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A Lo-Fi Experiment in Spontaneity: A Review

Music, as we know, is a deeply subjective experience. One listener’s masterpiece might be another’s mystery—and that’s part of what makes it so endlessly fascinating. I’ve met people who can’t stand The Beatles, despite their towering influence. So I approach every new work with openness, even when it challenges my own sensibilities.

These three tracks are raw in every sense of the word. They appear to be recorded on a phone, unmastered, and stripped down to just acoustic guitar and voice. There’s no studio polish, no layered production—just the artist and their instrument. They don’t follow conventional song structures (no clear verse, chorus, or bridge), and they lean heavily into the lo-fi aesthetic, perhaps even beyond it.

As someone who views songwriting as a craft—an art form shaped by melody, structure, and intention—I had to shift my perspective and consider these pieces through a more avant-garde lens. If I were told they were improvised on the spot, I wouldn’t be surprised. They feel spontaneous, unfiltered, and unconcerned with traditional musical expectations.

The vocal delivery is twangy and often off-pitch, and the songs themselves are elusive in terms of melody and form. It’s difficult to imagine who the intended audience might be, or what emotional or artistic message the artist hopes to convey. That said, I’m no stranger to experimental music—I enjoy indie, Krautrock, and unconventional sonic landscapes. But even with that openness, I found myself struggling to connect with these tracks.

Would I revisit them or recommend them to others? Honestly, probably not. But that doesn’t mean they’re without value. Perhaps they’re meant as personal expressions, sonic sketches rather than finished works. At under nine minutes total, they’re brief enough to invite curiosity without demanding commitment.

So here’s my suggestion: give them a listen. You might hear something I didn’t—something that resonates, provokes, or simply intrigues. And if nothing else, they serve as a reminder that music doesn’t always seek approval. Sometimes, it just wants to exist.

A joyful start to the album with the song ‘Safe Haven’. The harmonies melt into the next song ‘Some Days’. I sat back with my eyes closed and listened to the album in full.

Not one bad song. All were very well written, the voices raw and real, no electronic processing, just the relaxing sound of acoustic instruments. The voices weaving around each other in lush harmonies was a joy to hear.

Each song carrying a story, just as I hoped.

Styles different from mellow to lively, a great album, easy listening, and indeed, a few catchy songs. I loved ‘Shine a Little Light On Me’

I’d love to see these live, so in all a great album. I hope a club near me hires them soon.

Final Thoughts on the Album

This is first album sent to me that I have really enjoyed. Great voices,and great stories within the songs.

Factory Street Bells

The song "Factory Street Bells" opens with the tender, lovely voice of Glen Hansard, whose mellow tone gracefully guides us into its emotive embrace. His voice, warm and soothing, feels like a gentle whisper that invites reflection and comfort. Accompanying this soulful vocals is a soft, mellow guitar that sets a tranquil, intimate mood. Subtle keyboard melodies weave seamlessly alongside, adding layers of gentle harmony that evoke the soulful essence of a gospel choir, the vocals rising up with real feeling. Together, these elements create an atmosphere that is both serene and uplifting, leaving a lasting impression of beauty and serenity. Truly superb in its subtle elegance

People We Used To Be

"People We Used To Be" begins with a quiet, introspective calm, led gently by Markéta Irglová’s delicate voice. Her vocals carry a sense of nostalgia and gentle longing, setting a reflective tone from the very start. The music gracefully unfolds around her, with a tender piano guiding the melody—its soft, nuanced notes weaving seamlessly to create an intimate and heartfelt atmosphere. The piano’s gentle keystrokes provide a warm foundation, allowing Irglová’s vocals to soar and intertwine effortlessly, evoking feelings of remembrance and wistfulness. The overall mood is one of quiet contemplation, capturing the bittersweet nature of memories and the passage of time, in a beautifully subdued and tender arrangement

Stuck In Reverse

The song begins with Glen Hansard utilizing the higher range of his voice, his expressive tone conveying a sense of vulnerability and emotional intensity. His vocals are beautifully harmonised by Markéta Irglová, adding layers of tenderness and depth to the opening. As the melody unfolds, it carries a poignant feeling of longing and heartbreak, capturing the ache of missed opportunities and unspoken words. The song's core message resonates with the idea that one can only move forward—never back—and this understanding is felt deeply in the heartfelt delivery. Despite this clarity, the emotional weight makes it painfully hard to let go and truly move on. The music and vocals together evoke a sense of yearning, making it a powerful reflection on love, loss, and the challenge of healing.

