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SOUND COMETH THE DAY Fresh from a sold-out run of
shows in the city and a showcase show at Eurosonic, Lankum are cresting the acclaim surrounding their second album and the reinvigorated trad scene on our shores. And the odds for them on winning the Choice Music Award are fairly short too. words Danny Wilson photo Ellius Grace The timing of our meeting with Ian Lynch couldn’t have been better: following the first of two sold out nights in Vicar Street and mere hours before Lankum take to the stage for their second of what feels like particularly special pair of performances. One of the four multi-instrumentalists that make up the lauded folk troupe, Lynch is in a reflective mood. Understandably considering his own associations with the storied Liberties venue. “I love Thomas Street,” begins Lynch. “I have a lot of associations with this place on both sides of my family. My Granda on my Dad’s side used to play music in the Thomas House way back in the day. He played accordion with another fella, we’re talking 50 years ago. Then, on the other side of the street, my Auntie sold fruit, my Granny used to sell fruit there too – this is going back four generations. I’m talking about right outside the door [of the venue]. For a venue this size, it feels – and I sound fucking wanky talking about a venue like this – intimate. When you’re sitting on the stage, you can see everyone; they feel very close.” This notion of a rapport with an audience is of particular significance to Lynch and co considering their background. Punk and Trad are the two pillars of both Lankum’s sound and their ideology. It goes without saying that neither scene is particularly associated with the somewhat stilted, othering ambience that can come with a big room. This, of course, is by no means lost on Lynch. “When we started out playing, the backroom of The Cobblestone was the biggest thing we could imagine,” explains Lynch. “The kind of music we were playing belongs in pubs and belongs in kitchens, very small, intimate spaces. Songs you grew up singing with your family or your mates or whatever. So, to go to playing venues like this? The first time was definitely very alien. You get real imposter syndrome – what am I doing here, why have these people paid in? They must be expecting something else. You really do have this existential dread kind of thing going on.” Lynch continues, “Not that I do feel guilty, but I’ve always had this latent thing where I grew up for years saying that if a gig cost more than a fucking fiver the band are sell-outs and I don’t like them anymore. So, I had a little bit of latent guilt about that. The way I move around it is to max out the guestlist and get as many of my friends in as possible, that way I feel ok playing gigs where tickets are 25 quid or whatever. You know it’s always around these gigs that everyone leaves it until the last minute to get in touch looking for guestlist. Our spots have been gone for the last two weeks or whatever and you still have people ringing you up, ‘Ah man I haven’t seen you in years but…” There might not be any shortage of chancers reaching out, but it’s far from just Lynch’s extended circle sniffing around for what were undoubtedly the hottest ticket of the last few months. With that said, up until very recently, the notion of a band playing traditional songs and brandishing arcane instruments like uilleann pipes, concertinas and wheezing Russian bayans, having garnered this degree of attention was – for all intents and purposes – unthink78