'Valentines Day' an Exclusive for BBC Scotland Celtic Connections Website

'Rasie a Glass' an Exclusive for BBC Scotland Celtic Connections Website

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 8 (20/1/11)

Even this fictional character salutes you.

Last night I faced the lions alone. The arena was full of punters but no musicians. There is only so much time one can play about on Facebook and Twitter trying to look busy before the audience start getting twitchy. I've been relying heavily on the kindness of local musicians to come along and play and I think their contributions on Monday and Tuesday night were above and beyond the call of duty. Folk musicians of Glasgow I salute you.

The session was rescued from disaster by The Dirty Beggars. (when I say disaster I mean me sitting on my own like a rabbit in the headlights struggling to entertain for two and a half hours) Asked where they came from in America they replied. Peebles. Best description I can give is that they're a Scottish version of the Old Crow Medicine Show.

Aaaaand relax.

I've been on Magic Seaweed every twenty minutes or so. It's a kind of self torture. Luckily the forecast is reasonably pish for the next few days. I'm not missing too much and right now I'd settle for a float about my board on a flat day.

So tonight we have:
Me
Lurach
The Campbells
The Tannahill Weavers
Ali White, Arno Capellino and Rolond Conc
Joy Dunlop
Tommy and Shauna O Sullivan
Rura

My grill smells like this

Luckily one of my gigs got cancelled today so I've only had to do one workshop and two gigs. When I get home tonight I have a bit of housework to do. Sawing a chunk off the worktop to fit our new cooker. Christ alone knows what the neighbours will think with the sound of me sawing away at 3am. I can't wait for the new cooker to be connected. Four working rings, a grill that doesn't smell like the great Springfield tyre fire and an oven that doesn't have that charcoal block thing that I think was once a pizza...or a baked tattie. It moves about. If you leave the oven on for longer than 45 minutes you can hear it trying to get out, banging on the sides. I'm looking forward never to seeing it again.

The thing that lives in my cooker

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 7 (19/1/11)

The front row of today's Bar Room Mountaineers Gig.

It's hard to even remember what happened this morning. I was so sleepy. I woke up in front of 700 Primary School kids half way through a Bar Room Mountaineers gig. Sound checks for the Celtic Connections schools concerts begin at 8:30am, about the same time we used to come home from the festival club. I barely had time to iron my shirt (ie 45 minutes) before we were loading the gear into the car. Considering I'm usually a total nightmare before I've eaten I think I handled the load in and soundcheck fairly well only throwing a little strop when we weren't allowed to park in the Concert Hall Yard. I'm a fucking artist daahling. I want to park behind a big electric gate.

I'm not really sure if they enjoyed the concert but Kevin 'Singing Kettle' Macleod assured me if all the kids are jumping about and all the teachers have their arms folded and look pissed off you have won. We had a laugh at the one School who had obviously been told that if they ever wanted to see their parents alive again they'd better sit the fuck still and shut the fuck up. They were clustered in one little group surrounded by dancing, shouting and swaying kids like miniature Wee Free's at ferry terminal.

Showing the rainbow.

While searching for something funny I found this quote. While you read it, and some other's like it, I'd like you imagine the sound of a rugby team being sick into an empty skip. “There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million.” Oh and this one too... “The work will wait while you show the child the rainbow, but the rainbow won't wait while you do the work.”

The real dark side of Whitby Folk Week

Tonight is the last of the pub session style Late Night Sessions for this week. I've been enjoying the singing of Arthur Johnston and the self confessed second worst banjo player ever and Aberdeen fish merchant Danny Couper. I last met Danny at Whitby Folk Week a couple of years ago. Whitby Folk Week is the most mental English Folk Festival I've been to. It terms of silliness it fares well beside Orkney, Shetland and Haapavesi. Apparently there's events on during the day but to be honest with you I only saw daylight for a couple of hours in the three days I was there. The hour and a half when I arrived and was wandering the crowded streets searching for Last Night's Fun and the half hour I waited for the train home with one of the most beautifully crafted hangovers I've ever made.

