Jillian LaDage

Jillian LaDage

 Chicago, Illinois, USA
BandWorldCeltic

A timeless evocative World Music voice, equal parts Loreena McKennitt and Sarah McLachlan fused with the essence of Alison Krauss.

Biography

Honed in the creative fires that only a Scots/Irish heritage can provide, American singer, songwriter, harpist, pianist and record label mogul Jillian LaDage (pronounced la-Day-ge) is an artist firmly rooted in her muses. Equal parts Loreena McKennitt and Sarah McLachlan, Jillian has long since stepped out from anyone’s shadow to forge a singular World music voice. Having studied Celtic harp under the tutelage of renowned harpist Kim Robertson, Jillian has performed to enthusiastic crowds all over the world. She also studied modern vocal technique with Chicago's premiere vocal coach Randy Buescher, of Your True Voice Studio. For over ten years she wrote and recorded original compositions for various professional projects.

With her debut album, The Ancestry, a Celtic and Middle Eastern tapestry woven in the dust of ancient Anatolia, the Silk Road, Scotland and Ireland, Jillian’s music takes the listener on a melodic voyage around the globe and through the pages of the centuries. From the vibrant, dark melodic rapture of “The Black Woods” to the multi-textured instrumental strains of “Manzikert” this record is a splendid accomplishment. The haunting essence of loss immerses the listener in “Bonny Was The Lady,” while songs such as “Endless Knot,” “Keltoi” and “Vanished Secrets” hint at something deeper, something more profound. The whispers of legends and mysteries lost and awaiting discovery echo throughout the notes of these songs. Jillian’s music is fused with the essence of timeless, evocative rhythms and provocative musical movements.

Born in January 1980, on a rural Illinois dairy farm, Jillian LaDage grew up surrounded by the very same prairies her Scots/Irish ancestors settled when they immigrated to America nearly two centuries before. Immersed in music at an early age, Jillian quickly discovered her life’s calling. “I am uncertain whether I fell in love with music or if music fell in love with me. Being a dreamer, I began writing songs as a child and envisioning myself performing. I followed the paths available to me at the time and sang in local congregations and at celebrations. Pouring over books, I became enthralled with the music and the deep, wondrous legacy of the Celts during the Riverdance and Braveheart days of the mid 1990's. Drawn in by the rhythms and sounds, I became fascinated with uncovering the past and bridging the chasm to the present.”

Beyond the music, Jillian is a Celticist, Historian, Mythologist and Musicologist and has developed an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. From cooking, world religions and history to travel, nutrition, exotic foods and gardening, Jillian explores each topic with the same passion she puts into each and every performance.

In 2007, Jillian founded Tarith Cote, a private, one artist World- Celtic music-focused record label. With a singular goal of bringing Celtic music to as wide of an audience as possible, she is the driving force and vision behind Tarith Cote’s continued success. Tarith Cote has European distribution via the French folk and world beat label, Prikosnovenie ~ http://www.prikosnovenie.com/.

“To pass beyond, exchanging ordinary for gold. This is Tarith Cote.”

MEDIA INQUIRIES:
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Ariel Publicity & Cyber PR
contact@arielpublicity.com
ALL OTHER INQUIRIES:
Tarith Cote
press@tarithcote.com
http://www.tarithcote.com/
1.815.355.1048

Lyrics

Procession

Written By: Music by Jillian LaDage

Instrumental

M U S I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 3 : 5 5

November 2006 Sweetheart Abbey, New Abbey, Scotland The early morning mist rises as I walk these ancient grounds. I feel so keenly the presence of the modern age and yet I too see the pathways my ancestors left, the old ways that are never forgotten, where this kindling comes from within. Devorgilla, Lady of Galloway, established what was originally called New Abbey as a Cistercian Abbey on 10 April 1273, in memory of her husband John. Love for her departed husband extended to her carrying his embalmed heart around with her in an ivory box with enameled silver trimmings and she was buried with it beside her. In tribute to her devotion for her husband the monks at the abbey chose to call it Dulce Cor, Sweetheart Abbey. She was the mother of the Scottish King John Balliol and grandmother to another Edward Balliol and on her mother's side was a descendant of King David I. Margaret, Maid of Norway, the next in line to the thrown died while on her way to Scotland, should Lady Devorgilla had lived instead of dying eight months before her, she would have been the candidate for the crown of Scotland.

