Loreena McKennitt
Parallel Dreams

She's red-haired and Canadian, but faithful to the best Irish tradition. I'm not talking about a beer, but about Loreena McKennitt, an inspired and exceptionally refined Celtic music songwriter raised across the ocean, although her name leaves no doubt about her family's origins. At a certain point in her life, she felt the need to retrace the journey of her ancestors in reverse, seeking in the lands of the Celts those archaic and profound sounds, those echoes that can only be heard in ancient churches or monasteries, to appropriate (or rather, reappropriate) all of that, which along with her love for Irish poets, was always in her DNA. After honing her skills with two evocative albums based almost entirely on traditional songs, with this enchanting "Parallel Dreams" she has also established herself as a composer, in addition to confirming her uncommon vocal abilities.

At this point the comparison with Enya becomes inevitable: both have cultured musical foundations, meticulously craft their sound, have exceptional voices, and finally, both have managed to carve out a niche by selling millions of records in a market that normally doesn't reward quality. So, is Loreena a clone of Enya? Or vice versa? Let's slow down and start with the voice: Loreena's range is that of a soprano shattering crystal, sharper and more "earthly" than Enya's velvety angelic voice. Musically, even if it seems paradoxical, the Canadian is more faithful to tradition compared to her Irish cousin: Loreena often accompanies herself with the harp, and her musicians generally play acoustic instruments, while Enya offers a mix of old and modern in which electronics play a fundamental role.

The parallel dreams of this fascinating album unfold predominantly in the past: they are stories of eternal love, capable of lasting beyond death ("Annachie Gordon", the only traditional song), they are bucolic scenes, nights with clouds playing with the moon ("Moon Cradle") or more Gothic scenes, darker nights complete with the classic hoot of an owl ("Samain Night"). But dreams can also be elementary needs, like that of the little girl in "Dickens' Dublin (The Palace)" who wanders the streets of a nineteenth-century and Dickensian Dublin (that is to say, very poor) imagining nothing more than a home to live in. The music naturally suits the situations: magical and dreamlike for the nighttime vignettes, intense and poignant for the glimpse of Dublin, which moves beyond the girl's voice, which in my opinion could have even been dispensed with.

Other dreams travel more swiftly: they are the propitiatory dances of the Native Americans, like "Huron Beltane Fire Dance", with its tribal percussion rhythm, or tense and compelling ballads like "Standing Stones".
Then there's the dream of an untouched nature, in the rarefied notes and prodigious vocalizations of "Ancient Pines", and finally, there's the most intense and touching dream, which unlike the previous ones, is entirely projected into the future. It's the dream of a freer world, without wars or oppression: it's "Breaking The Silence", not coincidentally dedicated to Amnesty International. Even in an album of the highest quality, it stands out as a masterpiece, thanks to the buildup of tension and the dramatic finale, reminiscent of Peter Gabriel's "Biko", but with an even richer and more imaginative melody. The finale tells us, without words, that the dream, at least for now, is destined to remain such, but the important thing is that there's someone capable of having it and translating it into genuine art.