I Leave Everything To You

The song opens with a gentle piano melody, its soft and delicate notes guiding us into a deeply plaintive and intimate atmosphere. As the music unfolds, Markéta Irglová takes her turn, her voice rising into the higher registers with a breathless, emotive quality. Her vocals are filled with tenderness and longing, as if revisiting sweet memories with both warmth and a touch of melancholy. The combination of the tender piano and her soaring, heartfelt singing creates a sense of vulnerability and surrender, conveying the profound act of entrusting everything to someone else. The overall mood is one of gentle devotion and bittersweet reflection, making it a beautifully poignant and emotionally resonant piece.

A Little Sugar

In "A Little Sugar," Glen Hansard returns to his mellow, natural vocal range, delivering a warm and soothing performance. Myself, having just cooked fresh rhubarb, sprinkling it with sugar, didn't quite cool any mouth down. But here, the "sugar" isn't just about the white, sweet substance; it's a metaphor for gentle kindness and soothing words that calm troubled hearts. Glen's voice carries a tender, understated tone, emphasizing the idea that a touch of sweetness—whether in words or actions—can help pacify hot tempers and resolve many issues. The song exudes a quiet wisdom, highlighting how kindness and gentle approaches often solve problems better than harshness, offering a comforting reminder of the power of soft, caring gestures. Raw emotion creeps into the song, but a little sugar helps...

Pretty Stories

"Pretty Stories" unfolds with a delicate, gentle melody that evokes the image of a doll on a music box slowly spinning around to soft, enchanting tunes. Markéta Irglová’s voice is almost whisper-like, tender and intimate, as if sharing a secret or a quiet reflection. Her singing conveys a sense of bittersweet acceptance—perhaps her sweetheart has found someone else—but there’s no bitterness or anger in her tone. Instead, there’s a pause, a moment to let the feelings settle and sink in. The song captures the subtle complexity of emotions—acknowledging change and heartache, yet embracing the quiet grace of time and understanding. It’s a softly moving, introspective piece that invites listeners into a moment of gentle acceptance and heartfelt vulnerability.

Great Weight

"Great Weight" begins with a quiet, bluesy atmosphere, setting an introspective and soulful mood. Glen Hansard’s voice enters with a raw, heartfelt tone, conveying a sense of release and relief—his great weight has been lifted and is gone. This song stands out from the others with its different style, blending blues and a touch of jazz influence. A saxophone effect weaves through the melody, adding a layer of melancholic sadness, yet the overall tone remains resilient and hopeful. Despite the underlying sorrow, there’s a powerful sense that no one is about to be defeated—there’s strength in acknowledging pain and moving forward. The song captures a moment of emotional liberation, combining vulnerability with a quiet determination to carry on.

Hundred Words

"Hundred Words" unfolds with a gentle, introspective melody that draws listeners into a reflective space. The song’s tone is tender and sincere, with lyrics that seem to explore the complexity of communication and unspoken feelings. The musical arrangement is subtle, allowing the vocals to take centre stage—perhaps featuring soft instrumentation that complements the intimacy of the moment. The title suggests a desire to express something profound and meaningful, even if it takes only a hundred words or less. Overall, "Hundred Words" feels like a quiet, heartfelt meditation on connection, understanding, and the power of simple, honest expression. My favourite song on the album.

Star of Munster 

An uplifting intrumental, energetic yet heartfelt—like walking through sunlit countryside or watching a joyful reunion

Drowsy Maggie

Uplifting without being overly polished or synthetic—retaining the soul of folk but with a broader, more cinematic appeal. Another intrumental.

Come To Me (feat. Rosie Eade)   

A folk song with the dulcet tones of Rosie Eade makes this the perfect blend of tradition and charm. Her voice—gentle yet expressive—floats effortlessly over acoustic textures, drawing listeners in from the very first note. The arrangement is rooted in classic folk, with fingerpicked guitar, warm fiddle flourishes, and the occasional harmonium swell, yet it carries a freshness that feels entirely modern.

