Traditional/Roots

Damp In The Attic: "I was . . . flying it" (Thornin)

There's an extremely lively kick off this session-weathered Co Clare outfit, with the essential melodic chemistry arising from the interplay of P.J. King's solid, nimble-fingered accordion and the flexible stabs and blue-grassy harmonies of Martin Murray's fiddle and viola. Accompaniment is provided by singer and guitar/bouzouki man, Cyril O'Donoghue, with the session gallop further spurred along by the earthy tattoo of bodhranist Colm Murphy. O'Donoghue chips in with the odd moody song - ballads of love, Williamite massacres and the American Civil War - but you can nearly smell the Guinness and chowder as the endless, good-humoured session takes over again, careering relentlessly from one tune into another with no rest at all for the wicked.

By Mic Moroney

Lucinda Williams: "Ramblin' " (Smithsonian Folkways); "Happy Woman Blues" (Smithsonian Folkways)

Last year, Lucinda Williams released Car Wheels On A Gravel Road to a rapturous reception. But Ms Williams is no overnight star. In 1978 she recorded her first album, Ramblin', a collection of mostly acoustic blues. Already her vibrato-filled vocals had that trailer park authenticity, and the simple arrangements underlined her fresh-faced commitment. Two years later she recorded Happy Woman Blues, in which, as John Morthland observes in the sleeve notes, she began to make the traditional sound more contemporary and the contemporary sound more traditional. Her voice was sharper and more world-weary and she blended genres like cajun, country and blues with ease. These reissues offer a fascinating glimpse of a remarkable singer-songwriter.

By Joe Breen

Various artists: "Cois Mara Thoir sa Rinn" (Independent)

Recorded live in St Nicholas' Church in Ring, Co Waterford, the priestly echoes of the fear an ti would put you in mind of an early-morning Aifreann. In fact this is a long evening's concert of showpieces performed by locals of all ages, members of Danu, Liam Clancy, Mac Dara Mac Donncha (tearing away on the whistle), the local choir on Deus Meus, and singer Aine Ui Cheallaigh, whose rich powerful voice sounds a bit nervy, but shakes peculiar sorrow from the ould love song Donal Og. Songs dominate, and while there is a range of instruments (pipes, flutes, whistles, accordions, concertinas, piano) and indeed quality, there are rough gems in here, and a great warmth to it all.

By Mic Moroney