The Long Black Veil

The Chieftains (plus Special Guests): ‘The Long Black Veil” (BMG)

A relatively subjective note to begin with. I, personally, have been waiting for this album for more two years. First, because I sat in on the Los Angeles sessions that led to the Chieftains/Tom Jones cut ‘Tennessee Waltz’, which was recorded in the presence of a clearly fast-fading Frank Zappa, who has, of course, since died. Secondly, because it was at that session that Jones pointed out to me that Elvis’ ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ is based on an Irish slip jig – a link that was originally noted by Sean Keane for his arrangement of the latter plus ‘The Cliffs of Moher Jig’ on the Chieftains magnificent, Grammy-Award winning album Another Country. So, was the wait worth it? In some ways, it was. In others, not at all.

To begin with, it might have been better to have let the album end on it’s penultimate track, the aforementioned ‘Tennessee Waltz’ with Tom Jones sounding as comfortable to be back in his original Celtic setting as he said he was while recording the song. He does tend to over-sing just a shade, rather than caressing the lines of the song, but it’s still a powerful performance.

Happily, no musical incongruities of any kind arise in relation to Marianne Faithfull or Mark Knopfler, who deliver totally authentic readings of ‘Love Is Teasin’ and ‘The Lily of The West’, respectively. Even more resonant are Sinéad O’Connor’s contributions – she imbues both ‘The Foggy Dew’ and ‘He Moved Through The Fair’ with the kind of poetic tensions that define her own nature. And Ry Cooder’s ‘Coast Of Malabar’ and the instrumental ‘Dunmore Lassies’ are quite magnificent, a measure of Cooder’s eloquence and empathy as a musician as much as that of The Chieftains themselves. Meanwhile, Van’s latest reading of ‘Have I Told You Lately’, though highlighting the singer’s undeniable Celtic base, is probably one recording too many of a song that was undermined to some extent by the Rod Stewart version. But there are bigger disappointments elsewhere.

The opening track sums up the problem with “special guests” concept albums such as Long Black Veil. If music matters more than potential profit margins or deferential gestures towards “stars”, then musicians should surely be chosen for their suitability rather than for their names. Despite the brave efforts of the Chieftains, Sting opens the album singing ‘Mo Ghile Mear’ as though he neither knows what he’s singing about, nor cares. It’s all highly stylised bluff and bluster, signifying nothing.

Likewise, Jagger’s reading of ‘Long Black Veil’ pales in the shadow of Nick Cave’s interpretation which superbly caught the gothic elements of the song without apparently even attempting to. And it’s still difficult to believe Jagger when he adopts that ‘Wild Horses’ country voice. The Stones themselves also turn this album’s closing song, ‘The Rocky Road To Dublin’, into a stoned, rambling musical indulgence. Obviously designed to emulate the jam that closed Another Country, it fails on every level.

In contrast, the most authentic moments of all on this album are those when The Chieftains are allowed to play by themselves, as in ‘Ferny Hill’, or where they perform an original song like Kevin Conneff’s ‘Changing Your Demeanour’. Maybe they should draw back a little from all these ‘special guest’ albums and return to doing what they do best – performing as one of Ireland’s most respected musical ensembles. One would hate the Chieftains to go down in history as backing band to a bunch of country or rock stars. Paddy Moloney, take note.

• Joe Jackson.