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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.
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
02 Moon Cradle (04:31)
When the moon-cradle's rocking and rocking
Where a cloud and a cloud go by
Silently rocking and rocking
The moon-cradle out in the sky.
Then comes the lad with the hazel
And the folding star's in the rack
'Night's a good herd' to the cattle,
He sings, 'She brings all things back.'
But the bond woman down by the boorie
Sings with a heart grown wild
How a hundred rivers are flowing
Between herself and her child.
'The geese, even they trudge homeward
That have their wings and the waste,
Let your thoughts be on Night the Herder,
And be quiet for a space.'
The moon-cradle's rocking and rocking,
Where a cloud and a cloud go by,
Silent rocking and rocking
The moon-cradle out in the sky.
The snipe they are crying and crying
Liadine, liadine, liadine
Where no track's on the bog they are flying:
A lonely dream will be mine!
04 Annachie Gordon (08:24)
Harking is bonny and there lives my love
My heart lies on him and cannot remove
It cannot remove for all that I have done
And I never will forget my love Annachie
For Annachie Gordon he's bonny and he's bright
He'd entice any woman that e'er he saw
He'd entice any woman and so he has done me
And I never will forget my love Annachie.
Down came her father and he's standing at the door
Saying Jeannie you are trying the tricks of a whore
You care nothing for a man who cares so much for thee
You must marry Lord Sultan and leave Annachie
For Annachie Gordon is barely but a man
Although he may be pretty but where are his lands
The Sultan's lands are broad and his towers they run high
You must marry Lord Sultan and leave Annachie.
With Annachie Gordon I beg for my bread
And before I marry Sultan his gold to my head
With gold to my head and straight down to my knees
And I'll die if I don't get my love Annachie
And you who are my parents to church you may me bring
But unto Lord Sultan I'll never bear a son
To a son or a daughter I'll never bow my knee
And I'll die if I don't get my love Annachie.
Jeannie was married and from church was brought home
When she and her maidens so merry should have been
When she and her maidens so merry should have been
She goes into her chamber and cries all alone.
Come to my bed my Jeannie my honey and my sweet
To stile you my mistress it would be so sweet
Be it mistress or Jeanne it's all the same to me
But in your bed Lord Sultan I never will lie
And down came her father and he's spoken with reknown
Saying you who are her maidens
Go loosen up her gowns
And she fell down to the floor
And straight down to her knee saying
Father look I'm dying for my love Annachie.
The day that Jeanne married was the day that Jeannie died
And the day that young Annachie came home on the tide
And down came her maidens all wringing of their hands
Saying oh it's been so long, you've been so long on the sands
So long on the sands, so long on the flood
They have married your Jeannie and now she lies dead.
You who are her maidens come take me by the hand
And lead me to the chamber where my love she lies in
And he kissed her cold lips till his heart it turned to stone
And he died in the chamber where his love she lies in.
05 Standing Stones (06:59)
In one of these lonely Orkney Isles
There dwelled a maiden fair.
Her cheeks were red, her eyes were blue
She had yellow, curling hair.
Which caught the eye and then the heart
Of one who could never be
A lover of so true a mind
Or fair a form as she.
Across the lake in Sandwick
Dwelled a youth she held most true,And ever since her infancy
He had watched these eyes so blue.
The land runs out to the sea -It's a narrow neck of land -Where weird and grim the Standing Stones
In a circle where they stand.
One bonny moonlight Christmas Eve
They met at that sad place.
With her heart in glee and the beams of love
Were shining on her face
When her lover came and he grasped her hand
And what loving words they said
They talked of future's happy days,
As through the stones they strayed.
They walked toward the lovers' stone
And through it passed their hands.
They plighted there a constant troth
Sealed by love's steadfast bands
He kissed his maid and then he watched her
That lonely bridge go o'er.
For little, little did he think
He wouldn't see his darling more.
Standing Stones of the Orkney Isles
Gazing out to sea
Standing Stones of the Orkney Isles
Bring my love to me.
He turned his face toward his home
That home he did never see
And you shall have the story
As it was told to me.
When a form upon him sprang
With a dagger gleaming bright
It pierced his heart and his dying screams
Disturbed the silent night.
This maid had nearly reached her home
When she was startled by a cry.
And she turned to look around her
And her love was standing by
His hand was pointing to the stars
And his eyes gazed at the light.
And with a smiling countenance
He vanished from her sight.
She quickly turned and home she ran
Not a word of this was said,
For well she knew at seeing his form
That her faithful love was dead.
And from that day she pined away,
Not a smile seen on her face,
And with outstretched arms she went to meet him
In a brighter place.
06 Dickens' Dublin (The Palace) (04:43)
I walk the streets of Dublin town
It's 1842
It's snowing on this Christmas Eve
Think I'll beg another bob or two
I'll huddle in this doorway here
Till someone comes along
If the lamp lighter comes real soon
Maybe I'll go home with him.
CHORUS
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own
The horses on the cobbled stones pass by
Think I'll get one one fine day
And ride into the country side
And very far away
But now as the daylight disappears
I best find a place to sleep
Think I'll slip into the bell tower
In the church just down the street
CHORUS
Maybe on the way I'll find the dog
I saw the other night
And tuck him underneath my jacket,
So we'll stay warm through the night
As we lie in the bell tower high
And dream of days to come
The bells o'er head will call the hour
The day we will find a home.
07 Breaking the Silence (06:26)
I hear some distant drumbeat
A heartbeat pulsing low
Is it coming from within
A heartbeat I don't know
A troubled soul knows no peace
A dark and poisoned pool
Of liberty now lost
A pawn an oppressor's tool.
Oh my heart be strong
And guide when eyes grow dim
When ears grow deaf with empty words
When I know there's life within.
A gunfire shatters silence
Where birds once sweetly sang
A mother cradles a child now dead
Now death where life began
From the troubled heart of South Africa
Nicaragua's festering sore
The turmoil on the streets of China
Death crying out for more
A change is slow in coming
My eyes can scarcely see
The rays of hope come streaming
Through the smoke of apathy
But oh my heart be strong
And guide when eyes grow dim
When ears grow deaf with empty words
When I know there's life within.
May the spirit never die
Though a troubled heart feels pain
When the long winter is over
It will blossom once again.
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