In a city of tartan tourist traps, Saor bring something more sincerely Celtic to the capital.
It’s a Sunday night and the kind of wind that can cut through even the toughest battle jacket whirls through the cobbled streets of Edinburgh. This might explain why, when Oakenthrone take to the stage at La Belle Angele, the crowd looks a little bit sparse and stiff. However, within moments, funereal riffs that wouldn’t be out of place on the best My Dying Bride albums have metalheads flocking to the stage. It’s impossible not to nod along to what feels like a masterclass in blackened doom. By the time their (all too short) set is over, the crowd is lively and ready for more.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t immediately head for the merch table and buy myself a t-shirt from Simon: singer, guitarist and one-man mastermind behind the music.
Next on are atmospheric black metal band Cistvaen, presenting something a little more frostbitten and airy to contrast with Oakenthrone’s guttural doom. Singer Guy Taylor looks a little out of place in a tasselled jacket and sunglasses in this venue, but there’s nothing wrong with that and quite frankly, with vocals this good, he could wear whatever he wants. The band quickly gain a warm reception as the more frenzied moments are accompanied by a high, sweeping lead guitar. Even the slower, more melancholic moments are enjoyed by the crowd. I suspect that many new Cistvaen fans are made tonight.
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Finally, there is Saor. Having seen them live before a good few years ago, my expectations are high and there is no other way to put it: Saor absolutely smash it. They’re tight, which is important with such a complex, layered sound which could all too easily descend into mud. Instead, Saor deliver their iconic, moving soundtrack of Celtic-folk-meets-black-metal with what seems to be effortless precision.
At many points, the band seem to be having genuine fun as frontman and mastermind Andy Marshall steps in and out of the spotlight, letting the other musicians shine — and shine they do. Ella Zlotos, in particular, almost steals the show as she elegantly and effortlessly switches between pipes, backing vocals, whistle and flute throughout the set. It’s almost impossible to look away as she dances, elflike, to the stirring highs and wistful lows of the music.
By the triumphant encore, the crowd is jubilant. Even the most hardened cynic couldn’t help but be moved. Pints sway (dangerously) in the air, and arms are thrown over each-others’ shoulders. It almost feels like a Scottish wedding reception, or a rare national football win. For a while, we’re all Celtic warriors, united in song.
Such a shame it’s a Sunday night. Still, there’s always next time.
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Pics by Euan Osbourne (ECO Pixels UK)
