Top 100 Albums - #28: Beyond These Shores (1993)

Celtic band Iona make their third and final appearance with Beyond These Shores, a concept album of sorts based loosely on the transatlantic voyage of St. Brendan.
Neither of Iona's first two releases - Iona (1990) and The Book Of Kells (1992, #46), had made much impact commercially, and the critics had been largely indifferent. This lack of sales and acclaim prompted the departure of founder member David Fitzgerald, who left at the end of 1992 to pursue a degree in music. His place was filled by saxophonist Mike Haughton, one of a plethora of visiting musicians who would take part on the recording of the third album. Following the tour to support The Book Of Kells, Robert Fripp, of King Crimson fame, became interested in the band, and brought his trademark 'Frippertronic' production and guitar work into the mix. With the live circuit still very much the band's lifeblood, Iona needed to produce something which would satisfy their fans while teasing the critics.

Teasing is the word, actually. 'Prayer On The Mountain' begins with some intriguing, new age-y bells and rainstick. Amidst this menagerie of perusable percussion comes Troy Donockley's ever-splendid flute playing. Just as on 'Lindisfarne' from Journey Into The Morn (1996), this piece is hardly in-your-face: it slowly rises from the ground which bears it, gradually blooming into a sweet and fitting overture (see my review of Woven Cord (1999, #35). Being only 2:53 long it doesn't have as long as 'Lindisfarne' to make an impression, but no time is wasted here and the result is great.

From here we launch straight into 'Treasure', and already we see a more commercial, straightforward Iona. The flutes and bodhrán may still be there, we are still dealing with a celtic band. But the lyrics are more direct and straightforwardly Christian, paraphrasing from Matthew 6 throughout. Look at the first verse:

Consider the flowers of the field
And the beauty
More lovely then even the clothes of a king
Consider the birds of the air
Flying high, flying free
You are precious to me

What is more, this song incorporates conventional rock beats on the drums (Terl Bryant), and Dave Bainbridge's guitar work is more grounded and rocky than his usual swirling majesty. Don't think, however, this is Iona selling out. This is a very, very good song, retaining all the qualities of Iona's most conceptual and beautiful work while being a lot easier on the casual listener. It's really the best of both worlds, particularly since Bainbridge fans get a carefully placed acoustic solo halfway through.

Back to concepts of sorts now, and 'Brendan's Voyage (Navigatio)'. As on the first track, there are plenty of unusual noises which create a pleasant texture. But then just as you have got comfortable, Bainbridge lurches forward and ruins it with a guitar part straight out of an ageing 80s metal band. All the carefully crafted euphoria is lost, and no matter how hard Joanne Hogg tries she cannot rescue this song. The lyrics don't help her in this, but she is also overpowered by the drums, as she would be on later Iona records like The Circling Hour (2006).

'Edge Of The World' is much more like it. The melody is given time to emerge, emerging slowly this time backed by graceful, jazz-inspired piano and bass from Nick Beggs. Hogg seems much more at home, not having to fight the band for dominion. And the vocals suit her voice a lot better. Having made an unsung appearance on 'Treasure', Haughton shines here on both saxophone and whistle. This may be more down-tempo, but it is this kind of graceful, ethereal and timelessly elegant style which have always suited Iona best.

'Today' is a return to pop, of sorts. The rhythms are more staccato, the tempo is quicker, the lyrics are driven by hooks rather than imagery and atmosphere. Which is a shame really, because without these this could have been a good song. With these things in place - at least, the first two - the result comes across as compromised and half-arsed. It feels like a bog-standard worship band, with pedestrian guitar chords; the only thing that seperates it is the overactive percussion. This is not what we have come to expect of Iona.

Neither, for that matter, is 'View From The Islands'. The problem with this is chiefly its length; at 2:30 it's the shortest on the album, but it's hardly a punchy motown number. On the contrary, it's a Bainbridge acoustic workout, and a below-par one at that. Virtually nothing tumbles out of his guitar which will sustain your interests, and then Bainbridge throws in Haughton's flutes with the same riff as 'Prayer On The Mountain' in a vain attempt to rescue it.