Falling Feathers  

The music starts off gently, like a gentle stroll under trees letting in the sunlight. A musical story unfolds. Then the music whirls faster — and suddenly it's not just a tune but a wild countryside celebration: bonfires, maypoles, tankards swinging, skirts spinning, and cheeks flushed pink. You can almost imagine the dancers collapsing in exhaustion, then enjoying the rest of the summers day. 

Overly instrumental? Absolutely. Jolly? To its core.

Bombadil  

A quieter instrumental, something to relax to.

The Polden Polka  

The instrumental sounds familiar,like the echo of some old village tune handed down like bread and names. But soon, there’s a whisper of electric guitar, bending notes like willow branches in wind. It doesn’t dominate — not yet — but it haunts the melody, giving it steel where once there was only string. You can hear the past and future shaking hands: the bell-footed Morris man spinning into feedback, the hearth and the amplifier both glowing warm. It's not just a remix of tradition, It's a rebirth.

Time Will Tell 

The track opens with a nod to the past: a lilting, modal melody that could’ve been lifted straight from a 17th-century village green. But almost immediately, the electric guitar asserts itself — not aggressively, but with presence. It's not shredding; it's singing, humming, bending in and out of the melody like smoke through rafters. Its tone is warm, vintage, almost reverent — a distorted echo of the past.

Born In A Barn Trance

A whirlwind detour from misty moors to sun-baked floorboards

Where most of the album keeps its boots planted firmly in the soft, mossy ground of English folk tradition, “Born In A Barn Trance” flings open the doors and dances straight out of the countryside — and possibly across the Atlantic. This track is a bold, unexpected swerve: part homage, part reinvention, and all groove.

Gone are the gentle laments and dew-covered ballads — here we’re in the dust and clatter of a barn dance, somewhere between Appalachia and the Midlands, where fiddles swirl, kick drums thump, and synths wink playfully from the rafters. There’s an unmistakable old-time tune at the heart of it — something squarely danceable, maybe a distant cousin of a contra reel — but it’s been wired for rhythm and lifted into trance-like repetition.

The Blacksmith (feat. Rosie Eade)  

An old tale, newly forged in fire and feeling

Of all the songs on the album, “The Blacksmith” stands out like an ember that refuses to fade — glowing with tradition, yet alive with fresh emotional charge. Featuring the luminously expressive Rosie Eade, this rendition of the classic folk ballad isn’t just a reworking; it’s a reawakening.

From the first note, there’s a sense of quiet reverence. The arrangement is rooted in the bones of English folk. It’s Rosie Eade’s voice that carries it into the realm of the unforgettable. Her singing is quintessentially beautiful: clear, honest, and deeply human. It’s the kind of voice that doesn’t just sing the story — it knows it. There’s warmth in her phrasing, but also quiet strength; no dramatics, no overstatement, just the weight of lived emotion, passed down through generations.

Storm Horse

As the album draws to a close, the music drifts further from its folk roots, offering less of a full embrace and more of a mere nod to tradition. The electric guitar dominates, steering the sound into more contemporary, almost rock-infused territory. Folk melodies peek through like distant echoes, but here they serve more as motifs than foundations, creating a mood that feels edgy, atmospheric, and introspective. It’s a fitting finale—showcasing how the album’s journey moves from earthy, acoustic warmth toward a modern soundscape where folk is a subtle touchstone rather than the main stage.

Red Haired Boy

The folk road bends into the modern

As the final track on the album, “Red Haired Boy” gently guides us down a familiar folk path — but it’s no straightforward stroll. Instead, it offers a subtle, almost wistful nod to tradition, hinting at folk’s roots without fully resting there. The melody is recognizable, carried by deft instrumental interplay, yet it’s wrapped in a modern soundscape where electric guitar and contemporary textures take the lead.

This track feels like a crossroads — respectful of the past but clearly looking forward. It’s the folk tune refracted through a prism of today’s sensibilities, where acoustic warmth meets amplified edge. A fitting conclusion that leaves listeners pondering the evolving face of folk music.

