Celtic Thunder's George Donaldson Spins Splendid Solo Story-Songs in The White Rose

Nearly three years ago, I became acquainted with Celtic Thunder, the PBS sensation consisting of several Irish singers and one burly bald Scotsman. The latter is George Donaldson, the oldest member of the group and the one with the most exceptional gift for conveying the heart of a story-song and connecting with an audience. I admire all of the lads of Celtic Thunder for different reasons, but George is the one who seems most in line with the folksy singer-songwriter style I esteem above all others. Hence, I was very excited to learn earlier this year that he would be releasing a solo album. Now that I’ve had some time to live with it, here are my impressions.

A Song for Harry Chapin - If I were to describe George Donaldson’s musical style in one word, I would call him a balladeer. I’ve heard few singers who can so skillfully draw the story out of a song, causing us to notice every detail and feel every emotion. Jim Croce was one such singer-songwriter; Harry Chapin was another. Knowing that George was blessed with the soul of a storyteller, I was eager to hear him sing his own words, and writing this tribute to one of his personal heroes and a giant of the genre feels like a most appropriate way to begin his own very story-filled album. His skillful turns of phrase are a delight but not a surprise.

I love the tenderness of this five-and-a-half-minute-long ode. Essentially broken into thirds, the first is a mellow, acoustic guitar-driven exploration of his own experience with Chapin’s music. During the middle of the song, the tempo increases and bass becomes prominent as he gives us a brief biographical sketch, discussing Chapin’s roots and his unique style. Finally, the end returns to the pace of the beginning, adding in a few minor chords that might have felt right at home in Cat’s in the Cradle as George sadly sings about Chapin’s death but notes his legacy. While I like the first portion best, as it feels most deeply personal, his passion is apparent throughout the track, which is my favorite of his original songs on this album. “He opened up my eyes to a new style of song, like a book or like a movie – and it lasted just as long. I followed every word he’d say; his songs blew my mind away. The world should hear his name and share his love.”

Beeswing - Running through much of Celtic music is the theme of wandering, and while more often than not the man is the one who doesn’t want to be tied down, in the case of this Richard Thompson ballad, the woman is the rover and the speaker is the poor sap who can’t hold on to the one he loves. Set in the late 1960s, the gypsy-flavored song has a very distinct rhythm accentuated by percussive guitar strums that give way to wind-like bursts of strings. The two instruments seem to exemplify the two points of view, with him wanting stability and her demanding freedom. A toe tapper enhanced in its last minute and a half by the yearning vocals of Erin Boyle and the Brendan Monaghan’s poignant pipes. “They say her rose is faded now, rough weather and hard booze. Well, maybe that’s the price you pay for the chains that you refuse.”

Glasgow - Another deep tradition in Celtic music is the hometown tribute. Fellow Celtic Thunder member Ryan Kelly included his own aching ode, The Village That They Call the Moy, on his debut solo album, so I’m pleased to see that George has done the same, particularly since so many of his posts have mentioned his devotion to Jinty’s, his favorite pub, where he has performed his music many times. He mentions its proprietor and regular visitors in his album acknowledgments, but actually hearing the name incorporated into a song is a kick. While he mentions his homesickness while he is on the road, the song’s overall tone is joyous pride. He loves Glasgow and wants to share its wonders with the world. Peppier than most songs of its type, this piano-driven ballad is another one brimming with affection. “With a heart that beats from deep within, so old but ever young, with a finger ever on the pulse, Glasgow, you’re my mother; I’m proud to be your son.”

On a Bus to St. Cloud - So many of the songs on this album are deeply rooted in a particular place. In the case of this melancholy Gretchen Peters song, it’s St. Cloud, Minnesota, though wrapped up in the song is the sensation of movement, of drifting along aimlessly. At one point, the song takes the speaker to New Orleans. The faint bagpipes in the background complement the legato piano and eerily beautiful images, creating an overall sensation of loss and confusion. “And you chase me like a shadow, and you haunt me like a ghost, and I hate you some, and I love you some, but I miss you most.”

The White Rose - This title track, written by George, is yet another tribute, this time to Sophie Scholl, a 21-year-old college student of deep faith and firm principles who, for eight months, joined her brother Hans and friend Christoph Probst, among others, in a leaflet campaign encouraging passive resistance to Hitler and the Nazi regime. I’m ashamed to say that I had never heard of this courageous young woman or the covert club of which she was a part, but the heroism its members displayed has been publically acknowledged, and one German magazine even ranked Scholl the greatest woman of the 20th century. Facing the lyrics in the liner booklet is a photograph of the three friends in 1942; she in the middle, a flower in front of her, gazes steadily ahead as if bracing for the trouble to come.

The song has a perilous edge to it, having a bit of a galloping sound as if to indicate pursuit. The guitar, piano and strings come together to create an aura of danger as George sharply recounts the terror of that time. The slightly minor tone adds to the sense of tragedy, yet there is also a flicker of triumph in his delivery as he sings of Sophie’s belief, asserted just moments before their execution by guillotine, that their resistance would inspire others. A worthy subject of the title song. “Even though we know our cause is righteous and the price of failure brings the highest cost, if a thousand were to wake and take our actions, then our lives will never truly have been lost.”

Burlington - George breaks his pattern here by having two original songs in a row. I’m assuming that this one is autobiographical; he’s certainly had his share of travel nightmare stories, and it seems he has a special affection for Canada, so I can easily imagine him expressing a desire to be playing a favorite venue near Toronto instead of being stuck in a Detroit airport. This song seems to fit in with the likes of Paul Simon’s Homeward Bound and Bob Seger’s Turn the Page in expressing the malaise of a traveling musician, yet there is definite affection for an appreciative audience. The Dan Fogelberg line from Same Old Lang Syne contrasting the heavenly audience with the pernicious nature of tour travel springs to mind right away. Boyle resurfaces here to add her vocals, while Plunkett McGartland’s fiddling provides a bittersweet undercurrent. “I should be playing on the stage at 9 or 10 o’clock with the thunder passing overhead as the plane begins to dock. I’m thinking to myself, ‘It won’t be long till we’re away,’ but the plane got redirected; now it’s gone out to L.A.”

Safe in the Harbour - The first song I heard George sing was Johnny Duhan’s The Voyage, which uses sailing as a metaphor for marriage. It felt very fitting, then, to find a song so rich in nautical imagery here, particularly since it was penned by Eric Bogle, the poet behind Green Fields of France, one of Celtic Thunder’s most hauntingly harmonious ensemble ballads. This is the first song on the album not to be tethered to a particular place, and at first glance, especially at the verses, it seems less a ballad than a general reflection upon the nature of dreamers as opposed to materialists. Read at that level, the artistry of the words is enough to make it one of the most potent songs of its type that I have heard – and as a dreamer myself, I’ve sought out and heard many.

However, it turns out that this song, too, is a tribute. In this case, it’s more about capturing the general spirit of the man who died, allowing listeners to feel a kinship with him before they realize he is being memorialized. This young man was Canadian singer-songwriter and maritime enthusiast Stan Rogers, who died at the age of 33 in a horrific fire aboard Air Canada Flight 797 in Cincinnati. Hence, the tenderness in George’s voice in this direct address that ripples over the gentle guitar and piano like morning breeze upon a calm sea speaks directly to the loss of this gifted musician with so much more to offer. Nonetheless, the listener can take the “you” to heart as an invitation to follow in his idealistic footsteps. My favorite cover on the album. “So when storm clouds come sailing across your blue ocean, hold fast to your dreaming for all that you’re worth, for as long as there’s dreamers, there will always be sailors, bringing back their bright treasures from corners of Earth.”

Halifax Town -This traditional-sounding original lament commemorates the Battle of Culloden, the 1745 conclusion of the Jacobite Rising that pitted Scots, mostly highlanders, against the reigning British monarchy. Over a low drone of bagpipes augmented by lively whistles, George sings in the voice of a man who survived the battle but lost his family and is now forced to abandon his homeland for the Canadian city of Halifax. The tone isn’t quite as caustic as what we hear in George’s cover of disenfranchised factory workers’ anthem Yesterday’s Men, but he gives off a mingled sense of anger and grief. “And they forced us with famine and torture to run, to leave our own country and never return. They denied us our culture, our language, our dress; they’ve taken the land where our ancestors rest.”

Hierarchy Blues - Once again we have two George originals in a row. The snarling indignation of Yesterday’s Men roars back here, as do the pipes from the last track. This is a rant against materialism, complacency and, most of all, unearned senses of superiority. It serves as a warning against lording one’s fortunes over others, detailing the pitiful phenomenon of a soul deteriorating as more wealth is accumulated. A searing social statement. “That daily life we deem as normal could make another man a king. The more that we believe we own, the more we’re losing everything.”

Grace - My second-favorite of the covers on this album, Grace is the final song to pay tribute to a revered historical figure who died an early death. This one, written by Frank and Sean O’Meara, takes the perspective of Joseph Mary Plunkett, a 28-year-old Irish freedom fighter who was executed for his hand in the 1916 Easter Rising, but not before being allowed to marry his fiancée, artist Grace Gifford, hours beforehand. The gentle tone reminds me of the Irish Rovers’ Sam Hall; this man is about to be killed, but he doesn’t waste his last breaths spewing venom. In this song, he speaks directly to his new bride and soon-to-be widow, and the affection in George’s voice is palpable. The melancholy of the delicately plucked melody is augmented by the presence of the wistful fiddle. A truly tragic love story made all the more poignant by the symbolically loaded name of the addressee. “Oh, Grace, just hold me in your arms and let this moment linger. They’ll take me out at dawn, and I will die. With all my love, I place this wedding ring upon your finger. There won’t be time to share our love, for we must say goodbye.”

Let the Tears Flow - George wrote the final song on the album as well, and it makes an excellent bookend to the first track. While the album starts off with an acknowledgment of a musician who inspired him, this track seems to pass the baton to the listeners, encouraging them to become storytellers in their own right. Backed by understated piano with occasional harp by Joanna Bryne and vocals by Boyle, it softly but firmly urges anyone with a tale to tell to do so, undaunted by any obstacles that might lie in their path. As listening to this album gives me a great itch to sit down with a pencil and a piano or guitar and do some songsmithing of my own, I suspect the fine craftsmanship of these songs will be enough to stir many into poetic musings, rendering such an overt admonition unnecessary, but it certainly emphasizes the communal nature of folk music and brings the album full circle. “Find a start and find a middle. Let your courage find an end. Write your story clear and true. Let the ocean read the words you send.”

George’s album is available from CD Baby, and you can also find discussions of some of its contents on his website, George-Donaldson.com. From the intricate lyrics to the heartfelt vocals and the pensive expression gazing out from the photographic portraits included in the liner booklet, George presents himself exceptionally well here, and I hope that The White Rose will be only the first of many albums for this talented tale-weaver.