Scotland

Shooglenifty – Traverse Theatre

There are evenings where the relationship between performance and space becomes the story, and this is one of them. I’m at the Traverse Theatre watching Shooglenifty, a band whose entire raison d’être is to get people on their feet, and I’m sitting in the second row of a steeply raked, all seated auditorium that is doing everything in its power to keep me there.

Shooglenifty have been around since 1990, and they play like it, in the best possible way. The musical evolution of the ‘Niftys’ is best described as a fusion of traditional ceilidh rhythms with global influences including Asian, Middle Eastern and contemporary sounds into a vibrant danceable whole. This is a band completely at ease with itself, driving hard, playing tight, and clearly enjoying the room, even if the room isn’t quite playing along.

Notably, though, this is a Shooglenifty without fiddle player extraordinaire Angus R. Grant, whose long standing presence at the front of the band defined their sound and identity for decades. His absence is felt, not as a gap, but as a shift. The band acknowledge it directly with a poignant piece that lands with real affection and respect, a moment that quietly reminds you just how much of an institution he has been.

The band kick off with the crowd pleasing genre-shifting classic, ‘Black Dog On The Balcony’, then concentrate mainly on works from their new album.

Eilidh Shaw carries the fiddle lines with confidence and clarity, while James Mackintosh drives proceedings from a drum and synth setup at the back, part kit, part mixing desk, shaping the sound in real time and pushing the rhythm forward with intent. Alongside them, Malcolm Crosbie on guitar, Ciaran Ryan on banjo and mandolin, Euan McLaughlin on bass, and Kaela Rowan on vocals complete a lineup that feels both settled and quietly reinvented.

And the pull is real. You can feel it physically. Rows begin to rock, feet tap, shoulders loosen. At one point, a small group makes a break for the open strip of floor at the base of the seating, and suddenly there is dancing in Traverse 1, which, I have to say, I have never seen before. It’s almost worth the ticket price on its own.

But it’s also slightly painful to watch.

Because what’s happening here is a negotiation. The band is asking for movement, collectively, instinctively, the way this music demands. The room is suggesting, politely but firmly, that we remain seated and behave ourselves. And the audience is caught somewhere in between, half willing, half reluctant, aware that getting up feels like stepping outside the unspoken rules of the space.

Architecturally, it’s no contest. Traverse 1 is a room designed for text, for focus, for stillness. It directs energy forward, not outward. It creates attention, not participation. That small patch of floor becomes a kind of bottleneck, a space where dancing is technically possible but socially exposed, disconnected from the majority who remain anchored in their seats. Without that critical mass, without the sense that everyone is in it together, the energy never quite tips over.

None of this is the fault of the band. They are superb throughout. A particularly poignant piece about the bairns of Gaza brings the room to a different kind of stillness, reflective rather than resistant, accompanied by a call for donations towards medical aid. It lands well, and it shows another side to a group often defined by their sheer physicality.

In the interval, I find myself in the bar speaking to someone who has never seen Shooglenifty before, and it gives me pause. This is perhaps the point of the venue choice. This is an audience that might not go to Assembly Roxy, or Summerhall, or Stramash. Here, they come, they listen, they engage in a different way. There’s value in that.

But it does beg the question.

Because for all the musical quality on display, and it is considerable, this feels like a compromise. The music is in irresistible motion, and the room insists on stillness. Shooglenifty do everything in their power to get us moving, and for moments, they succeed, but it always feels like an effort, like pushing against the grain of the building itself.

I leave thinking that I’ve seen a very good gig, but not quite the gig this band is built to deliver. Give them a flat floor, a crowd without rows and rake, and the freedom to move, and this becomes something else entirely. As it is, it stands as a neat, slightly frustrating reminder that architecture is never neutral. Some bands don’t just play to a room; they need it to move with them.

One night only, touring.

Reviewer: Greg Holstead

Reviewed: 11^th April 2026

North West End UK Rating: