SEÁN GARVEY

Out Of The Ground (Harry Stottle Records)

There are certain singers who have the power to create a kind of sphere or aura of emotional intensity around themselves, and that ability, far more than technical proficiency or respect for the artist, is what makes a crowded, noisy pub fall silent when somebody like Seán Garvey starts into a song.

A stalwart of traditional singing circles for many years, Garvey has appeared an any number of radio and television programmes in addition to performing all over Europe with the now-legendary Pavees, but this is his debut album.

He’s certainly made up for lost time – there’s a full 60 minutes of music here. It’s always a tricky business to capture in studio the atmosphere of a great live performance, but Garvey and sound engineer Marion McEvoy have risen well to the challenge.

Garvey has a fine, rich voice and a dignified, unhurried singing style that come across beautifully on tracks like the great ballads ‘Laurel Hill’ and ‘The Boys Of Bárr na Sráide’ – this latter, a song that many aficionados consider to be practically Garvey’s property. Its title refers to a street in the singer’s home town of Cahirciveen, County Kerry, and his own ornamentation and rhythmic variations have become indelibly identified with the song over the years.

He’s a neat and nifty finger-picker on the guitar as well, and does a lovely job of backing the songs. Three instrumental tracks on whistle, banjo and mouth organ feel a bit rushed and uneven by comparison, although there are some nice guitar harmonies on the final set of polkas.

‘Sé Oakum mo Phriosún’ is a dramatic Connemara Seán-nos number, learned from the master singer Seán ac Donnacha. Garvey sings it unaccompanied, with a bamboo flute/whistle taking over the melody between the verses. It’s an effective device, and here the instrument’s raw, open sound works well with the wild, lonely feel of the song.

The most unusual track on the album, ‘Haute Cuisine in Cathair Saidhbhín’, refers to a 1906 initiative by the Kerry County Council to offer cookery classes. Women who signed their names in Irish on the application forms were denied entry on the basis that their signatures were invalid – hence the memorable chorus: “If you call yourself Máire/Or Cáit or Eibhlín/You can’t boil potatoes/In Cahirciveen.”

Sarah McQuaid