After 3 days of Whitby Folk week.

I have kind of blurry memories of being so pissed I couldn't play guitar but for some reason could remember the words to every folk song I'd ever learned. Then Danny leading the massed ranks of drunken folk singers on an unaccompanied singing rampage that ended with everyone being thrown out of the pub by the campest barman in all Yorkshire. By 5am on the last night of the festival the barman had long since passed safe his folk music tolerance threshold.  The floodgates burst and he threw the most spectacular tantrum it has been my pleasure to witness. My favourite part was when he literally screamed 'How about some fooking Abba. Eh? Fooking fal a laddy sheeiite' before continuing his tirade about 'shit-shit-shit folk wanker-dancers'. Thinking he was joking, we exasperated the situation by laughing at him hysterically and approximating Abba songs in Doric.

Something from the Doric side of the Moon... these two maniacs were also involved in the Whitby pub tantrum. Everywhere they go the bar is always well stocked.

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 6 (18/1/10)

It is a miracle. I appear to be on time. I even have time to work on this blog while I'm waiting on the train. I'm sort of finished my tax return. I have moved onto phase three: locating and neutralising all the receipts hidden in bags, guitar cases, behind the sofa and at the back of the freezer. I have already struck gold under the bed this morning where I found two months worth of train tickets and a guitar repair.

While I'm waiting on Gillian to head out to the Late Night Session I make good use of my time by searching for weird things on Google Maps. I've heard there's loads of pictures of people sunbathing in the nude. I think that's an urban myth as I can't find them anywhere. I've searched all over Iceland and everyone appears to be full clothed.

I fire up spotify to help me return the tax. The first thing I spot is a Bobby Bare album. I have never heard of him but he's wearing a denim jacket and a cowboy hat. In my mind nothing lifts the spirit more than a good dose of cheesy country tunes.

Returning tax is like driving. You've got to have the correct music to do it right and 98% of the time it works all of the time. (to misquote San Diego's own Brian Fantana)

Bobby Bare is a god like genius dropkicking me through the goal posts of life... come on folks sing along...

Loudon Wainwright III

I listened to this again on the train today. I was playing it to Calum McCrimmon last night and had forgot what a powerful piece of music it is. He's playing in Glasgow and Perth in May... if I'm feeling rich I might go to both.

The dishes are fairly starting to pile up. A sure sign Celtic Connections is beginning to take hold. If anyone manages to break into our flat we are likely to find their crumpled corpse in the kitchenburried beneath a mountain of soup pans and furry coffee cups.

Unaccompanied singers of the world. Why are people not singing along with you? Perhaps they're all bastards.  Or maybe, just maybe, you sing too fast, pitch too high and phrase each line in a weird way. Maybe that's why we don't join. Have you thought of that?

I know I'm being offensive but this photo actually makes my skin crawl.

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 5 (17/1/11)

That's enough fucking tunes... Who's for a song?

It's not intimidating for the audience. But sitting at the end of the table in the late night session Ronald and I feel rather like two lonely Gladiators. The chairs are neatly arranged in a saltire/colosseum. Musicians and the centre and everyone else looking in. We're really hoping someone fed the lions dodgy meat and that the Christians have been at the communion wine.

You never can tell with an organised session who's going to turn up. You can book a few folk but no matter what you do a session at a festival is like an electromagnet for mentals. We are incredibly lucky tonight. Not one. Not a single one. Last year we had some guy dressed as a WWII soldier howling along to his staggeringly bad guitar playing; a woman who re-enacted Tam o Shanter through the medium of drunken dance and shouting and the usual collection of percussion belters with the timing of Private Jones. Just because one owns an instrument doesn't mean one has to play it loudly along with other people. There's a video that I'll post that describes this so elegantly that I'll stop ranting and try and find it to post here.



