Ostensibly, Indianapolis Irish Festival 2012 is not the prime location to see some of the most talented indie performers in the nation. If we don't already know, suffice to say that it's a place for large red-heads to consume an inordinate amount of inordinately expensive alcohol, for children to beg their parents to sign them up for stepdancing lessons, and for people like yours truly to immerse ourselves in a culture we wish desperately was our own.
Venues such as these however show merely that Seven Nations sports humility in addition to incredible musicianship. When you've played PBS specials and crowds of 40,000 in Edinburgh, Scotland, why settle for the scarce 100 of an Irish festival? It's merely another factor that makes watching these lads so charming.
Seven Nations, a five-piece Celtic rock outfit who have been touring professionally for almost twenty years, have the remarkable ability to combine a rockstar image with bagpipes and a fiddle. It's no absurdity for Celtic rock, and member Dan Stacey wields his fiddle with an expression so highly concentrated it's almost grimacing. He and piper Scott Long begin the show with a rollicking reel with accents and bass pedal slammed down by a broad smiling Nick Watson.
Strangely, aside from an imposing build and the guitar slung around his neck, front man Kirk McLeod doesn't boast much rockstar about him when he approaches the microphone. The stage has the tendency to exaggerate the size of a performer when he ascends, yet McLeod's stature, leather armband and long blonde hair give him the aura of an unassuming warrior more than a musician. Moreover his face is concentrated warmly and planted with a small indelible grin, and he almost looks embarrassed that his band has been introduced as the greatest Celtic rock outfit in the nation.
This title proves to be nothing more than fact. Seven Nations, moving away from the punk of Dropkick Murphys, the swagger of Flogging Molly, and the tradition of The Young Dubliners, has managed to combine the feel-good spirit of Celtic Rock and fine songwriting without making the music sound too angry, campy, overdone, or overtly sentimental. The results are striking.
Their first track 'Tradition' wrings out clapping and outrageous foot stomping from even the most conservative of fans. Within the span of ten minutes Seven Nations has their audience shouting and punching fists in the air with the 2008 tune 'Mugs Away,' and then foxtrotting in the aisles with 'Love Song;' released in the band's Celtic Rock tribute album to The Cure.
Aside from intermittent smiles and nods, McLeod doesn't do much interacting with his audience. He prefers to lose himself in the resonance of his lyrics, closing his eyes with each slight part of the mouth as his hand drifts upwards before a particular lyric causes it to either spiral down lazily, or prod the air when he wants to affect poignancy as he did with the more rebellious 'Mama.'
Only several times did he address his crowd directly; once when he wants to say his thank yous and again when he urged any willing audience members to come forward and dance.
The invitation did not yield many results and yet this didn't faze as the members instantly launch into a requested ballad 'Twelve' from an earlier album. 'Twelve' is subjectively one of the most impassioned songs in Seven Nations' repertoire. A repeating fiddle carries beautifully into the higher registers to the point that its line begins to mimic a keening. Between acoustic phrases, McLeod's lyrics parse out a story: 'Six minutes gone and I'm still alive...who would have thought that I could survive...pieces of eight and odd bits of string...are all I remember when I hear you sing," before his voice lilts the haunting chorus: 'No Gods could be that cruel to me." The climax surges with the lyric "I blame the sun...I blame the moon...I blame myself...and I... blame you,' which McLeod as well as two kilted fans belted out while thrusting accused fingers at the unnamed 'you'.
Whether it was the purity of McLeod's falsetto or the repetition of the fiddle, or the fact that 'Twelve' was my go-to breakup song for six months, the lyric proves powerful. So powerful that I scribbled the words down in my notebook and let myself sing along with McLeod as my eyelids closed and my head rocked back.
It's to 'Twelve's' credit that its fervor inspires raised the crowd to its feet. Generally an acoustic tune, the subsequent 'King of Oblivion' was played upbeat and punctuating. A quarter of the crowd responded by bounding to the feet of the stage, their feet breaking out in Irish dance steps they never knew they had. Those who couldn't stepdance were twirling; those who didn't stand were stomping, and those who weren't stomping were clapping. Never before had pandemonium been so joyful.
McLeod surveyed all with the same small smile, completely content in his work. One gets the feeling that it is for these moments of infectious happiness that he plays, whether his crowd 40,000 or forty, his venue San Juan, Puerto Rico or the odd Irish pub. Quite simply, Seven Nations is meant for an audience and McLeod knows this better than any. When I interview him after the show he calls me brother and gives me a hug.
Seven Nations Definitely Downloads:
- 'Twelve'
- 'Mugs Away'
- 'Your Big Day'
- 'Tradition'
- 'Big Yellow Bus'
Post and pictures by Brandon Cook
