Album Review: Huartan, Huartan

Excitement had been building about Huartan’s debut album for some time. The Belfast-based tradtronica group – winners of Amhrán na Laoch, the Irish language songwriting organised by Hot Press and the IBI as part of Irish Music Month, among other notable awards – already boast a formidable following.

Their award-winning streak aside, their startling rise is thanks to the band's utterly unique live performances (think: the visual immersion of Fever Ray, mixed with pagan Irish iconography and a laser-focused political bent).

Their reputation – both within the industry and among fans – has been built via word-of-mouth, often before people have experienced the music. This, of course, can be dangerous for emerging artists. But the very good news is that Huartan’s debut album more than delivers on their promise.

The 10 tracks – which are drawn from traditional Irish songs – are exquisitely produced and throb with menace, possibility and energy. All of this is suggested immediately on the album’s short intro – a clever opening gambit – before it breaks into ‘Cailleach’, whose synths and percussive elements give it a propulsive trad-meets-trip-hop feel.

The album seems to build and build from there, in a way that is both daunting and impressive. There’s a smouldering darkness to ‘Cad é Sin’ – their most recent single – and a blistering version of ‘Bean Udaí Thall', the end of which explodes into a glorious wall of sound and melody.

Next up, ‘NTRIBAL’ – featuring Beoga’s Seán Óg Graham – shows just how far they’re willing to break the strictures of ‘Irish trad’ to create a new sound and musical direction. This is a moving song, in both senses – it strikes an emotional chord as it skips from ambient and thumping dance to earnest strings and flighty woodwind.

You can tell they’ve allowed the live shows to shape the music on this album; there’s a conviction to the material that could only come from experience. They know when to stretch the songs out and when to rein them in. For sure, the spoken word section on the six-minute ‘Dorn San Aer’ could’ve sounded like hammy proselytising if mishandled; instead, it sounds like the most urgent thing you’ve ever listened to. This is indeed powerful stuff.

Similarly, ‘Dúlamán’ is kept tight, with an industrial sound and earworm refrain that seems destined to be mixed and sampled by others. All told, Huartan is a bold and exciting statement of intent from one of Ireland's brightest new outfits. And that's saying something, in a scene that is currently overflowing with fresh, exciting, original talent.

9/10

You can pre-order Huartan on vinyl here.