It's that time of year again. It wasn't until Christmas Eve this year that I remembered I hadn't done my tax return. Luckily, or unluckily, I forgot about it so it didn't ruin the festive period. It came back and it struck down upon me with great vengeance and furious anger. Surely by now someone at Centre One in East Kilbride has noticed that most folk musicians earn bugger all... Out with the usual futile excuses:

1) Does it make any difference at all us paying taxes?
2) In Ireland musicians and artists don't have to pay taxes etc.
3) Most of the teaching we do is government funded so cut out the middle man.
4) Feel free to add more in the comments section...

I don't actually mind paying the tax I'm just looking for any excuse to not have to do all the boring paperwork. (Hence these overlong blog posts)

Every year it's the same. Instead of just doing it trying to find some reason not to do it. The flat will be spotless before the end of January. I will have shampooed and individually combed each fibre of the living room carpet. Anything to avoid sifting through the mountain of receipts and the desperate search for P60s and all the associated shite that I've put 'somewhere safe' to make doing my tax return easier. What would make it easier would be to get a proper job or somehow employ a full time bookkeeper who was happy to work for free. Not going to happen though.

Right: My tax return. Left: A man who actually believes in Sci Fi.

SIGHT OF THE DAY:
Didn't see this but I overheard two teenage boys bragging about the amount of times they'd shat in Whitehill Swimming Pool. That explains the 50/50 water to chlorine mix they use.

DAYS OFF THE FAGS: 11
DAYS OFF THE DRINK: I give up giving up...

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 4 (16/1/11)

Extreme or just a bunch of twats?

 I'm ironing. How can anyone in a proper job ever find the time to iron. Why, when I stagger home in the morning, the rat race heading the other direction, are they all so beautifully pressed? Where do they find the time? It takes me twenty minutes of steam burns, gritted teeth and blue language to level my shirt. We are now late.

Shoot me. I'm extreme ironing.

Thankfully today we have the friendliest taxi driver and arrive only half an hour late. Soundchecks are tight for Hazy Recollections. All the bands are late. Luckily the box office is also late. Miraculously the entire event runs on time.

Arty Fufkin says kick my ass

It is a strange thing being on the other side of a gig. Usually all I care about is the quality of the music but now I'm commenting on bands in terms of punctuality and duration of set. Yeah they've got a great drummer but they started about two minutes late and over ran by seven minutes. They're never working in this town again. I catch myself asking Rick Redbeard if there's any way he can shave a few minutes off his set. If I was asked that I wouldn't go mental but I'd be all huffy and be muttering about being a professional etc. He took it really well. So well that I realised what a total tool I was being and asked him to tell me to fuck off. Am I turning into Arty Fufkin?

A very dangerous rabbit. Look at those evil eyes.

Hazy Recollections day. We're really excited. The bands are all great. We ran into Rachel Sermanni just before Christmas at the rehearsal rooms down at Berkeley 2. We're currently sharing a drummer. (Not as sordid as it sounds believe me) I was very impressed at how powerful her voice, and her whole band has become... like being savaged by a rabbit.

I think for me Humbert and Humbert stole the show. Backstage their two year old son warmed the harmonicas up for him mum. I asked if hed tuned his Dad's guitar yet. They start their instrument techs young in Japan.

A midnight fairy gliding.

Rick Redbeard's Glasgow version of 'The Shearin's No For You' called 'Kelvin Grove' was amazing. The song proved that what is locally referred to as 'Bummers Bush' has always been a late night meeting place with the line '...Where the Midnight fairies glide...'

By magic or luck, but probably magic I have a line up for the Late Night Session. Liz Carroll and John Doyle have leapt to my rescue. They perform a stunning set with Billy MacComesky. John's new song about The Irish Brigade fighting the IRB at Fredricksburg was great (American Civil War history fans unite!)

At last the weather has improved. It's so mild I think it's safe to wear only one jacket. The definition of optimism. A scottish person not carrying a raincoat. My mistrust of the weather forecast runs so deep that I find myself at the height of summer carrying a light waterproof with me everywhere.