The Quirky: Poetry Meets Mystery

Cockerham’s lyrics on this album are as enigmatic as ever, veering between poetic brilliance and outright obscurity. Lines like “the sky is full of broken glass” (from “Old Boot Wine”) invite interpretation but resist easy answers. It’s as if the band is challenging you to engage with their world on a deeper level, to decipher the coded messages hidden within their songs. Yet, for all it's mystery, there’s a raw emotional core to the album. Tracks like “Parallel Lines Never Separate” and “An Everyday Consumption Song” are steeped in a quiet despair that feels achingly human. They’re not just songs - they’re confessions, whispered in the dark.

The Odd: A Beautiful Fragmentation

If there’s one criticism to be made of Bells, Boots and Shambles, it’s that the album occasionally feels like it’s pulling in too many directions at once. The transitions within “In the Western World,” while ambitious, can feel jarring, as though the band is trying to cram an entire opera into a single track. Similarly, the minimalist arrangements of some songs might leave modern listeners craving a bit more sonic depth. But this fragmentation is also part of the album’s charm. It’s imperfect, yes, but those imperfections make it feel alive. There’s a sense that the band was reaching for something just out of their grasp, and that striving gives the music an emotional weight that polished perfection could never achieve.

My Verdict: A Hidden Treasure

Bells, Boots and Shambles is not an easy album, nor is it one that will appeal to everyone. But for those willing to embrace its quirks and delve into its depths, it offers a listening experience like no other. It’s an album that feels like it was made for rainy afternoons and quiet contemplation, a soundtrack for moments of introspection and melancholy.

Spirogyra may have faded into relative obscurity after this release, but Bells, Boots and Shambles stands as a testament to their artistry. It’s a swansong that refuses to go quietly, lingering in the mind long after the final notes have faded. If you’re a fan of folk-prog - or just curious about what happens when ambition meets vulnerability - this is an album worth discovering.

Spirogyra was a British progressive folk band formed in 1967 in Canterbury. Known for their distinctive blend of poetic lyrics, acoustic instrumentation, and classical influences, they carved a niche within the folk-prog scene. The core members included Martin Cockerham (vocals, guitar), Barbara Gaskin (vocals), Julian Cusack (violin), and Steve Borrill (bass).

Their music was characterised by its haunting melodies, intricate arrangements, and a balance of male and female vocals. Despite limited commercial success, albums like St. Radigunds (1971) and Bells, Boots and Shambles (1973) gained a cult following for their emotional depth and innovative approach. Spirogyra’s work remains a hidden gem for fans of progressive and folk music alike.

The title track, Diamond Day, is a standout, with its lilting melody and lyrics that make you want to quit your job, buy a wagon, and head for the hills. But it’s not all sunshine and frolics. Tracks like Glow Worms and Rose Hip November bring a wistful edge to the pastoral dream, reminding us that even the most picturesque landscapes have their shadows.

The instrumentation, featuring contributions from folk royalty like Dave Swarbrick, is understated yet exquisite. The arrangements are as light and airy as a summer breeze, with flutes, strings, and the occasional plucky banjo weaving together a sonic tapestry that feels timeless.

Now, let’s be honest: this album isn’t for everyone. If your idea of a good time involves headbanging or songs about heartbreak in a nightclub, Just Another Diamond Day might leave you scratching your head. But for those of us who occasionally fantasise about running away to a hobbit hole, it’s pure bliss.

Of course, the humour lies in its earnestness. Who among us hasn’t wanted to be as carefree as Vashti seems here, singing about the joys of milk churns and willow trees? And yet, there’s something deeply subversive about how unapologetically gentle this album is. In a world that prizes big, bold statements, Just Another Diamond Day whispers, “Let’s just be quiet for a while, shall we?”

In the end, the album’s charm lies in its ability to transport you. It’s not just music; it’s a holiday for your soul. So, pop it on, pour yourself a cup of something warm, and let Vashti Bunyan remind you that sometimes, the best adventures are the ones where you never leave the garden.

Vashti Bunyan (born 19 March 1945, Newcastle upon Tyne) is a British folk singer-songwriter celebrated for her ethereal voice and pastoral themes. Initially discovered by Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham, she released the single Some Things Just Stick in Your Mind in 1965, but her early pop career failed to take off.

