Máiréad
Nesbitt
Raining
Up
Vertical Records VRTCD001; 49
minutes; 2001
Somehow, in their collective wisdom, the
readers of Irish Music magazine contrived to vote the fiddler Máiréad
Nesbitt “Best Traditional Female”[1]
in the 2003 readers’ poll begging the question as to just how exactly they
define the word “traditional”. Anyone listening to Raining Up, her debut
album, would be hard-pressed to identify much that’s traditional about it at
all. Indeed, a sticker on the CD’s jewel case certainly gives the game away by
noting that Máiréad is “Former lead fiddle player in Michael Flatley’s ‘Lord of
the Dance’ and ‘Feet of Flames’ productions”. 
Máiréad and her two producers, Mánus Lunny
and Cólm Ó Foghlú, set out their stall from the opening track, Stephen Cooney’s
Skidoo, which first saw the light in Cooney’s days in Stockton’s Wing.
Replete with funky keyboards from Capercaillie’s Donald Shaw and droning
didjeridoo from her brother Karl, Skidoo’s fiddle pyrotechnics plant
Máiréad firmly in Eileen Ivers territory.
The majority of the album’s fourteen
tracks are recent compositions and, for the most part, continue firmly in the
same vein. There are exceptions, though the rendition of J.Scott Skinner’s air Bovaglies
Plaid is strongly redolent of Seán McGuire thanks to extravagant use of
tremolo. Still, Skinner might probably like it, though whether Liz Carroll
would feel the same about the devastation wrought upon her composition The
Butterfly which features a brass section, electric bass and drums (and
sounds exactly like something Flatley would chose for Lord of the Flames
or Feet of the Dance) is highly questionable.
This track strolls into one of those
cloying tunes much loved by the people who provide taped music for high-priced
hotels in Temple Bar, complete, on this occasion, with a string trio. Máiréad’s
own compositions on this album are the equally tedious Captain H where
Dónal Lunny is hauled in by his brother to provide bodhrán, and the blander
than bland Bluelights where composition is shared with Stephen Cooney.
The nearest this album gets to traditional
music is on the coupling of Smash the Windows and Prestons where
Máiréad is joined by two further fiddling siblings (I think), Kathleen and
Frances. Even here three fiddlers
manage to ransack a decent pair of tunes by veering towards monotony, an effect
enhanced by the reappearance of the dreaded didj.
It really is difficult to understand why
anyone might want to purchase this album – be well advised to avoid any
temptation to do so.
This is an original review by Geoff Wallis.
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