Pure Bodhrán: The Definitive Collection
Big Beat
Music BBM 001; 2 CDs; 75 mins; 2000
Calling anything a ‘definitive
collection’ is simply begging for trouble, especially when a double album as
patchy and poorly presented as this appears. With the notable exception of John
Reynolds (recorded in 1927) and a Johnny McDonagh track from 1979, this firmly
concentrates on the last dozen or so years. So, though many major player are
here, there’s no room for such important figures as Brendan Byrne (who played
with Ted Furey), Peadar Mercier (of The Chieftains) or, incredibly, Seán Ó
Riada. Unhelpfully, tracks are not sourced and, worse, are listed under the name
of the bodhrán player, so that anyone looking for the Brian Fleming track would
not have a clue that it actually appears on Seán Whelan’s album. 
There are some astonishing typos
too - several names are misspelt, including most notably Donnchadh Gough (who
appears as ‘Donnacha Goff’) and Steve Cooney (inaptly as “Conney”), while
accents and apostrophes are foreign territory to the proofreader.
Perhaps even more startling is the
choice of tracks themselves. What for instance is the point of including Alan
Kelly’s Beautiful Lake Ainslie (with the aforementioned Mr. Conney) when
the bodhrán of Jim Higgins does not appear until almost four minutes into the
track? Why include one of Ron Kavana’s naffest songs, The Bodhrán Song,
with Gino Lupari, when there are so many better examples of Lupari’s playing
with Four Men and a Dog? There’s also yet another outing for the Afro Celt
Sound System’s Whirly Reel 1, a recording that has been compiled to
death.
There are other notable lapses.
Johnny McDonagh and Kevin Conneff are both represented here, but neither with
the groups with whom they are best associated, De Dannan and The Chieftains,
respectively. Similarly, both the Christy Moore and Dónal Lunny tracks are
taken from Arty McGlynn and Nollaig Casey’s Causeway album, so there’s
no room here for Christy’s use of the drum to accompany his own singing or
Lunny’s playing with any of his own bands. Astonishingly too, there’s nothing
here from Ray Gallen, Junior Davey or Mel Mercier.
In terms of value, this is pretty poor
too. The first disc in this collection is only 42 minutes long while the second
is a spare 33 minutes (more than seven of which are provided by Whirly Reel
1). In other words, there is simply no reason for this to be a double album
since the contents could easily have fitted onto one disc. At whom the album is
aimed is uncertain since one has to be pretty knowledgeable about bodhrán
techniques to comprehend the stylistic differences between the players (much of
which is also obscured by studio enhancements).
‘Definitive’ it may not be, but
definitely one to avoid and a massive missed opportunity to boot.
This is a previously unpublished review
by Geoff Wallis.