Gaels aiming to blow up a storm
6th March 1991 "Caithness Courier"

Batten down the hatches – Thurso-based blues-rock band Howlin’ Gaels are about to sweep across the Highlands. The four-piece outfit– singer Donnie Williamson, bassist Billy Wares, guitarist Alex McIntosh and drummer Marty Sutherland-– were due to start blowing up a storm recently in Features but bad luck, in the shape of burnt gear, put paid to that.
"There was a fire in my house," explains Billy. "Luckily no-one was hurt but the band’s equipment suffered badly. The drums were slightly damaged, but the worst hit were the speaker cabinets. We’re pretty sickened by it."

Donnie says: "We’re not going to be held back by a problem like this. We’ve been approached by an agent about doing gigs down South and we’re determined to get there."

The boys have been playing in various local bands for years but only got together in February 1990. Marty joined in the summer, and Howlin’ Gaels was born. A few gigs last year, with a Hogmanay bash at the Forss base, was enough to convince them that the blend was right, and they’ve been practising hard ever since.

"The mix of upbeat blues music by the likes of B.B King, Johnny Winter, Hendrix and Blues ‘n’ Trouble, along with our own numbers, seem to go down well," says Alex, who adds: "We’d have been playing a lot before now but for the lack of venues for our style of stuff around the North."

I caught up with the Gaels at the Newmarket’s Blue Monday jam and they really are great. Kilted wildman Donnie’s raunchy voice and demonic harmonica, Alex’s solid rhythm and blinding solos and Billy and Marty banging away like a barn door in a hurricane combine to make one of the tightest and bounciest bands I’ve ever seen in a long time. They really deserve to get out and play more often without the hassle of spontaneous combustion!
Both Donnie and Billy are freelance musicians as well "If anyone needs a bass-player or a harmonica-playing singer for a while get in touch," says Billy.

" Yeah, we need the cash to replace all the burnt bits," quips Donnie.

So if you want a visual and musical feast that the Howlin’ Gaels have to offer, along with that atmospheric scorched smell, watch out for them in your neighbourhood soon. They’re well worth watching.

Bry Dods

The Howlin’ Gaels come stormin’ back!
6th December 1991 - John O’Groat Journal

A few short months after being blown off course by a road accident, a talented Thurso rock band are picking up where they left off. Colin Punler Reports.

The Newmarket Bar in Thurso was the venue last Sunday for the awaited comeback of the Howlin’ Gaels, the local blues/rock band regarded by many as perhaps the town’s brightest new musical prospect.
Sunday afternoon’s session had been billed as Johnny Fats but a last minute switch saw the Gaels back in action together in public for the first time since their musical aspirations nosedived along with a van carrying their equipment, bass player Billy Wares and drummer Martin Sutherland. The accident at Berriedale 11 weeks earlier following a gig at the Aultnamain Inn could easily have ruined the band. Billy landed in hospital with a broken shoulder and three cracked ribs, while, for the second time in a year, the band were assessing the extent of the damage to their equipment.
Fortunately, a mattress in the back of the van limited it to a few smashed valves in Billy’s amp. The inquest, however, caused a few ructions.

"We did fight to begin with" admitted Billy (29), of The Bungalow, Scrabster Farm. "But the whole thing has actually brought us closer together."

Ironically, the turmoil followed the band’s best run since getting together in February 1990.
The present line-up dates from a few months later when Martin (25), of Holburn Avenue, replaced Henry Mackinnon on drums.

When Lou Martin, ex-Spiggy Topes, Rory Gallagher and now Blues ‘n’ Trouble, guested with the Gaels during their supporting act at Thurso’s Scapa House in the summer, the band’s popularity soared. "Playing with him made us get the finger out," said Billy, nephew of Johnny "Fats" Sutherland. "We tried really hard after that and went into a really good spell."

More bookings outwith Caithness soon followed, and the night after their last slot at the Aultnamain Inn, on the Struie road, the Gaels had been due in Fort William – the furthest they would have travelled together as a band. Inverness the following week was to have been their next outing.

"Now we know we can handle a gig again, we’re hoping to get back in touch with that circuit," said Donnie Williamson (24), the kilted, harmonic-playing vocalist and frontman

with the Howlin’ Gaels.

