JENNIE MacFIE goes home happy after her first live encounter with Shooglenifty.

KNOWING THIS motley crew only from their CDs, I expected a good night, but behold, the half was not told me. Shooglenifty hooked the audience early on. Evidently fiddler Angus Grant made a bargain with an even darker, hairier chap at the crossroads in Fort William. It's not often fiddle eclipses lead guitar but Malcolm Crosbie is indeed the quiet one. However Conrad Ivitsky, back on bass while Quee Macarthur stayed in Orkney, played like a true rock god alongside Garry Patterson's amazing banjax.
 
Centre stage was Tasmanian banjo and mandolin player Luke Plumb, the youngest, newest member of the band. He looks quiet but appearances are deceptive. The Shoogles reeled the audience in gradually until in the second half, with Hootananny's as hot and humid as Delhi in the middle of the monsoon, the rich seam of the Solar Shears album was mined.

When the audience began clapping out flamenco rhythms for ‘Delighted’, energy levels leaped off the scale. Yes, Hootananny's was cleared for takeoff and I began to fear for the floor joists. Had the builders of the past anticipated a capacity crowd of well nourished Highlanders jumping up and down in unison?

Let's not mince words, the audience was pogo-ing in there like the 80s never happened. It was a fittingly fusion sort of response to the music, which mixed and matched instruments and genres from around the world with wild, headbanging abandon. Phil Spector's Wall of Sound was nothing compared to this wild eldritch wailing mix of fiddle, banjo, mandolin, and guitar built on the solid foundation of James Mackintosh's percussion. Alas, all good things come to an end, and sometime after midnight the audience reluctantly drifted away, without exception grinning from ear to ear. Shoogle back again soon, please.
 

© Jennie MacFie, 2004