Deirdre Scanlon: Speak Softly (Independent)
Few of the new sean nos albums I heard recently are as unassumingly personable as this Nenagh-born singer's CD. It's hard to tie her to a region, with her disciplined modern ear, nice expressive timing, heart-tugging ornament and a sweet, full girlish voice. She sings mostly a cappella, apart from a Ni Dhomhnaill-esque clavinet on Siuil a Ruin. Many songs are old faves ata i mbeal an phobail, but three are originals: From the Grave, a choking funereal lament from a dead woman and child; The Great Atlantic, an emigration song which, er, adds little to the tradition; and her contemporary country-folkish Dun- blane, about that inexplicable child massacre. A teacher herself, she's quietly impressive, and no strain at all on the ear.
Mic Moroney
The Indulgers: In Like Flynn (Celtic Club Records)
I still can't help a cheesy grin at the gently Poguesy title ballad here (You're out, then in, you're out, then you're in like Flynn) about some true-born Irish yob who has outstayed his visitor's visa in Yankeeland. The five-piece band, who seem to have dropped anchor in Denver, have a taut but unsubtle 1970s rock structure, prosecuting heartful "rock-fusion" ballads with a good green-lefty, anti-corporate, anti-war ideology, with the odd sideways tune from fiddler Renee Fine trying to navigate the manful 1-2-1-2 drum section. Heavily tinged with the Waterboys, Lizzy, later over-ripe Horslips and even U2, it wouldn't be my instant choice of wallpaper, but you'd never know the day you might be tapping your foot in an Irish ghetto somewhere, with no power over either the world or the jukebox.
Mic Moroney