r2vyln3rdioj14u-rld0ska where mountains meet the sea: March 2018

Gràdh is Gonadh – Guth ag aithris / Love and Loss – A Lone Voice



‘S ann à Carlabhagh ann an taobh siar Leòdhais a tha an seinneadair cliùiteach, Cairistìona Primrose, a tha air a bhith a' seinn òrain Ghàidhlig ann an tallachan mòra is beaga air feadh an t-saoghail bho na 1980an. Bidh Cairistìona a' teagasg air a' cheum BA (Urram) Gàidhlig agus Ceòl Traidiseanta aig Sabhal Mòr Ostaig agus air cùrsaichean goirid na Càisge is an t-samhraidh aig a' Cholaiste.

Hailing from Carloway on the west coast of Lewis, Christine Primrose is highly respected as a Gaelic singer and since the 1980s she has established an internal fan base, sharing Gaelic songs with audiences all over the world. Christine teaches on the BA (Hons) Gaelic and Traditional Music at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig and also leads Easter and Summer short courses at the college. This year Christine has also been inducted into the Scottish Traditional Music Hall of Fame which will be celebrated at an event hosted by Hands Up For Trad in Glasgow.

Here is a live video from the launch of her new album of unaccompanied Gaelic songs which took place at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig this summer. The album ‘Gràdh is Gonadh – Guth ag aithris’ (Love and Loss – A Lone Voice) is available online from Temple Records.

Alfie



a film portrait of fisherman Alfie Jamieson, speaking about old fishing practices and folklore of the Shetland Islands  -Roseanne Watt

see the quiet beauty of farm life on the Scottish isles



In the Outer Hebrides of Scotland, life on the Isle of Harris has been largely influenced by the practice of crofting, a small-scale agricultural tradition that has been passed down for generations. In this short film by Joya Berrow, follow the quiet life of crofter Donald John MacInnes as he tends to his sheep and cows in the staggeringly beautiful landscape.

The Dwelling Place



Be transported to an abandoned cottage on the Outer Hebrides. Brothers Jamie and Lewis Wardrop invite you to experience their swirling surround multimedia performance, teasing out the jarring sense of absence and the loss of a profound island culture found in a humble island home. Striking live visuals, electronic sound and the words of the great highland poets. It’s Scotland but not as you know it!
 

Hebrides


Strathconon

When you took the autumn to London
And left me to burrow into winter
I said they could pack up Strathconon
Box up the birch and the larch
Return the swans on Achonachie
And while they were about it
They could empty the Curin dam.

There was, after all, no point
In the upkeep of Torr Achilty
In preserving the pines of Achlorachan
And sustaining the pass of Scardroy.
No need to retain Inverchoran
For the sake of a handful of eagles
Or maintain the forest of Meinich
For the amusement of the deer.

         .  .  .  .  .  . 

Last night when I entered Strathconon
The birches were naked and mourning
The larch trees stripped and shivering
The pines smothered in sleet.
By Dalbreac the river was silenced
From Craig Ruadh the deer were uplifted
The dams preserved in the ice
And the mountains blacked out by the snow.

Ian A. Olson, from Facing the Persians


in memory of  Dr Ian Macdonald (1942-2017)

The Island



Paul Brady wrote 'The Island' 30 years ago [1985]. We all listened to the tape in the car on family holidays, it's been my favourite for years, and tonight I had to record it because it's words are more valid than ever. When will Westminster learn that bombs are not the answer? 
 

They say the skies of Lebanon are burning
Those mighty cedars bleeding in the heat
They’re showing pictures on the television
Women and children dying in the street
And we’re still at it in our own place
Still trying to reach the future through the past
Still trying to carve tomorrow from a tombstone…


But Hey! Don’t listen to me!
This wasn’t meant to be no sad song
We’ve heard too much of that before
Right now I only want to be here with you
Till the morning dew comes falling
I want to take you to the island
And trace your footprints in the sand
And in the evening when the sun goes down
We’ll make love to the sound of the ocean


They’re raising banners over by the markets
Whitewashing slogans on the shipyard walls
Witchdoctors praying for a mighty showdown
No way our holy flag is gonna fall
Up here we sacrifice our children
To feed the worn-out dreams of yesterday
And teach them dying will lead us into glory…


But Hey! Don’t listen to me!
This wasn’t meant to be no sad song
We’ve heard too much of that before
Right now I only want to be here with you
Till the morning dew comes falling
I want to take you to the island
And trace your footprints in the sand
And in the evening when the sun goes down
We’ll make love to the sound of the ocean


Now I know us plain folks don’t see all the story
And I know this peace and love’s just copping out
And I guess these young boys dying in the ditches
Is just what being free is all about
And how this twisted wreckage down on main street
Will bring us all together in the end
And we’ll go marching down the road to freedom…
Freedom


The Highlands Support Refugees
Shetland Solidarity with Refugees
Orkney Supporting Refugees

Re-Act, Refugee Action Scotland
Scottish Refugee Council
Scottish Faiths Action for Refugees

Syrian Observatory for Human Rights

My Time Wasn't At Hand



Chaidh an clàradh seo a dhèanamh aig Talla Baile Steòrnabhaigh air Diardaoin 1 Gearrann 2018. Sgrìobh Willie Caimbeul an t-òran seo airson pròiseact Dìleab mu thubaist na h-Iolaire. B’e oidhche shònraichte dha rìreabh a bha ann agus bheir e blasad seachad air cò ris a bhios na consairtean mòra coltach.

This recording was made at Stornoway Town Hall on Thursday the 1st of February 2018 at a special Dìleab preview event. Willie Campbell performed the song he has written for the Dìleab project on the Iolaire tragedy. Willie has been further commissioned to write three songs based on the other themes of Dìleab and we’re very excited that he has chosen to work with us on this. The preview event was spectacular and gave a real flavour of what the final events will be like!

Midder



An oral history recording of my Great Grandmother, telling a supernatural story from the First World War - Roseanne Watt