But be patient, for with 'Bird Of Heaven' it's clear the band have listened. For starters, it's the longest track here, at 9:12, so there is no danger of being short-changed. Backed by graceful keyboard chords, Haughton begins the piece with a saxophone solo to die for; his soulful, jazzy playing transports you to an empty street in the middle of the night, and you are walking down it with only the lamps to guide you. Soon the walk become a joyful jog as the band lock down for one of their best instrumentals. Everything is tight, measured and yet so elegant - Bainbridge's guitar wails where before he could only make it shriek, at times coming close to the brooding sound Steve Hackett achieved on The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway (1974). And unlike his successor, Frank van Essen, Bryant manages both power and economy on the drums. When we do get to the lyrics, they are a timely reminder of the dangers of locking God in religion to suit our needs. This is much, much more like it.

Moving on to 'Murlough Bay', we find Hogg really getting into her stride. No other female singer is so well suited to these lyrics: she sings the line And here at last I'm on my own with you in a voice so pure that it could be used to tune an orchestra, but with so much feeling and emotion that no fancy effects, not even the echo Bainbridge has added, are necessary to lift her performance. And when she is required to grace the highest registers, she does not flinch or falter, serving up another wonderful effort.

'Burning Like Fire' returns to the more commercial, straight-ahead sound that we saw on 'Treasure' and would later see on Journey Into The Morn. The lyrics are simpler, especially when it comes to the chorus, but once again this is achieved without compromising their unique sound. Bainbridge's guitar is still yearning and Bryant's drumming still thundery. And in the quieter sections, where the drums go all jazzy, Haughton is allowed to flourish again.

'Adrift' is another instrumental, the longest such piece on the album. It's a very textual piece, relying on sweet, high-register piano laid over the softly humming keyboard backdrops. At its heart, this is a chill-out piece, nearly 4 minutes of music designed to completely soothe you. But unlike artists like Eddi Reader, who can chill you out to the point of making you fall asleep, this manages to make you relaxed while constantly sustaining your interests. The changes are not brusque and rapid enough to 'wake' you, but you are never allowed to slip away into sleep.

We now come to 'Beachy Head', which is, quite simply, the greatest song ever written. There is so much which makes this so majestic and magical. For starters, it's a song about suicide which actually lifts your spirits; in this aspect it is almost certainly unique. The band have played tightly before, but here the links between them are almost telepathic; each member, each instrument, knows what the others will do next and knows exactly when to come in and what to do. From the flute's duet with piano at the start to the soaring sax at the end, there is not a single passage which is superfluous or out of place. Bainbridge is astounding - his keyboards are graceful and sweet, while his guitar work burbles with brio. The riff created on the flute is fundamentally inspired, being quirky and ethereal at the same time. Hogg is on the best form of her career, injecting this with so much passion and always hitting the exact notes at the exact right moment. Bryant's drumming is understated, but brilliant - there is nothing too ornate or fancy, just good solid flicks of the sticks. And to cap it all, Bainbridge as producer has captured every sound in perfect harmony, so you can hear in total clarity every single note. This song is above and beyond everything that this band have created before or since. It is just - perfection.

'Machrie Moor' has a huge act to follow, but makes a decent effort of it. It does what it can to follow 'Beachy Head', taking the tempo right down while sustaining that sweetness, that feeling of great pleasure which you get from hearing Iona. The instruments are quieter and more modest; Bainbridge may have the largest part on acoustic, but he is hardly leading from the front. Instead he anchors the piece, allowing Frank van Essen's violins and Donockley's pipes to do their thing, and do it well.

'Healing' will start off as a difficult track to like for some people. It is a more standard piece, with simpler riffs and an even simpler chorus. Simplicity is not in itself a bad thing, but for a band like Iona who create beauty through intricacy, it can be seen as laziness. Hogg is struggling too, butchering the opening line (You've returned like some unsung her-o-oh threatens to throw the whole thing off course). But given time and patience, you will find this as pleasing as most of the other stuff on here. It is not lazy or cheesy, it is simply not what you would normally expect from Iona, at least on the basis of the rest of this album.

'Brendan's Return' is an instrumental reprise of the third track, with almost the same running time. But strangely, this is better than the first one. For a start, the unusual textures used to set the scene have been significantly pared back, so there is less chance of the piece dragging. Then the 80s guitar has been toned down and and made great by the addition of saxophone on harmony part, again adding a jazzy feel. Bryant is allowed a little more room to work his magic, chiefly because there are now no vocals for him to drown out.

