It’s been a quiet few months at Folk & Tumble as real life conspires, as it does from time to time, to keep us from writing as much as we’d like. There’s been a glut of new records and the calibre of shows taking place hasn’t waned so we feel duty bound to bring you up to date. There’s no better place to kick-start an appreciation of all things folk than in Belfast’s Real Music Club with the percussive guitar and witty take on the folk writing tradition of Milwaukee’s Peter Mulvey.
Mulvey’s a seasoned pro, having honed his trade in Dublin city and on the Boston subway amongst other places but The Errigle Inn is a friendlier crowd enrapt from the first chords. Support tonight has been from Kate O’Callaghan and Seamus Devenny, Donegal natives with stunning vocals and deft guitar and violin interplay; the type of act who’d be right at home beside a crackling fireplace in your local pub or gracing a much bigger stage at the next big folk festival.
There’s a warm ripple of applause as Mulvey takes centre stage and opens up with a double-header from his upcoming new release “Silver Ladder”. ‘You Don’t Have To Tell Me’ is a mid-tempo number setting out the stall for what looks to be not only a beautifully delivered set on the night but also an intelligently written record which we’ll get a chance to listen to from April onwards. ‘Copenhagen Airport’ by contrast is a whimsical two-liner about the stereotypical beauty of the Scandinavian lady breezing through airport lounges on their way to other lands.
Taking the urban grit of what he refers to as “the city of suicide and homicide” and the poetic outlook on life that you get through windshields that have “seen better days”, there’s an instant comparison to be made to Tom Waits. Mulvey is at his best when writing about the slightly off centre side of realism, with tales of kings and civil wars, long journeys on the ‘Road To Mallow’ and back to the seedy underworld of burlesque troupes and backroom bars.
‘Shirt’ is rewarded with the most enthusiasm and allows a more playful side of Mulvey’s writing to come through. Between songs, there’s a light-heartedness to the storytelling but the loneliness of the troubadour hundreds of miles from home is never too far away, lurking just beneath the surface and coming to the fore as the set draws nearer its end with ‘Sad and Far Away From Home’ and the sparse yet beautiful ‘Landfall Over Newfoundland’.
With the phrasing of Springsteen, the delivery of Young and the wit and rambling charm of Waits; Mulvey really ought to be playing bigger rooms to grander crowds but we’re glad to be in such close confines with good friends, good beers and a great new record to take home.