“Hip hop is just like folk music. But with caps instead of cardigans.”
Let’s face it. One way or another this year’s all about identity. Are we British, Scottish, both or neither? Do we move forwards, sideways, back or stay the same? Folk music is often seen as the most conservative of music genres: unwelcoming of new ideas and determined to remain in some imagined past. This is a notion that Celtic Connections over the past 20 years has sought to dispel - emphasising a commonality between music of different traditions - and finding the thread that connects us all.
Of course, there’s always a danger of imposing a Scottish context upon music and treating anything strange or unknown with the unforgiving lens of ‘traditional Scottish music’. This was not evident at the final edition of ‘Hazy Recollections’ at this year’s festival. Established by songwriter Findlay Napier four years ago - initially just to guarantee his band a slot - this showcase has blossomed into an unpretentious selection box; a hand-picked collection of the best acts of the festival.
Shawnee, Oklahoma native Samantha Crain - fresh from supporting Suzanne Vega - was the first act to take to the stage in the utilitarian lower bar of the ABC. Through vignettes and character studies, and through her powerful voice which at times cracks into a soulful howl reminiscent of Regina Spektor in the higher octaves, she gave a performance focused on the minutiae of life. Particularly effective was her song ‘Elk City’: a recounting of another woman’s life story, searching for the American dream in an oil boom town. Her themes and performance clearly resonated with the diverse crowd, eliciting a rapturous reception in the swiftly filling room.
Blue Rose Code, nom de plume of songwriter Ross Wilson, followed. A gruff-looking man with hair like a greaser, he was emblematic of the folk establishment’s refusal to accept anything even slightly outwith the norm. Set centrepiece ‘This is Not a Folk Song’ - apparently named after Midlands Folk Club’s response to his demo tape - represented this. His clear frustration at being denied his very identity as an artist came through clearly. And, frankly, these are damn good folk songs. Delivered with an enthusiasm that seeps through his very pores.
Following this, a band born from the ashes of the recently disbanded Endor: Fake Major are a band on the verge of something quite big. Another self-identified folk band, they represented well the concepts of the afternoon: the ties that bind us together, celebrating similarities and cherishing the differences. Contrast in this band was evident in the performance with the acoustic and electric guitars of Richard Ferguson and David McGinty playing off each other and their dual vocals adding emphasis to each word. You feel like they mean it. You feel like every word matters. It’s something that the best punk rock does. It’s something that every band should aspire to do and it’s something that this band have nailed.
GOG favourites Stanley Odd certainly can’t be criticised for lacking passion either. Playing what is, for them, a stripped back acoustic set allowed for their widescreen macro-observations to be better highlighted. Playing a mixture of old favourites and brand-new songs - and playing what must be one of Veronika Electronika’s last shows before maternity leave - the band were their usual best. They adapted to the new context well, and the audience responded. The slightly older, slightly more subdued crowd were open to the hip hop set. The band identified narrative as the key to music - the one thing that connects all sung performance - and, while Stanley Odd rap about the big issues (which is in contrast to the more personal songs of the other acts) they’re bang on. This is folk music. It’s music for all of the folk, by folk and about folk.
Findlay Napier, the organiser and compere, finished the early afternoon show with his own full band show. The Bar Room Mountaineers summed up everything about the show: mixing the personal and political; the small scale and the big fish frying. Audience participation was encouraged, a community atmosphere developed and the increasingly boozy audience (for five o’clock on a Sunday afternoon) encouraged in community spirit.
Celtic Connections - and Hazy Recollections - excel in making links. They stretch the boundaries of what people call ‘folk music’. And this is a great thing. That the popular definition of folk music has started to stray towards an unholy hybrid of old-man cardigans and fresh-faced Mumfords is devastating. We need to reclaim the definition. We need to use music to link the present to the future, not to the past. Hazy Recollections aimed to achieve this. You owe it to yourself to try and do the same: check out some folk music when you can.
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