I love eclectic music. One that makes you want to dance. Such is the music of Jesús del Castillo. He is most prominently referred to as a Spanish folk-electronic musician and bagpiper. He started learning Galician bagpipes at a young age, while also learning other instruments.
Celtic Pitch is the new album from Spanish artist Jesús del Castillo
Celtic Pitch is his new album that dropped on March this year. He released his debut album in 2022 and various singles/EPs. With Celtic Pitch he widens his musical scope, exploring territories and textures. For Martyn Bennett is his spirited tribute to the late artist who blazed the scene with his mysterious and vigorous sounds. I think Castillo earned excellent points on this track as it encapsulates what Bennett was known for – rhythm, energy and hypnotic sounds.
Other tracks possess the striking beauty of their own like for example in the case of Highlands Pitch. I think Celtic Pitch is something both traditional and mainstream listeners will enjoy. It rides two worlds but still retaining its identity.
If you love electronic music, or pop-sounding albums then you will enjoy this one. If you love pipe music, then Celtic Pitch is something you can bring with you on your next outdoor adventure. Enjoy life, nature and rhythm with Jesús del Castillo!
Syr (pronounced “sire”) is a Celtic Folk Rock band from the U.S.
Their new album Ruin opens with the track called Coronach that begins with a chant, and it sounds more like Dead Can Dance or Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares than say, Clannad or Enya.
This track sets the tone for the whole album. I love their metal energy though they play traditional Celtic instruments. They also look visually striking reminding me of bands like Tiamat and Paradise Lost. Musically they will attract young ears hopefully drawing them into the Celtic world. Their visual presence and musical prowess are a great recipe for a great concert experience.
I post their music video Mors Imperiis (the video garnered 21,000 views on YouTube).
Hello friends. It’s been a while since my last post. Life happens and so we get lost in its rhythm and sometimes, we get pulled in different directions. But, here we go again, posting tunes and artists we love.
I wrote about The High Kings from way back and I got curious what they’re up to these days. As luck would have it, they just released a tune called The Town I Loved So Well( Live from Vicar Street Dublin).
The song is composed by the legendary Phil Coulter.
The Town I Loved So Well” is widely considered Phil Coulter’s masterpiece—a deeply personal, bittersweet hymn to his hometown of Derry, Northern Ireland. It traces the shift from simple childhood memories to the harsh reality of the Troubles, while ultimately reaching toward hope and peace.
The song holds you by the heart. Led prominently by Darren Holden’s emotive and strong lead vocals, the performance builds steadily from a quiet, storytelling narrative into multi-part vocal harmonies.
The live energy pulls you inside the song and turns one of the painful chapters in Irish history into a catharsis of hope. Have a listen and let me know how you feel.
For many listeners, Celtic music reached its commercial peak somewhere in the mid to late 1990s, when Riverdance captured the world’s imagination after its unforgettable interval performance at the Eurovision Song Contest in 1994. That brief seven-minute performance became far more than entertainment. It was a cultural moment that introduced millions of people to the energy, beauty, and sophistication of Irish music and dance. What followed was extraordinary. Riverdance evolved into a global phenomenon, Celtic-themed albums climbed the charts, and record stores suddenly dedicated entire sections to music from Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, and other Celtic regions.
To many observers, it appeared as though Celtic music had arrived overnight.
The truth, however, is quite different.
The genre had already spent decades quietly building its audience. Long before packed arenas watched synchronized dancers thunder across the stage, musicians had been laying the foundation for what would become an international renaissance. The commercial success of the 1990s was not the birth of Celtic music but rather the culmination of years of artistic dedication.
The 1970s proved to be one of the defining decades for the modern Celtic revival. Groups like Clannad transformed traditional Irish melodies into atmospheric works that blended folk instrumentation with contemporary arrangements. Their music retained deep respect for Gaelic heritage while embracing modern recording techniques, making ancient songs feel timeless rather than antiquated.