NEW MUSIC:

Kevin Macleod. Beware his wrath.

Todays selection was supplied courtesy of the Kevin Macleod. The Art Club's golden god. He says check out:
Sia
The Pupini Sisters

SIGHT OF THE DAY:
Bands cracking open the quarter bottles of Buckfast to celebrate 5:38pm on sunday afternoon.
A very tired and emotional 'Love and Money' trying to line up for a photo. The moody lighting of the Late Night Session and their swaying plays havoc with the iPhone's camera.

DAYS OFF THE FAGS: 10
DAYS OFF THE BOOZE: 0... I only had one last night though... only one stinking Carlesberg. Not the one from Ice Cold In Alex. More like the one from Luke Warm in Linlithgow.

LIST OF ACTS
Me
Gordon Duncan and Friends (Ali Hutton, Laura Beth Salter, Innes Watson, Calum MacCrimmon and Kevin O Neill)
Iain 'Fingers' Forbes
Liz Carroll, John Doyle and Billy McComesky
Speirs and Boden with Saltfish 40.
Suzanne Houston and Friends
and to finish... Gillian Frame and I

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 3 (15/1/11)

Mine Strone Sowp

I'll be there in half an hour. Two hours later, still in my dressing gown, the office calls to see where I am. I am sitting at my table eating minestrone soup in my dressing gown. Saturdays are the only easy day. I get a lie in and only half to do the Late Night Session.

Standing in the rain the taxi eventually arrives. Despite waving the driver sails past me screeches to a halt further up the street and leans on the horn. I tap on the back windscreen and see him jump. Not really on the ball this guy. He chooses the slowest route available. We sit side by side in nose to tail traffic in silence. Glasgow Private Hire taxis are like the western isles B&B of the taxi world. It is not your car it is mine. You may be paying the fee but shut up and don't open your mouth until we are properly lost and then, and only then, may you hint at the general direction in which we should have gone. A careless tut will result in your immediate expulsion from the car leaving you stranded somewhere in Possil.

The Worst B&B ever

So as we sit side by side in silence on Bath Street I am reminded of a musician friend who missed breakfast by five minutes in a western isles B&B. Saturday night had spilled into Sunday morning and he awoke fully clothed in bed one shoe untied. Not daring to enter the kitchen he tapped on the door. Yes? He asked if there was any chance of a bacon roll. No. Maybe a slice of toast? No. You've missed breakfast. Is there anywhere I could get food? The shop. The shop? Yes it's along the road.



So in the pissing rain nursing a hangover he walks three miles 'just along' the road to the shop. To find it closed. It's always closed on a sunday. Good old fashioned Scottish hospitality. I digress.

In the office a slight bit of wrangling and the Late Night Session list is full. Not going to be so easy tomorrow night.

Rare photo of The Alison Brown Onetet

It's only just before I go on stage that it occurs to me that Alison Brown's quartet will need a drumkit, bass amp and a keyboard or it will be the Alison Brown onetet. The backline arrives about thirty seconds before the band and we get to look marginally professional. Though the sight of me trying to fit the snare drum onto a high hat stand raises a few eyebrows. I'm tempted to order a gong next week. Like the one from the start of the film. I'm thinking opening and closing the Late Night Session with me stripped to the waist kicking fuck out of a gong would definitely get the festival some more press.

Me (for ages because an act didn't turn up)
Ronald Jappy
Alison Brown Quartet
The Rose Room
AJ Roach
Gary Stewart
Iain Smith
...and me again.

SIGHT OF THE DAY:
17 vikings lurking in Island Bar.

Days without Smoking: 9

Days without Drinking: 0... but honestly I only had one beer...

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 2 (14/1/11)

Left the flat in plenty of time. Pushed past the smokers outside the chip shop. Past the smokers outside the hairdressers. Plenty of time to catch the train. Except today I've left my wallet at home. I sprint back to the flat and repeat the usual sprint to the train station.

