Celtic Connections Festival @ Glasgow and Edinburgh

The annual Celtic Connections festival is sadly under-profiled in Ireland, especially when it can attract knock-out performances from the likes of Roddy Frame. The former Aztec Cameraman performed at Edinburgh’s magnificent Old Fruitmarket to an adoring sell-out crowd, captivating them with his bared soul and his acoustic guitars on which he flitted effortlessly from touches of Spanish to hoedown to the jingle-jangle of McGuinn to fingerstyle. Indeed, any artist who can start a song and then, as the East Kilbride man did, abort it after a few bars on the basis that he doesn’t really feel like doing it, brings a level of honesty to a performance that is rather rare.
Those who only know the hits weren’t disappointed, with ‘Killermont Street’, ‘Somewhere In My Heart’ and ‘Oblivious’ sounding airier than ever. ‘Black Lucia’ is a fine slab of Beatlish Britfolk, and songs like ‘Turning The World Around’, ‘Crossing Newberry Street’, the folksy ‘Over You’ and ‘Dry Land’ blended delicate pop-rock with Frame’s sturdy lyrical prowess. He upped the ante for ‘Bigger Brighter Better’ and even silenced a couple of rowdies with ‘Stray’.
Frame is still very much on top of his game and still in touch with his roots, as he displayed through a catalogue of elements reminiscent of Velvet Underground, The Byrds, Bowie, a touch of Paul Simon songsmithery and the occasional curmudgeonry of Mark E Smith. He even threw in a Dylan couplet apropos of nothing really. He will have a fresh solo album out soon, but as for the rumoured AC reunion – on this solo outing, who needs it?
On the way through Glasgow I called in on My Latest Novel at a packed Garage. They’ve been billed as bohemian harbingers of breezy folk melodies and pop theatrics, but I actually found them to be two distinct bands bookending the dodgy middle section of their set when they went all stodgy on me.
On the go for a mere 18 months, the Greenock band opened with an eccentric and exploratory mix of guitars, drums, violin, xylophone and vocals. They look like humourless lab technicians on their night off, and their determination not to be seen to be trying too hard can stumble them into tweeness. The initial songs were attractively slow and languid, underpinned by soundscapes built from unpredictable chord changes, delicate melodies, occasional discordance and provocative arrangements that allowed their violinist to venture into realms unknown. At times they sounded like a jigsaw with too many pieces, but no less loveable for that, until they went into an item that contained a lumpen waltztime section and a vocalist incomprehensibly babbling some spoken word guff. The glockenspiel in the next tune suggested they might be running out of ideas.
But lo, as soon as my back’s turned they morph into a stonking good amalgam of Lindisfarne, The Waterboys and The Proclaimers, and end the night in declamatory and celebratory mood with two great tunes, one called ‘When We Were Wolves’. My Latest Novel have a fresh and adventurous attitude, but a few more conventionally-structured songs might help show that off to better effect. But they sure are worth checking out of the library. And let’s also hope that the Celtic Connections event makes more of a mark on the Irish consciousness in the coming years, because it deserves to.