times
moves like a stately funeral procession and on other cuts a bit
more jaunty but still as they were parading down the streets of
Dublin.
Yet Enya’s voice is a beautiful
instrument that makes her elegant compositions come to life,
albeit a reserved one. Like church music we are offered a Latin
requiem, “Tempus Vernum” and a paean to the elements, “deora
ar mo chroi (tears on my heart)” which are offered with the
reverence one would hear from the choir in church. You may not
understand the words but the feelings come through clearly.
If there is one major failing it is the
tendency to repeat choruses with dolorous frequency making you
think your CD player is caught in a loop. Yet there is a
comforting effect to that also , soothing the mind, relaxing the
ear until the next verse appears.
Enya’s muse is a constant one. It speaks
to her of sorrow, longing, muted joy and bridled passion for
life. Even in the song entitled, “Wild Child” her muse
considers ‘going wild’ to be giving in to the day and the
rain. Would that it would reel off a happy jig or two but then
that wouldn’t be seemly in the Church of Enya.
While Enya’s ‘church’ is beautiful
and well worth the visit it’s not one I would attend on a
regular basis. Still the congregation is large and reverent and
this service is one to remember.
