Steve Cooney and others: "Rabhlai Rabhlai"

This collection of 30-odd nursery rhymes as Gaeilge may not have the bite of some naturally occurring kid's ditties, but it's a charming project nonetheless, initiated by the University of Limerick and the Dingle peninsula heritage group, Oidhreacht Chorca Dhuibhne. The rhymes are sung, spoken and whispered by children, old ladies and manly Gaeltacht men; to elegant, playful music and sound from the Australian guitarist Steve Cooney, joined by Nollaig Casey's fiddle and Eoin Duignan's pipes. It's distracting that many rhymes are mere translations (Humpti Dumpti, Haigh Didil Didil, etc), but there are plenty of authentic lullabies and counting-songs, delivered with real love for the labour. Perfect for inculcating tots; and it blows a few cobwebs off your Buntus Cainte besides.

By Mic Moroney

Randy Travis: "You and You Alone" (Dreamworks)

You haven't been reading much recently about Randy Travis in these pages. This is largely because there hasn't been much to write about. Like clockwork, the albums have marked the years; 11 since his debut with the heartfelt and essential Storms of Life in 1986. Each successive album has been a dilution of its predecessor, resulting in pretty thin and predictable fare. But come the new deal, come the new man. Signed to Spielberg's new label, Travis has dusted himself down and produced his 13th and best album in some time. The production is fuller and more thoughtful, while the songs generally have been carefully selected. But above all this collection is notable because Travis has dispensed with autopilot. He sounds interested, and when his burnished voice leans into songs like the aching Easy To Love You, turning it from a predictable country ballad into something more profound, we have a singer who, if not quite reborn, is at least breathing again.

By Joe Breen

Crann: "Black, Black, Black" (Claddagh)

Guest fiddler Kevin Glackin's opening long-bowed, bar-long and broken rolls on The Abbey reel are Crann's honeypot. Desi Wilkinson's buzzing, top-head vocals and round lilt are hypnotic, and piper Ronan Brown melds with it all to give outstanding reed/flute ghost-tone. Sean Corcoran's bouzouki builds this out to an exotic, Ottoman tapestry, while Triona Ni Dhomhnaill's clarinet adds body. The title track, Black Is The Colour, has startling, organised discord led by Browne with Anuna in swaying chorus; Wilkinson's Breton accent, Browne's regulators and Bansuri flute are constant reminders of the unusual. as Toibin nasality in Seacht Suailci, swinging it in Staimpi. Final-track jigs return us to the tough familiar, but Like long-haul hitch-hiking, this challenging album has risk, memorable incident and profound pleasure.

By Fintan Vallely