Some years ago a book publisher, since deceased, invited his stable of authors -- I was one, newly signed -- to dinner at his fancy private club in Manhattan. I ended up sitting in close proximity to the late Leslie Shepard, a well-regarded Irish scholar of broadsides and street literature. Inevitably, the two of us turned our conversation to traditional music. I recall specifically a discussion of our mutual fondness for the English lyric folksong "Seeds of Love." All was going splendidly until I mentioned my affection for Fairport Convention and Steeleye Span. Shepard looked at me as if suddenly seized with piercing stomach pain.

Today I am probably at the age Shepard was then, and as I listen to CyberTrad, the very title of which unsettles me, I understand how he must have felt. I'm sure it had to do with a suspicion that traditional music was being corrupted so that the sound could be updated to attract -- so the cynic might say -- a living audience.

Meanwhile, being (I hope) relatively sophisticated about these things, I understand that folk is always in the process of reinvention. The "folk music" many of us grew up hearing from revivalists is not the same as the folk music collected in its traditional state. Just listen to a collection of field recordings if you require specifics. The Scottish and Irish bands of the 1970s to the present, even with largely trad repertoires, are significantly removed in their presentation style from that associated with the ballads and airs of the preceding decades and centuries. Even the occasional unaccompanied singing isn't quite the same.

Still, as an axiom usually attributed to Martin Carthy (though apparently not its actual author) has it, "The worst thing you can do to a folk song is not to sing it." Because I grew up with rock 'n' roll, the fusion of folk with rock in Fairport and Steeleye did not feel so unwieldy as it did to people of Shepard's generation. It also helped that the members of these bands were mostly folk musicians by experience and inclination (as, ironically, members of The Band, Fairport's proximate inspiration, weren't). To my hearing these approaches, innovative as they were, still managed to preserve the music's spirit, and in the end that's what counted. And, I maintain to this day, counts.

A native son and current resident of Charlottesville, Virginia, Matthew Olwell has enjoyed a long history as a dancer and flute player immersed in Irish ways. What makes CyberTrad different from the competition is its incorporation of percussive sonic landscapes that take their inspiration from current American pop music. I confess that I know little about current pop music, and "little" may be stretching the point. Yet I can attest, with a reservation or two (e.g., the arrangement of the American Civil War-era "By the Hush" is irritatingly busy, in my opinion), that this is on the whole a satisfying recording. Those of us who may have preferred a more straightforward approach should not be put off by the embellishments, which are usually not unduly intrusive. In other words, this still sounds at its core like what you want to hear when you want to hear Irish and Irish-American music.

Aimee Curl, who sings from time to time, possesses a voice so distinctive, warm and charming that it gives the impression of having come into the world to sing old ballads. Her reading of the often-covered "Two Sisters" (Child #10) delights and surprises, as does her take on "The Bonny Irish Boy." Olwell's wooden-flute playing is clear and lyrical, pleasureful to ear and cheerful to heart. I doubt that anybody who loves Irish music will find any other than the sporadic bone to pick with Olwell's approach, which like some things we think we aren't going to care for has a way of ingratiating itself. The logic of the arrangements becomes more evident, in other words, with each successive listening. Still, the Mongolian mouth music on the original "Aimee & Shodekeh" will probably always feel jarring, even inexplicable, at least as a cut on this album.

Though I am drawn to some cuts more than to others, I hear CyberTrad on the whole as a nuanced, intelligent reimagining of older sounds. It does not, of course, replace them; it does expand them, which is not a bad thing at all. I am relieved, in conclusion, to find that I am not Leslie Shepard turning dyspeptic. Happily, the spirit here abides.