The band did not expect to be back playing live until the week before Christmas. Billy, however, despite recently undergoing an operation to his shoulder, wanted back as soon as possible.

Monday saw him nursing a few aches and pains but no worries. "It was a bit stiff afterwards," admitted Billy. "But I’m really delighted."

The band are determined to make up for lost time, hopeful that the misfortune which has dogged them this year is a thing of the past. In February, a fire at Billy’s house damaged the drums and burned the speaker cabinets.

"We’d like to thank everyone for their concern and help to get us back on the road," said Donnie.

"We’re working towards going full-time," added Billy, who, like Donnie, is a self-employed freelance musician. "we need to build up a fair bit of work before then, though."

The bands own creative talents are filtering through into their own material, such as Two-timing Theresa, written by Donnie and set to the music by the band. "We just jam until we find something we like," explained Billy. Plans are also in hand to release a cassette.

The band, the fourth member of which is lead guitarist Alex Macintosh (32), of Claredon Place are next due on stage at a charity gig at the Weigh Inn on December 20. They’re back in the Newmarket two days later and return to the Weigh Inn on December 27.

In a short space of time they’ve worked hard to recapture the exhilarating form interrupted abruptly back in September. Their first public outing last Sunday suggested it won’t be long before their climbing the ladder to success once more.

But after being blown off course in the recent months, the very least the Howlin’ Gaels deserve is a few decent breaks, and a change of luck would certainly help. Roll on 1992…

Gaels are back in action
Friday July 2, 1999 - John O’Groat Journal

A Caithness band has reformed after a seven-year absence and played it’s first local gig at Skinandi’s in Thurso last night.
Howlin’ Gaels have already played in Ullapool and Skye and are looking at the possibility of a mini-tour in Denmark as well as a trip to Colorado in the USA, although nothing has been confirmed at this stage.
The band features two original members – Donnie Williamson, the vocalist and harmonica player, and guitarist Alex Mcintosh. They are joined by the former New Experience and Jump the Queue drummer, Ewan Barker, and David Tashnizi on Bass. He previously played with bands in Orkney.

"We have been getting quite a few offers and have bookings already for July and August in Caithness and through out the North," Donnie said this week.

"We will be performing some of our own material but also covers by Jimi Hendrix, the Doors, Peter Green, Howlin’ Wolf and others."

Although the band hopes to be busy, Donnie intends to continue appearing with After Hours – the local jazz combo which plays on an occasional basis in North venues, including Ebenezer’s at Mackay’s Hotel, Wick.

Gaels take recording studio by storm
Friday, January 21, 2000 - John O’Groat Journal

Stephen Cashmore is pleased to find that the Howlin’ Gaels have lost none of their live magic in the transition from stage to CD.

Regulars at Howlin’ Gaels gigs have often wondered whether the spontaneous excitement generated by the band’s live performances is transferable to a hi-fi in the living-room setting.
Take away the influence of a room filled with adrenalised bodies and all the trappings of a licensed dance hall, and what would be left? Would it be a case of home alone is no place for the Gaels?
Well, now we know.
Rock the Millennium is eight prime sides, recorded by the Gaels in Phil Anderson’s Kirkwall studio. Those with long teeth may remember Phil as a member of the seventies hit band Middle of the Road. Never mind, Phil still keeps his musical hand in. On Rock the Millennium he fills in with keyboards, rhythm guitar and backing vocals where necessary.

The first album by the Gaels was committed to tape in two-and-a-bit days – an astonishing achievement given that the songs on it are all their own compositions and, with one or two exceptions, will be fresh to most ears. Rehearsal time was, by all accounts, at a premium, but this turns out to have been no bad thing – what rough edges there are on Rock the Millennium merely pepper up an already tasty musical stew.

For those who don’t know, the Howlin’ Gaels are four young Caithness musicians, fully committed to the cause of blues-rooted rock ‘n’ roll. Singer and leather-lunged harmonica man Donnie Williamson fronts the line-up of Alex Mcintosh (lead guitar), David Tashinizi (bass) and drummer Ewan Barker. Versatility is a key note of the band and it is not unknown for Alex to play rhythm guitar, Taz to take a leading hand and sing the odd song, and Ewan, too, has a voice of his own.

