A Night of Innovation and Tradition at Whiting Bay Hall
Last night at Whiting Bay Hall turned out to be one of those rare evenings where the music doesn’t just wash over you — it settles in, finds a home, and lingers. I was there to photograph a concert for the McLellan Arts Festival, but it quickly became clear that this was going to be far more than a straightforward night behind the camera.
The hall itself set the tone straight away. There was that lovely mix of anticipation and hushed chatter that always comes before a good gig, and you could feel the room filling with people who genuinely cared about the craft of live music. It already felt like the sort of night where something special might happen.
Taking to the stage was Malin Lewis, a remarkable presence and a real force in contemporary folk music. They’ve built a reputation as an innovator and an award-winning multi-instrumentalist, but nothing quite prepares you for seeing that creativity happen right in front of you. Malin’s performance revolved around a completely unique bagpipe — a self-made instrument of their own design — and it brought such an intriguing voice to the music. There was something earthy and old-soul about it, but at the same time, it pushed things into fresh, slightly unpredictable territory.
The whole set seemed to float between the ancient and the inventive. You could hear the roots of the Scottish West Coast in every tune, yet woven through it all were new ideas, new textures, and moments where the music felt almost exploratory. It was a blend that somehow made the whole evening feel both timeless and thoroughly modern.
Malin wasn’t alone in creating this soundscape. Sharing the stage were two exceptional musicians: Sally Simpson on fiddle and Jenn Butterworth on guitar. Together they formed one of those trios where each player lifts the others higher. There were passages of real intensity — the sort that make the hairs stand up on your arms — balanced with reflective, almost philosophical interludes. And then, without warning, they’d drop into something so rhythmically infectious that half the room seemed ready to get up and dance. The mix of influences was broad, touching on European folk traditions yet always anchored in Scotland’s landscape and culture.
What struck me most was how completely the audience gave themselves over to the performance. Whiting Bay Hall can hold an atmosphere beautifully, and last night it felt charged — warm, present, and absolutely spellbound. People weren’t just listening; they were experiencing the music, letting it move through them.
Nights like this are such a clear reminder of how important live music is, and how much festivals like the McLellan Arts Festival bring to communities. They create these shared pockets of joy, reflection, and connection. They give us something to talk about on the way home, something to remember the next morning, something to return to in our minds weeks later.
For me, the extra layer of privilege was being there with my camera. Capturing performances like this — full of emotion, movement, and that fleeting spark that only live music can create — is one of the reasons I love what I do. It’s a chance to bottle a little of that magic, to hold onto the feeling even after the final note has drifted away.
And last night, there was plenty of magic to go around.
Slàinte mhath
