AT first glance, this seems to be an unlikely meeting of minds.
Sean Shibe is a classical guitarist, former BBC New Generation Artist specialising in contemporary classical music. Aidan O’Rourke, on the other hand, learned the fiddle in the West Highland style and has his roots firmly planted in Scottish and Irish music. Lùban, the project name, means ‘loops’ (in Scottish Gaelic).
The fear, well, my fear when two very different musical cultures combine, is that we find an all too often lazy ‘cross-over’ music or, as Aidan O’Rourke puts it: a “classical world …trying to reverse-engineer the blurring of boundaries”. Lùban, however, is an entirely different experience.
Joining the party were guests John Dowland and Robert Johnson, both famous 16th-century English Renaissance composers, lutenists and singers, Mr O’Rourke himself and, it goes without saying, John Cage.
The programme opened with Aidan O’Rourke taking centre stage and performing a continuous flow of Scottish folk-inspired tunes and understated dances or reels. As there were no programme notes or playlist, one had to rely on the softly spoken Mr O’Rourke for steerage, I quickly decided to focus solely on the music itself. And it was quite magical.
A lovely folk tune, sometimes singing free and sometimes accompanied, harmonised in a way that had echoes of Bach, transformed into a dance, a jig – all understated yet utterly engaging.
We then returned to the song and accompaniment. I found the playing so poignant. Mr O’Rourke closed this medley (for want of a better term) with a fast, rhythmically-driven dance to round things off.
We then welcomed Sean Shibe to the stage. He began with a Dowland song, well, what sounded like one. He teased out the most beautiful of lute melodies emerging from various lute textures.
The two performers combined to perform some 17th-century dance tunes, jigs. The initial lead was very much fiddle driven where the syncopated, hemiola rhythms added variety, complexity and energy.
The first half closed with a delightful set of violin and lute duets. Each instrument had a distinct musical identity whilst still cohabiting with and enriching each other.
A sober processional ushered in the start to the second half. It wove a kind of minimalist, hypnotic spell, the violin playing just two notes throughout (a major second interval if memory serves). Tonally this demanded resolution, instead it transformed into a lovely Dowland-esque song infused with folksong flavours.
The instrumental roles were then exchanged with the violin singing a gentle, melancholic jig and the lute breathing the air of Dowland. However, it was once again the quirky rhythmic twists that really added to the vitality of the performance.
Now then, seated on a stool on the stage was the elephant in the room in the form of an electric guitar. I was reminded of the ‘infamous’ Bob Dylan response to a folksy heckler (Manchester Free Trade Hall in 1966) objecting to the electric betrayal: “Play it …loud,” he said to the band. I omitted Dylan’s expletive. No such concerns here, though.
Sean Shibe created a gentle cushion of support for the fiddle lament. The electric guitar playing gradually evolved, using a foot pedal and harmonics – the violin lament remaining a constant, into a world of contemporary otherness. Quite brilliant, ingenious and rewarding.
Following a return to the lute and the musical wonderland of 16th-century English Renaissance John Dowland or Robert Johnson, a contemporary musical window reopened. This time it was Aidan O’Rourke playing a violin ostinato or loop, exploiting the colour of the strings and harmonics. How we arrived here was quite as mysterious as the sound-world being expressed: eerily beautiful.
So we met Dowland and, presumably Robert Johnson, and Aidan O’Rourke seemed to be omnipresent. But no sign of John Cage. I suspect, however, that for Cage the sounds of the odd empty beer bottles being knocked over would constitute the ambient sound intended to contribute to the performance. Maybe not.
Finally, Sean Shibe and Aidan O’Rourke promised us a “shared language [we] might find in the backstreets, byways and marginalia of ancient Scottish lute and fiddle manuscripts”. And thanks to their quite remarkable musicianship and insight, we did just that.
Review by Steve Crowther