There are moments at gigs where something quietly clicks into place. Nothing flashy. No big gesture. Just a line, a harmony, a chorus that lands exactly where it’s meant to. Early on at Birmingham Symphony Hall, Kathy Mattea sings “It’s gotta come from the heart if you wanna make it work” — a line from her 1989 song “Come From The Heart” — and suddenly, that’s it. That’s the whole thing, right there.
Because if the Transatlantic Sessions are about anything, it’s that ethos. Songs that mean something. Music played not for effect, but for connection.
The format remains beautifully simple. A rolling cast of musicians from Scotland, Ireland, America and beyond gather on stage and, for two and a half unhurried hours, share songs. Folk, country, roots, traditional music — labels don’t really apply. What matters is the warmth, the generosity, and the sense that everyone involved is listening as much as they are playing.
The opening stretch sets the tone immediately. Songs drift by like old friends — reflective, melodic, quietly profound. It’s not about spotlight-hogging; it’s about trust. One voice hands the song to another, a fiddle line lifts a chorus, a guitar phrase says more than a solo ever could.
Muireann Nic Amhlaoibh is spellbinding, whether singing in Gaelic about mountains or lifting the room with something more joyful and rhythmic. It doesn’t really matter which song it is — they’re all filled with the same thing: not just class, but warmth, humanity, and a deep love for the music itself.
Karine Polwart delivers one of the evening’s defining passages. “Rebecca” is thoughtful and beautifully restrained, but it’s followed by the truly powerful moment of “The Liberty Tree”, adapted from the writings of Thomas Paine. It’s political folk in the best sense — intelligent, measured, and quietly devastating. References to Robert Burns and the lineage of the songs add weight without tipping into reverence for reverence’s sake.
At the heart of the Sessions — as they have been for years — are Jerry Douglas and Aly Bain, the two men behind this extraordinary project. They guide proceedings with gentle authority, Bain’s musicianship and presence feeling utterly foundational. There’s a notable absence this year, though: Danny Thompson, long synonymous with the Transatlantic Sessions, and deeply missed.
That absence is marked beautifully when Michael McGoldrick plays a song written for Danny — understated, emotional, and received in near-silence by a hall that understands exactly what’s being acknowledged.
Kathy Mattea later returns to the centre of the circle, and while she may be the biggest star here on paper, she’s simply another voice within the collective. She introduces the song that changed her life — “Love At The Five And Dime”, written by Nanci Griffith, whom she first met through the Transatlantic Sessions back in the 1990s. It’s a full-circle moment that quietly underlines just how important this project has been in shaping careers, friendships, and lives.
The second half loosens its collar. There’s humour, warmth, and stories between songs. Jerry Douglas jokes about musical influence and outright theft — because folk music, of course, is built on shared DNA. Tatiana Hargreaves and Allison de Groot then whisk the room somewhere else entirely, delivering a dazzling Texas-style hoedown that brings an audible lift to the hall.
Daniel Kimbro grounds things again with “Common Law Mexican Stepdad”, a song that looks hard at identity and the modern world, dedicating it to the good people of Minneapolis. It’s thoughtful, sharp, and quietly devastating.
Before “Ready For The Storm”, the evening reaches its emotional peak as Kathy Mattea is joined by Darrell Scott for “You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive”. Made famous by the likes of Chris Stapleton but written by Scott himself, it’s delivered with devastating restraint. No grandstanding. No excess. Just two voices, a story, and a song that feels carved from lived experience. It is, arguably, the finest moment of the night — the kind of performance that reminds you exactly why great songs endure.
Mattea then returns with “Ready For The Storm”, and there’s a tangible sense of the long-standing bonds forged through years of Transatlantic Sessions — particularly her musical history with Dougie MacDonald, relationships built across this project that never really fade, even when they aren’t sharing the stage.
Aly Bain leads the musicians through a sequence of traditional Scottish pieces before Karine Polwart returns for a stirring rendition of “Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go”. Familiar, yes — but lifted by the collective voice and spirit of the room.
The closing stretch — “Far From Home” followed by “The Reconciliation” — feels pointed and necessary. The musicians joke throughout the night about being away from the US, clearly relieved to be elsewhere, but the choice of finale carries deeper meaning. In a fractured world, this music offers something rare: not answers, but hope. Connection. A reminder that beauty and empathy still exist, and that shared songs still matter.
Transatlantic Sessions 2026 is more than just a night of exceptional musicianship — though there’s plenty of that. It stands for something. A quiet defiance. A belief that through warmth, collaboration, and the power of old songs played with honesty, there might just be a light at the end of the tunnel.
