FEATURE:
Revisiting…
Lankum - False Lankum
_________
AN album that was nominated…
for the Mercury Prize this year, I wanted those who have not heard Lankum’s (Cormac MacDiarmada, Radie Peat, Daragh Lynch and Ian Lynch) fourth studio album, False Lankum, to do so. The Dublin quartet arguably released their best album yet on 24th March, Released through Rough Trade, this is an album that everyone should hear! Although False Lankum won rave reviews, maybe this is a band and sound some people have avoided. Maybe feeling that it might not be for them. This is an album that I would recommend people investigate. Even if it did not win the Mercury Prize, the fact it got nominated and False Lankum is seen as one of the year’s best albums means more people should listen to it. I only hear a select few radio stations play songs that should be heard by everyone. Beautiful renditions of traditional songs (with a couple of original compositions), there is that darkness and distortions combined with something more traditionally Folk. I will end with a couple of reviews for False Lankum. First, this is what Rough Trade say about this award-nominated gem from Lankum:
“False Lankum follows their 2019 breakthrough album The Livelong Day, which paved the way for critical and commercial success, earning them that year’s RTE Choice Music Prize (the Irish equivalent of the Album of the Year Grammy) and the #8 spot on NPR Music’s Best Albums of the Year list. Drawing on traditional folk songs, Lankum put their own dark, distinctive mark onto each, leaning into heavy drones and sonic distortion that imparts new intensity and beauty into each track. This record sees the band cement their breakout from the folk genre, creating bold, contemporary music that may be fashioned from traditional elements but is firmly new, sitting comfortably alongside Rough Trade labelmates like black midi and Gilla Band. False Lankum also features two original tracks, ‘Netta Perseus’ and ‘The Turn’, both penned by the group’s Daragh Lynch.
‘Go Dig My Grave’ was discovered by Lankum’s Radie Peat who learned the particular version on the album from the singing of Jean Ritchie, who recorded it in 1963 on the album Jean Ritchie and Doc Watson at Folk City. It is a member of a family of songs which seem to be largely made up of what are known as ‘floating verses’, originally composed as stanzas of various different ballads, some of which date back as far as the 17th century.
“'Our interpretation of the traditional song Go Dig My Grave is one that centres around the emotion of grief – all-consuming, unbearable and absolute” explain Lankum, “A visceral physical reaction to something that the body and mind are almost incapable of processing. The second part of the song is inspired by the Irish tradition of keening (from the Irish caoineadh) – a traditional form of lament for the deceased. Regarded by some as opening up ‘perilous channels of communication with the dead’, the practice came under severe censure from the catholic church in Ireland from the 17th century on.”
From the start, Dublin’s Lankum planned for False Lankum, their fourth record and third for Rough Trade, to feel like a complete piece – a progression and a journey for the listener. “We wanted to create more contrast on the record so the light parts would be almost spiritual and the dark parts would be incredibly dark, even horror inducing,” they explain. The album’s 12 tracks, composed of 10 traditional songs and two originals, show the four-piece using a new palate to colour their sound in an increasingly experimental way, alongside longtime producer John ‘Spud’ Murphy”.
I will come to some reviews soon. Earlier this year, Uncut chatted with Lankum about their new album. A group that have been releasing hugely acclaimed music since their start, False Lankum was their first album since 2019’s The Livelong Day. Given the fact False Lankum is so good means that many people are intrigued to see what the group produce on their next album. There is a real sense of excitement around them:
“UNCUT: It’s been a while since The Livelong Day. How did your writing and recording process change in this time?
