Phoenyx 1990 / Prometheus Music 2025
Keepers Of The Flame
Linking the West Coast and the Manx Sea, cult classic makes a welcome return from the brink of oblivion.
Given how many people of Irish and Scottish heritage live in the States, it’s rather surprising that Celtic rock collectives are too few out there and that artists who pursue such passion are often of punk stripe. TEMPEST and TRAVELER stand out among ensembles aiming for an explicitly ethnic, and adventurous, vibe – yet so were, if briefly, PHOENYX, remembered for having two violin-wielding ladies at the fore and leaving behind a single album which has recently been exchanging hands for hundreds of dollars. The San Franciscans ferociously and elegantly melded reels and riffs and rendered their own compositions as though these came from ancient past, which is why, perhaps, the devil’s dozen of pieces forming “Keepers Of The Flame” stood the test of time to lure in fresh followers year after year.
Some of the cuts here are, indeed, older than the rest, because numbers like the unhurriedly rousing “March Of Cambreadth” and the dramatically expansive “Stormbringer” started off as part of the repertoire one of the band’s main singers, Heather Alexander – now treading the boards as Alexander James Adams – had amassed as a solo performer prior to conspiring with fellow bow master, Cat Taylor, and going for communal appeal. Still, whether they trade in trad fare on pairing of “Banish Misfortune” with “Lark In The Morning” that opens the platter in a fluttering way – and up their instrumental game on the ruminative triplet of “Musical Priest / Butterfly / Swallowtail Jig” later on – or engage in heavy matters on the infectiously aggressive “Yo Ho!” that brings things to a close, there’s a sense of excitement and wonder throughout this record.
But while the nigh-symphonic “King Of Elfland’s Daughter” – written and co-voiced by guitarist Mark Ungar, whose rocking passages will further enliven the merry “Cat And The Fiddle” – feels playful, it packs an emotional punch akin to the blows “Liege & Lief” delivered in spades, and while the eerie “Black Unicorn” sharpens the edge of the album’s well-polished soundscape, as devised by drummer Larry the O and embellished here and there with mandolin, flute and bodhran, the reggae-shaped mini-epic “Marley O’Reilly” is propelled by John Land’s bass towards mesmeric hilarity. Yet “Voices Of The Sea” unfolds an even more resonant panorama to offer the listener an immersive experience of hearing the siren’s call and appreciating every sonic detail the ensemble embroider this yarn with, before allowing “Creature Of The Wood” to pick up the texture and weave a different, catchy tapestry out of it. However, the predatorily percussive “Concentration” burns slowly and surely, whereas “Up In The Loft” takes what may initially seem histrionic to a realm of widescreen mystery, shrouded in burnished interplay.
Of course, a little more than an hour of, in turn, belligerent and enchanting tunes can be a tad too long for a trip beyond the obvious, but since it’s the entire legacy of a collective who deserved fame, if not fortune, it’s difficult to complain, especially when each new spin of this disc reveals additional levels and layers of delight.
****4/5