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Midsummer's Night

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 5 : 1 0
May/June 2008 Midsummer the midway point between Beltaine (May day) and Lúnasa. The Celtic day began at dusk; the fires extinguished and lit at Beltaine would be silenced and lit again at the solstice. Futures were read from the number and appearance of the bon fires. Sun wise processions asking for protection were held in the fields, while St. John's Wort, considered the 'blessed plant' in Wales, was gathered and placed over the doors of houses and buildings and in Scotland cast into the fires.

It's a restless night amongst heathered fields • Farther green moss clings painted 'neath emerald eyes • Figures joined in chords and kinds • Fire calls to the tie that binds • The visions they rise on smoke filled rims • Parting intoned sighs, flocks flying high • 'Mid links grown dim, the burning bush • Lanterns glide the fires high

~ I saw shadows that danced in the rolling night • Where the halo moon was riding high • To and fro near the old oak grove • 'Til dawns light bright is leaping high • Bel fires light • Midsummer's night ~

Bonfires cross in browning grey • This shortened night lengthens day • When air lies full in hollow hills • The green host marches at suns standstill

It's a restless night amongst heathered fields • Farther green moss clings painted 'neath emerald eyes • In the blue veined sky resting visions rise • Crimson speaks to the wordless night • Where the fruit lies still in a trembling earth • The Rowan tree, Holly and Birch • Circles ring in ribbons of light • Where the moon lies full the fires arise

It's a restless night amongst heathered fields
Farther green moss clings painted 'neath emerald eyes
Figures joined in chords and kinds
Fire calls to the tie that binds
The visions they rise on smoke filled rims
Parting intoned sighs, flocks flying high
'Mid links grown dim, the burning bush
Lanterns glide the fires high

I saw shadows that danced in the rolling night
Where the halo moon was riding high
To and fro near the old oak grove
'Til dawns light bright is leaping high
Bel fires light ,Midsummer's night

Bonfires cross in browning grey
This shortened night lengthens day
When air lies full in hollow hills
The green host marches at suns standstill

It's a restless night amongst heathered fields
Farther green moss clings painted 'neath emerald eyes
In the blue veined sky resting visions rise
Crimson speaks to the wordless night
Where the fruit lies still in a trembling earth
The Rowan tree, Holly and Birch Circles ring in ribbons of light
Where the moon lies full the fires arise

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

The Black Woods

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 8 : 2 2
August 2006 Time and place unfolding over, under and around one another, the possibilities held in just one moment. Could it be that at this very time, this very place, I am witnessing a moment out of time take place?
August 2007 … time and eternity, the mind's ability to perceive things as if they are, though they are not… "Our revels are now ended. These our actors, as I foretold you, were all spirits and are melted into air, into thin air and, like the baseless fabric of this vision, the cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself, yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve and, like the insubstantial pageant faded, leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded with sleep. " ~Shakespeare, The Tempest

Where in the forest clearing came I to view
Twin hearts beat and running
Came I to you
Softly pine needles waft beneath our feet
In withering blades
The sun cast its view
I stole a glance at the presence imagined there
In the black woods
I awaited you there

Shrouded the mist, the weight of earthly things
Sweet lay the dew, the fog shivers through
The barren trees stood all in black
Birds sang in twos
In the copse I awaited you

To steal, to glance, to look upon the fates
In leaves, and hues, the forest clung from view
Where came the lake clear and serene
Mark thee well
T'would be thine own dream
The cold does not touch the waters here
Naught was danger to afear

Here lay the cunning cross within this place
And tarried not he that awaits
The black squirrel does not seem afraid
The birds hardly flew
Did they notice I came to you?
The birds hardly flew
Did they notice I came to you?

