Alasdair Roberts and friends, post-show thoughts.

As mentioned in a previous jotting, there were recently several "materialisations" of Alasdair and Friends this side of the pond.  We were fortunate enough to have the chance to see him do his thing on stage when he came through town after performing at the Calgary folk-festival the week prior.  This was a "big deal" for Zmz, to say the least.

There were some misgivings in the back of the mind that the night would be another case of dashed expectations.  Waifu came along, aware of the significance, her first-born sharing a name with the singer, but herself not too enamoured of Mr. Roberts' body of work.  She finds his music, in the main, depressing.  This is understandable: he does transplant a fair few dark notions and traditions from Scotland's brooding past to the present-day.  But for me, the chords he strikes recreate a world and people beloved by my father, with a history taught to me with love and earnestness since as far back as I can remember.

The venue was run very professionally and had the feel of a small cabaret or jazz club.  The sound quality was top-notch, and when the opening act encountered problems with a cable, a working replacement was quickly produced.  There were no such issues during the main act.  We were the youngest people at the show, with two possible exceptions; however, this was not all that surprising as it was a Monday night.  From the banter with the local opener it appeared as if a number of the city's seasoned audiophiles were in attendance.

Just prior to the performance I got a chance to exchange a few words with Alasdair himself.  I felt keenly embarrassed upon approaching the soft-spoken, unassuming young man and starting to blabber.  I am acutely aware that most of the talking was done by the "fan" in this situation.  Anyhow, the moment felt surreal: all synapses were firing at once.  He was gracious and gentlemanly; I was pleased as can be, and probably came off as manic and strange.  I should have chosen what I wanted to say more carefully, but blurted out what came to mind, that my son shares his first name by no accident, that I feel akin, being born in Scotland et cetera.

The opening act served to warm up the audience quite well, generating some back-and-forth and calming the butterflies.  Alasdair and Friends (electric guitarist/harmonica player and up-right bassist; the drummer and violinist having been refused entry to the United States for one reason or another) started off with a song about the Highland clearances from the new album A Wonder Working Stone. The rest is rather a blissful blur.  There was a generous helping of both old and new songs. He had audience participation on "...the sun shines down on Carlyle wall/... and the lion shall be lord of all", an old Scottish (well, of course) folk-song about infanticide.  Only a few days earlier in this city a woman drowned herself and left her two infants to die in a bathtub.  Quite the opposite to being inappropriate, this dour ditty's call-and-response felt like an act of catharsis.  It's hard to know if this tune was chosen for the set-list especially for this reason.

The man really pours himself into his art.  His finger-picking is astonishingly nimble, his voice clear and ringing, and he was soaking in sweat after only two or three tunes.  His bassist has arms like the limbs of an old oak tree and fingers you'd be thankful to have had the limp-fish handshake from.  His guitarist looked a bit bored for most of the set, but livened up when getting the chance at singing vocals or playing the mouth-harp.  I put it down to being tired near the end of a long road trip playing the same material time and time again.  The inclusion of his noisy, atmospheric touches helped recall The Night is Advancing and some tracks from Spoils.

Alas, all good things must also come to pass, but not before a terrific instrumental piece followed by "Riddle Me This" from The Amber Gatherers for an encore.  Then it was over.  I walked out feeling inspired, more aware, and jittery with creative energy: not a bit let-down, and with fresh album of new tunes in hand.  Waifu seemed content, and I'm so glad she came as well.  Certainly not a night soon to be forgotten.