Gleann Nimhe – The Poison Glen

The Poison Glen lies under the shadow of the iconic Mount Errigal, Ireland's answer to Mount Fuji. It's not far from Lough Altan, which of course supplied the Donegal traditional band with its name. That being said, parts of The Poison Glen (the band's first studio album since 2005's Local Ground) exude a cosiness that does not reflect the ruggedness of the Donegal landscape. Indeed, the often lush-sounding song arrangements and the delivery of singer Mairéad Ní Mhaonaigh, especially on ‘The Blackest Crow’ and An Ghealog, are reminiscent of Altan's near neighbours Clannad (some of whose members were taught music by Mairéad's father). To add to this mellow signature, some of the instrumental sets – such as the one kicked off by the reel ‘The New Rigged Ship, a thoroughly understated ‘The Wheels of the World, and an almost benign ‘Tommy Potts’ Slip Jig’ – reveal a band relying upon beguiling enticements rather than the full flown passion of youth.

Indeed, those familiar with the driving fiddle style of Donegal (and, in particular, Altan's twin attack of Mairéad and Ciarán Tourish, supported by Dermot Byrne's ever lively button-accordion) will find The Poison Glen the least energised Altan album to date. Altan's standards of musicianship and singing remain firmly planted at the top of Ireland's traditional tree but The Poison Glen is a loyal and affectionate collie of an album rather than the excited young puppy of yore.