Lullabies and laments

You'll find few surprises in this gentle, almost drowsy new album from this increasingly popular ensemble: the usual Altan blend…

You'll find few surprises in this gentle, almost drowsy new album from this increasingly popular ensemble: the usual Altan blend of unhurried and lucidly arranged dance tunes, punctuated by lamenting lullabies from Mairead Ni Mhaonaigh, tickled along by Mark Kelly's guitar. These last include the nicely understated edge of Caide Sin Don Te Sin; or, considering the history of the band and the sad loss of Frankie Kennedy, the gulp in the throat of Time Has Past. The production on the songs is superb: the angelic foghorns of the dubbed-over harmonies stopping neatly short of the sonic overgush of the post-Clannad Celtic sunset. The tunes combine the fragrances of mazurkas, the scotsy drag of the strathspey, Clan Ronald; and a bluegrass belt to the build-ups which goes deeper that the simple guesting of Alison Krauss and Jerry Douglas.

Ciaran Curry gets a refreshing outing in Ciaran's Capers; and everyone gets a turn on Australian Waters, a handful of jigs that gallops up a head of steam. But in general, despite the firepower of other guest artists (Matt Molloy, Steve Cooney) or the virtuosity of band members like Dermot Byrne, there's no egotistical jostling; just unpushy, democratic arrangements, never missing a beat nor over-exploiting any element of the instrumentation. The sound is rich but tastefully spare, with some nice work done on the singing timbre of Ni Mhaonaigh and Ciaran Tourish's twin fiddles and the flexed proficiency of Byrne's reeds. All in all, a persuasive, warm and undemanding listen.