Loreena McKennitt's *The Book of Secrets* is a transcendent album that weaves Celtic, Middle Eastern, and Renaissance threads into a sonic tapestry as vast as the steppes. Recorded at Peter Gabriel's Real World Studios, this 1997 masterwork rewards quiet, focused listening with an immersive soundstage that demands a revealing system.
I remember the night I found a used copy of The Book of Secrets in a bin at the back of a shop that smelled of old carpet and cedar. The disc was scratched, the jewel case cracked, but when I got it home and dropped the needle on Prologue — just a solo harp in a big room — I felt the room around me dissolve. That solo harp, played by McKennitt herself, sounds like it’s resonating from the stone walls of a 12th century abbey. The decay is cathedral-long and utterly natural, a testament to the acoustics of Real World Studios in Wiltshire.
The album was engineered by Jeff Wolpert, who had worked with McKennitt since her 1991 breakthrough The Visit. He captured her voice with a closeness that borders on intimacy, then set it in a landscape of reverb that never swallows the details. Listen to The Mummers’ Dance — the one track that somehow crossed over into radio and film — and you’ll hear a bodhrán that punches like a heartbeat, a fiddle from Hugh Marsh that dances on the edge of the mix, and McKennitt’s layered vocals stacking like a choir in a crypt. It’s the sound of a session where everyone knew they were building something that would outlast them.
The Session Players
Hugh Marsh’s violin is the album’s emotional spine. On Skellig, his lines weave around McKennitt’s harp like smoke around stone, and on The Highwayman, his solo feels less like a performance and more like a confession. Caroline Lavelle’s cello provides the anchor — warm, patient, never intrusive. Rick Lazar’s percussion is the secret weapon: hand drums, cymbals, and the occasional rattle that sounds like wind through a desert camp. Every note on this record sounds chosen, not stumbled upon.
A Record That Rewards Patience
The Book of Secrets is not an album you put on in the background. It demands attention, but it gives back in proportion. The dynamic range is enormous — from the near-silence of Dante’s Prayer to the layered crescendo of Night Ride Across the Caucasus — and a system that can handle both extremes will reveal details you missed on first pass. That piano, barely there on Dante’s Prayer, the way McKennitt lets her voice crack just slightly on the final verse. The authenticity is in the performance, not in some digital gloss.
McKennitt produced the album herself, and her vision is unapologetically eclectic. She takes a poem by Alfred Noyes and sets it to music that sounds like it could have been written in a Gothic revival library; she takes the story of Marco Polo and gives it a string section that swells like the Silk Road itself. It shouldn’t work. But it does, because every choice is in service of the story, not the genre.
I still have that scratched copy. I don’t play it anymore — I’ve replaced it with a proper vinyl pressing and a decent cart — but I keep it in the stack. A reminder that some albums find you when you need them, and they stay.
What is the story behind The Book of Secrets?
It is a concept album exploring secret histories, travelers, and pilgrims; the title refers to the idea that we all carry untold stories.
What instruments does Loreena McKennitt play on this album?
She is primarily a harpist and vocalist, but also plays piano, accordion, and keyboards throughout the record.
Was The Mummers' Dance used in a movie?
Yes, it appeared in the 1998 film 'Ever After: A Cinderella Story', which helped propel the album to platinum status in the U.S.
Further Reading