Kate and Anna McGarrigle

FROM THE same label that brought us the recent Richard Thompson three CD compilation, 'Watching the Dark', come these classic albums from two Canadian sisters whose work cannot be conveniently pigeon-holed. A distinctive way with words, an idiosyncratic style of musical accompaniment, rich harmonies - looking back to that early seventies period, it seems now that nobody else sounded like them.

They are still together - at least some of the time - and recently played a memorable gig at Midnight at the Olympia. Meanwhile, a new photograph of Kate and Anna added to the inner sleeve of their eponymously titled 1976 album inclines one to make somewhat heartless comparison with the two young carefree women depicted in different poses, front and back of the sleeve. Yes, they have raised a kid or two, time has etched its lines, and applied the grey they are women who have seen a bit, and they ain't scared to show it. The wonderful, expressive faces speak volumes.

So do the tales of love lost and love held on to - bittersweet feelings nailed down into verses of a pure, poetic English, often stark in its simplicity. They could create seductive metaphors for love, in beguiling songs such as "Jigsaw Puzzle of Life" or "Dancer With Bruised Knees" itself - an unforced metaphor consistently drawn throughout the song, a rare gift indeed.

The variety of styles was bravely and quietly essayed on the eponymous album, where they took Loudon Wainwright's 'Swimming Song' and made it their own. 'Blues in D' was pure Bessie Smith though one of Kate's, while the same album included 'Travellin on For Jesus', a Bahamas folk song. Meanwhile, the infectiously offbeat 'Complainte Pour Ste. Catherine' was written in relatively easy French. On Dancer with Bruised Knees, they went even further with French songs, adapting the old and fascinating ballad 'Blanche Comme La Neige'.

Perhaps their best known and saddest song was 'Heart Like A Wheel', again extending a sublimely apt metaphor to observe "You can bend it, but you can't mend it". It must be conceded that Dolores Keane got far more pathos out of the song with her crystalline version - the sisters had a tendency to be a little fancy and over lavish with the harmonies, when a single voice would have worked much better. 'Tell My Sister', for instance, (also on the first of these albums) should have been sung in one voice only.

Of the two re-issues, the eponymous debut is the album that's easiest to deal with. 'Dancer' has to be grappled with because of the ethnic, French preponderance, and is at times, an acquired taste, with much acapella singing employed. (One thinks of Daniel Lanois who inherited the same bi-lingual legacy.)

But, without question, the second album proves worthwhile on repeated listenings, and both albums are a must for those who are interested in the craft of top quality song-writing.

* Paddy Kehoe