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Bonny Was the Lady (The Legend of Cong)

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 9 : 5 6

August 2005 …living for centuries the legends and imagery of the old ways and beliefs have called out to those that come after, I am pondering Samuel Lover's version of The White Trout and am caught as the lady, by this our enduring quest for love, life, and happiness. Here is the right we all hold dear to and maintain as expressed by the Celts centuries ago, that love, even if appearing as an illusion, once chosen is not forgotten and remains our choice, it is as we choose it…looking past I see the bonny (beautiful) lady of tradition still alive in the hearts of every man, woman, and child, it is to the dream we hold near and yet it is that which seems far away.

She was promised to a king's son
His promise unkept
Fair lady he was thrown into the lake beyond
The marriage will not commence
With tender heart she tarried the day• Until she was unseen
To the lake beyond where her love was gone
The white trout swam the stream

Bonny was the lady in the castle, O Love
Bonny was the lady where she pined on her knees
O Love, O Love

The villagers say, "It was faeries took her away"
Years upon years the trout was just there
Never heard of afore nor since
No harm put toward her

Laughing they came the soldiers one day
Caught her away and sneered
Blackguard away to his home and pan
The fire, the knife
And jumping out up arise a lovely Lady
The beautifulest ever seen
Dressed in white and a band o' gold in her hair
With blood running down says she, "Look where you cut me!"
And held out her arm,
"Villain could you not leave me cool
In the river where I swam?"

"Disturbing my duty I was watching for my true love."
Well he trembled, stammered and begged for his life
"Pardon my Lady, for I knew not,
A good soldier am I"

"If he comes whilst I'm away,
I'll haunt you up and down forevermore this day,
While grass grows or water runs,
Be a good man for the further
Put me back in the river."

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Manzikert

Written By: Music by Jillian LaDage

Instrumental
M U S I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 4 : 5 2

June 2006 1071 Manzikert, Turkey, Present day Malazgirt, the garrison town where the Byzantine Empire and Alp Arslan would met out a fate that historians say changed the northeastern Mediterranean decisively, setting off a movement of people and ideals in the former heart of Byzantium. The battle at Manzikert is considered one of the root causes that led to the later crusades as the Byzantine Empire was no longer the protector for eastern Christianity. As a group of migrating Celts joined the schism in the east, under the setting day the Normans were invading the west. ~You are not in sight; though breath does stir the wind, I scatter my days before you.

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Vanished Secrets

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 6 : 4 6
September 2006 I am reading John O'Donohue's book Anam Cara and exploring the idea of memory and its importance to the Celts. He raises a fascinating question, "Is there a place where our vanished days secretly gather?" Visiting the temple of memory is not merely a journey to the past, but an integration of everything that has happened.

To the temple I journey back
Though my thoughts only exist
To this place of rest not bound
It is given
Steal away days past
The veil has only to reveal mine eyes
I am found only to be taken
Palaces linger on behind these skies
As the day dies

Vanished secrets gather together
Secretly the day passes on
The candle light still shines long
O how the day moves on

On I make my way down this journey
Though the path remain unknown
All lay asleep in their solitude
As I am on my way home

These stones they cannot fortify me
They cannot keep me within
I journey past the secrets vanished
To the secrets that lie within

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Eve of Night

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 8 : 3 7

July 2006 In the gospel of Thomas I have come across a verse that aptly points to the struggle of the Celts as they migrated through the eastern world and into Europe. The Romans in particular felt it their duty to be rid of these people and their strange customs, attacking these settlements and sending those left behind fleeing into the night. Looking through the mirror of desperation that must have been felt to our present day, the events are different and all at once the same. I could not help but think as I made my way through this ancient world of the accounts that would "progress" the world forward to those who were witnesses and those who were left behind. "O King of the starry sky, Lest thou from me withdraw Thy light- Whether my house be dark or bright, My door shall close on none tonight." ~Medieval Irish

