Cranachan is, for one, a tasty Scottish dessert. It is also the name of a band. Yes my friends, a band made up of two incredibly amazing musicians; Carolee Bowen and Marty Smith. SOOOO, from now until the end of time, we shall be known as Cranachan (ta-dah *cheers and applause* -thank you, thank you, please, that's enough, yes, thank you). Anyhoo, our first CD together, Tales from the Paint Booth is now finished, after a very long two-and-a-half years of writing arranging, re-arranging and recording and now-- for sale!. The new album also includes some of our good friends as guest musicians. We've been playing a lot lately, so make sure and check us out online. We've also got other exciting events happening all the time, like festivals, music workshops, concerts, etc. So, here's a link to a recipe for Cranachan. Go look at it, maybe even make it if you want (you don't even have to taste it to know that it's delicious though) and then come back and tell us how great and awesome Cranachan is for a band name. Go now, my jungle friends. http://www.undiscoveredscotland.co.uk/usrecipes/cranachan/index.htmlDisclaimer- Carolee Bowen is NOT Marty Smith’s mother, thus let it be known that she will not be held responsible for his actions. Also, she can’t take credit for the fine, upstanding young man that he is. Additionally, Carolee is not old enough to be Marty’s mother (so there).Footnote to the Disclaimer- Carolee is also not Marty's wife. And technically, she *could* be considered old enough to be his mom...Just kidding! Really though, Marty and Carolee are often mistaken as brother and sister (well, not really).Okay, here is some interesting information and a little history about the tracks on this album- 1. Donald McLean's Farewell to Oban (Archibald MacNeill)/Christmas Carousing/WillafjordMarty- dulcimer, mandolin, guitarCarolee- mandola, bass There are many stories about the day, way back in 1938, when Donald McLean left the games at Oban, most of which end in him storming out, never to return because of a poor/unfair decision by the judges of a piping competition which he'd entered. Another version that we recently heard claims that he was actually a good sport about it, and his friend, Archie MacNeill, said"Well Donald, this will be your farewell to Oban" and wrote this march to commemorate the occasion. We prefer to believe this happier version. The strathspey in the middle, also known as A Mhisg A Chur An Lolig Oirn, is a great tune from the Isle of Skye, and has lyrics to it in Scots Gaelic (which we don't know). The bouncy little tune at the end, Willafjord, is from Shetland, and is one of our favorites. ~Marty2. Rantin' Rovin' Robin (Robert Burns)/Old Toby's (Marty Smith)Marty- vocals, bouzouki, guitarCarolee- vocals, fluteNate Olsen- fiddle A great Robert Burns poem which has been set to at least two different melodies. Our hero, Robin, is supposed to be Robert Burns, and it's said that he wrote this as a present for himself on his 28th birthday ("Happy birthday, self!"). We chose to half-way modernize the lyrics from the original Scots dialect Burns wrote in, which is usually much harder (meaning"impossible") for the average person to understand. Still, we're not entirely sure that was the best decision. The name, Old Toby, comes from the Tolkien classic, The Lord of The Rings. Old Toby was the first person credited with smoking 'the leaf' in Middle Earth, and so the Hobbit's finest pipe w**d is named for him, and now this hornpipe as well. ~MartyThere was a lad he was born in Kyle, oh what na day o' what na style, I doubt it's hardly worth the while, to be so nice with Robin.Robin was a rovin' boy, Rantin' rovin', rantin' rovin.’ Robin was a rovin' boy, rantin' rovin' Robin.Our monarch's hindmost year but one, was five and twenty days begun. Twas then a blast o' January Wind, blew handsel in on Robin.The Gossip keekit in his loof, quote she who lives will see the proof. This waly boy will be no coof, I think we'll call him Robin.He'll have misfortunes great and small, but ay a heart above them all. He'll be a credit to us all, we'll all be proud o' Robin.But sure as three times three make nine,I see by every score and line. This lad will dearly like our kind, so leeze me on thee, Robin.Good faith quote she I doubt you stir, you'll gar the lassies lie aspar; But twenty faults ye may