Lúnasa have never been apologists for trad's purist lobby: they are on a mission to let their fiery rhythms drive the music into the 21st century, writes Siobhán Long
Time was when driving basslines and intricate guitar arrangements were the stuff of rock'n'roll, and maybe of jazz too - but the pulse of traditional music? Surely that lay with the pipes, box, fiddle and flute? Such primal energies were alien to our own music: the melody reigned supreme, and for many listeners and lovers of the music, still does. But a quintet of musicians has been stealthily melding traditional melodies with some fiery rhythms, balancing the loftier pitches of flute and fiddle with sounds that re-root the music to a place where hips have little choice but to swivel in response.
Lúnasa have never been apologists for trad's purist lobby. Threaded throughout their intensely eclectic repertoire, gathered studiously over six albums in nine years, is a spirit of adventure that's lured their audiences and themselves to boreens and byways less travelled. Tunes from Asturias sidle up alongside Klezmer oddities and Sligo stalwarts, while Sliabh Luachra borrowings engage in vigorous debate with Scottish melodies, and all of them jostle for space alongside a slew of original tunes.
Lúnasa are traditional music's equivalent to an inventive book publisher: giving vent to nascent writers or countless composers' original tunes, and in the process, hauling the music of our past kicking and screaming (with pleasure) into the 21 century.
Sé, Lúnasa's sixth album, bristles with inventive arrangements and bold interlopers. Writers who contribute tunes to the melee range from the band's own piper Cillian Vallely and flute player Kevin Crawford to Alan Kelly, Máire Breatnach, Maurice Lennon, Javier Tejedor, Diarmuid Moynihan and Emer Mayock.
Before even dreaming of stepping into a recording studio, the band engages in musical reconnaissance missions with military precision. In the world of Lúnasa, tunes are "prepped" with surgical precision. Lists are collated: jigs, reels, hornpipes; slow tunes, fast tunes; tunes for whistles, fiddles, pipes. It's a Chinese puzzle that the band revels in solving through a lengthy process of culling and rehearsal.
KEVIN CRAWFORD AND Cillian Vallely are the pair in the band who willingly set their instruments aside in the pursuit of perfect tune pairings. They are Lúnasa's hunter-gatherers, and Crawford relishes the challenge it poses for him personally, and for the entire band. After all, life's richer moments are usually to be found in the chase, and not in the kill.
"It's something we're very passionate about: listening to music," says Crawford. "We go to great lengths to come up with material that might not previously have been exploited."
Part of that "exploitation" is about the search for music that fits with the band's well-established identity. Lúnasa don't consort with any old tune; their dance card might be full, but it's laden with suitors chosen with the attention to detail worthy of a steely governess hell-bent on ensuring that her charges don't waste (not so) youthful charm on any old interloper, but instead retain them for one worthy of their attentions.
"At this stage, it's about what might make a good 'Lúnasa-type tune'", Crawford continues, ever the loquacious frontman with the eye for detail. "There are lots of great tunes out there, but they mightn't be the right tunes for the band. Trevor [Hutchinson, the band's double bassist] and Paul [Meehan, their newly-minted guitarist] needed to make an equal contribution to the set, and over the years, I've developed my ear to pick out the tunes that suit us better. In the past we might have come up with a list of 100-odd tunes, and when you break it down, you only have a final list of maybe 20 tunes for an album. These days, we find that more tunes get approved, because we've a better idea of what will work for the band, and what won't. It's not a matter of whether it's a new or an old tune, but whether it's good and whether it works."
THERE WAS A time when Lúnasa were damned if they did, and damned if they didn't: include newly-composed tunes, that is. For every listener whose ears pricked up at the whisper of a new tune, there were others who couldn't understand why the band had to sup from any well other than that which overflowed with tunes from the past. Opting to include newly-composed tunes wasn't an act of defiance, but one that was and is as essential to the band's creative health, as oxygen is to their lungs.
"A tune can be great in its own right," double bassist and producer Trevor Hutchinson offers, "but it needs to be something that you can get your teeth into, harmonically or rhythmically, or both. Then you can start to colour it in a way that's 'our' sound or 'our' direction. I think a lot of it's down to how you feel. You play to your heart: that's what we've done from the outset. To do it any other way would involve thinking - and that was abandoned a long time ago!"
Hutchinson is adamant that their quest to "keep it fresh" is crucial to their longevity. "It's important to not get bored with the music," he suggests, putting his finger on the factor that's at the greatest risk of being ignored by young musicians after they've had their first taste of success. If it ain't broke, why fix it? is not a motto to which the band subscribes, regardless of how manic their live gigs get.
"It's very easy to get into a cul de sac where the music gets either cliched or too experimental for its own sake. I think as long as you feel good about what you're doing, you're on the right track. Once it gets forced, we usually abandon it, because it's too much like hard work, and it's obviously not the way to go."
Lúnasa's newest member, guitarist Paul Meehan, was faced with a formidable task, to occupy the space left vacant by Donagh Hennessy's departure. It wasn't a role Meehan stepped into lightly. Few would want to embark on a journey with the echoes of "follow that" still ringing.
"I just saw it as another challenge", Meehan offers, comparing the experience with his previous roles with Karan Casey's band and with North Cregg. "But I've always seen myself as a tune player. That's what I feel comfortable with."
Meehan is a Mancunian who later moved to Armagh. Crawford is a Brummie who settled in Clare. Hutchinson is from Tyrone, Vallely is also from Armagh and Seán Smyth is from Mayo. Kevin Crawford reckons that the band's eclectic backgrounds go no small way towards infusing their veins with an urge for crossing boundaries.
"This mix of ingredients has always been key to our identity, he says. "We were always into a wide spectrum of musical styles. We were never surrounded by just one regional style, and we've always been drawn to 'other' music. It's something we've never shied away from, and it's crucial to what we do, and what we play."
• Sé is released on March 17th on Compass Records. www.lunasa.ie www.compassrecords.com