Concert Review: Eileen Ivers / The McKrells @ Music Haven, 08/06/2023

Loving Lessons in Celtic Sounds

Eileen Ivers no longer calls her band Immigrant Soul, but that’s what they played at Music Haven Sunday. Soulful music mourned immigrant sadness in forced departures, surveyed how cultures enrich each other on arrival in a new land and celebrated the joy of acceptance when this happens.

The much-honored violinist made this happen with a strong, tight ensemble, united in vision and honed on the road. Sheer skillful excellence can be a message in itself, and at first, that’s what Ivers gave, medleying melodic dance tunes as almost every Celtic-inspired band does.

After this energetic overture, Ivers noted how fun live music is, “feeling emotions together again” in concerts. She told how music travels in the hearts and hands and voices of immigrants, proclaiming her deeper message that this makes us more alike than different. 

This ethos, in fact, is why Music Haven exists.

She introduced her band – Lindsey Horner, bass; Buddy Connolly, accordion and keyboards; Dave Barckow, drums and guitar; Colin Forehan, guitar and banjo – and they went deep into immigrant soul. 

Ivers didn’t have to explain how her dance-y Cajun tune “Walk On” reflected the exile from Nova Scotia to Louisiana of displaced Acadians; anybody who knows that sound knows this. But donning the mantle of a musical bard of history, she spoke next of Ireland’s deadly 1840s famine, and desperate emigration to America of millions, to introduce “Mackerel Sky.” This bore the sorrow of “coffin ships” across the Atlantic before using the medley form again to change moods, from grief to the at-first grudging acceptance exiled Irish found here, and then achieve a hard-won joy. 

This suite transmuted torment to triumph, heavy stuff. So Ivers lightened things up with “Wah-Wah One Violin,” an electronic exploration of four-string possibilities whose questing imagination eclipsed the experiments of fellow fiddlers Laurie Anderson or Michal Urbaniak. She sent the band off, then set up repeating electronic loops and played off, or with, them. She tapped the instrument’s body and closed with feedback howls, earning the praise the New York Times had bestowed on her as the “Jimi Hendrix of the violin.”

But then she returned to the challenging theme of displacement and the struggle for acceptance in “Ghosts of the Mississippi.” This packed the same poignance as her “Mackerel Sky” in mourning the hard fate of enslaved people – in a sense, this was the deepest of blues – but it didn’t resolve in the same happy way as “Sky” had, signifying that this struggle continues.

Again, Ivers changed emotions, with the serene syncopated waltz “Gratitude Attitude” inviting everybody into its uplift with claps as Ivers played at the lip of the stage. A new medley of slides from County Kerry held that happy mood with tempo shifts to a rocking glee as Ivers jumped up and down in a circle, crowing at the end, “I TOLD you these were joyful!”

Introduced as bluegrass, “Lost Train Blues” rolled down the tracks in a cheerful groove with harmonica accents by Horner. Then it blurred from Celtic phrasing and mood into the similarly railroad-themed “Linin’ Track,” an equally propulsive Black blues.

In this, and “Mackerel Sky” earlier, Ivers leaped the Atlantic from Ireland to Appalachia, then the  Jim Crow south—a profound and empathetic message, but delivered with engaging joy rather than an alienating didactic tone. This message hit with a light touch, its theme of togetherness reinforced by Ivers playing in a tight trio with her pickers.

In her virtuoso but engaging way, Ivers claimed everybody’s attention so completely as to eclipse her expert band. They earned eyes and ears not just with skill but also with spirit – WITH Ivers, all the way, all the time. Barckow played propulsive at the drum kit and was helpful playing guitar. Horner made super-solid, always-in-the-pocket bass lines. Connolly sounded especially impressive in accordion runs and chords, and Forehan played solidly supportive flat-picked guitar. Everybody got a solo or two, but Ivers sparkled in every song.

They went back to bluegrass to close with the lighter-than-air zip of “Sorrowwood Mountain,” with Ivers grinning around in happy surprise when she nailed an especially tricky lick. 

Returning quickly before the ovation could cool, they offered “one more for the road.” A singalong on “This Little Light of Mine” closed in an exuberant dialog of Ivers’s violin with the crowd in full voice. She’d play a short phrase, everybody would answer; and as if that somehow weren’t enough interaction, Ivers dashed down offstage. She ran around the audience, her Chuck Taylors a purple blur as notes flew even faster. 

Ivers did everything but pay all our taxes and cook us dinner. But the crowd stayed seated anyway; maybe that’s what over-awed means. Nonetheless, everybody sang, clapped, and waved arms whenever she asked.

Both Ivers and opener Kevin McKrell have played Carnegie Hall; both lead fans on tours of Ireland and both are masters of their instruments. For Ivers, as discussed, that’s violin and electric mandolin. McKrell plays guitar and sings, sure; but his main instrument may be the audience. As usual on Sunday, he enlisted his fans into his band, a sixth instrument.

After two blow-your-hair-back blasts – a visit as if by rocket to “Dublin Town” and a caffeinated/mutated “You Are My Sunshine” – he announced the next tune would be really fast, that percussionist Brian Melick forced the tempo. 

“Old Black Coat” indeed was really fast; in fact, McKrell only slowed things down once for the homesick ballad “Donegal.” Otherwise, it was off to the races, with plenty of blarney at the mic and happy fire from every player – stage right to left: Scott Hopkins, banjo; Arlin Greene (son of Smokey), bass; Melick; McKrell; Frank Orsini, fiddle; and Peter Pashoukos, guitar.

The tempos were lively, but the mood at times skewed nostalgic, with “Happy Summertimes” re-running digging backyard holes to China, skinny-dipping like old cartoons, and celebrating early-in-love joys in “You and Me.” For all the muscular crispness of their playing, the band wrapped this one in a tight a cappella coda after a typically zippy Orsini fiddle break. Hopkins and McKrell introduced Hopkins’s instrumental “Around the Hornpipe” together in a conversation that felt like we were eavesdropping, then took off for bluegrass heaven.

McKrell introduced “All the Hard Days Are Gone,” noting how fans had rushed the stage in previous performances of this fun-time anthem, leaving “a big pile of walkers over there,” pointing offstage. While McKrell indeed has made music at the junction of Celtic, bluegrass and rock for decades, the effect, as usual, proved anything but geriatric. In the end, he asked the crowd to say goodnight to his players, dismissing them by name, a fun way to give credit where it’s due, as the crowd kept singing his song.

Photo Gallery by Stan Johnson