When Music and Mountains Meet - The Strathglass Trilogy

There’s something special about finding an unexpected connection during the course of pursuing two apparently independent activities – a glimpse perhaps of some deeper personal motivation that underpins the various things one feels passionate about…

Ten years ago this summer I camped for four nights at a midge-infested site on the outskirts of the small highland village of Cannich in Strathglass, 12 miles west of Loch Ness. Over three consecutive days there, I drove up each of the three parallel glens stretching west (Strathfarrar, Cannich and Affric) in turn, to park up, shoulder my rucksack and take in as many of the highest mountain ridges and summits as I could in a single days circular walk. The net result was a particularly satisfying and continuous appreciation of a sizeable chunk of the Highlands; the stunning glens, their rivers, birch, birds and squirrels, and the airy perspective from the mountains of the full spread of the land and the many large and deeply embedded lochs. On the third morning, I set off on foot from the Mullardoch dam (the largest in Scotland, half a mile wide in a distinctive V-shape, and completed in 1951) which defines the point beyond which the upper ten miles of Glen Cannich is now submerged. Despite some urgency to stay ahead of forecast incoming bad weather I was almost immediately stopped in my tracks by a striking cairn overlooking the north side of vast Loch Mullardoch. This turned out to be the Chisholm Cairn, commemorating 700 years of the Chisholm clan living and working the glen and surrounding lands, and also marking a spot near a now submerged clan gathering point. The cairn had a number of intriguing Moses-style stone tablets (albeit lacking text, being either blank or of sparsely abstract design) embedded in it, the symbolism of which still escapes me, but its strange nature stuck in my mind, along with the name of Chisholm.

 

Fast forward to a month ago, when I obtained a copy of the very fine recent album Affric by Scottish fiddler Duncan Chisholm. I was slow to register the implication of this combination of names, perhaps because I was initially so blown away by the music, but a read of the sleeve notes had my eyes widening. Duncan is something of a Scottish Sibelius in that his modus operandi is the evocation of specific wild landscapes and its associated history through his original compositions and exquisite playing – in his case a seductive and addictive mix of beautiful slow airs and compelling energetic pieces that stir the emotions at every turn yet are extraordinarily easy on the ear. He is of course a Chisholm rooted in the very area I explored, and currently based in Inverness; and it further transpires that Affric is simply the final splendid act in a multi-year project to evoke the three glens running west from Strathglass in three albums, the others being Canaich (2010) and Farrar (2008). Having now tracked down the latter two and confirmed that they match Affric for sheer quality, diversity, listening pleasure and raw evocation of some very special places, I find myself sitting back in admiration at the scale of his dedication and musical achievement. The music has been variously described as cinematic and semi-classical, but the traditional basis is all-pervading - but highly accessible. This may even be fiddle (and viola) music for the person who avowedly protests they don’t like fiddle music! 

It was fitting that the completion of the Strathglass project was celebrated last January with a concert on a stormy night at the Kelvingrove Art Gallery in Glasgow at the Celtic Connections festival, where pieces from the entire project were woven together into a coherent whole, the Strathglass Suite. Reports from attendees are that this was a very special occasion indeed where performer, audience, music and sense of place and history connected marvellously – and fortunately for all it was recorded and has recently been released. That’s one I have yet to savour...

Perhaps I should have included some of my photos of this landscape of Duncan’s that I explored and am now anxious to return to, though currently they languish on 35mm slides in a draw, yet to be scanned into the digital era. There again, the images will come to your minds eye easily enough if you simply listen to the music – it’s that good. And the evocative imagery in the album sleeve notes, by local artists and photographers, are both original and beautiful – a further manifestation of the dedication and love that is everywhere in this project.