Catrin Finch and Aoife Ní Bhriain. Lakeside, Nottingham. 02 October 2024, 4✩✩✩✩. Review: William Ruff.

“Welsh harp and Irish fiddle conjure myth and magic.”

When the Welsh harp of Catrin Finch meets the Irish fiddle of Aoife Ní Bhriain, you don’t expect their show to start with the music of J.S. Bach – the Prelude from his 3rd solo Violin Partita in an arrangement for the two instruments which sparkles like a multi-faceted jewel.  Bach returned later in the evening, as did the music of another 18th century composer, Locatelli.  And their presence in what you might have supposed would be an evening of folk/world/new age music was just one of the surprises that Catrin and Aoife had to offer.

Their musical relationship has evolved rapidly.  They first met online during the Covid pandemic and knew from the get-go that they shared the same vision.  Their first album together is called Double You, as ingenious a title as I have come across for some time: twin artistic personalities, sharing so much in terms of taste, experience and their approach to what life has to offer, both good and bad.  If you look at the album’s track listing, you’ll be struck that all the titles begin with W, the kind of linguistic pun which the pair find irresistible. 

This album was the bedrock upon which their concert is based: Wander, Whispers, Waves were all part of the journey and the letter W was also relevant to another prominent theme.  The busyness and creativity of bees were also part of the mix, as well as being links in the chain connecting Ireland to Wales.  Did you know that St Aiden was responsible for bringing bees from Wales to Ireland?  No, me neither – but the legend was just another of the evening’s surprises.  And bees also had their own W: the waggle dance through which they communicate sources of the best nectar.

Both musicians are classically trained virtuosos on their instruments.  Just in case there was anyone in the audience not already an expert on the seven-pedal concert harp (with all its electronic gizmos) Catrin was happy to supply a guided tour, treating listeners to some wonderful glissandos (“that’s how we pay the mortgage”) along the way.  Oh, and harpists also make wonderful drivers: if you can cope with seven pedals, a car is a doddle.  Aoife did the same with one of her three instruments, the Hardanger fiddle.  Its nine strings can’t compete with the harp’s forty-seven but their range of sounds is as rich as it is unfamiliar.

At the heart of their Lakeside recital was music which inhabited a still centre, of hypnotically repeated phrases around and above which the instruments wove gentle variations.  In doing so, they demonstrated just what the two instruments can do, especially when enhanced by an impressive range of technology.  The violin soared to stratospheric heights (often with eerie harmonics) underlined by the harp’s rich lower register.  The distinction between bowed violin and plucked harp was often blurred, as the two instruments encroached on each other’s territory.  They played mash-ups of Welsh and Irish folk music, jigs melding with laments.  They evoked worlds of ancient heroism, of mythic fantasy and states of mind where time stands still and where stress is dissolved by gently pulsating rhythms created by two musical personalities in harmony. 

Some listeners may prefer to sip such music in short, intense bursts.  However, for many in Lakeside’s audience Catrin Finch and Aoife Ní Bhriain could have played all night – and they would still have wanted more.

Catrin Finch (harp) and Aoife Ní Bhriain (violins)