We close this great album with the title track, a track which would become the great closer for Iona's live shows. Emerging out of the silence, Hogg returns to form with a set of lyrics and notes bespoke for her range and approach to singing. So while she sings like a siren on the shoreline, the rest of the band are there to paint the canvass surrounding her, with light, subtle touches and fitting riffs. It's a beautiful piece, one of the best tracks on here by a long way (though not as good as 'Beachy Head'). The lyrics pour over the lines like liquid spilling over a floor; they go their own, unique way and gradually fill the sound up. What a great way to finish.

Iona have always been a band to do things their own way, whether live or on record. They have never been afraid to push the boundaries, to explore the limits of what is considered 'Christian rock' and come up with something profoundly different from the cheesy Delirious? norm. Beyond These Shores is the climax of that experimentation. Previous works, like The Book Of Kells, were beautiful and well-written in their own right, but compared to this they sound like a band still finding itself. And later works, including their most recent release, have seen the band either straying too close to the mainstream or the opposite, disappearing into the dark void of showing off, prog-style. This is the only album where everything comes together at the right time and in just the right quantity. It's still flawed, but it retains a certain magic and spirit even at its most disappointing moments. Where many Christian records are off-putting and old hat, this is inviting, intriguing - and always rewarding.

3.93 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #35: Woven Cord (1999)

Iona's second entry on the chart is Woven Cord, their second live album. This was recorded with the All Souls Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall in London, on May 29th 1999.
Iona's first three releases established them at the forefront of Celtic progressive rock. Their self-titled debut (1990) was a tribute to the island's history and Christian heritage. The follow-ups, The Book Of Kells (1992, #46) and Beyond These Shores (1993) were loose concept albums, the former looking at the eponymous 8th-century manuscript, the latter focussing on the 9th-century voyage of St. Brendan across the Atlantic from Ireland. Between these albums founder member Dave Fitzgerald (saxophone) left the band to concentrate on his teaching career. With sales remaining low, the band's next effort was the more commercial Journey Into The Morn (1996), based around the modern hymn 'Be Thou My Vision'. This was followed by a greatest hits album, Treasures (1996) and a tour to support it, captured on the live album Heaven's Bright Sun (1997). This would be Terl Bryant's last album with the band before Frank van Essen replaced him on drums.

We kick off with 'Overture', a 5-minute instrumental designed to settle us into the feel of the album. Of course, since this was written by Troy Donockley, we get the usual whistles and pipes; but we also get the richer sounds from the string section, something which would feature more prominently on Open Sky (2000). The slight downside to this is that a lot of the traditional Celtic edge is lost in the old-fashioned, haughty grandeur of the arrangements. But overall, you have to say, this compliments the Iona sound very well, raising it to the level of a film score.

Even once you have figured out how to pronounce 'Bi-Sé I Mo Shuìl (Part I)' (say bee-suy i mo-hool), the song itself remains a disappointment. Taken from Journey Into The Morn, this is, aside from anything else, an unsatisfactory way of introducing the great voice of Joanne Hogg. Oh sure, she can do the Gaelic pronounciation no problem, but you are left thinking that her entrance would have been a lot better had the song blended with the orchestral accompaniment. On record, this works; live with an orchestra, it doesn't.

No problem though, because we can now move on to 'Matthew - The Man'. As I said in my review of The Book Of Kells, this is one of the great tracks to have come out of prog in the last decade or so. While the album version began with shimmering keyboards and thumping great bass lines, this is driven by a duel between Dave Bainbridge's wailing guitar and Frank van Essen's thundery, dynamic drumming. This may be even longer than the album version at 13:01, but like the album version there is no room for dragging solos. One unfortunate change is the loss of Bainbridge's tear-inducing acoustic guitar solo, drowned out here by the keyboards. However, van Essen more than makes up for it with his subtle but full-bodied fills - the section from 9:17 to 10:27 is just about the most euphoric drum and guitar section you are ever likely to find. It is utterly spectacular.

After all that drum-and-guitar euphoria, 'White Sands' takes things down a notch. With its oboe and clarinet opening, you are transported to a distant beach and are utterly relaxed when you get there. This track, from Iona, is where Donockley really gets into his stride. Backed by what sounds like a bouzouki (akin to a lute or mandolin), he performs a beautiful piece on whistle. The shrill descant of the whistle rises above the slow gushings of the bouzouki chords, while the violins provide what could be called the alto part. This is perhaps the track where you most notice the production; every note has been captured immaculately by Bainbridge.

