The dark entrance of the cairn yawned before me. I could smell the dry musty scent of the cairn's interior. I swallowed hard and lunged into the entrance, banging the top of my head as I tumbled into the deep blackness of the cairn. Little sparkly stars danced before my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, and slumped back against the stonework to rub the throbbing goose egg already rising on my temple. When I opened by eyes, I was no longer in the world I knew.

"I am the singer at the dawn of the age,
   and I stand at the door to the west.
Three fifties of warrior uphold me,
   whose names are lauded in the halls of chieftains;
   great lords make haste to do their bidding.
Royal blood flows in my veins,
   my kinship is not humble;
   yet my portion is despised.
Truth is at the root of my tongue
   wisdom is the breath of my speech;
   but my words find no honor among men.
I am the singer of the dawn of the age,
   and I stand at the door to the west."

Rich Irish folk sounds, modern pop and jazz, gentle melodies and haunting "otherworldly" passages all conspire together to successfully encapsulate the listener in this artful new world. Dunning's flute playing is nothing less than splendid, and Johnson's keyboard accompaniment are sophisticated and filled with emotion... It's the best cheap vacation I've had in years, and I never had to get up from my reading chair.

~ Syndicate Magazine (March 1992)