When I hear the "Celtic" tag applied to music, my mind instantly jumps to images of sweaty dancers flying about a warmly lit pub to the sound of a raucous jig. With this preconception in mind, I was initially somewhat let down by Celtic Café. Instead of focusing on the whirling energy popularized by Michael Flatley and bastardized by the Pogues, Karen Ashbrook and Paul Oorts reveal the many subtle layers of the Celtic sound -- layers as intertwined as the intricate knotted patterns that characterize Celtic art. Although the pair play a variety of instruments, their main guns are Oorts' acoustic guitar and Ashbrook's hammered dulcimer. For the unfamiliar, the hammered dulcimer looks like a harp but is played with small mallets, like a xylophone. The resulting sound is the midpoint between the harp and piano and can usually be heard drifting through any reasonably sized Renaissance festival.

Throughout the album, the focus is firmly on the infectious melodies created by Ashbrook, Oorts and a handful of their comrades. Percussion, the central instrument in most of the commonly heard Celtic music, is unusually subdued or entirely absent. This quieter approach creates a mist-laden feel, invoking the green countryside far more than the cramped streets of Dublin. Even when Oorts lays into a fast reel at the end of the opening "Breton Dance/Star of Munster", the effect is more ephemeral than the standard stomp.

In addition to their unusual dynamic approach, Ashbrook and Oorts stir things up by infusing their music with a variety of European influences. On "Style Musette", Oorts brings the Italian mandolin to bear on an historically French musical form. Elsewhere, lively Belgian jigs and mournful Flemish sea songs expand the musical canvas to include all of Europe. These combinations create the sensation of sitting on the corner of a marketplace in a busy port city, listening unobtrusively as the hubbub of many nations congeals into a pleasing whole -- hence the name of the album. The fact that Ashbrook and Oorts are able to incorporate these disparate influences into natural sounding tunes is a testament to their skill.

Rounding out the collection is the "Napoleon Suite", an eight movement tone poem of Napoleon's famous battle at Waterloo. Opening with a martial drum roll, the suite invites listeners in with "Will You Go to Flanders", a traditional Scottish call to arms, on the pipes. This is followed by a set of celebratory jigs before the main battle and its solemn aftermath. While the cohesiveness of the suite is not obvious, the individual songs are still engaging without the overarching thematic structure.

All in all, Ashbrook and Oorts have put together a fine album of European music, far exceeding the scope of its Irish title. While some listeners might gravitate to a bolder, more forthright disc of furious jigs, if you're willing to dig past the stereotypes of the music, Celtic Café is a fine place to begin.