Disillusioned with the music industry, Vashti embraced a nomadic lifestyle, travelling across Britain by horse-drawn wagon, a journey that inspired her 1970 debut album, Just Another Diamond Day. Produced by Joe Boyd and featuring contributions from folk luminaries, the album was a commercial failure at the time but later gained cult status as a lost classic of British folk.

After retiring from music for over three decades, Vashti was rediscovered in the early 2000s and released two acclaimed albums, Lookaftering (2005) and Heartleap (2014). Her work has influenced a new generation of artists, cementing her legacy as a unique and enduring voice in folk music.

From the very first track, An Droighneán Donn, I braced myself for the worst - and Lullahush, bless him, did not disappoint. What was once a plaintive, centuries-old lament is here reimagined as a sort of ethereal mess, drenched in so much ambient noise that the original melody can only be glimpsed in brief, ghostly gasps - like a drowning man bobbing up for air. The electronic production looms over the song like a thundercloud, oppressive and gratuitous, as if the delicate cadences of Irish folk are too fragile to be left standing without the crutch of a synthesiser.

And then there’s Maggie na bhFlaitheas. Ah, yes - this charming little assault on the senses, masquerading as a tribute to the traditional reel Over The Moore To Maggie. In its original form, the tune is a lively, foot-tapping delight; here, it’s been dismembered and stitched back together with all the grace of Frankenstein’s monster. Lullahush, in his infinite wisdom, has stretched and warped the melody, draping it in such an ocean of reverb that it sounds as though poor Maggie has wandered not ‘over the moor’ but straight into a malfunctioning dishwasher. What was once a spirited jig is now a sonic dirge - an electronic fogbank where the pulse of the original is barely detectable.

By the time I reached Jimmy an Chladaigh, I half-expected Lullahush to leap out of my speakers and personally apologise for this musical vandalism. The track begins with a tantalising hint of something authentic - a few mournful strains of traditional instrumentation - but, like everything else on this album, it’s soon drowned in a sea of glitchy, meaningless noises. It’s the aural equivalent of ordering a fine Irish stew and being served a lukewarm bowl of quinoa.

The whole album is an exercise in what I like to call sonic gentrification - taking something earthy, raw, and brimming with cultural memory, then sanding it down and slathering it with sleek, soulless effects to make it palatable for the artisanal-latte crowd. 

Nowhere is this more offensively clear than in Raglan Road. Patrick Kavanagh’s poem - already set to music in one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful ways imaginable - is here reduced to a wispy, saccharine shadow of itself. The emotional heft of the lyrics is entirely lost beneath a wash of dreamy electronica, as though Lullahush fears the words might be too moving if left to speak for themselves. I suppose we mustn’t have the listener feeling too much, must we?

To hear Lullahush tell it, this album is a ‘conversation between past and present.’ If that’s the case, the conversation is a one-sided shouting match where the past is rudely interrupted at every turn. Instead of engaging with the raw emotional honesty of Irish folk, Ithaca buries it under layers of production so vapid you could skate on it. 

It’s as if Lullahush took these beautiful, weathered songs - songs that have endured centuries, I might add - and decided they needed a good hosing-down with an Instagram-friendly aesthetic.

Now, I suppose some might call this sort of thing ‘pushing boundaries.’ How terribly daring, they’ll say, to mix the organic with the artificial. 

Personally, I call it musical vandalism. It’s like spray-painting a Renaissance masterpiece and patting yourself on the back for being edgy. There’s an arrogance here - a sense that Irish folk, in all its plain-spoken power, is somehow insufficient without the intervention of a laptop-wielding auteur.

And yet, for all its pretensions, Ithaca ultimately feels as hollow as a drum. It’s an album that takes the deep, aching soul of Irish music and dilutes it until it resembles nothing more than sonic wallpaper - pleasant enough if you’re sipping oat milk under exposed lightbulbs but utterly devoid of the raw humanity that makes these songs matter.

Lullahush may think he’s weaving a grand tapestry of past and future, but in truth, he’s done little more than slap a filter over tradition and call it art.

In the end, I can only offer my condolences to the poor, disrespected folk tunes buried beneath this mess. They deserved better.