Late Night Session book has only two slots filled. It'll be alright on the night. I hope...

Jamie McMemeny and Soig Siveril

I lurk in the office assailing passing artists and artist reps. A few beers and you'll be desperate to play. I am laughed back into my corner. By 5:30 I am nearly full. A great and varied musical program. It's going to be a fantastic first night. One slot to fill and Jamie McMenemy and Soig Siberil come to my rescue.

I know it's time for dinner when I ask Jen ,"What is a 'pah gay'? A page."

Marinated anchovies. Better without salad.

We dine tonight in Amerone. How posh. I'm still kidding myself that I'm sort of kind of on a diet so I start with salad. I'm only eating it because it's got marinated anchovies in it and I love marinated anchovies.

I grab a train home. It is delayed and I'm beginning to panic. I could have got an earlier one. I am regretting ordering my anchovies. The train eventually stops in a cutting somewhere between High St and Bellgrove. I need to be back at the concert hall in under an hour. We limp to Bellgrove where, after hanging about for five minutes, the train finally gives up the ghost.

20:14 to Springburn

A brisk walk up the hill in my new shoes is more painful than I imagined. I make use of the time by calling acts to see if they'd like to play the Late Night Session. An artist calls back in time for me to discover the reason for the terminated train. I answer the phone standing on the corner of Cumbernauld Road and Onslow Drive just as a bus passes. I see the wall of water just in time and turn my back. Soaked to the skin. The street is a river. Looks like I'll be needing that change of clothes.

BANDS ON STAGE:
Me
Seonaid Aitkin
Anna Coogan
The Fox Hunt and the Henry Girls
Jamie McMemeny and Soig Siveril
Iain Thomson (with Angus Lyon and Marc Duff)
.

Angus Lyon: Guaranteed to win a stating competition.

.. and Acoustic Butterfly were supposed to play but only their Drummer showed up. Perhaps sampling nectar in another garden. Drummers are like skirmishers in the 19th century. First on the battlefield and the last to leave. So a big thanks to Iain Murray (nicked from Acoustic Butterfly) and Angus Lyon (who I poached from Iain Thompson's band) for helping me finish the club.

SIGHTS OF THE DAY:
Old man in school shorts and grey school socks pulled up to the knee. Perhaps the Krankie's grandfather or roadie.

Fat woman in metallic blue spandex leggings. No. Just NO.

Days not Smoking: 8
Days not Drinking: 7 (soon to return to zero)

Celtic Connections 2011: Day 1 (13/1/11)

Begins with me running to catch the train. It is a recurring theme for me. Regardless of the alarm going off at 7:30am I find myself sprinting along Alexandra Parade, guitar in hand, bag bouncing off my back and ringing phone clutched in my other sweaty palm. I don't answer. Mornings are hard enough for everyone without being panted at by a rampaging Napier.

A Celtic Connections workshop at a primary school in Glasgow's deep south goes well. I recognise the school from my second failed attempt at finding the mountain bike trails on Cathkin. It was only after returning from that trip that I realised a time machine would have been a better mode of transport. The trails had not yet been built.

Finding the correct key for a song is always a tricky one. Made more difficult when you're writing a song with thirty seven people who's voices have not yet broken. So sounding like a cross between Aled Jones and the Proclaimers on helium we write the highest chorus ever written. It flashed through my mind that I was like a Scottish Sting... Soon to be purchasing acres of the Cathkin Braes to preserve the native dogging sites.

I still had an entirely blank canvas for the first Late Night Session. Blank canvas is a euphemism for fuck all. Well I do have one act. I can manage about two hours on my own but after an hour I think even the most die hard of Celtic Connections fans will be glancing at their watches and craning their neck to see if the drunk guy that just staggered in with a guitar might give us a song.