"Too Hot Too Soon", a beefy pounder in the best Gales manner, kick-starts the album. Over an up-tempo blues beat, Donnie Williamson unfolds a story of fractious passion, underlined by a wailing harmonica and keyboard chords. The song ends with Alec’s nimble fingers storming up and down the guitar scales, while Ewan demonstrates just how good a drummer he is.

Next up is a slow, moody blues number, "Baby B’ Troo", on which Phil Anderson’s keyboard evokes a late-hours nightscape "Play me the blues," demands Donnie halfway through the song, and Alec does just that – in spades. Old-timers may find this reminiscent of the Animal’s , in their slower moments, which is not such a bad thing.

Continuing on a blues track is the third offering, "12 Bars Too Late". Forty year of rockin’ blues tradition is encapsulated in these four minutes. It’s a familiar tale of what happens when the lure of drink delays a man. He gets home at some timeless hour, murders his old lady and lands in the clink. Out on parole, he takes another fill, wraps his car round a telegraph pole and ends up back inside. The whole escapade is driven along by a pumping beat.

Now comes a change: "Blue Ocean" is untypical of the Gaels we know. Nevertheless, it is perhaps the most commercial offering on the CD. Wistful and evocative, with an infectious busy rhythm and a masterly tempo change, "blue Ocean" paints a picture equivalent, in some ways, to walking out in autumn under a windswept northern sky. This is a pop song in the best possible sense.

Those of you familiar with the Trudge Euphoria CD Festering days will detect the mutual influence of David Tashinizi on "Can Anybody Tell Me?"
Taz was one of the mainsprings of Trudge Euphoria, and on this track his experience with that band is pressed into service with the Gales. He takes the song himself, an intense performance, backed by aching guitar lines that go on forever.

The next one emerges like an uncoiled snake. "Where is the Feelin’?" has been a feature number at Gaels gigs for almost a year now. Chopped guitar chords in the classic rock style introduce this saga romance gone cold, with Donnie agonising over the dregs of love’s bitter aftertaste. This number continues the tradition started by Led Zeppelin long before some of the Gaels were born, a tradition in which skilled musicianship translates primal emotions. Gut-wrenching.

"Here’s to You (and your rock ‘n’ roll)" is another instant-access tune with a memorable faster-tempo chorus and space-ranging guitar. Again this has commercial potential in a market beyond blues rock.

Initially, a feeling of being short-changed followed a first listen to the final track of Rock the Millennium. Somehow less than two minutes for "The Gaels Anthem" just didn’t feel right.
But a few helpings of this trot-along ditty, on which Stewart Shearer plays a lively banjo, explained everything.
For many, this is just how a Howlin’ Gaels session really does end – calling for a taxi and rolling home intoxicated… even those of us who are teetotal.

Gaels pay tribute to live blues tradition
Wednesday, July 28, 1999 - Caithness Courier

Scottish influences on the blues go back a long way.
In the mid-fifties America, blues shouter Tiny Grimes appeared on stage with his Rockin’ Highlanders resplendent in tuxedo jackets, silk socks, wrap-around shades and kilts. A bunch of very sharp dudes indeed, typical of those faraway days before young European palefaces tuned in to the raw, black sounds that blared out of numberless juke joints, record shacks and seedy clubs from Texas to Chicago. This potent musical seed found a vacant womb, ripe for filling. The results is best traced in the careers of the Rolling Stones, Led Zepplin, Eric Clapton, all those millionaire rockers whose early days were spent solitary in a cold bedroom, struggling to master the chords of the latest Bo Diddley record.
Age has diminished neither the potency of the blues music nor its ability to adrenalise even the most lethargic natures – a power most ably demonstrated by Howlin’ Gaels at their recent gig in Thurso’s British Legion Club. Loud, high-octave sounds, raucous and exciting, driven by a controlled virility that always hits the spot just right, blues played this way is music’s equivalent to the Kama Sutra.

With a wailing harmonica intro to the old Peter Green classic "Goin’ Down", kilted singer Donnie Williamson set out the evening’s stall, while his three Gael confederates slipped into the classic attitudes of a bona fide blues band. Casual and unanimated, the lead guitarist threw off a string of effortless solo’s, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do. The bass player, an intense, determined young man, swooped his fingers up and down the four thick strings, the plunging notes like the pulse of a super charged engine driving the music forward, while behind him, the drummer showed that he had mastered the unwritten secret that baffles so many. It is this: at no one time should the beat sound as though it is produced merely by the action of wooden sticks bashing stretched skins. Simple, isn’t it? Believe me, it isn’t.