Folk music, like fine whiskey, needs no synthetic sweetener - drown it in electronic fizz, and all you’ve got is dishwater with delusions of grandeur.

The wonderful lyrics of “Lovers, Dreamers and Fools” “Wondering how my lover came to wear stranger’s face” hits hard to those who have felt that feeling. “Crosslanes” tells a story about Flanders, and the gentle drone of the concertina and harmonies add a fullness to the song. 

The album ends with “The Town Wait”, all about Christmas, a lovely Folky feel the song.

In all, a nice mixed bag, and I look forward to hearing Kim’s next album. A great mixture of musical storytelling from this talented singer/songwriter.

Kim frequents Folk/Open Mike nights in North Yorkshire and County Durham from time to time, and worth seeing in action.

Secondly, the recording makes it seem as though the lads were simply singing in front of a Folk Club audience or during a singer-round, which makes it so enjoyable. There are plenty of choruses to join in with as well. Lovely to listen to songs that are unadorned with fancy instrumentation.

 Both men have a long pedigree in folk music, being the regulars at Gosforth Folk Club where Alan was the organiser, so they have a knowledge of different types of folk songs as is exemplified here. 

 I really enjoyed the ‘White Hare of Howden’ and also ‘London's Ordinary’, with roots in the 17th century. Their version of ‘A Brisk Lad’ (apparently a Dorset song) raises it from a dirge to a state of life as being a matter of fact.

 Thirdly they've been bold enough to include songs one would not normally expect from a couple of such lusty singers. One thinks that ‘Loving Hannah’ ought to be sung gently and softly, since it is a song of lost love, but they certainly do it Justice and make it work. It is almost as though they are waiting for the audience to come in on the refrain.

 There are 15 songs in this compilation, and several that I have not heard before including ‘Old Billy Blue’ and ‘When Geordie and I Was Young’, the latter, a nod to their surroundings, along with ‘The Collier's Rant’. But my favourite is ‘Blue Tar Road”, echoing the hard life of traveling people. In short, there is plenty of choice here for everyone, but it will really appeal to those who love to join in chorus's and refrains. Recorded and mixed by the lovely Steve Cunningham in Newcastle, I would certainly recommend it.

There are 14 tracks on the album common, and all are enjoyable and played well. For me, the outstanding performances are of Billy Pigg’s ‘Gypsy Lullaby’, Skinner's ‘Herr Roloff’s Farewell’, Reinhardt's ‘Nuages’ and O’Carollan’s ‘Planxty Hewlet’.

However, as mentioned above, the outstanding performances are enjoyable. I particularly liked the pairing of Bobby Timmin’s ‘Moanin’ with David Graham's ‘Anji’, the latter, of course, used to be a folk club standard, and has been recorded many times on its own (not least by the composer, but also in 1964 by Bert Jansch, in what is often considered the definitive version) Tom Richardson is an extremely accomplished guitarist. 

This album is well worth a listen and can be obtained direct from Tom. It costs five pounds (which includes postage and packaging), making it extremely good value for the 14 tracks. Recommended!

Contact Tom on 07734-323572  Email tomrichardson017@btinternet.com 

As well as using his own outstanding musical abilities on guitar, banjo and mandola, he enlists the help of two talented musicians, Tom McConville and John Kotra, who provide admirable and sympathetic accompaniment on some of the tracks. 

Songs like ‘Warlands’ and ‘Unguarded Moment’ have catchy choruses, and are mixed with traditional songs like the ‘Banks of Time’ and ‘Wish That The Wars Were All Over‘, and stonkingly good instrumentals like the ‘De Barren Danse’, the lively self-penned ‘Give A Jig A Bad Name’, and the sensitive ‘Anne In The Garden’, in which McConville features. Overall, it's an impressive album well worth a listen.

On a second CD Each Picture Song, Tony Wilson adds some bonus tracks from his extensive back cataloge, 16 tracks in the variety of Styles (all the basic tracks were recorded in one take, with bass Harmony and additional keyboard added after).

Strong rhythmic accompaniments drive many of the songs, such as ‘Nancy Dawson’, which can't fail to get your feet tapping, and Ed Pickford’s union song ‘If They Come For You In The Morning’. Then there are powerful versions of traditional ballads like ‘Lisbon’ and ‘Cruel Love',  and a very atmospheric instrumental called ‘Hope Sprang Eternal’. 

