Frankie Gavin

Frankie Gavin

Queen's Hall, Edinburgh

Rob Adams

When the Scots Fiddle Festival programmed Frankie Gavin as the main guest for the final concert of this year's event, a few things were certain.

The founder of legendary Irish band De Dannan and demon fiddler would turn up dressed as if he'd arrived direct from his gentleman's tailor. He'd play jigs and reels at a tempo that few dancers could match, let alone maintain. He'd bring with him some new discovery that suggests his own private talent gold mine. And he'd be gasping to tell his latest favourite joke.

The joke, which was delivered before a note was bowed, turned out to be one that most in the audience had probably heard before. No matter, though, because everything else was in place including a very dapper black and white outfit.

After a rugged, swashbuckling, headbangingly energetic opening set from Shetland fiddler Ross Couper, guitarist-flautist Tom Oakes and double bassist Stuart Macpherson that was invigorating in its own way, Gavin sounded almost sedate by comparison.

He prides himself in being able to negotiate tunes' hairpin bends and chicane-like variations of his own making at pace but he prides himself even more in doing so with apparent effortlessness and being absolutely true to the rhythmical shape and melodic contours.

There's something of the Sean Maguire about Gavin's bravura musicianship or given his close understanding with his latest accompanist, guitarist Colm O'Caoimh, and the way the pair of them make hornpipes swing, perhaps Stephane Grappelli.

Whatever, the technique, tonal variety, invention, fluency, and sheer musicality are scintillating and his audacious "Galwayising" of Handel's Arrival of the Queen of Sheba is somehow simultaneously mirthful and gobsmackingly good.