A fabulous night of international folk jazz, and an intense hour of Shetland storytelling.
For both
📍 Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh (Come all Ye)
📍 Scottish Storytelling Centre, Edinburgh (Hillsook Weddeen)
📅 02 May, 03 May 2022
🕖 8.30pm, 7:30pm
🕖 Running time (approx.): 2 hours, 1 hour
👥 Come all Ye featured: Phil Alexander, Clare Robertson, Adnan Shamdin, Hardeep Deerhe, Brina Ward, Fong Liu, Yani Lang, Mario Caribé
👥 Hillsook Weddeen performed by: Marjolein Robertson
💰 Come all Ye from £12, Hillsook Weddeen £8
🎂 Family Friendly
Come all Ye, specially commissioned by Tradfest for this year’s festival, was envisioned as a new work from Moishe’s Bagel’s Phil Alexander, the result, in the words of the man himself is “a collaboration.” A heart-felt celebration of immigrant contributions to Scottish musical culture, the result is a programme of song, and instrumental numbers best described as international folk jazz. Not every, in fact most
Not every offering was named, in fact most weren’t, but the truth of the matter is that most would qualify as highlights of the evening. As might expect from a band made from professional, and semi-professional masters of their respective arts, there was no lack of skill on show, but the organic fusion of their disciplines was something to behold.
Artists included Scots-African Clare Robertson (Mbira and voice), Syrian Kurdish Adnan Shamdin (Oud), Hardeep Deerhe (Tabla), Jamaican Brina Ward (Voice), Chinese Fong Liu (Voice), Hungarian Yani Lang (Voice), Brazilian Mario Caribé (Bass), and Jewish descended Alexander himself on piano, and accordion. Each brought their traditions with them, freely blending with one another with alchemical effect.
Time and again the audience was whisked away on a musical tide, some material grounded in established tradition, from the lilting Afro Cuban chant of “Yemaya Asesu”, to a haunting new setting of Rabbie Burn’s “The Slave’s Lament”; some entirely novel. In each case the melodic, instrumental, and percussive traditions of this magnificently international group of artists was used to paint a vibrant, novel soundscape.
When they really let loose, driven by the twin engines of Deerhe’s versatil, expressive percussion, and Caribé’s Double Bass, this blended orchestra created a memorably joyous atmosphere. The evening’s three vocalists, Robertson, Ward, and Fong were individually tremendous, but all the more remarkable when deftly intertwined in chorus. Sailing above, Lang’s fiddle, and Shamdin’s oud sparkled with melodic, and tonal grace; and Phil Alexander led by abundantly merry example on his two keyboards.
Whilst there were occasional spoken interludes to highlight the themes and history of immigration to, and integration within Scotland, it was a predominantly musical event: a powerful, melodic call for multicultural celebration, reflection, and appreciation. It was so good that the audience absolutely demanded an encore, despite the group having played all the music they’d prepared. Were they disappointed by a repeat? Not a little, in fact, they would probably have stayed for more.
A wee note: Edinburgh Youth Gaitherin’ played a 20-minute set to open the evening. The small, but mighty ensemble did themselves proud, with a rather adventurous repertoire. Given the quality of tutor made available to this admirable programme to involve those between 13 and 18, it’s truly surprising not to see more young folk involved. The calling of the night’s only interval after 20 minutes was an odd choice, and in retrospect (and for the sake of empty glasses), the main show should have played a first act, before sending the audience to recharge their chosen poisons.
The Hillsook Weddeen comes from the other main, storytelling strand of Tradfest, which if something of an afterthought in the festival’s advertising, is still well represented in programming at the Scottish Storytelling Centre. Related by comedian, storyteller and filmmaker, Marjolein Robertson, this century’s old Shetland folk tale talks of the life of islanders in an age when life was ruled by nature red in tooth and claw. Fisherfolk by necessity, given the limit of arable land for crops, Shetlanders were (and likely still are) a hardy breed, who knew the capricious dangers of the open sea, and had to find a means by which to accept the tough realities of a subsistence lifestyle.
Like all Celtic peoples, Shetlanders also have a long tradition of dealings with the little people, or the “Good neighbours”, though their mythology is distinct from the Irish, and mainland Scots not least due to Norse rule, and occupation up until the 15th century. So in place of the Sidhe/Sith, Shetlanders look to Trows, as their local mischievous spirits, diminuitive wee folk, and a distinct reflection of the monstrous Trolls patrolling Scandinavian shores.
In Da Hillsook Weddeen, these two realities, for to many of the islanders both were equally real, merge into a haunting, beautiful, and instructive tale. Not written but passed down through generations as inherited truth, the story is enacted as testimony from an eyewitness, sister to Tammy Tamminson, a young man due for the titular wedding, but whose life took some very unexpected, sometimes enchanting, and sometimes heart-breaking turns.
On one reading its a tale told by those facing relentless loss to help process their grief, and to find sense, and thus resilience. On another, it’s still strange, and heart-rending story, but one transmuted towards exultation through the intervention of supernatural beings still believed in by folks across Ireland, Scotland, and Scandinavia.
Of the tale we’ll say no more, as all stories, it being best discovered in the telling, rather than paraphrased in a review. Suffice to say it’s a stirring, warm, and emotive story, never quite going where it seems, and arriving at places both more visceral, and ephemeral than one might expect.
Robertson is simply outstanding in her role, sliding into the skin of her long-passed compatriot with the grace of a Selkie returning to the sea. Her investment in the testimony is immediately clear, both tearful despair, and bubbling joy emerging from a deep emotional connection with the story. Her translations from Scots, and Norn (a now lost Scandinavian language peculiar to Shetland and Orkney), are made deftly, and without the least disruption to the narrative. Simple lighting changes bring blizzard and shoreline to life with an admirable elegance. It’s just magic.
Should the opportunity arise to see Marjolein Robertson enact Da Hillsook Weddeen, take it immediately.
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