'Murlough Bay' is from Beyond These Shores, and begins as brightly as the album version. Hogg is back and in fine form, showing that her performance on record can be perfectly replicated live. No other female voice suits the line And here at last I'm on my own with you so very well. Her voice is pure like cut glass, but unlike many singers of such talents there is emotion as well as quality. There is very little to differentiate this from the album version, but then again Iona are never the sort of band to add in lengthy solos to show off; the audience are already well aware of their talents and respond accordingly.

'Dancing On The Wall' is another "oldie, but goodie" as Peter Frampton would say. In its structure, this is considerably more poppy than anything the band have produced since; it is even more the case when we listen further and see the restraint with which instruments are being used. But that is not really a problem. Although this is for the most part just vocals and an acoustic guitar, this is not singer-songwriter schmaltz. The chords are complex and intricate, and the lyrics a damn sight more merry, as is the finished product.

Hereon in, things get a little more hit and miss. 'Encircling' clocks in at 12:25 and most of that is overkill. The lyrics are not as compelling as before, and we get the first hints of van Essen's irritating tendency towards flashy playing. The drums do way too much in this piece, and Bainbridge has put them right at the forefront of the mix so that their effect is unmitigated. Unlike on previous long tracks, the instrumental sections do drag, turning the whole thing into a bitter disappointment.

If you can endure this superfluous epic, you are duly rewarded with the best track on the album. 'Lindisfarne' begins very tentatively; under a slow murmur from the cellos the higher-pitched instruments one by one poke their heads up above ground, like the first flowers of spring. This again has a film score feel to it, rather than just an orchestrated rock song. It is hard to believe that both this and 'Encircling' came from the same album (Journey Into The Morn), because they are so utterly different. Where that was bloated and drawn out, this blends beautifully from one section to the next, and all the time the musicianship is tight and full of lustre. You don't realise that this is a true gem without listening all the way through. Everything is so modest and subtle that it needs to be appreciated holistically, like looking down on a completed jigsaw. This is a quietly-styled masterpiece.

'Revelation' has a hard act to follow, but it has a pretty good stab at it. As on the version from The Book Of Kells, the star of this song is Hogg, who by now has gotten completely settled into her surroundings. Her delivery and diction are not quite as immaculate here as on the album, but even then she wipes the floor with her rivals (ever wondered why Enya never performs live?). Once again, Bainbridge has tweaked his guitar part so that the jaunty solo has been replaced by a screechy workout, but this is still a very good track.

After so many old classics, we come to something new. The title track is another instrumental, and would become the opener to Open Sky just under a year later. Like a lot of that album, this is hardly throughbred Iona, chiefly because (once again) van Essen goes a bit too mad a bit too often. It is not completely impotent, with Donockley's pipes carrying things along nicely. But the riffs are a lot less agreeable than on previous recordings, and by the end they begin to try your patience.

Thankfully, we end on the great Iona closer, 'Beyond These Shores'. This is longer than the album version by nearly 2 minutes, largely because of the long violin opening and the extended (and deserved) applause at the end. Nevertheless, this remains one of the band's all-time great compositions. For a start, it is perfectly suited to Hogg's range and delivery, allowing her to push herself in the name of passion without any sign of strain or struggle. The instruments are more restrained, with Bainbridge handling the piano like an old master while the violins hum near-silently in the background. The lyrics are pretty damn good too. You reach the end, as the cellos and keyboards mingle with the clapping, and you are left completely fulfilled.

Making a good live album is difficult. Making a good prog live album is even more so. Making a good prog live album with orchestral accompaniment is well-nigh impossible, as so often the music is overshadowed by the grandeur and pretention surrounding big bands. The most immediate example is Procol Harum's Live With The Edmonton Symphony Orchestra (1972); all that could have been extracted from a few half-decent songs is ruined by the bloated, stuffy nature of the arrangements (see my review of Procol Harum - The Collection (1985, #67)). With Woven Cord, however, Iona have cracked it. For the most part the orchestra is there to bring out and add to the most emotional parts of songs, rather than just padding out the mix. That said, the best moments are when the band is trying to be as restrained as possible; there is no noodling or shredding of which to speak, but van Essen is not always economical on the drums, too often sounding like a loose cannon. Overall though, you get the sense that Iona did not do this because they had the money, or the egos. They did this because they knew what full orchestration could bring to their work, and the result - for the most part - is profound.