The torch light procession. Volunteers and festival staff joke loudly about burning down the city. Sure to grab some headlines. Festival Rises From the Smoke of Capitalism. Standing on the corner of George Square carrying the Celtic Connections banner. Without Provost, parade and pipeband we begin our half pace waddle to the Concert Hall. It's the closest we'll ever come to the media circus. Cameras, flasehes, tripods and videos. It's the real deal. My face wasn't designed to smile for this long. There's a guy in front of me whose sole occupation is to hold a flash. What's his job description? Opereater of the Flashgun 2nd class. Must be good at walking backwards and have very long arms.

I leave the concert hall as a bewildered Ross Ainslie is interviewed by an entirely over enthusiastic journalist and camera crew. If they want the really good telly they should be interviewing members of the Treacherous Orchestra after their gig.

SIGHTS OF THE DAY:

Frankie Boyle on Sauchihall street wearing a fur hat. I did a double take then leapt behind a litter bin in case he shouted at me or took me to a dark place in his mind.

• Days not smoking: 7
• Days not Drinking: 6... but it's not going to last.

Hazy Recollections @ Celtic Connections

Hazy Recollections: The Whole Story.

Blair MacMillan. Pipe not in shot.

It’s tea break in a damp practice room on the Southside of Glasgow. Drummer Blair MacMillan (Pearl and the Puppets), myself and the Bar Room Mountaineers  talked briefly and excitedly about setting up some kind of indie/folk showcase gig. We felt there were a number of acts whose music met at the boundaries of the indie, folk and roots scenes who were not getting the breaks or exposure they deserved. What began as a one sided all talk and no action rant about the shortfalls of the music industry was transformed by the guys at Vox Populus into an all action positive reality in January 2010.

This is actually a rather good practice room... but you get the idea.

Our first Hazy Recollections, held during the Celtic Connections: Showcase Scotland, was a huge success and since we have run another three equally successful events. Our roster of bands so far looks something like this:

AJ Roach

Kitty the Lion

Admiral Fallow

Pearl and the Puppets

Findlay Napier and the Bar Rom Mountaineers

The Cliftons

Julia and the Doogans

Roddy Hart

Rachel Sermanni

Damon Valentine

The French Wives

Captain and the Kings

Alex Cornish

Aly Macrae

The Injuns

Jo Mango

Calum MacCrimmon’s Man’s Ruin

Cure your hangover by coming to Hazy Recollections.

And so to Celtic Connections 2011. We are now an official part of the festival and have moved from the Basement of Stereo to the first floor of ABC on Sauchiehall St. Here’s who we have for your listening pleasure every Sunday afternoon of Celtic Connections. Dust off that hangover and come on down.

16^th January 14:00pm

Kitty the Lion

Rachel Sermanni

Humbert and Humbert

AJ Roach

Rick Redbeard

The first official Hazy Recollections of Celtic Connections 2011 features Kitty the Lion  who started life as singer-songwriter Anna Meldrum, they became a pride in 2009 with the addition of Joe Rattray on upright bass, Nick Roan on drums, Sorren Maclean on guitar and Callum Wiseman on mandolin to the line up. They have played at two Hazy Recollections already but we love them so much we had to ask them back.

Carrbridge singer songwriter Rachel Sermanni who is already tipped to be a major star after being invited by Mumford and Sons’ Ben Lovett to feature on the nu-folk showcase album Communion. Tipped both as one of Vic Galloway's 50 to watch in 2011 and Jim Gellatly's 10 for 2011. Jim says, "The Carrbridge singer-songwriter specialises in exquisite folk pop. Her recent duet with Tommy Reilly on his single ‘Make The Bed’ is further proof of huge crossover potential.

We also have outstandingly beautiful Japanese folk/pop outfit Humbert Humbert. We've posted a few of their videos on the Hazy page. They are Yuho Sano(Vocal) and Ryosei Sato(Guitar,Vocal) their songs have roots in folk, Irish, country and Japanese children’s songs.

