The rambunctious Celtic folk of The Pogues, the story-telling charm of The View, the lush pop harmonies of Teenage Fanclub, the jangly delicacy of the Smiths, the yearning of a classic Oasis B-side and a Scottish brogue as defiant as the Proclaimers… Brògeal have it all – and make it their own. A bubbling cultural cauldron set to boiling point, the sound overflows with accordion, banjo, bouzouki, mandolin and perky penny whistle, where ancient folk tradition meets an indie Gen Z sensibility and laughs, sings and dances in the face of 21st century darkness. The death of the swaggering good-time band has been greatly exaggerated.
From small-town Falkirk in central Scotland the folk-punk-indie-pop five-piece have big ideas, with a reputation as one of the best live bands in Britain, their communal, sing-along, delirious anthems igniting mosh-pit madness throughout the UK, Ireland and beyond. Everybody loves them.
“The thing about our music is that it transcends all age groups,” notes vocalist/songwriter/guitarist Daniel Harkins. “You’ve got 14-year-old boys with their mums, they’re all going mental, you've got old punks, middle-aged women, young adults, old people, everybody's digging it, you know? There's something for everybody because you've got your folky influences, The Pogues, with this indie edge and pop sensibilities.”
Brògeal (pronounced Bro-gale) got here via the old-school, DIY route. Borne from a friendship on a bus – Daniel and fellow songwriter Aidan Callaghan (vocals, banjo) met on journeys to Celtic football games – they formed a typically ramshackle school punk band, Shiva, who were “shit”, but the passion remained. Traditional folk fans forever, loving The Dubliners and The Pogues, ideas for a folk band evolved, soon joined by Sam MacMillan who taught himself to play his grandad’s accordion. When Covid struck in 2020, more self-taught musicianship filled the void, learning their folky craft on curious olde instruments, two metres apart, in Daniel’s back garden under a leaky Asda gazebo. Emerging from Covid, two new recruits joined – local studio engineer Euan Mundie (bass) and Luke Mortimer (drums) – and the distinctive Brògeal sound took shape: fearlessly merging traditionally raucous Celtic folk with deft, harmonious songcraft, pop nous and the indie noughties energy they grew up on.
“We never set out with a [musical] plan,” notes Daniel. “Whatever we bring to the band, no matter what genre, it always ends up sounding like a Brògeal song anyway.”
They made their first EP for themselves, ‘Dirt and Daydreams’ (2023) released on their own winningly titled CraicDen label, followed by an eponymous EP in 2024 on Is Right Records, leading to a signing with revered independent label Play It Again Sam (PIAS, home to Nick Cave, The Hives, Cameron Winter). For the last 18 months they’ve toured relentlessly, throughout the UK and Ireland, gathering ecstatic fans, have supported Paolo Nutini, The Mary Wallopers and The Lathums, found fans in both 6 Music’s Huw Stephen and Line of Duty actor Martin Compston, been eulogised in Rolling Stone, the Independent, Clash, The New Cue, So Young and Dork.
“We’ve always been kept busy and it just kind of got bigger and bigger at a really natural rate,” says Aidan. “It’s the stuff of dreams. You think, ‘Oh, that could never happen’, and we’re doing it!”
“Aidan's being kind of humble there,” interjects Daniel. “Because we had the belief from the very start. That we’d be massive!”
Their debut album, released this October, spectacularly fulfils the belief. Tuesday Paper Club showcases their limitless musical range, with lyrical themes of romance, heartache, booze, local nutters, nostalgia and loss, its artwork featuring a paper boy, Aidan’s wee brother Finn. The title is a withering, generational quip: Daniel once worked the day shift in Falkirk’s oldest pub, The Wheatsheaf (established 1779), “a total old man’s pub”, where most days three old fellers took up residency with the newspapers. “They wouldn’t talk to each other until they’d had about five pints,” says Daniel, and when talk did start, alongside the headlines, there would be disparaging remarks on the apparently “stupid” young. “So I just thought it would be really cheeky to write about them,” laughs Daniel, who wrote the lyrics there on a Tuesday. “Just talking about the mundanity of what they were up to while being so judgmental, you know?”
The album’s recording location was also unique. Black Bay Studio sits on the Isle of Lewis in Scotland’s profoundly remote Outer Hebrides, a residential studio refurbished from a fish processing factory, overlooking a stunning bay. Here, the five slept alongside producer Richie Kennedy, the Irish Producer/Engineer/Mixer based in London (Libertines, Cardinals, Last Dinner Party, Interpol, Dua Lipa/Kylie, U2).
“We took the recording outside,” says Aidan. “We’ve got the waves lapping, the sounds of the island and the record was marinaded in that all the way through.”
Brògeal thrum at the centre of a robust, Celtic folk revival, crowds across the UK and Ireland connecting to a traditional spirit of positive defiance in an ever-polarised, none-more-negative era. There’s an uprising going on.
“Since the Scottish independence referendum [2014] and the 2016 Brexit referendum,” considers Aidan, “the right wing came up with all this patriotic British crap that they continue to try and impose on people in Scotland and in the north of Ireland. Artists naturally stand against that and rebel. But what we do is no’ against anybody, we’re people proud of where they're from in a nice way. We want to bring our music to the mainstream.”
“Things come full circle,” decides Daniel. “The Pogues were a London Celtic revival thing, but it's been 40 years since that happened. And with the Britpop stuff it faded away. I feel like people are ready to take on that spirit again, in Scottish and Irish folk music, everyone's jumping on it and saying, ‘cool!’”
So much for Generation Z being permanently depressed, apocalyptic and sober.
“People have too many opinions on our generation,” says Daniel, sipping an afternoon Guinness. “Addicted to their phones, social media is evil, short attentions spans, all that. The people we hang about with are interested in living life to the full, you know? And making music and making art. It’s definitely coming back. We’re anything but miserable right now.”
No wonder. Brògeal are not so much a breath of fresh air as a bracing gust of Caledonian spirit, set to propel around the planet as if carried on a prevailing wind.
“The dream for us is just to see the world,” says Daniel. “And have an outlet to do that. If we can be big in Japan, then we're doing something right. That's the end goal: big in Japan!”
“We’ve met people that you'd never come across in any other way,” adds Aidan. “Not just cool industry people, punters. We just want to see and do everything. It’s not about fame and success. We just want to share the music, do the big gigs.”
Then again…
“We want to be the biggest and best band in the world!” he now declares. “But we also want to have a good time doing this. Because, in theory, it could be curtains tomorrow.”
Brògeal: A proper band, for everyone, cheering up the world. The good times, finally, are back
