There was some talk at the start of October’s 100 Club at The Duncairn. A discussion based around a video featuring opinions and contributions by artists ranging from Una Monaghan to Barry Kerr and flowing from the point that BBC Radio Ulster is shifting their radio show, Folk Club, to a 10.30pm slot on Friday nights. A discussion about a burgeoning genre which is buoyed by revered, internationally renowned acts, and indicates a future that is safe in the hands of a shining new generation of presently emerging artists. A genre to be proud of. We were encouraged to write to BBC Radio Ulster and remind them that the audience of this music, and the creators and performers of this music, deserve equal access and attention. As the evening progressed, the point was illustrated repeatedly with each act that performed; bringing keen, unique, multi-faceted layers of talent to the 100 Club’s stage.

The night was punctuated by the words of Dublin poet Natalya O'Flaherty, as she performed her poetry before each act. Insightful, young, wise beyond those years, her fast Dublin pronunciation hammered home points poignant for all of us, but particularly pertinent to our latest generation of young adults. If you do not go near You Tube for any other reason today, invest five minutes watching Her Eighteenth Birthday. Natalya performed a segment of the poem on stage at The Duncairn, and signposted us to the full poem on video, warning that we might be better off not going there as she was: “about 15, and looked rotten.” Fifteen years old, remember that as you watch it.

Singer- songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Brigid Mae Power was the first musician to take to the stage. Bear in mind though that the title ’singer-songwriter’ underplays the unique contribution that Mae Power has been making to music in recent years. At times otherworldly, at others desolate, or peaceful, or taking no shit, her words and extraordinary voice stretch and keen and calm. This night she gave us several variations of herself, including a self-deprecating humour in her chat between songs. Unaccompanied, it was just Mae Power and her guitar on songs like Grateful, which she wrote while living in the U.S. and was: “feeling really positive, not my normal frame of mind.” However, when you are part of an event that includes talents such as Ye Vagabonds, it seems almost improper not to share the stage, your voice, your words, with the brothers Mac Gloinn. So, we were gifted with performances such as Mae Power’s new song The Blacksmith, accompanied on bouzouki by Brían Mac Gloin. In its early stage, the deep folk of the song was borne easily by Mae Power’s voice and the chiming strums of her guitar. But as the tale unfolded and the context built up, so too did Mac Gloinn’s bouzouki, held high and close to the mic. Later his voice joined in harmony, then eventually gave way, as the guitar and bouzouki spoke for them.

It seems that Natalya O'Flaherty had a chauffeur of some substance to bring her to Belfast. The Dublin poet and playwright Stephen James Smith is a key figure in Ireland’s soaring spoken word scene and appeared on stage for an unexpected addition to the night. With his book Here Now in his hand, he explained his choice of poem as a nice tone setter about creativity. “Poetry saved my life,” he stated simply, starkly. Creativity, and community through creativity, they saved his life he added before launching into We Must Create.

Artistry gives rise to community
We’re all part of a changing tapestry
There’s art history in identity
We must create to know who we can be.

The last line spoken with eyes closed, chin tilted, the last few words ever so slightly further apart. It felt perfect.

Ye Vagabonds is the duo of brothers Diarmuid and Brían Mac Gloinn. This night at The Duncairn however they were joined, right from the very first note, by long-time associate Alain McFadden on vocals and harmonium. Their night began with Brían Mac Gloinn appearing on stage with McFadden, who stayed behind the harmonium as Brian raised his bouzouki high to the mic, chiming in the opening bars of The Foggy Dew before his warm clear water voice started on the story. Diarmuid joined them after that for the rest of the set. For Bacach Shíol Andaí they asked musician, composer and 100 Club MC, Conor Caldwell, up to the stage to join them on violin. As the song opened, the brothers stood at the microphone in their familiar, almost signature, pose as they stood facing each other, eyes closed, their instruments held high to the mic. Caldwell stood to the side with his fiddle on his hip. Brian led on the vocals as Diarmuid listened hard for his cues. Around halfway, as the momentum rose, the instruments took over. Caldwell joined the rising energy with his fiddle. Focusing on the music, he appeared dis-jointedly calm as he added to the sound.

The brothers explained the background to the song, how this is a version particular to the singing of Róise na nAmhrán, and to Arranmore Island where they grew up. These insights and histories were a thread that ran through the evening. Each song had been poured over, researched, chased after and discussed, and it was a natural element of the night that they shared that with us. They gave us a life and times of the songs they brought to the room, the history, lyrical shifts, and anecdotes. Where they first heard a song, who was singing it, who that singer’s influences were. They pointed out a pattern they had noticed in certain songs like The Raggle Taggle Gypsy and Willie O Winsbury, that if you’re really good looking you can do what you like. Meantime though, the music drew us in. The room was mute as the gentle melodies, intuitive playing, and sibling harmonies renewed long precious songs, and offered up their own material. October’s 100 Club was a beauty.