EIF Review: Scottish Ensemble & Brìghde Chaimbeul

We were being led into a nightmare. Kept in the holding pen until the time came to enter the dimly lit hall. Glimmering wall sconces were about all the light we were allowed, and we struggled to find our way. Amid muttering and whispered complaints, what had once been a sanctuary soon became full of bodies, unsure what was going on and what might happen next. The moon shone on gently rippling water – unsettling, not calming. And then the doors were closed, and we were captive.

Editor’s Note: no star rating on this one, but Sass’s avant-garde account of her experience was too fascinating not to publish!

A ghost story ensued about a tailor who braved an allegedly haunted church, from which no one had returned alive if they dared go in after dark. Was this to be our fate? As the tailor persisted in staying and sewing a pair of trousers, the monster appeared and grew and grew, while all the while the tailor confirmed that he could see the monster but was going to continue with his sewing all the same. Was it a coincidence that the man next to me spilt the contents of his bag – containing his sewing kit?

Below the moonlit scene, dark figures appeared and stood in formation in front of us. Dressed in long black robes – kilts perhaps – they wielded weapons. But no, out of the gloom, weird sounds began to emerge. Like the incessant drip-drip-drip of water that might drive you mad, the gradual crescendo of one note on string instruments – violin, viola, cello, double bass – played the same notes over and over again. Just when I felt I could take it no longer, the high priestess joined her acolytes and the drone of her pipes joined the scraping of the bows that had never ceased.

At last the torture was over, and some of my fellow prisoners were so grateful they clapped and cheered. Sweet relief. But no, there was more. An accomplice with the unlikely name of Glass was venerated by a rendition of a piece that I can only think was the inspiration for the hour we’d just endured. Another version of the same disturbing cacophony.

Whatever the initial intentions of our captors – to warn us not to enter the church at night or we’d witness unspeakable horrors and would be unlikely to get out alive – they relented, opened the doors and released us into the moonlit streets of Edinburgh. Sweet relief.

From Gothic Nightmare to Avant-Garde Reality

Not a ghost story, but for me a nightmare. Torture to my overly sensitive ears. I’d so looked forward to this concert – for that’s how it was billed. And indeed it was a concert: ‘Celtic music trailblazer Brìghde Chaimbeul joins Scottish Ensemble for ambitious new collaboration and tour’ as described in the press release. I should have known that ‘ambitious’ could mean different things to different people.

“At last the torture was over, and some of my fellow prisoners were so grateful they clapped and cheered. Sweet relief. But no, there was more.“

Full disclosure – in case you hadn’t guessed – I did not enjoy this at all. BUT that doesn’t make it a bad concert. My ears – and head – just couldn’t cope with the insistent drone of Chaimbeul’s composition. There was plenty of cheering and clapping going on as I fled the Queen’s Hall. I’m up for new things any time – I discovered I like jazz piano by pushing myself beyond my comfort zone. I hadn’t expected to be challenged this evening, but the responsibility is mine. I’m a sucker for Gaelic music generally, but maybe the lesson for me here is not to be stuck in the past and its nostalgia.

And would I recommend it? Personally – no, but if you’re up for something a bit avant-garde and different, maybe you’d love it.