Ag Iompar Fuaime

A tune holds things. As it is passed on, taught, dreamt up, received, heard, and repeated, it gathers. It carries the voice of the teacher and the sound of the landscape that first inspired it. Over time it swells with the echoes of all those who played it before us. This hidden soundscape flows within the music like an invisible stream. In this album I have tried to enter this stream of stories. You will hear voice memos, birds and my grandmother’s recipe for black pudding, wind farms, AI accordions and whispers of people long dead. Every tune holds this magic. You just have to crack it open and let it flow out.