IAN LYNCH: The Livelong Day came out in October 2019 so we only did a few short tours before lockdown. We used the time quite well, delved into some personal projects and then after a year we were ready to start on an album. We had the use of a property n Dublin, a 220-year-old tower that I was minding for the owner. It was the perfect place to work on an album. We’d spend time there, then go to the studio for a week and lay down some stuff, then take a break, return to the tower for a week or two, before doing another week in the studio. We kind of did that over the course of six or seven months in 2021 as we gradually assembled the album. That was very different to how we worked before. Normally, we would have got some material, worked it up to a certain level and then gone into the studio for three weeks and lost our minds down the rabbit hole. This was done in short stints, and meant we came back to the studio we’d almost forgotten what we had already done. It took a lot longer but it’s a lot easier on the brain.
How does a typical Lankum song develop?
We had very rough ideas of arrangements but 75% happened in studio where we experimented with sounds we’d never tried before. That was a very exciting part of the process. I learnt how to use tape loops and we did that a lot. We’d take the hair off the bow of the fiddle and use that on the wires of the piano, we used a detuned hammer dulcimer, tried different tunings on banjo and guitar, used pedals, delay and reverb and put different found sounds in the mix.
How do you get the balance between tradition and experimentation?
Getting it right is very subjective, all you can rely on is your own musical instincts and what sounds good to your ears. What we are doing isn’t traditional or folk. There are elements of that, but there are many different elements and finding the balance is a very subconscious thing. We have immersed ourselves fully in the tradition. We have spent a good many years learning and performing traditional songs and playing them in traditional settings. But we have a lot more going on in our brains than just traditional music and if we didn’t let that come into our music, we wouldn’t be true to ourselves.
How do you choose the material you cover?
We are always coming across new traditional songs or we might have one we’ve been singing for years. There are lots we bring to the table that don’t work out. Maybe not everybody is into them, or we have tried to arrange them and it just doesn’t click for whatever reason. There are certain songs we have tried to record every time we do an album and haven’t managed to get right. We are quite strict on ourselves. It has to get through our filter. Certain songs don’t translate and it can be heart-breaking because it might be a song you are really invested in but you have to put it by the wayside. We are constantly refining and distilling. We will record a certain number of tracks and then have to work out how they fit into the narrative of the album.
What’s the narrative on this one?
The sea is a very strong theme. That was completely accidental but when we put the songs together we saw that every song seemed to have a maritime connection. It fit into how we were working because the tower we were staying in was right beside the sea and I was sea-swimming every day. Darragh and I grew up by the sea and our uncle is a sailor. All that came together. On a musical level, there’s a real ebb and flow to the songs, that lightness and darkness. We wanted to create a dialogue between the two elements and that was an expansion on the last album, with the dark elements being a lot darker and more apocalyptic and the lighter elements are sweeter and more beautiful.
Not all of the traditional are that old – “Clear Away In The Morning” and “On A Monday Morning” are both quite recent I noticed?
The Gordon Bok and the Cyril Tawney songs. We came across them in a traditional context, you’d hear somebody sing it and think ‘oh that’s deadly’. I think Darragh brought those two and I’m not sure he realised how recently they were composed. That speaks to the kind of ever-changing nature of the tradition, that it’s not something that is stagnant and pure. There is always more material being added to it over time.
People have this idea of the tradition as something that’s unchanging with a certain number of songs but these songs didn’t come out of thin air, they were all written by somebody at some stage and had to find their place in the stream of the tradition. It’s important to recognise that is still happening today. Maybe the function of the songs has changed, society is different, but the human need to tell stories and sing as a social way of engaging has remained unchanged over the years. That speaks to my own interest as a folklorist, that these process are eternal and endemic to human nature”.