Each week we’re featuring an act from across the Atlantic. Rough voiced, bearded and sounding like an American Road trip in a clapped out pickup AJ Roach silenced the crowd at the first Hazy Recollections. The Glasgow Herald had this to say about one of Roach's recent performances: "Roach took the audience packed into the estimable Fallen Angels Club, on a backwoods travelogue that was virtually a masterclass in illustrating how much sophistication goes into creating so-called primitive music."

Rick Redbeard. What can we say? He's amazing. He spent most of 2010 on tour with The Phantom Band. Their album 'The Wants' has been lauded by many critics as the album of the year 2010. This is his solo project which he describes as,"Post-neo indie/experimental goth folk pop."

23^rd January 14:00pm

The Staves

Iain Morrison

Joy Kills Sorrow

Damon Valentine

Mike Nisbet

The Staves are known for their jaw-dropping harmonies and their unique delicate, bittersweet sound. Just signed to Atlantic Records their new album is to be produced by superstar producer Etan Johns (Tom Jones, Ryan Adams, Paulo Nutini etc)

Also on the bill is Lewis born singer, songwriter and guitarist, Iain Morrison, known for his membership of Glasgow outfit Crash My Model Car.

From across the Atlantic we have Boston based contemporary bluegrass outfit Joy Kills Sorrow. The Los Angeles Daily News says,“Subtle and snazzy, this new jack acoustic outfit merges bluegrass with jazz like it was the most natural combination in the world. Meanwhile, singers and songwriters Emma Beaton and Bridget Kearney bring wry existential intelligence and a haunting, Celtic/Canadian interpretive quality to their delicate yet determined tales of contemporary dislocation and off-kilter love. Kind of like a more accessible, less pleased with themselves Nickel Creek, these are virtuoso art folkies who understand the value of being just folks, too.”

Damon Valentine is a member of the Northern Song Collective and one of the hardest working singer songwriters in the UK. Traveling the length and breadth of the UK writing, recording and performing. He'll be joined at Hazy Recollections by Admiral Fallow's Louis Abbot and Joe Rattray on Drums and Bass.

Mike Nisbet recorded his first release "Coffee & Cigarettes" at The Diving Bell Lounge with producer Marcus Mckay (Frightened Rabbit, Reindeer Section, Snow Patrol). We caught him on a tour of the highlands with Joe Echo aka Ciaran Gribben. Mike is like a West Coast Leonard Cohen.

30^th January 14:00pm

Alex Cornish

Me... cos it's all about ME!

Woodenbox with a Fistfull of Fivers

Julia and the Doogans

Amelia Curran

Edinburgh singer-songwriter Alex Cornish, whose DIY debut album When the Traffic Stops gained glowing reviews, showcases his dark hued hauntingly melodic pop alongside...

Findlay Napier and his Bar Room Mountaineers, the brawn behind the Hazy Recollections concept. Findlay was nominated as Songwriter of the Year on the 2010 Trad Music Awards. With their last two singles hailed as 5 star Single of the Week from the Daily Record this band and their rootsy progressive sound draw on influences from genres including blues, Americana, folk and country. Findlay Napier and the Bar Room Mountaineers are Scotland’s new folk scene.

Woodenbox with a Fistful of Fivers play their first home show of 2011 following a year of extensive touring supporting their debut album 'Home and the Wildhunt'; "a thrilling set of folk-blues sprinkled with Mariachi horns"-The Sunday Express.

Julia and the Doogans tipped by Jim Gellatly as one of 'Jim's 10 for 2011'. He says,"Julia Doogan possesses one of my favourite voices in Scottish music. Having had the privilege of recording a session with her for my show on Amazing Radio, I’m baffled as to why she’s not already a star. " We completely and wholeheartedly agree.

Amelia Curran on won Solo Artist of the Year Canadian Folk Music Awards in 2010. The Newfoundland Herald said," You may not have heard of her yet, but Amelia Curran is Newfoundland’s next great female songwriter and her latest album proves it. Amelia Curran, a St. John’s native now based in Nova Scotia, creates music that is instantly satisfying, and in a world full of folk singers, Curran’s music is a cut above.”