Alongside them stood The Chieftains, whose mastery of traditional Irish instrumental music earned admiration from audiences and fellow musicians across the globe. Their collaborations stretched across genres and generations, proving that Irish traditional music could comfortably stand beside classical, country, rock, and even popular music without sacrificing its identity.
Across Scotland, artists such as Capercaillie carried Scottish Gaelic music into the modern era. Under the unmistakable voice of Karen Matheson, the group balanced centuries-old songs with polished contemporary production, introducing countless listeners to a language and musical tradition they had never encountered before.
Elsewhere, performers like Connie Dover explored the rich musical connections between Celtic traditions, early music, and American folk heritage. Her recordings possessed an intimacy and elegance that rewarded careful listening, demonstrating that Celtic music was as much about storytelling and atmosphere as it was about lively reels and jigs.
Then there was Loreena McKennitt, whose artistic vision expanded the definition of Celtic music itself. Drawing inspiration from Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, the Middle East, and medieval Europe, she created recordings that felt both historical and timeless. Albums such as The Visit, The Book of Secrets, and An Ancient Muse invited listeners into landscapes where poetry, mythology, and history intertwined. Rather than chasing commercial trends, McKennitt built an enduring catalogue whose appeal continues decades after its release.
By the late 1980s and throughout the 1990s, another remarkable voice emerged from Clannad itself. Moya Brennan stepped into a successful solo career, carrying with her the unmistakable ethereal quality that had become synonymous with modern Celtic music. Her solo recordings combined spirituality, folk traditions, and gentle contemporary production into music that offered comfort in an increasingly fast-paced world. She became one of the defining voices of the genre, inspiring countless singers who followed.
It would be impossible to discuss this era without acknowledging the extraordinary impact of Enya. Although her music often occupies a category of its own, her roots in the Celtic tradition are undeniable. Working alongside producer Nicky Ryan and lyricist Roma Ryan, Enya created a distinctive musical language built from layered vocals, synthesizers, orchestral textures, and melodies inspired by Irish musical heritage. Albums like Watermark, Shepherd Moons, The Memory of Trees, and A Day Without Rain reached audiences far beyond the traditional folk community, introducing millions of listeners to sounds that ultimately led many of them toward Celtic music itself.
The popularity of these artists helped create what many remember as the golden commercial era of Celtic music. Record labels invested heavily in new releases, radio stations occasionally embraced the genre, television specials became common, and concert halls around the world welcomed performers whose repertoire had once been considered too specialized for mainstream audiences.
Yet musical fashions rarely stand still.
As the new millennium arrived, popular music shifted dramatically. Contemporary R&B, teen pop, hip-hop, electronic dance music, and later digital streaming reshaped the commercial landscape. Radio formats narrowed their playlists, emphasizing younger pop audiences and increasingly short commercial cycles. Celtic music gradually disappeared from mainstream rotation.
Some interpreted this change as the decline of the genre.
It was not.
What faded was the commercial craze, not the music itself.
Celtic music simply returned to the place where it had always been strongest: a devoted community of listeners who valued artistry over chart positions. Festivals continued to flourish throughout Ireland, Scotland, Wales, Brittany, Canada, and the United States. Independent labels remained active. New generations of musicians emerged, including groups such as Altan, Solas, Lúnasa, Dervish, Julie Fowlis, Cara Dillon, and later artists who blended traditional sounds with contemporary influences while remaining deeply connected to their heritage. More recently, acts such as Valtos have demonstrated that Celtic traditions can comfortably coexist with modern electronic production, proving once again that the genre continues to evolve without losing its identity.
The internet also transformed the way audiences discovered Celtic music. Instead of depending on commercial radio, listeners found artists through online communities, streaming services, independent blogs, and social media. The audience may have become smaller than during the 1990s boom, but it also became more global and more dedicated.
Perhaps that is why nostalgia carries such power for those of us who lived through that remarkable era.
There are evenings when nothing feels quite right until an old compact disc slides into the player. The opening notes of a Loreena McKennitt recording, the soaring harmonies of Capercaillie, or the quiet grace of Connie Dover immediately transport us somewhere beyond the distractions of modern life. The years seem to disappear, and for a little while we reconnect with a quieter version of ourselves.