I am going to wrap up with a couple of reviews. Scoring incredibly positive reviews across the board, False Lankum is an album impossible to ignore or be unaffected by. It will register with and affect everyone who listens to it. This is what AllMusic noted in their review:
“Even the cruelest ballads can be blunted into mere bittersweetness to better suit the palates of listener and interpreter alike. Not so for Lankum, Ireland's uncompromising purveyors of doom folk. The Dublin quartet has been around since the early 2000s, though it was their 2017 signing to Rough Trade that eventually thrust them into the critical spotlight. Albums like Between the Earth and Sky and The Livelong Day revealed a band of singular intensity, able to translate ancient songs in ways that were innovative, yet primal. Uniquely, for all of their experimental droning and psychedelic edginess, they also seem utterly devoted to their source material. False Lankum, the band's third outing for the label, is a nihilistic, almost comically bleak trek into the dark heart of folk music. A wounded backwash of dissonance plays throughout most of the set, creating a sense of unease as songs spill into one another in a gapless sequence. The magnetic Radie Peat opens the album with her reading of "Go Dig My Grave," a suicide ballad that moves from mournful austerity into a full-on horror show during its eight-minute run.
The fiddle reel, "Master Crowley's," played here by a phalanx of concertinas, devolves into a coughing death march and is one of the most thrilling tracks on the album. Not even Gordon Bok's wistful maritime classic "Clear Away in the Morning" is safe from Lankum's black cloud which transforms it into a desolate sea burial. Heartbroken as it is, the gorgeous "Newcastle" offers something of a mid-album reprieve, as does "Lord Abore and Mary Flynn," two tracks that bring a welcome touch of sweetness to the proceedings. Augmenting the traditional songs are two well-placed Lankum originals, the swirling "Netta Perseus" and the 12-minute closer "The Turn," the final quarter of which is a squalling disaster sequence that will challenge even the hardiest listener. False Lankum sounds like industrial music from the 19th century and provides all the comfort of a late period Scott Walker album. And yet, the road of Lankum's career has resolutely led them to create this: a difficult but defining statement made at the height of their powers”.
I will end with a review from The Guardian. So impressed with False Lankum, they awarded it five stars! It is clear that this is an album that cannot pass you by. If you think it is not for you, then I would encourage you to give it time and take a dive in:
“Lankum’s fourth album goes to new extremes, and not simply by dredging more trenches of their trademark gothic intensity. Four years after 2019’s raw-skinned The Livelong Day, with its exploratory epics, False Lankum teems with similar moments of iridescent bliss. But the 12 tracks here also unfurl into each other without a break, alternately lulling the listener then casting them into storms of shuddering sounds.
Recorded in Dublin’s Hellfire Studio by day, while the band spent their nights sleeping in a Martello tower on the coast, False Lankum begins with Radie Peat, the best folk singer of our times, instructing us to Go Dig My Grave. When Peat sings she magically straddles realities, sounding both like an uncompromising everywoman and a mystical instrument of bellows and reeds – a magic she employs to spiritual effect on the beautiful 17th-century ballad Newcastle.
Other tracks, such as Netta Perseus and Clear Away in the Morning (by US folklorist Gordon Bok), underline the band’s incredible facility with harmony. Their version of the latter is as accessible as Fleet Foxes’ White Winter Hymnal, full of exquisite softness – at least until their take on Master Crowley’s arrives, a menacing concertina reel that sounds precision-tooled to jar devils awake.
There is so much to revel in here: three instrumental fugues that are more about atmospheric discombobulation than repetition; Cormac Mac Diarmada’s sweet vocal debut on Child ballad Lord Abore and Mary Flynn; their deeply affecting turn through Cyril Tawney’s On a Monday Morning; the way hurdy-gurdies, hammered dulcimers and bowed piano strings create enveloping filmic canvases.
On recent form, Lankum could have become a hardcore drone band very easily, but they’ve done something braver by allowing their gentler sides a bold voice in the mix, while managing not to dilute their power or compromise their ambition. With a 3,300-capacity Roundhouse date later this year, they remain a radical band while making music that is reaching out to the mainstream – while also giving off the thrilling sense that there is so much more to come”.
So consistent and always arresting, Lankum have gifted us something heavenly and potent with False Lankum! One of the albums nominated for the Mercury Prize recently, that nod will take them more into the mainstream. I hope that the honour means that there music will get into more hands. Earlier this year, the stunning Dublin quartet delivered…
ANOTHER heart-stopping and tremendous album.