have worse, so blessings on thee, Robin.3. Jarman's Ghost (Marty Smith)/Eliza RossMarty- guitar, bouzouki, dulcimer, bodhranCarolee- fluteNate Olsen- fiddleA 17th century British landlord named Jarman owned the very old, and very famous Ostrich Inn in Colnbrook. The story goes that he and his wife would get his wealthy patrons good and drunk, then put them to bed in"the best room" to sleep it off. The bed was on hinges, and when sprung, the poor, unwary traveler would be flung head first into a boiling vat of beer (I can think of worse ways to die), and then wily old Jarman could riffle through their belongings at his leisure. He'd done this to some sixty guests before ever being found out. I suppose he could have simply strangled or stabbed his victims, but that's probably just being lazy. One story (of many) says that he was finally caught after an intended victim got out of bed just as it dropped down. Narrowly escaping an untimely death, he ran screaming from the room, warning the world about the wicked landlord for the first time. And so ended the mysterious disappearances of the lone, wealthy travelers along that part of the road. Jarman and his wife were publicly hanged, and the Ostrich Inn (still in business today) is said to be one of the most haunted places in the world. By the way, I almost named this tune"Ode to Heavy Metal" (or something along those lines... if you couldn't tell), but chose to pay homage to Jarman-the-beer-waster instead. Eliza Ross is a great Scots tune that we heard from the master pipering of Iain MacInnes. We've lengthened it some. In fact, we got down right carried away with it. Unfortunately, we don't know anything about the girl named Eliza Ross. Google isn't any help this time either, most of the results are for Facebook profiles, a perfume line, and something about a Cincinnati law suit. ~Marty 4. Withywindle Valley/Cranachan Smoothie/ Primer Potion (Carolee Bowen)Marty- guitar, bouzoukiCarolee- whistle, flute, mandolaEthan Bowen- bassNate Olsen- fiddle Early on when Marty and I decided to form our duo Cranachan after the break up of a previous band we were in together, I wrote these three tunes as a means of learning a few new instruments that I wanted to incorporate into the duo. Affectionately called “Little Tunes” in the beginning, I learned to play the penny whistle on Withywindle Valley, and the GDAD tuned octave mandolin on Cranachan Smoothie and Primer Potion. When we decided to put these tunes together and record them as a set, the style and feel changed drastically. While the tunes themselves stayed roughly the same, Marty completely changed the style through his guitar and bouzouki backup- from a Baroque style (sort of) in two parts to… whatever it is now. Others on the recording took Marty’s idea yet farther in the direction it was going. It was a good study on how two minds working together are better than one and that backup is often more important than melody in determining style. ~Carolee5. The Final Trawl (Archie Fisher)/The Luckenbooth (John McCusker)Marty- vocals, bouzoukiCarolee- vocals, mandola, flute, whistleDanielle Montague-Judd- fiddle The Final Trawl comes from one of Scotland's greatest national treasures and a true wordsmith, Archie Fisher. An emotional song about the end of the fishing industry in a small coastal village, told from the view of the captain. The same sad story is heard not only Archie's homeland, but in small harbor towns all over the world; the fish, and so the fishing industry, are disappearing. Archie composed this song after seeing some good fishing boats intentionally"beached on the skerry rocks" in a northern Scottish harbor, to sit and rust away, rather than be cut into scrap"in the breaker's dock". A sad end to a fisherman's life-long career. We were looking for a tune to go with this reflective song, and the incredibly bittersweet tune, The Luckenbooth, seemed a perfect fit. ~Marty Now its three long years since we made her pay, Sing, heave away, my laddie-oAnd the owners say that she’s had her day, And Sing haul away, my laddie-o So its haul away, for the final trawlIt's an easy pull for the catch is small So stow your gear, lads, and batten downAnd I'll take the wheel, lads, and turn her 'round And we'll join the 'Venture' and the 'Morning Star'Riding high and empty towards the bar And I'd rather