Scotland’s best kept secret blows all the doors down with heart and soul. And love.

Release Date: 10th May 2024

Label: Ronachan Songs

Format: CD / vinyl / digital

Should anyone have slumbered away the last year or two, familiar only with Blue Rose Code, aka Ross Wilson, from his introspective and deeply personal performances, and his run of previous albums, this new release may come as a bit of a shock. Alternatively, anyone who has seen him play live over the course of the last year or so, will know exactly what to expect. No less personal, now it feels that it is the persona of a full blown extrovert he is channeling, confident and competent in equal parts. It is quite the transformation, and it couldn’t happen to a better fella, and his his songwriting, whilst always powerful, now it is positively incandescent. Sure, some of the Van the Man references remain, vocally and stylistically, but now less Philosopher’s Stone, and more It’s Too Late To Stop Now.

You may have picked up, or heard, one or other of the singles that have pre-announced this disc, and it is the first of those, Jericho, that, rather than leaping out the traps, more blows the bloody doors down. Thumping drums, punding piano and swirling keys annouce the intentions, and Wilson croons, repeatedly, “It’s a long time coming“, as if every recording up to now were merely preparatory. Guitars clang and, yes, there is too a brass section in there too. A full on rock’n’soul revue. And quite what is it that has been a long time coming? The answer is: “I now know your love and mercy“, upon which you can draw your own conclusions. But, you have to agree, it seems a pretty convincing argument. The song features the full live band, the Blue Rose Code Big Caley Soul Band, he has been touting for some time, augmenting the central core of himself, Lyle Watt on guitars and Paul Harrison’s piano and organ. Here we get Gus Stirrat on bass, Stuart Brown on drums and the sax, trumpet and ‘bone of Paul Towndrow, Matt Gough and Liam Shortall. All amongst the best players available and the dense wash of sound is wonderful.

Sadie is a step back, Richter-wise, a cautionary and sanguine tale, set to strummed acoustic and some shiny pedal steel. Wilson’s other touchstone reference has always been John Martyn, but I don’t feel Martyn’s vocals were ever this sweetly plangent. Conor Smith plays the steel, he becoming quite the Caledonian to call on whenever the instrument is needed. Having shown this side of his coin, it is straight back to the brass of Never Know Why, with this time a full township jit-jive percolating through the grooves. If you can’t smile at and with him for this, stop whatever else you are doing. And play it again. Naomi Stirrat adds bvs for this one.

It is with an edgy drumbeat and skittering violin that Thirteen Years starts. The years in question relate to the now fourteen that we have been without a change in government, and is a blistering attack on the current incumbents. Greg Lawson’s violin provides a simmering flame of resentment. Watson adds some mandolin as a counterpoint and it is, as it should be, a chilling listen. Again, Stirrat adds a second vocal that blends well with the lead. I gather his widely reported additional commentary, at a recent concert, led to one or two of the audience leaving. More power to those who remained. To further cement his convictions, about faith being so openly worn, it is then a rousing version of Amazing Grace that follows. At Cambridge Folk Festival last year, I recall being initially baffled when he opened his set with this, not least as first band on, midday on the Saturday. But, maybe, and for the first time, it made sense, it felt right and, before long, the tent was giving it the full choral. Likewise here, with a bevy of Eddi Readers now on hand, to add their heft to his. (And, yes, you can keep the Royal Scots Dragoon Guard version, it taking me years to re-learn to love the bagpipes after their go at it!)

Peace In Your Heart is a beauty of a song, a slow lullaby of love. An earlier duet version came out during lockdown, a duet with Karine Polwart. This is better. Watt’s slide guitar and Harrisons’s organ offer the most lilting of backgrounds, it is one of Wilson’s best songs, introvert or extrovert versions of the man regardless. The hope is strong and pure and shines through. The jaunty As We Go is then a well constructed piece of Celtic country and West end. There is more fiddle, steel and mandolin, with Donald Shaw to add some muted squeezes of accordion.

Don’t Be Afraid is sung with the voice of experience. Wilson has never hidden his earlier struggles with alcohol, he demonstrating his clear belief in the tenets of the 12 step programme, with adherence to a higher power being integral thereto; any higher power being what you wish or need it to be. These can be difficult messages in a cynical world, that being no reason for Wilson to dilute them. And he doesn’t. Stirrat’s vocals and the mournful brass ensemble make for one of the moving moments on this disc. “The devil is fear by another name/God is love by another name” is a concept I can fully buy, yet I would far from consider myself any conventional believer.

Wilson has never shied a way from last minute additions to his records, with the near conjoined McDonald’s Lament and Now The Big Man Has Gone On being such an example, penned to commemorate the death of a dear friend, during the making of the record. Beginning with a Gaelic accordion lament, written with Donald Shaw, and with spoken word in that language, it then launches into a mandolin led shuffle, the maudlin delivery enough to demonstrate the mood, much as the words underwrite the loss. Perhaps the most contextually “religious” song here, Wilson has cleverly masked the fear some might have for the J word, by his gradual build thereto, and, frankly, it should be no more alienating than any song in the U.S. Gospel tradition. All in all, it is somehow the perfect endpiece to this striking album, which has you dancing from the start, food for your feet, yet by the end it is food for your mind.

Here’s a studio live of Sadie, sadly steel free, but still a stunner:

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