THE HAAR 
AT THE BARRIER REVIEW HERE

Like the cold sea fog from which they take their name, The Haar offer a more portentous and bleaker alternative to what many folk would regard to be a customary array of songs from the tradition. When the songs off the set list see the likes of The Wild Rover, Whiskey In The Jar, She Moved Through The Fair and Wild Mountain Thyme…there may be a sense of inevitability. But having lulled the listener into a sense of false security…wham…The Haar dismantle and rout the tunes within an inch of their lives to leave us battered, beaten and bruised. And astonished.

They’re up for the game immediately. Their usual set tour de force, Willie Taylor, gets promoted to second in. A sign that they mean business. And what business it is.

When they finish She Moved Through The Fair, which to be fair, they own, an ATB colleague commented how in the many times the songs has been performed at the festival, that was the best. And he’s been to every one. Which could also be said for the rest of the set that showcased some dazzling musicianship from the Grainger/Summerhayes Ciderhouse Rebellion duo and the genius and peerless bodhran of the ever affable Cormac Byrne. When he hits some of those cracks….gunshot or what? And he then calls out “the star of the show” for singer Molly Donnery. Their show? The whole show? Who’d argue?

SUBLIME MUSICIANSHIP

That musicianship, with Adam Summerhayes rivalling Richard Thompson for most notes played at the festival joined by the (could it be more black) accordion from Murray Grainger is the basis form quite some powerhouse. The men-in-black trio get heir moment in the spotlight as they take on some tunes and Cormac leads the audience participation “whoop” with a count-in, in Irish – no excuses though – “you’ll know when it’s three because it’s three words!”

“Time to kill the mood,” says Molly as she returns for a sublime The Galway Shawl. Evidence that they’re equally adept at the aching ballads and musical subtlety, where Molly heads into the ethereal in her flowing cloak, doing the folk equivalent of Robert Plant squeezing his lemon. But she’s not just about transcendent emotion. Deep down there’s a darkness lurking that manifests as she prowls and leans and we try to follow Murray’s simple encouragement to “you know this, join in,” for Wild Mountain Thyme.

In turn, The Wild Rover gets subverted into a mini melodrama. Murray blows into something that from a distance could be an olde typewriter and the raucous and jolly drinking arrangement that we know (and some love) becomes a shadowy cautionary tale. In the same way, their Whiskey In The Jar is equally intense, as Molly again partners the deep voiced temptress with the wild abandoned siren. The traditional core taken on new adventures. Stunning.

Photo by Natalie Shaw