Ruben Gonzalez: Chanchullo (World Circuit)
Three years on and "young" Ruben Gonzalez is still going strong. In 1997, Introducing Ruben Gonzalez rescued this 83-year-old Cuban pianist from retirement in Havana and provided a long-overdue world stage for his deliciously dated Latin rhythms and his captivating ornate style of playing. He wasn't alone. The rest of his comrades in the Buena Vista Social Club also seized their second chance in the spotlight and some help out on Chanchullo, but Ruben is still at the centre of all that sparkles. The music is more muscular and percussive, particularly in the opening tracks. Gradually, however, the expressive lyricism and elegant rhythmic curves of his playing takes over on a variety of Cuban styles ranging from cha cha cha to son montuno. Luckily you don't need to know the terms to rejoice in his energy and flair.
Joe Breen
Verena Commins & Julie Langan: Fonnchaoi (Independent)
This Galway-based duo of button accordion and fiddle arose ultimately from Mayo (Commins was born in Coventry) and have, between them, developed a lovely buoyant, noddy sound, carving out energetic, well-matched tune sets that melodically soar and plunge, as does Commins' own Slippy Wet Jig. Commins' exquisite reeds seek out tunes such as Princess Royal, whilst Langan has an ancient, scratchy redolence perfect for the Donegalsy Lament for Glencoe. But mostly, the pair huddle into dense unison, with droned or stabbed chords; gently ash-sticked along by lads on guitar, bass, piano or bodhran. The production is bright on the ear, but there are plenty of dark, intimate corners to the music.
Mic Moroney
Various Artists: This Half Ain't Never Been Told Volume II (Yazoo/Shanachie)
This project of Shanachie boss Richard Nevins - remastering old 78s, here of American rural religious music, both white and black - is deeply affecting, despite the abjectness of these communions with the Lord, particularly from the black Ur-gospel quartets and sandpapery-voiced blues singers. The white fundamentalist modal hymns, like the hillbilly fingerwag of the Virginian Dandies' God's Getting Worried With Your Wicked Ways, certainly contrast with the inspirational vocal harmonies of the more agonised, confessional black music, like Megginson Female Quartet's Oh What a Change Took Place in My Heart, which raises fearful blisters of emotion. I prefer the way Edler Otis Jones whips up pagan ecstasies in his riotous congregation.
Mic Moroney
Paul Kelly: Words and Music (Vanguard)
For anybody familiar with Australia this man will need no introduction. His status down under is not dissimilar to Christy Moore's in this fair land. And his songs reflect many of the same concerns, from fears about the rampant rise of capitalism and the lives of the underdog through rugged love songs to misty-eyed reflections on times past. It would be easy to dismiss this style of music as dated, middle-aged, soft rock. However, at the core of Kelly's songs is an honesty and lack of pretension that serves him well. In addition, his excellent band provides just the right blend of muscle and imagination. The best track is the opening Little Kings, a blistering attack on the lust for money for any price, though the self-explanatory Gutless Wonder is not far behind. The thoughtful Charlie Owen's Slide Guitar and Melting shows Kelly's softer side.
Joe Breen