Ciaran Lavary has had a very productive couple of years as a solo artist.
By Colleen Taylor
Bob Dylan meets 21st-century Ireland might be the best way to describe Antrim’s singer-songwriter Ciaran Lavery. I’ve chosen Dylan for the analogy not only because Lavery’s easy and untouched vocals recall something of Dylan’s authentic gritty sounds, but also because his creative openness matches Dylan’s own willingness to experiment. The music shops and critics might name Ciaran Lavery an indie folk singer, but he resists the limits of that qualification. His music opens out to myriad influences: hip-hop, soul, acoustic, Irish and not to mention, Dylan himself. Lavery has only been releasing his music for two years, but he already has two albums under his belt and a strong sense of his musical self-identity—or at least, a strong conviction to resist any musical self-labeling. His most recent album is “Let Bad In,” released in May of this year.
Lavery began his career in two very different genres: American folk and punk rock. At the same time he was falling in love with Woodie Guthrie, Bob Dylan and Crosby and Nash and so on, he was playing in a punk-rock garage band. His career then went on to Captain Kennedy, an indie seven-person band that he stayed with for six years. When Captain Kennedy disbanded, Lavery decided to go solo, but in order to do so he had to return home. He has explained that Belfast’s fast, urban environment became stifling for his music, so much so he decided to get back to Aghagallon, Co. Antrim, his hometown, to discover his authentic voice “from scratch.”
In 2014, Lavery released both his EP, “Kosher,” and his first album, “Not Nearly Dark.” The debut album got rave reviews from the BBC and beyond, even making its way to critics and fans in Norway and Belgium. Since then, Lavery has made quick work of his burgeoning solo career. He released a mini collaborative album, called “Sea Legs,” with Ryan Vail, an electro and classical musician from Derry, the next year in 2015. The latest release is his 2016 album, “Let Bad In,” which proves the efficiency and productivity of Lavery’s creativity.
Some Irish critics have labeled “Let Bad In” monotone and homogenous in comparison to the diversity of his first album, but I think this characterization is unjust. “Let Bad In” is a beautiful album that invokes a wide range of ballad and love song genres, while at the same time being experimental. The first track, “Sonoma,” is a gorgeous duet between Lavery’s singing voice and a melancholic piano that morphs into a strange electro decrescendo at the end of the song. I can’t seem to find anything homogenous about this album—it is as diverse as Lavery’s list of influences. He incorporates pop, electro, and even some international, almost Latino sounding influences, all the while staying true to his folksy base. “Okkervil River” is a favorite of mine: it’s an exploration of beats, hums, and ethnic melodies. There is even an acoustic song on the album: the title track, “Let Bad In.” Lavery’s sophomore record explores the smoky and bare-bones qualities of his singing voice. In fact, his voice is almost androgynous on this album, which is perfectly fitting. In the same way Lavery does not want to be categorized, the very gendering of his voice wants to remain ambiguous and resistant to categorization. He is both Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan of modern Ireland.
Listening to Lavery is a strange, unfamiliar experience, but it is also a welcome and inviting one. His music is both unexpected and beautiful, strange yet also familiar, both modern and something straight out of the 60’s folk revival. Give him and his new album a listen, but don’t try to classify them. Find out more at ciaranlaverymusic.com
Colleen Taylor writes the Music Notes column each week in the Irish Echo.