3.91 out of 5

Top 100 Albums - #46: The Book Of Kells (1992)

Celtic prog rockers Iona make their first of three entries with The Book Of Kells, a concept album based on an 8th-century illustrated manuscript of the gospels, and their second album overall. Iona formed in 1990, comprised of vocalist Joanne Hogg and multi-instrumentalists David Fitzgerald and Dave Bainbridge. The line-up remained relatively fluid initially, while retaining the three core members. The group released its self-titled debut, a concept album about the island of Iona, in June of the same year. The album featured a number of guest musicians, like Franz van Essen (drums) and Troy Donockley (Uillean pipes), both of whom remain in the line-up to this day. Occassional live performances and a warm reception of the record created a growing reputation for this supergroup in disguise. By this time the core trio had been joined by two more full members, Nick Beggs (bassist, formerly of Kajagoogoo) and Terl Bryant (drums).

'Kells Opening Theme' does what it says on the tin. It kicks us off and already we are treated to one of the most beautiful female voices in music. Joanne Hogg's voice is pure, clear, crisp and haunting against the elegant backdrop created by the keyboards. If you close your eyes and listen to her voice, you will be blown away to a rugged, unspoilt landscape. The elegance of her voice allows her to flow over the lyrics effortlessly - lyrics which, incidentally, have a very unusual structure. What a great start.

'Revelation' takes up the baton from the opening track. With its serence combination of pipes and acoustic guitar, it's a warming and very spiritual track. Hogg demonstrates her range and her voice carries well; unlike Enya she does not have to rely on fancy production to convey emotion. Terl Bryant's drumming might begin pretty basic, but at the end of lines it's fantastic, if a little 1980s. Finally, 2:45 in, Dave Bainbridge unleashes a peculiarly jaunty guitar solo to complete this live favourite.

The next track is one of the greats in modern prog rock. 'Matthew - The Man' may well be the longest track on the album, clocking in at an almighty 11:54, but unlike a lot of prog it isn't drawn out and it isn't allow to bog down. Instead, the instrumental sections are allowed to unfold at near-perfect speed. The keyboards are beautiful, the pipes come in at just the right instances, the bass is deep and guttaral, and the percussion from Messrs. Bryant and van Essen is superb. When Hogg finally arrives, she hardly disappoints, preceded as she is by a wailing acoustic solo. (N. B. If you think this version is good, check out the live version on Woven Cord (2005) - Frans van Essen's drumming is spectacular).

Having done so well so far, 'Chi-Rho' comes across as a poor relation. It's acoustic-driven with lyrics which are both more oblique and delivered more breathily. And that's not good, because it robs Hogg's voice of a lot of its purity, turning her into a worship band singer. The drums are too loud and sound fake. This is a well-structured song, I will admit, but structure alone is not enough to sustain your interests.

'Mark - The Lion' is the second of four tracks which (attempt to) sum up each of the gospels; they are personified as each of the four creatures which made up the angels in Ezekiel 1:10. While 'Matthew - The Man' was replete with thundery bass and wailing acoustic, to indicate the juxtaposition between strength and humility in mankind, this is percussion-heavy, beginning with what sound like bongos being faded in. They sound good with the distant shimmers of the keyboards; but it is only once we pass 1:01 that the track really takes off. Here the rock drums and saxophone take over, and we glimpse the raw, majestic power of the running lion. It's another piece which relies on your imagination to carry the instrumental - just as a concept album should be.

'The River Flows' is similar to 'Chi-Rho', insofar as it's acoustic-led and it falls short of the high standard set by the other tracks. The lyrics are just too simplistic to justify the length of the song (5:01). And the percussion feels flat and repetitive - in all, this has the feeling of filler, one of the main complaints about the album upon its release.¹ 'Luke - The Calf', meanwhile, opens dramatically, first with the sound of waves and then some beautiful, full-blown violins. Listening to this is like lying on a calm beach with the tide slowly coming in, while being gently massaged. The flute part is so sweetly tuned to the song's needs, it was as if God himself had written it (directly or indirectly, depending on what you believe). Most importantly, though, like its two counterparts, you do get an image of a calf - if you can drown out the beach for long enough.

