Supporting Irish Musicians and Artists

Since first catapulting onto the scene a few years ago, Belfast tradtronic band Huartan have been one of the key voices in a serious ‘realignment’ of modern Irish music and culture. The process has been characterised by emerging bands and artists whose work (a) more overtly explores the relationships between politics, art, and mass communal gatherings; (b) has a stronger focus on Ireland’s non-Christian history, culture, and spirituality; (c) has a deeper relationship with the Irish language; and (d) has a freer sense of experimentation when it comes to style and genre.

All this to say that, despite being relatively new, Huartan have tapped into something massive with their music – and audiences have responded in kind. The band were the deserving winners of Hot Press’ Amhrán na Laoch Irish language song competition last month with their reimagining of 'Bean Udaí Thall', and their ‘Death to the Empire’ Samhain event was sold out a full week before the gig itself.

The crowd come from all walks of life. With it being Samhain, there's plenty of Halloween costume-clad attendees; but there are also whole extended families sitting in the balconies, Palestine flag-waving activists at the front, and people of all age-ranges dotted round the Music Hall. I find myself standing beside a few English tourists, who get a kick out of trying to put a name to the type of music Huartan make. In fact, I’m still trying to figure that out myself, as ‘tradtronic’ really doesn’t cover the half of it.

 

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When Huartan – Stiofán Ó Luachráin, Miadhachlughain O’Donnell and Catríona Ní Ghribín – take to the stage, they’re clad in their now-iconic pagan/druidic ware, with Miadhachlughain and Catríona in embroidered dresses and Stiofán wearing a haunting ram skull.

A powerful intro from rapper/spoken-worder DYRT sets the scene, with the criminally underrated Limerick artist laying down a monologue that traverses Irish history, culture, and mythology, while interrogating it at the same time.

It’s a fitting intro, because Huartan’s music does the same thing. They are trad – their sound is shaped by drones, accordions, tin whistles, Irish language singing, and established Irish ballads – but they are committed to interrogating what that genre means: their songs are injected with stomping, sinister electronic beats, they freely sample from a range of sources (including political speeches, like Bernadette McAliskey’s on ‘Fiain’), and – above all – they do everything they can to make sure that the audience is moving, dancing, and engaged with their unique brand of trad.

Huartan’s music is incredibly arresting. Everything is urgent and original. There are hauntingly emotional moments – including a song intro that starts with a hair-raising banshee-like wail produced by the band to mark the symbolic death of a baby; and a dramatic reading of Bobby Sands’ ‘The Rhythm of Time', where every word seems to ring truer than ever before.

The only drawback is that the Empire, as a venue, isn’t atmospheric enough to capture the full depth of their visual aesthetic. As you watch them, you get a sense of how powerful they’d be in a massive venue, with the infrastructure for a major lights show, full graphics, and the space to fully showcase their ritualistic dance choreography.

It’s only a small drawback – because, the way things are going, Huartan will be playing much bigger venues soon.