In contrast there are self-penned songs like ‘The Bait Tin’, an amusing tale about a mouse filching his food, and the efforts to thwart him. 

The whole CD offers resident guitar and instrumental compliments, with a vibrancy and freshness which comes from his interpretations of the songs he has loved, internalised, inhabited and then decided to share freshly with the audience's again. In fact, I enjoyed every track.

Curiosity In a Crate is bundled with doodles, pictures, fragments of old notes, and quotations about music, Alongside personal reminiscences and commentaries. It's a triumph of graphic design, and comes wrapped in a Tony Wilson lanard thoughtfully attached to a magnifying glass, so you can read the smaller print on the sleeve. 

The whole package somehow encapsulates all the best of his versatility and talent. and that this collection is like his ‘life in a box’. 

I would write more praise, but I run out of space! Highly recommended.

Jon's lyrics are disarmingly honest in our current political environment, but there is no despair. There is always hope, as reflected in the title track ‘One Fine Day’, (shades of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet perhaps?

Jon combines some great new songs with some established older ones, but with a new take. He doesn't pull his punches when making his views felt in ‘Bridges Not Walls’, ‘Little England - What Have You Done?’, and ‘Like Lemmings Jumping Over the White Cliffs of Dover’. These are lyrics as sharp as the ‘Knife Thrower's Assistants Blade’.

And yes that is Edwina Hayes lurking in there as a backing singer. It just goes to prove how highly regarded Jon is by one of the best in the business. Twelve tracks of brilliance.  ‘Fairport with balls’. 

For  more information see https://www.jonpalmeracousticband.com/ 

It's already my album of the year for 2020. You'll have to go some to dislodge it. 

Toni accompanies herself on a range of instruments:  Bouzouki, Guitar, Appalachian Dulcimer, Harmonium and Hurdy Gurdy in a simple style which doesn’t take away from her thought-provoking lyrics. The title track Last Port of Call focuses on the plight of migrants endeavouring to seek safety in the UK by attempting to cross the English Channel in a dinghy on Christmas Day 2018. 

All Over England relates the devastation caused by the building of houses on green field sites. The fire on Saddleworth Moor caused by the extreme drought in June 2018 brings the focus to the escalating problem of environmental change that has such devastating consequences for the countryside and wildlife.  Toni doesn’t just deal with issues in Britain. Chocolates, Cookies and Hugs visit the end of World War II when Auschwitz survivors were liberated, and Changes reflects on Toni’s own personal changes on moving to Heidelberg in 1980.

One of my favourite tracks is a more upbeat song called simply The Tune, which will be understood by every musician who has ever played in a session. Toni sings this with warmth and expression drawing on her own experiences and gives an insightful view into a roomful of musicians. I felt that The Call of the Sea was a little drawn out by the repeating chorus. I have enjoyed the CD more each time I have listened to it. Toni’s sincerity and compassion for humankind and the earth we enjoy is underpinned by sympathetic accompaniments. Everyone should hear these messages.

The Mile Roses are all dedicated and highly talented musicians and use their instruments (mandolin, cittern, fiddle, guitar) to produce some very effective and sophisticated accompaniments which in no way compromise the sound and clarity of their singing. With meaningful lyrics and tight harmonies they take us through a sequence of moods and deal with several current relevant topics - floods in Cumbria, immigration, and refugees … to mention but a few.

The album is professionally done, with an attractive cover which contains a booklet providing the lyrics to all songs - so you can join in with your favourites. Talking of favourites (but that’s difficult because every time I play it I like more of the songs!) I must admit that I almost know Hold On, A Million at Sea, and Girl in forget-me-not blue by heart. I enjoyed the varied styles of music and congratulate the band for their choice.  As a person who leans towards the more ‘traditional’ I have been surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed the contemporary slant of this CD. I think it’s a very commercial product and definitely a worthwhile buy. As a postscript, Simon, how about sending the musical notation of your beautiful tune The Rose under the Hill for Folk Roundabout to put into print, so all of us (practising) musicians can have a try playing it? I know Su is always happy to receive offerings.

