The first five-and-a-half minutes of Sunwise’s opening track “Dùsgadh / Waking" are taken up by a drone. Played on the Scottish small pipes – a form of bagpipes – this is in due course supplemented by a series of individual notes played in clusters. What’s heard symbolises the arrival of winter and the activities of Cailleach Bheurr who, in Celtic folklore, wanders moors and summons the elements to conceal any greenery, so winter’s blanket is absolute.
“Dùsgadh / Waking" is intense. It also confirms that Sunwise exists at the nexus of traditional music and the experimental. Rather than minimalist folk, this is a form of folk music drawing from, and incorporating, minimalism.
Sunwise is the third solo album by pipes player Brìghde Chaimbeul. It is a cycle, representing winter’s advancement. The end comes with Hogmanay and, then, St Finan’s night: 9 January. Three of the eight tracks are composed by Chaimbeul (one of these, though, incorporates a traditional song). The remainder are traditional. There is a mix of instrumentals and performances with vocals: spoken and sung. It’s mostly just Chaimbeul, but there are a few other contributors: the voice of her father, that of her brother, a few uilleann pipe players on one track and, on another, saxophonist Colin Stetson. Nonetheless this, unlike her previous album Carry Them With Us, feels solo. It is very sparse.
By uniting an elevated level of forcefulness with minimalism, Sunwise is – manifestly – noteworthy. While repeated listens don’t decrease the impact, it's not all about the intensity. There are contrasts, like that of day giving way to night, like that of entering a warm interior after being blasted by wind. This many layered album is the product of a deft creativity: a distinctive vision which marks out Brìghde Chaimbeul as a singular sonic auteur.
