My musical tastes tend to err on the side of lyrics. If the lyrics are interesting I’m there even if the sound isn’t necessarily pleasant. That’s why I’m a fan of Tom Waits, for example. My husband’s taste tends towards sounds. Specifically unusual sounds. This isn’t a huge problem in our marriage, but it does make picking which concerts we attend a bit of a negotiation.

This week, my husband played a sound bite for me hoping I would attend a local concert with him. It sounded like a bagpipe desperately trying to tell me a secret. The droning was there, but softer than I’d ever heard a bagpipe played. Despite my usual tastes, I wanted to know what the secret was, so I agreed to go see Brighde Chaimbeul play the small pipes – the bellows-blown, mellower and more emotive cousin to the famous Highland bagpipes.

Brighde entered the venue shyly and sat down to play without a word – playing two complete songs before uttering a soft ‘thank you’ to our second round of applause. I say songs, but very few of the pieces had words. Instead of lyrics there was a rich layered tapestry of vibes. I felt like I was floating down a river in Middle Earth while elves played me lullabies. When Brighde did sing, it was in Gaelic and her voice was ethereal. It was truly a lovely evening.

Click here for a chance to hear her yourself!