ADRIAN LITTLEJOHN
And the peace of August 23 2003 was soon shattered. At 8.15pm, two RAF Tornadoes swung round the rear and left of the stage, and disappeared behind the castle. Seconds later an ear-splitting roar erupted behind us as the jets swooped low over our heads before rearing up into a dizzying near-vertical climb and peeling off to West and East.
The thrill had not died down when, almost before we knew it, "they" were on stage. Bruce's voice, heavy with reverb, intoning lines from one of the Macdonald brothers earliest songs
"Going home…
When the summer's coming in…
Going home…"
And in a sense they were home, this great band, and not just because this was Scotland. They were home with the fans that love and treasure their glorious music, and all evening accents from most of Europe and beyond could be heard in the crowd, singing along with the bold Canadian voice on the stage.
First full song was Hearthammer, the hit from that brief period when Runrig looked poised to go supernova. Did I detect a slight rustiness and hesitancy in this one? Never mind if I did, the "hit single" polish of the song can't detract from the craft of the lyrics.
"The Di Stephano twists
The Charlton goals…"
Always preferred Georgie Best meself, but there you go.
Protect and Survive came next, and predictably the arms were waving as everyone got nicely warmed up. Then a particular treat, a fine rendering of Big Sky, for me the best song on In Search Of Angels, and a great favourite. Surprises next; Skye, brought forward from its customary end-of-set position to give Malcolm an early work-out, and a stirring Hearts Of Olden Glory to get the lungs going and the eyes misting up. Is it just me, or has Bruce's voice strengthened immeasurably since his early days with the band? Whatever, he can deliver this song.
Siol Ghoraidh next, and the flags and blood-red lighting spoke of battle and war. Fitting then that, as night fell, Mars, nearing its closest approach to earth for 60,000 years, rose ever higher and brighter at the left of the stage. A thoroughly noisy Engine Room followed, before one of the highlights of the evening – Bruce and Malcolm, seated, with a slow intense reading of The Cutter. I've always loved this song, and the new treatment suited it well.
A medley next, good-size chunks of fine old songs strung together, opening with a very surprising Stepping Down The Glory Road, and peaking with a full-band Dance Called America. For me, this is one song that doesn't work in a "quieter" arrangement, there's an anger there that needs to be shouted.
And so to the first Proterra song of the evening, There's a Need. By this time the excellent Paul Mounsey (buy Nahoo 2 – it's brilliant) had joined the band on keyboards (was it a grand piano? – couldn't quite tell from where I was) but in all honesty, I can't remember exactly when he first appeared. The song didn't make a big impression that first hearing, apart from Brian's vocal contributions. He's not a Bruce, or a Donnie or a Rory come to that, but I've heard an awful lot of worse voices. It's only after a few listenings that I've come to appreciate what a fine, tightly expressed, song it is.
Sabhal Aig Neill and What Time together gave band members other than Messrs Bayne, Macdonald C. and Jones a breather. Fine performances by, as Rory once put it, a musician called Malcolm and a couple of drummers.
Then Proterra itself, and with a great vocal from Bruce, and a projected backdrop of endlessly moving ocean, this made a big impression. As on the album, wonderful Duncan Chisholm graced the performance with his fiddle. Immediately following came Empty Glens, and again, this one did register. I can see why it's the single.
Perhaps the finest song performance of the night came next, with an awesome Running To The Light. The "Duncan To Join Runrig For Good" campaign starts here!
Then came the anthemnic tribal drumming which was An Toll Dubh, re worked and better than ever. Six drummers with massive drums and sticks pounded out the beat holding the sticks aloft before crashing them down in unison, an amazing sight and sound.
Cnoc Na Feille knocked, with assistance from the massed drummers of heaven-knows-where, and Stamping Ground stamped, and all too soon we were on the homeward stretch. Bruce did his introducing the band bit in Maymorning, and Rory, rather pointedly I thought, commented that if it were not for Bruce "we would not be here tonight". Has ever a band been so lucky? To lose a singer as magnificent as Donnie Munro, to fail to find a replacement, to almost give up hope, and then to come across Bruce Guthro plying his trade thousands of miles away. And not only that, he's willing to join up. Lucky indeed, if luck you call it.
And so they left us, but of course, we knew they'd come back. But the stage filled again, not with Runrig, but with the Glasgow Islay Gaelic Choir, and their un-miked performance of Cearcal A' Chuain rang out across the esplanade with the liquid power of a great wave. Then the band joined the choir for Faileas Air An Airigh, and rounded off the first encore with Rocket To The Moon.
Back they came again, and of course it was Loch Lomond. Predictable, yes, and to some maybe a bit corny. But for me, if Runrig had never done anything else, they'd deserve credit for rescuing a great old song from the hands of the haggis and heather merchants, and giving it back its dignity. And of course we sang our hearts out, and of course it was wonderful, and the Honourable Member for Tayside North (Pete Wishart) was a welcome guest. So who else has ever been to a rock concert featuring an MP on piano then?
And at the last, a quiet, thoughtful, Book Of Golden Stories, and as the days of open roads slipped by, Runrig's past was captured in a series of images on the backdrop. There, looking both younger and hairier, were our heroes captured in black-and-white, and with them was Donnie. And there was the thought that surely they wouldn't let it go at that, surely he deserved some acknowledgment …….
The music was over. Bruce announced some special thanks, and on to the stage came Marlene Ross, with Gordon and David. Only the band truly know how much they owe to this remarkable woman, but to anyone with a rough idea of the story it's evident that her unwavering faith in her boys was crucial to their survival.
And then Bruce's last words of the night. He wanted us to welcome "A good friend of mine. Mr Donnie Munro". And there he was, with hugs for Marlene and Calum, and a modest wave to all of us, cheering ourselves hoarse. Trust Runrig, trust Donnie, it was exactly right. Lead singers aren't like – say – keyboard players. There can only be one lead, and the lead singer of Runrig is Bruce Guthro. I really believe that it wouldn't have worked if Donnie had performed, but it was utterly right and proper that he was there, and that we should have the opportunity to show appreciation of his enormous, unforgettable contribution to the Runrig story.
And so the evening ended. For me, there was the little matter of the 249 mile drive home, but as if the concert had not been enough, there was the copy of Proterra, purchased at the merchandise stand, to listen to on the way. What a feast of hardcore Riggie-dom, a landmark concert, followed by a new album on the same night! And when, as the M74, M6, A66 and A1 slip by in the wee small hours, the album shows itself as the best thing they've ever done…..
Well, it was quite a night.