne's flute, Máirtín O'Connor's accordion and Dónal Lunny's magical arrangements.

Elsafty's sociopolitical consciousness is further articulated through a fine-boned reading of John Spillane's Poor Weary Wanderer. Open to multiple interpretations, it's as sharp a stab at our ambivalence towards immigrants and refugees as any highly charged political debate. A thing of beauty from beginning to end. www.roisinelsafty.com