beach her on the Skerry rockThan to see her torched in the breakers dock And when I die, you can stow me downIn a rusty hold where the breaker pound And I'll make the haven and the Fiddler's GreenWhere the grub is good and the bunks are clean For I've fished a lifetime, boy and manAnd this final trawl scarcely nets a cran6. Cape Breton Jig/Garrett Barry's/Keep It Up/Liam O'Flynn's/Rolling in the Rye GrassMarty- bouzoukiCarolee- fluteDanielle Montague-Judd- fiddle A whole slew of traditional tunes in a row, sort of a rarity on this recording. At the first annual Skenachy World MusicFest in 2009 (that we started here in our hometown of Evanston, Wyoming) we spent a week working up a few tunes, one of which was Rolling in the Rye Grass. We also met our good friend Dani that week (who joins us on fiddle for this set), and she suggested adding Liam O'Flynn's. Carolee brought Cape Breton Jig, having learned it at a family reunion from her fiddle playing sister from Alaska, who heard the tune in Ireland. I heard the Scottish tune Keep It Up, played for years by the great trio of brothers from Utah called Kirkmount. I used to watch them play for hours at the Fort Bridger Rendezvous and was blown away by them every time. Carolee plays what is affectionately known as her “barking” keyless flute on this set. ~Marty7. Waltz for Weiger/Desert Dance (Carolee Bowen)Carolee- flute, English horn, mandolaMarty- bouzoukiMichele Bowen- bassoonEthan Bowen- octave mandolinJed Blodgett- percussion I was inspired to write this set as a result of two different circumstances. During a time when my son listened to and played dark sounding heavy metal music, non-stop (at top volume), I found myself writing a strange little tune in Phrygian mode (perhaps because I might have been brainwashed for a short time). It eventually became Waltz for Weiger, named for my long-time oboe mentor and good friend who took his own life in 2008. That summer, I was hugely jealous when Marty attended Zoukfest World Music Camp in New Mexico without me, associating with legendary bouzouki player Andy Irvine and other great players who were there. Some of my favorite tracks recorded by Andy Irvine and his pals were the Balkan inspired tunes that he recorded with Planxty and Mozaik. So… while Marty was gone having a fabulous time at Zoukfest, I wrote Desert Dance with the intent of later utilizing his inspiration from bouzouki classes he attended there (or perhaps to torture him). Desert Dance is reminiscent of music in the modal structure of Maqam, Hijaz (Arabic) starting in 2/4, moving to a Rutchenitsa rhythm in 7/8 (Bulgarian), then to a Karsilamas rhythm in 9/8 (Turkish/Greek) and ending in a fast 2/4. How do I know such specific information about these modes and rhythms you ask (after all, I didn’t go to Zoukfest)? Because strangely enough, Zoukfest founder and renowned bouzouki player Roger Landes came to Skenachy MusicFest in little old Evanston, Wyoming where I attended a class and discovered what I had written! Fun times. ~Carolee8. Stick to the Craythur/Danzig Willie (Brian McNeill)/The Diplodocus (Liz Carroll)Marty- vocals, bouzoukiCarolee- vocals, flute, whistlesSpencer Hoveskeland- bassLike many people, I first heard Greenfield's of America sing this song on their live recording and I fell in love with it. I sang it for years in a weak attempt to sound like Robbie O'Connell. Failing miserably, I finally gave up. We decided to give it an overhaul and for better or worse, this is the result. All the funny words in this song are different terms they use for home-made Irish whiskey. I wonder why don't they just call it something sensible... like moonshine? Anyway, Carolee doesn't touch the stuff, but she'll sing about it sometimes. I learned the fun little tune in the middle, Danzig Willie, years ago from a great old Battlefield Band CD, Music in Trust Vol. II, and have been looking for a set to stick it in ever since. We learned Diplodocus from the playing of friend and fiddler John W**d, of Molly's Revenge fame. ~Marty Let your quacks and newspapers be cutting their capers bout curing the vapors, the scratch and the gout with their magical potions, their serums and lotions upholding their notions they're mighty put out. Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic and pitch to the devil cramp, colic and spleen. You'll know it I think if you take a big drink with your mouth to the brink of a jug of poteen. So stick to the craythur the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Oh what botheration, no dose in the nation, can give consolation like poteen me boys. As a child in the cradle, me nurse with her ladle was filling me mouth with a notion of pep when a drop from the bottle fell into me throttle I capered and scrambled clean out of her lap. On the floor I lay crawlin' and screaming and bawling me father and mother were called to the fore all sobbing and sighing they feared I was dying But soon found I only was crying for more. ... Oh lord how they'd chuckle if babes in their truckle They only could suckle on poteen me boys Through my youthful aggression, and times of depression my childhood impression still clung to my mind and at school or at college the basis of knowledge, I never could gulp 'til with whiskey combined. And as older I'm growing, time's ever bestowin' on Erin's potation, a flavor so fine. And how they may lecture on Jove and his nectar Itself is the only true liquid divine. ... Oh lord, 'tis the right thing for courting and fighting there's none so exciting as poteen me boys. Come guess me this riddle, what beats pipes and fiddle what's hotter than mustard and milder than cream, what best wets your whistle, what's clearer than crystal, what's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam. What'll make the lame walk, what'll make the dumb talk, the elixir of life and philosopher's stone. And what helped Mr. Brunnell to dig the Thames Tunnel, sure wasn't it poteen from old Inisowen.... Oh lord, 'tis no wonder if lightning and thunder Weren't made from the plunder of poteen me boys. Now, ye maidens pathetic, with lovers athletic for liquid cosmetic, you can't beat the drop with a glow to your cheek, it'll make your heart leap It would whiten a stallion or cure an old cob. From the mouth you would drool, be reduced to a fool, you'd kick up your heels and you'd peel to the buff. And it’s you'd be athletic while he'd be pathetic If only you'd take a few drops of the stuff. .. For there's nothing like whiskey to make maidens frisky It soon separates all the men from the boys.9. Breton Tune/Bruce’s Tune (Carolee Bowen)/An Dro/Evit Tonya (Marty Smith)/Kas a Bahr/Kas a BahrMarty- guitar, bouzoukiCarolee- flute, whistlesJeremy Starr- violinEthan Bowen- bass We pulled the melody of the first tune from an old Tannahill Weavers album, a group who's been a great source of musical inspiration for me over the years. They'd turned it into a song by combining it with the Robert Burns poem, Bonnie Was Yon Rosie Briar, which worked beautifully, but being on the constant look-out for a good Breton tune, and already having two Burns songs on the album, we decided to record it as an instrumental. I wish I knew more about it's origins or background, or even a title for it. I remember when I first heard it, I was deeply moved by it's painfully haunting melody. Carolee and I each wanted to write a tune to go in this set out of sheer love for the wonderful music of Brittany. I hope we do them justice. Bruce’s Tune is named for Carolee’s father who she says, showed her through his example how creative thinking initiates opportunity. Evit Tonya simply means"For Tonya" in the Breton language (I had to search countless on-line forums for that tiny bit of information), named for my wife who's beauty and grace I've tried to capture within the tune. Stanley Greenthal taught me the first Kas a Bahr, the other two tunes we found on the Internet, a somewhat dangerous if not convenient practice. ~Marty10. Ye Jacobites by Name (Robert Burns) Marty- vocals, bouzouki, mandocelloCarolee- vocals, flute, mandolaThe second and final Robert Burns song included on this recording. Burns modified this version from an older and much longer poem written from a Whig's point of view, with lyrics attacking the Jacobite cause. Burns, who sympathized with the Jacobites, but also being against war of any kind, toned the lyrics down to be more of a general anti-war theme. That said, we're still unsure of what"a near" is, but apparently it's something that the Jacobites were being asked to lend out. Being Scottish, you can rule out money... or whiskey... or beer... or cheese and crackers... or car keys… or printer paper… well, just about anything I guess. ~MartyYe Jacobites by name, lend and ear, lend and ear. Ye Jacobites by name, lend and ear Ye Jacobites by name, your faults I will proclaim. Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear, you shall hear. Your doctrines I must blame, you shall hear What is right and what is wrong, by the law, by the law... What is right and what is wrong, a short sword and a long. A weak arm and a strong, for to draw, for to draw... What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar...What makes heroic strife, to whet the assassin’s knife. Or hunt a parents life, with bloody war, bloody war... Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state... Then let your schemes alone, adore the rising sun. And leave a man undone, to his fate, to his fate...11. An Phis Fhluich/Last Night's Fun/The Wise MaidMarty- dulcimer, guitar, bouzoukiCarolee- flute, bodhran Two traditional Irish slip jigs and one reel, three of the very best tunes out there."The Choice Wife" is one translation for the title of the first tune, or you could supplement"choice" with; fine, good, great, perfect, etc., and my understanding is that it's a dubious connotation. I suppose that the title for the second tune could tie in nicely, and probably the third as well. Anyhow, we first heard An Phis Flhuich, and The Wise Maid from recordings by the almighty Planxty. I heard Last Night's Fun played years ago by a group from Salt Lake City called Shanahy, though it was distinctly more Scottish sounding to my ear than I've generally heard it played since. That was the version that stuck with me all this time, so we've tried to capture a little bit of that feeling here. ~Marty12. Bedlam Boys (lyrics trad., melody by Nic Jones)/Abraham Cove (Marty Smith)Marty- vocals, bouzouki, guitar, dulcimerCarolee- vocals, flute, English hornEthan Bowen- bass This song has been covered many times since Nic Jones first recorded it back in the late 60s, we reformatted it and threw our name into the pot. We were initially drawn to it because of it's dark and morbid themes of madness, somewhat explicit lyrics by today's standards. The poem comes from the early 17th century, and was originally called"Mad Maudlin's search for her Tom O' Bedlam". This was the sequel to another popular poem of the day, Tom O' Bedlam, which had at least 25 stanzas and focuses on Tom's descent into madness. I wrote the slip jig at the end about a year or so before we decided to start playing this song, but had no name for it. While looking for information about Bedlam Boys, I stumbled onto the terms, Abraham Cove and Abraham-men, which refer to a specific type of beggar who claimed to have been released from Bedlam mental hospital, but were in fact feigning madness in order to make a living from begging. In 1673, Richard Head wrote that Abraham-men"used to array themselves with party-coloured ribbons, tape in their hats, a fox-tail hanging down, a long stick with streamers, and beg alms; but for all their seeming madness, they had wit enough to steal as they went along." Sounds like a day spent at the local Renaissance festival! ~Marty To see my Tom o Bedlam , ten thousand miles I’d travel. Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes, just to save her shoes fromgrave. l Spirits white as lightening, did on my journey guide me. The stars would shake and pale moon quake, When e’er they did espy me.And still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys, Bedlam Boys are bonny. For they all go bare and they live by the air, and they want no drink or no money.I went to Pluto’s kitchen, to break me fast one morning. There I got souls piping hot, that on the spits were turning. There I picked a cauldron, where boiled ten thousand harlots. Though full of flame I drank the same, to the health of all such varlets. My staff has murdered giants, my bag a long knife carries. To cut mince pies from children’s thighs, with which to feed the fairies. It’s when that I have murdered, the Man in the Moon to powder. His staff I’ll break, his dog I’ll bake, they’ll howl no demon louder. No gypsy slut nor doxy, shall win my Mad Tom from me. I’ll weep all night, the stars I’ll fight, the fray it shall become me. So drink to Tom of Bedlam, he’ll fill the seas in barrels. I’ll drink it all, well brewed with gall, with Maudlin drunk, I’ll quarrel.