"Goin’ Down" was followed by a slew of blues-based familiars spanning the past three decades. There was Barrett Strong’s "Money", covered by just about every British R&B band in the sixties, and the Wilson Pickett’s classic twosome "The Midnight Hour" and "Mustang Sally", the latter a trademark number for the Gaels and well known by their regular following. This was soul in a blues suit; so too was "Knock on Wood", that all-time favourite memory with Viewfirth dancers of 30 years ago. Dues were paid to another legend of that era when the Gales blasted out tight, controlled versions of Jimi Hendrix’s "Stone Free" and "Fire", resisting temptation to indulge in long-winded and unnecessary solos.

One number the band did extend by skilfully medleyising into it Cream’s "Sunshine of Your Love" was Reef’s 1998 anthem "Place Your Hands", a combination that had everybody up and dancing.

But the Gaels don’t just put on other folk’s clothes – they write their own numbers, too. Highlight of the evening was their airing of "Where is the Felling", an intense, emotion-twisting number taken from their forthcoming album Twelve Bars Too Late, due on the record shelves in October.

Outside, blues echoes and the dark, wet streets resurrected memories of a winter’s morning years ago, in south-side Chicago, the only white face on the block, and one of life’s great shocks: to hear from the mouth of a black youth that Elton John meant more to him that Chuck Berry. While daundering home pondering all this, a bumped-into acquaintance, out on the tiles, asked if I’d been to see one of the "tribute bands". In a way, yes. The Howlin’ Gaels are a tribute- a tribute to the enduring tradition of live blues in the Far North. It is a tradition loyally supported – sign on to it next time these modern Rockin’ Highlanders are in town.

C.D.S

Worth the wait ‘til the Midnight Hour
Thursday, 20th July 2000 - The Orcadian

1,200 dance the night away!

It really was the case of having to wait ‘til the Midnight Hour for the 1,200-strong crowd who filled the Pickaquoy Arena for an evening of live entertainment headlined by The Commitments on Friday – but they produced a highly professional performance once they did appear.>
They certainly thrilled the Picky audience, which, on a quick scan of the audience, seemed to range in age from somewhere in the late 50s.

While the personnel was not the same – and the lead vocalist did not quite have the personality of the on-screen original – the by then well-entertained crowd were treated to polished versions of all the favourite numbers from the film, which had them dancing all the way through until the set ended just over an hour later.

However, this late-night set from The Commitments was only part of the story of what was a great evening of live music, starting with an un-publicised appearance from Hadhirgaan. Fresh back from Canada, these talented youngsters were well received by earlier arrivals at Pickaquoy, who had filled most of the seats in the Arena by about 9pm.

Then the Silver Penguins, including an apparently recently shorn Brian Cromarty and Douglas "Buffalo Bill" Montgomery, soon had those on the floor jumping with their infectious blend of rock and no-holds barred fiddle beaks. Awesome stuff, yet again.

Blue Mother slowed things down a bit, but upped the tempo towards the end of their set, and it looked like on-form lead vocalist Leah Johnston – in cowboy hat and ankle-length coat – might just have been the one who skinned Mr Montgomery’s buffalo!

Third on were the Howlin’ Gaels, hailing from across the Firth. With their usual no-nonsense approach they progressed the evening’s entertainment nicely up to the appearance of the main act.

All in all, a fine night of live music. The only criticism might be that we could have done with one less support act – but who would you leave out?

Final mention to the Pickaquoy Centre, and the chaps from the Orkney Rugby Club – well-run show in a top venue, and I never had to wait more than two minutes for a drink!

RL

Gael-force rockin’ blues from the Deep North
John O’Groat Journal

Stephen cashmore discovers the trials and tribulations of life on the road with the Howlin’ Gaels – and finds that, 15 years on from their humble beginnings, the group’s no-nonsense brand of blues rock is blowing stronger than ever.
We are back in the winter of ’89. The gloom snuffs out a rain lashed Far North day. Late afternoon has been and nearly gone and there’s still no sign of the Transit. What now? Somebody knows a body with a car; someone else can get a loan of a trailer. Soon they’re all on the road to Tain, four musicians sharing a beat-up Austin Maxi with a full-size drum kit, a tiny trailer loaded with amps and PA gear bouncing along behind. Dangerous, man – but this is only the beginning.