The daughter toils
The daughter spins
From morn 'til night the day begins
I have no place to lay and rest
The foxes burrow within their dens
The birds reside within their nest

My heart beat light, my head lay bare
The shade was long beneath the year
Sorrows grew as morning dew
The shadowed night belonged with you
Tears ran dry in streams anew
The threaded night a shroud in black
The silence sings a lullaby
On the mist and eve that grew
The ivory wall which leads to you
A silent wall as I walk through

Through ivy gates and stairways flew
My heart, my hand, my life I knew
I lay my head upon thy breast
Dream this night was only this
The sun to come, and dawn persists
My dream lies done, my dream of you
Places near, and far from view
I found myself with your hand
The land beat quick as footsteps ran
This morning light brought all to view

They rode the walls beside the gates
They pulled their oars with all haste
A fire grew where none were left
Here in the haze I ran to you
The ivory walls once stood so proud
Their ivy gates would win the crowd
All alabaster dreams had I
Poured to dust beneath the sky
An ivory wall that comes to you
One eve of night while midnight grew

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Keltoi

Written By: Music by Jillian LaDage

Instrumental
M U S I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 2 : 3 0

February 2008 Following the early Celts and the appearance of the Romans in Britain, I come across the first literary reference made by Greek historian Hecataeus of Miletus in 517 BC giving the Celtic peoples the name of Κελτοί (Keltoi).

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Endless Knot

Written By: Music and Lyric by Jillian LaDage

M U S I C A N D L Y R I C : J I L L I A N L A D A G E 8 : 1 7

December 2007 Engaging circles of time, the many roads that lead back and forward, lead to home.
There was not a particular event or happening that inspired this piece, but rather a culmination on the themes of love, home and the stillness we sometimes forget to incorporate into this day in age that was a daily occurrence for our ancestors, perhaps not by purpose but more by the circumstances of their times. The symbolism of the Celtic knot to me represented the never ending stillness and voice that waits to lead us home (or the sense of, however we term it) when we are far from it, as endless as the knot itself.

Where the compass meets the wind
Where the footfall resounds
Where the songs of the thrush comes
There in the stillness meet the wind

There in the stillness
Where the voice meets the wind
There in the stillness
Where the voice meets the wind
There in the bleakness of midwinter's snow
There in the line of hedgerows
There in the space of a mother's arms
There in the stillness meet the wind

In lanes the old ruts grow
In peace mountains fall
In the voice of the thrush
There we meet the wind
On lavender blooms faint
On waters call
On the voice of summer's blush
There too we meet the wind

© 2008 Tarith Cote. All Rights Reserved.

Discography

The Ancestry - (TARITH COTE)BMI 12/09/08

Set List

Concert Length: 60-90 minutes

Set Length: 2 50minute sets

Songs commonly performed:

Vanished Secrets
Untitled (Instrumental)
Procession
Bonny Was The Lady
She Moved through the Fair
Manzikert (Instrumental)
Midsummer's Night
Endless Knot
Black Woods
Eve of Night
Keltoi (Instrumental)
Song of the Soul
Tunisia

SEASONAL/CHRISTMAS CONCERT
Traditional and Winter themed Carols, original seasonal works, including Celtic, Medieval and Renaissance works.

Seasonal/Christmas Concert Length 60 -90 minutes

Song List

The Season
Good King Wenceslas
Let Us The Infant Greet
Endless Knot
Coventry Carol
Keltoi (Instrumental)
Now The Holly Bears A Berry (Ma Gron War'n Gelinen)
God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
Christmas In The Olden Time
Winter's Coming
In Praise of Christmas
Christmas Minstrelsy
Manzikert (Instrumental)
Gloucestershire Wassail