Huartan’s first ever gig was Stendhal 2023. Now they are back in Limavady for a headline billing, with visuals, dancers, a huge banner and the essential parts of a milestone album. The mission is to rouse the people with a techno-pagan experience. This is expertly realised in a chill evening at the Roe Valley.
Huartan at Stendhal Festival. Photo by Stuart Bailie
The event’s Sunday schedule is unfortunately bereft of Sprints and Lisa McHugh. The festival planners have been shifting artists around the various stages and coping with the rain that has defied the forecasts and muddied the fields for the duration. As Huartan are setting up, a trail of soggy punters is headed back to the campsites. We hear the first rumblings of ‘Uiseog’ and the exodus is stalled. It is time for ceremony, big tunes and Cairde Gael energy.
While the previous days at Stendhal provided many reasons to celebrate (see Friday’s review here), the final day has struggled. There was some mirth with Ed Byrne, who aimed his jokes at the dads and the unspoken dread of middle age. He made light of wedding planners and the bourgeois intent of bathroom scales before recalling some ancient shagging exploits. He’s done better.
Ed Byrne, Stendhal Festival 2025. Photo by Stuart Bailie.
Bog Bodies. Photo by Stuart Bailie.
Hat Fitz & Cara channeled some tremendous juke joint boogie. Meantime, Roll With It, the Oasis tribute act was a tonic, possibly even a prosecco supernova, for the late afternoon. DJ Ruairí was playing Middle Eastern rhythms on the Homegrown Stage while the bandstand was busy with the neon-lit twang of Balcony Sunrise plus the selections of Marion Hawkes and Conor Schmutz.
Bog Bodies played affecting dread-trad and railed against the gold-extractors of rural Ireland. The Florentinas returned to Stendhal, useful with the expansive indie anthems and wibbling angst. Still, you would want them to reveal more character at this point and some of the older viewers may see the bass player’s moves and recall the Kajagoogoo wars with a shudder.
Therefore, Huartan are required for the turnaround. They have personality in surplus and a thematic battery that includes language rights, Palestine, anti-capitalism and that magical fissure into pre-Christian Ireland. The songs build with the dynamic of rave tunes, aided by the traditional finesse of Stiofán, Múlú and Catriona. It’s great – potentially this generation’s equivalent to Horslips, with the banging tunes and the rich application.
Huartan, Stendhal Festival 2025. Photo by Stuart Bailie.
‘Bean Udaí Thall’ plays out a murder mystery on stage. ‘Dúlamán’ is the signal to amp up the party before ‘Cad é Sin Don Té Sin’ affirms that the fun may never stop. The militancy of Huartan’s style is maintained with the instrumental swirl of ‘7,000’. It is upheld with the voice of Bernadette Devlin McAliskey on ‘Fián’ – such a voice, critical sentiments against the masters of war.
Huartan, Stendhal Festival 2025. Photo by Stuart Bailie.
The audience chants spontaneously, responding to the previous weekend’s work by Bob Vylan. There’s an extra band player on stage – Laura is a cellist in wolf’s clothing. All of the superpowers collide with ‘Amhrán na Réabhlóide’ – new words by Catriona to an old church hymn, pledging allegiance to the Palestinian cause, whatever it may require. The dancers Anna and Micheál unfurl a home-made banner that reads VICTORY TO THE RESISTANCE.
All the emotions peak. Goodnight, Stendhal. It’s been significant.
Stuart Bailie
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