These recordings are more than memories.
They become companions.
This year brought particularly sad news with the passing of Moya Brennan, one of the most beloved voices in Celtic music. Although her physical presence is gone, the warmth, sincerity, and faith that shaped her recordings remain untouched. Every time her voice fills a room, she continues the conversation she began decades ago with listeners around the world.
I find myself returning to her music more often now. In a world overflowing with constant notifications, endless headlines, and relentless noise, her songs offer something increasingly rare: stillness. They slow the pace of the day and remind us that music does not have to demand attention to make a lasting impression.
Perhaps that is the enduring strength of Celtic music.
It has never depended solely on commercial success, radio playlists, or chart positions. Its roots reach far deeper than popular trends. It carries languages, landscapes, histories, and generations of stories. It survives because every generation discovers listeners searching for beauty, reflection, and a sense of belonging.
The commercial wave of the 1990s may never return in quite the same form, and that is perfectly acceptable. Great music does not need to dominate the charts to matter. Celtic music has already outlived countless musical fashions, and there is every reason to believe it will continue doing so for generations to come.
Whenever nostalgia calls, I simply return to those familiar albums, close my eyes, and listen. The horizon of the past may seem distant, but it is never truly out of reach. It lives in every melody, every harmony, every ancient story carried forward by song. And as long as these recordings continue to find willing ears, the spirit of Celtic music remains very much alive.
The first time I heard Ashley Davis was through the release of Night Travels. She emerged from the same rich folk tradition that gave us June Tabor and Sandy Denny: dusky contraltos, weathered storytelling, and voices that shimmer like “golden silver,” to borrow a phrase from Judy Collins. Listening to her for the first time felt less like discovering a new artist and more like opening a forgotten cedar chest filled with old letters, faded photographs, and songs that still breathe.
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This year, Davis returns with Songs I Was Raised On: Songs of Love, Peace, & Hope (Side B), the companion piece to last year’s Side A. To fully appreciate this new release, I found myself revisiting the earlier volume, and together they form a deeply personal and lovingly curated musical memoir. The project itself is ambitious: two albums devoted entirely to the songs that shaped her upbringing and musical identity. Yet what could have been a simple nostalgia exercise instead becomes something intimate and quietly moving.
If you have not yet heard Side A, seek it out immediately, especially for Davis’ rendition of Someday Soon by Ian Tyson, famously interpreted by Judy Collins. That track alone carries enough warmth to put a smile on your face before the first chorus fully lands. The album as a whole serves as a love letter to the folk revival era of the 1960s and 1970s, a period many still consider the golden age of modern folk music.
Side B continues that thread with grace and sincerity, drawing from the songbooks of artists such as Linda Ronstadt, Neil Young, and Peter, Paul and Mary. One of the highlights is her interpretation of Fire and Rain by James Taylor, where she is joined by Shane Hennessy. Their duet feels wonderfully unforced, like two old friends trading stories by lamplight while the rest of the world sleeps.
Musically, the album favors subtlety over spectacle. Percussion is used sparingly, allowing the arrangements to breathe naturally through acoustic textures, gentle folk instrumentation, and the warm embrace of string arrangements. Davis wisely avoids overproduction; these songs are allowed to stand on the strength of melody, memory, and emotional honesty. Her voice remains the guiding lantern throughout, smoky yet comforting, equally capable of tenderness and quiet ache.
What makes Songs I Was Raised On: Songs of Love, Peace, & Hope (Side B) resonate is not merely its nostalgia, but its sincerity. These are songs many listeners grew up with, now filtered through the perspective of an artist who clearly loves and understands them. Ashley Davis does not attempt to reinvent these classics beyond recognition. Instead, she polishes them gently, giving them fresh light while preserving the soul that made them endure in the first place.
If the modern world has left you weary, restless, or heartsore, this album offers a kind of refuge. Sit beside Ashley Davis for a while, and let these songs remind you that folk music was never merely entertainment. At its best, it is companionship for the journey.