'Virgin And Child' has to be one of the most beautiful songs on here. It's built around a simple phrase on a harp which sounds like a highly-tuned acoustic - which on the basis of the previous tracks might spell underachievement. But here, the guitar guides the piece; it doesn't lead in the traditional sense, it simply anchors it, so that when the flutes come in in the final minute (along with the violins), it doesn't feel crowded. It's another work of complete beauty.

'Temptation' is, by contrast, a lot more dark and aggressive than the other songs we have heard so far. In the opening minute, all is well: the mood is set, the ears are retuned and we listen intently. But at 1:15, it becomes strange, taking on a bouncy characteristic. It sounds like a forgotten outtake of Passion (1989) in its use of Eastern sounds - Dave Fitzgerald, who played sax on 'Mark - The Lion', switches here to the suona, a kind of Chinese clarinet. All very well and good, but this piece has less substance (like a lot of stuff on Passion, as a matter of fact), and so it has all been in vain.

We quickly get back on track, though, so don't fret. 'The Arrest - Gethsemane' sees Fitzgerald returning to the saxophone. Backed by Bainbridge's reverberating keyboard chords, it sounds absolutely gorgeous. This feels meticuously well put-together, creating the perfect wailing backdrop to the beginnings of the Passion (Jesus' arrest and anguish before his crucifixion). By now, one thing you will have noticed is that Hogg has been absent for quite a long time. Not that her absence is especially a bad thing, since her vocals, rather than lead a piece, blend in to the lush instrumental work. But this is the fourth track without her.

'Trinity - The Godhead' is the fifth. It's longer than most of the instrumentals, and it is a lot slower than many of them. But that doesn't matter, not one iota. Why? Because this is a sensational track, a beautiful soundscape which blends perfect musicianship with spacious production. This is one of the few tracks that when, you listen to it in stereo, you feel like you're listening in quadrophonic or 3-D. The shimmering keyboards capture the celestial, ethereal qualities so marvellously, and despite the high quality sound you feel like it is all down to the musicians, not the producer. The saxophone dances through this glorious piece once again, completely this stand-out track. It's not just the best track on the album, it's one of the best Iona have ever written.

'John - The Eagle' completes the quadrilogy of tracks which sum up the gospels. And it works, achieving its aims in spades. The image of an eagle cresting the highest winds is constantly in your mind as Fitzgerald pushes his sax playing to its limits, creating something brilliant in the process. This feels a little more overproduced than the other three, but that's not a massive reason to hate it, especially when the piano in the second half sounds so good. This feels so good to listen to that you just won't care.

'Kells' - the title track is the wrong term here - is essentially a reworking of the opener, with a quicker tempo, more pipes and rockier drums. Now you can tell that van Essen is at the helm and enjoying himself - his licks are just as brilliant as they are on Woven Cord. Hogg makes a great return, and contrary to expectation her voice does not fall flat when confronted with a quicker pace of song. The whole band feels tight and the result is very bright.

We close with 'Eternity - No Beginning, No End', yet another instrumental which drags the tempo back down to a near crawl. Not that it's a bad piece of work - au contraire. The instruments may sound a little strange, but given the time and space they need, they create something genuinely great - angelic yet spooky. Van Essen's drumming is simplified, but he remains on form, and the mysterious vocals at the end are a perfect way to wrap things up.

Progressive rock is the thinking person's rock, where metal is the headbanger's, punk is the loudmouth's and indie is the awkward hedonist's. Falling as it does within the prog genre (at the distinctly unpretentious end, of course), The Book Of Kells both requires your full attention in order to engage you and engages your full attention when you listen. Some criticisms made of it are true - it is a trifle too long, there is a fair bit of filler, and there are not enough vocals. But this is still a splendid piece of craftsmanship. This feels like a soundtrack album, not just because it is full of instrumentals, but because it feels rich and atmospheric. Maybe allmusicguide.com hit on something in its review: "Given the deep thought and consideration required to understand this album fully, it does serve as a soundtrack for the mind's eye."² If nothing else, The Book Of Kells is perfect proof of life left in a genre which the popular press had long pronounced dead.

3.86 out of 5

References
¹ David Sleger, 'The Book Of Kells', http://www.allmusicguide.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=&sql=10:azfwxq8aldde. Accessed on January 12 2008.
² Ibid.