Lemonade And Buns

There has been much by way of innovation in Irish music in recent years, none perhaps more radical than that purveyed by Kila.

This, their fourth album, is a further refinement of the musical journey that began seven years ago with the release of Handel's Fantasy, and Lemonade And Buns in a way squares the circle - on the cover and inner sleeve, the band are decked out in Regency outfits, looking for all the world like the fops and dandys of old.

Not that there is anything remotely fustian about the music - this is stuff that moves heart and feet in equal measure, full of the breath of life, and the odd surprise to boot. The

opening track, 'The Compledgegationist' - what a title - is kick-started by rhythm, to be joined by flutes, whistles and guitars which provide the melodic structure. Here, as throughout, Dee Armstrong's fine fiddle playing provides lovely contrast to the wilder moments from the frontline. Cue the second track, 'Tine Lasta', and things begin to cook properly - guitar provides a backdrop for Ronan O'Snodaigh's stream of consciousness vocals, suitably coloured by

sweeping fiddle, viola, and backing vocals.

Kila's ace is that while this is a studio recording, there is a very live feel to proceedings throughout. There are moments of tenderness also, 'Ci Tz Fiin' addresses the problem of identity, in this case that of a Bosnian supplanted to Ireland as a result of the savage war in his own country. It's lovely, and I would like to have seen one or two more songs in this vein.

Overall, Lemonade And Buns is a damn fine record.