The album opens with one of those gifted songs, Nancy Kerr’s Droving Dreams, a song about leaving home to find something better but remembering to cling to your roots at the same time. The second track The Spade is a broadside ballad with a tune written by Gavin. The couple describe this as ‘mildly preposterous’, as it works on the premise that gardening is the solution to all the world’s ills! It is followed by a John Conolly song The Widowmaker.

The two wholly traditional songs on the CD are Drowsy Sleeper (one of the many versions of the song more commonly known as Silver Dagger) and I’m A-Fading Day By Day, a song collected by Vaughan Williams.

Two of the tracks are written by Gavin: One Magpie Sits Alone, and the title song A Boat of Dreams - which is a lullaby to their baby son. The remaining tracks Annie Bonnie (Luke O’Hanlon, Rachel Stalker), The Return (Archie Fisher), The Jeannie C (Stan Rogers), and When All the World was Young (Charles Kingsley, Keith Marsden) complete a very satisfying and enjoyable collection. Amy sings on all tracks, and Gavin sings and provides skilful accompaniment on Guitar and Cittern. Two tracks are augmented by Double Bass, two others by a fiddle, and one by Hurdy Gurdy. Well worth a listen. 

Entirely complementary to these songs is Martin’s choice of cover versions. Pick of these are a haunting rendering of Shel Silverstein’s ballad-style Hills Of Shiloh, and Robb Johnson’s More Than Enough - the latter in direct homage to Martin’s late father-in-law Roy Bailey, who first brought the song to wider attention. Most notable among his arrangements of  traditional items are a pair gleaned from the singing of Hedy West: performed back to back here, we find animated accounts of Queen Jane (Child #52) and Joe Bowers (a ballad from the California Gold Rush era). Wistful autumnal string-based backdrops are a nice touch on several tracks, including Who’s Gonna Shoe Your Pretty Little Foot? Two songs come from the repertoire of Martin’s early inspiration, erstwhile guitar shop owner Paul Empson: Kimble was taken from Jackson C. Frank’s LP, while Ragtime Millionaire provides the foundation for Martin’s fun contemporary rewrite Neo. There is a companion bonus disc, Seeded - a collection of seven instrumentals. So, another must-purchase set from Maestro Martin.

Circles is a snapshot of the world we currently live in; an exploration in finding inspiration from the cyclical and mundane nature of everyday life in the midst of a global crisis. With riffs that twirl around soaring melodic lines, ‘Circles’ immerses us within our deepest thoughts before a cathartic release allows us to reconnect with our emotions once again. 

Embracing a newly found love of electronics, Heather has united her virtuosic traditional roots with bold, contemporary soundscapes. Circles is a DIY affair, composed, arranged and recorded entirely at home during lockdown with Heather layering each part individually. The only outside involvement came from Niles Krieger (The Often Herd, Assembly Lane) who assisted in the recording and mixing process before sending it off to mastering engineer Bevan Morris (Pons Aelius, Assembly Lane). 

In addition to her solo work, Heather also collaborates in various ensembles including folk quartet Balter, whose most recent single, Erica’s, earned them a nomination at the Scots Trad Music Awards. She is also one half of RŪNN, who are currently writing music together remotely in preparation for live performances later this year. 

When we found out that the show was to be presented again at this year’s Whitby Folk Festival, I told anyone that wanted to hear (and no doubt some that didn’t!) that they’d kick themselves if they didn’t go to see it. It was a packed house at ‘The Met’ (Metropole), which made for a great atmosphere. Although visibility (especially of the dancer’s feet) was not as good as in Gosforth, the performances were - incredibly - even better than previously. I came out singing Tom McConville’s song Jimmy, Jimmy all the way back to our B&B.

The next day we came across Jim Mageean heading for the Spa Theatre. I don’t normally gush, but I had to tell him that all of our party agreed that the show had been the highlight of our week - though I could have said “of our year”. He gave us a beaming smile and said “Why, that’s really made my day!”

To hear more of ‘Jimmy’s’ music, look out for the book and accompanying CD called The Lads Love Beer, and look out for more performances of Jimmy’s Fiddle (checking in the Folk Roundabout, of course!).