Celtic Lace by Ceoltoiri: A Timeless Tapestry of Tradition and Soul
Let’s get one thing straight—when you stumble across an album like Celtic Lace by Ceoltoiri, it’s not just music; it’s a journey. Released way back in 1969 (yeah, the same year humans were landing on the moon), this gem feels more like a warm hearth than a historical artifact. It’s Folk, World, Country, International… heck, let’s just call it “music without borders.” And trust me, once you dive into its reels and jigs, you’ll forget all about modern playlists.
The lineup of instruments is pure magic—bodhrán thumping away like a heartbeat, harp strings shimmering like sunlight on water, dulcimer notes dancing lightly as whispers. You’ve got Sue Richards on harp making your soul ache with beauty, Karen Ashbrook weaving spells with her dulcimer, and Myron Bretholz keeping things grounded with his steady bodhrán rhythms. Oh, and Dan Blum? Dude’s pulling double duty with bouzouki and guitar, adding layers that feel both ancient and fresh.
Now, I gotta talk tracks because some of these tunes burrowed right into my brain and set up camp. First off, there’s "Tullochgorum/Murdo MacKenzie Of Torriedon." This one hits different—it starts with a pulse, slow but deliberate, like someone walking through misty hills at dawn. Then the melody kicks in, bold and proud, telling stories older than time itself. By the end, you’re not just listening anymore; you’re part of the tale. I swear, every time I hear it, I picture windswept glens and forgotten clans gathering under starlit skies. Goosebumps? Absolutely.
Then there’s "Etude/Mary O’Neill," which is kinda like the opposite—a delicate little wisp of a tune that sneaks up on ya. The concertina from Wendy Morrison takes center stage here, sounding almost fragile, like glass spun from dreams. But don’t be fooled—it’s got backbone too, especially when those harmonies kick in halfway through. There’s something so intimate about this track, like overhearing a private moment between two old friends sharing secrets over tea. It sticks with you long after the last note fades.
What makes Celtic Lace stand out isn’t just the skill of the musicians or the rich tapestry of genres—it’s how alive it feels. These aren’t songs meant for passive listening; they demand your attention, your heart, maybe even your feet tapping along whether you want them to or not. Even though it came out decades ago, it doesn’t sound dated. If anything, it feels timeless, like it exists outside the usual flow of years and trends.
And here’s the kicker—listening to this album made me realize something kinda funny. In a world obsessed with chasing what’s new and shiny, sometimes the most revolutionary act is simply remembering where we came from. So if you ever find yourself needing a reminder of roots, resilience, and raw human connection, give Celtic Lace a spin. Just don’t blame me if you suddenly feel the urge to learn the fiddle or move to Ireland.