Halfway to Tain and the drum kit decides that it no longer desires the company of the two dudes crammed into the back seat with it, so…Bang! It breaks out through the back windscreen, which promptly disintegrates in a shower of glass onto the hapless back-seat passengers. And still it rains. And it’s black dark too. But baby, this is rock ‘n’ roll!

Tain at last. Through the narrow streets of the ancient burgh whose every stone wheezes history, a place of pilgrimage for saints, thanes, kings and Caithness music-makers come to educate the ears of Ross-shire loons. Already the hall is open for business, a no-nonsense wifie on the door.

"Your money, please, boys."

"It’s okay, we’re the band."

"The band? The band? There must be some mistake the band’s already here – on the stage warming up…"

A double booking! Who’d believe it? Still, there’s a hotel around the corner and they’d appreciate the offer of some free Saturday night Fever. And sure enough, the proprietress strikes a deal. Bed, breakfast and free drink in exchange for a helping of your best rock ‘n’ roll.

It turns out to be a great night. Plenty of punters fill the dance floor, money flows across the bar, drink ebbs the other way. Everyone is well pleased. Forget the B&B – the rain’s stopped and the boys will see dawn break over the Ord.

Off up the A9 charges the rattletrap Maxi with all lights blazing. And that’s the problem. Once on, the headlight’s stubbornly refuse to go off. Stuck on full beam with a hundred miles before them, the lights guide the Maxi on it’s merry journey north, passing three police cars on the way. Fortunately, the Northern Constabulary appear to have declared a one-night amnesty on bad-mannered motorists, and our men arrive home safe, sound and free from criminal conviction.

The above escapade was but one mile on a long hard road that began 15 years ago when four young Thurso boys decided to form a band…

In 1983 Donnie Williamson was a Thurso loon playing the drums in a group called Home and Beyond. Like many outfits in those days, Home and Beyond ladled out a wholesome stew of pop rock. But the blues was in Donnie’s blood, a common complaint among males in the Far North, which has supported a health blues scene ever since Mad Alex Harvey and his Insane Six adrenalised audiences at Thurso Town Hall. Donnie wasn’t even a gleam in his old man’s eye when Mad Alex was in his pomp and glory, but he grew up with a taste for the great one’s brand of hard-edged, bawling blues rock.

Two years later Donnie had teamed up with another Thurso blues freak, Alex Macintosh. Alex picked a mean guitar. Together with drummer Henry Mackinnon and bass player Billy Wares, Donnie and Alex made up the first version of the Howlin’ Gaels. Donnie himself no longer played drums – he was now lead singer with a blues band. And he blow a loud harmonica, too.

The Gaels practised hard, and long at Billy Wares home at Scrabster. Their first public airing was in 1985 in Thurso’s Newmarket Bar, a place with a strong musical tradition, a place tailor-made for rockin’ the blues, and the nearest thing we have to a Deep South juke joint. They played numbers by Alex Harvey, Jimi Hendrix, The Grateful Dead and others of that breed. It hit the spot just right and they began to build up a loyal local following.

A year or so after the Gaels got going, Henry Mackinnon left the group. Another local boy, Marty Sutherland, took Henry’s place behind the drum kit. This happened in early ’87, the year when the Gaels started blowing beyond the County March to Brora, Golspie, Dingwall, Inverness; then it was Aberdeen, Dundee and Glasgow. Touring costs money, so by now the band were in it for the cash as well as the fun. They also made a start at writing their own material, drawing on their varied influences and blending in a bit of Deep North soul.

As well as playing away from home, the Gaels kept immaculate company, too. Local music fans may remember them supporting the great Blues ‘n’ Trouble when those pedigree wailers rocked a tentful on Thurso’s Millbank field. Dr Feelgood and the Sensational Alex Harvey Band also had their stage shoes pre-warmed by the Gaels during the band’s early years.

A strong local support, bookings all over Scotland, billed alongside the great and good of British blues rock. Just as it seemed things were on the up and up, a series of mishaps knocked the wind out of the Howlin’ Gaels.

