THE album is landing the jammed Ionad Cois Locha on Monday and Tuesday night, they started playing, the new material. Mairead Ni Mhaonaigh's version of A Stor, A Stor, A Ghra had lightness and clarity, but lacked power; the group's rendition of the wonderful sean nos song, Taim I Mo Shui is likely to be one of their classics, however.

More often heard unaccompanied, and sung by a man, Mark Kelly's gentle guitar and Ciaran Tourish's occasional ghostly tin whistle exploited the minor key of the song, and added to the power of Ni Mhaonaigh's clear, controlled, precisely pitched voice. It is exciting to think that this, one of the greatest songs of lost love in a language coming down with them, will now be listened to by a whole new generation.

The heat played havoc with the instruments tuning, and the informality excused repeated lyrics and moments of uncertainty. But the atmosphere also fired the group to play sets of reels such as Tommy Peoples/ The Windmill/ Fintan Mc Mantis's with such wild, frenzied abandon that one imagined Lugh the sun god, after whom the valley is named, might rise up behind them like King Kong. The image of Tourish and Ni Mhaonaigh stabbing their strings with their bows to the whoops of the audience will last long in the memory.

Apart from guests such as Sharon Shannon and Steve Cooney, Ni Mhaonaigh's father Francie Mooney took his place among the fiddlers, and the sense of tradition being passed between generations was strangely moving. There was also the attraction of Ni Mhaonaigh's sister, Anna, on Ceol a Phiohaire. As well as the new material, the group went back nearly 10 years to songs recorded on Altan, which added to the sense of home coming in the evening . . . Ni Mhaonaigh's clarity of tone was breathtaking on Ta mo Chleamhnas A Dheanamh and Citi na gCumann.