Liam Ó Maonlaí
Rian
Rian Records
KRCD301; 45 minutes; 2006
Rian is the Irish word
for ‘mark’, ‘stamp’ or ‘trace’, though Smearadh (‘smudge’) might be a
more suitable title for this debut solo album by the erstwhile Hothouse Flowers
singer, so indistinct appear his musical intentions. ‘The voice channels the
spirit of the entire system – land, wind, fire and water, heaven and earth,’ he
declares on the album’s case rear, an artefact blessed with Liam’s own
paintings (which even Don Van Vliet might regard as rather too primitive) and
scrawled New Age waffle, adding ‘it is so important to listen, again and again
and again and again and sing’.
From the evidence of Rian, Liam’s own listening habits
encompass sean-nós songs, Gregorian chants and probably anything which
might be billed as minimalist, turning the album into a tedious slurry of trite
drone-replete arrangements, exemplified by the instrumental Seoladh na
Gamhna. Even when he does unleash his undoubted vocal flair on one of the
‘big’ songs of the sean-nós tradition, he emasculates Na Connerys
by omitting one of its four verses. This is then followed by a clumsily played
set of reels on the whistle hammered into oblivion by the arrival of Justin
Adams’ very inapposite ngoni.
Unquestionably, there’s a strong talent lurking
somewhere on Rian, but one that requires far more restraint and
guidance.
This review by Geoff Wallis originally appeared in Songlines magazine – www.songlines.co.uk.