First a fire wrecked the band’s practise room at Billy Wares place. At Dornoch equipment went missing. Marty Sutherland parted company with them and was replaced by Slim, an English chiel. What was the mysterious sothron’s real name? To this day no-one knows, nor can anyone remember. Then there was the trek to Oban…

The West Coast is God’s own country, but man-eating midges temper its breathtaking beauty and sudden squalls spring up unheralded from the wild Atlantic. And when rain falls it comes down by the bucketful. When the Gaels blew into Oban sometime in the late ‘80s they had found that the storms, which had accompanied them all the way from Caithness, had left the venue ankle-deep in water. The gig was cancelled. With a heavy heart, they turned round and prepared to take their sodden equipment back to Thurso. It was not so simple. The band’s van was stuck fast in the mud of the same rain-drenched field that the Gaels had hoped would be a scene of musical triumph. Forlorn and alone, the band waited for someone to come and tow them away from this desolate spot, sick to the back teeth and cursing their luck. Perhaps, like many blues singers before them, the Howlin’ Gaels had indeed been born under a bad sign. Slim the drummer certainly thought so. He quit in 1992.

When Billy Wares was injured in a bad road accident, leaving the band minus a bass player and an experienced drummer, it looked like road’s end for the Howlin’ Gaels.

For the next six years the Gaels were nothing but a hot memory in the minds of those Far North folk who know that raucous rockin’ blues, played loud, is something more than just a string of notes. It’s a musical equivalent of Tina Turner’s onstage gyrations, and anyone who just wants to listen to words had best stay home along with a song-sheet.

Bonded by the blues, Donnie and Alex kept right on wishing and hoping. If only they could get the right rhythm section… Remember, it’s not just sympathetic musicianship. Four young guys living on one another’s nerves for long periods have to get on personality-wise. Having no luck locally, they advertised in the national music papers. "Wanted. Drummer and bass player to join established blues band" (or something along those lines).

Replies came from all over. "Yeah, I’m interested. Scotland, you say. Whereabouts? Near John O’Groats? *!*! Sorry…"

One English dude – clearly lacking geographical savvy – offered to come up to Thurso. Phoning from Edinburgh, he asked was he nearly there? Was it much further? He promptly boarded the next train south.

In 1998 Donnie Williamson was teaching music at Thurso College when two young musicians signed on to the course. Ewan Barker was a Thurso loon who’d had a bit of previous behind the drums with a local group called New Experience. Orkney-born David Tashinizi played guitar – any variety, rhythm, lead and bass. Ewan and Taz were also members of Trudge Euphoria, who recorded that memorable CD Festering Days at Murkle Sound Studios. Would they be interested in playing a little blues now and again?

A pair of old hands and two young bucks- the Howlin’ Gaels returned to find that not only were not only were they not forgotten but they still boasted a loyal following. Thurso’s Newmarket and Coral lounges were among the first to roll out the "welcome back" mat.

A series of local gigs and it was business as usual. Practising, playing, penning new tunes, off over the Ord, new audiences to conquer, new venues to storm, a real travelling band again. The six wilderness years soon became a historical footnote.

Last year the Gaels played across the Firth in Orkney, where the islanders response was overwhelming that the band decided to record their long-planned first album at Phil Anderson’s Kirkwall studio. To mesh in with a tight touring schedule, the album was slapped down in a hurry – but it’s all the better for a few unpressed seams.

Aptly titled Rock the Millennium. The Gaels CD hit the shelves in time to coincide with that great milestone in time. Eight tracks, all the bands own work, a tour de force of tradition shin-kickin’ blues rock with some more melodic ingredients mixed in. It’s showcase for the Gaels collective and individual talents, and if you didn’t buy a copy – well you’re the loser.

And the future? The Howlin’ Gaels are presently hard at work on material for their next album, which is currently being laid down at Stainland under the guiding hand of Mark Wright, himself no mean musician. They recently played support to the Commitments at their Kirkwall date where, by all accounts, the Gales were just as exciting as the main act.

To promote their forthcoming album, the band plan to tour England and maybe venture further afield to Europe.

Naturally this costs money and the appearance of a sympathetic local sponsor would help matters along.

Caithness has a recent history of neglecting its own in favour of half-baked acts from the south. That’s alright if you want to wallow in nostalgia, but if you prefer to leave the dead where they belong sign on to the Howlin’ Gaels and support real live music. It’s the right thing to do.

RL