Wow! Blimey! All of that as neo-trad goes disco.

Release Date: 6th December 2024

Label: GloWorm Recording

Format: CD / vinyl / digital

the wait is over

It’s been a wee while since we got any dedicated new from Ainslie, arguably/probably/technically, delete as preferable, the most gifted practitioner of bagpipes we currently have in these Isles, let alone the most nuanced whistle player, especially on the low whistle. Sure, there was a duo set with Tim Edey last year, and his trio set with Brighde Chaimbeul and Steven Byrnes the year before, but it has been a long 4 years since his last individual release, Vana, tempered only by the Live At The Gorbals in ’22. He’s also popped up with Duncan Chisholm, both live and on record, to keep his flame alight, but, at last, the wait is over.

no laurel resting here

Never one to rest on his laurels, his magpie mind is forever finding new ways to present his skills, his career demonstrating an eagerness to integrate many other world musics with that of his homeland, adding different textures to further complement his play. This is no different, and sees him add, variously, a string section and a brass section to the more tried and tested accompaniments of fiddle, cittern and guitar, with a rock, well, possibly, rhythm section, synthesisers and tribal percussion all in the mix for good measure. And Lord knows what a thunder sheet is, but it appears here too.

There are many old buddies here too, many of whom make up Ainslie’s Sanctuary Band, notably Hamish Napier and Steven Byrnes, on keyboards and guitar, Greg Lawson on fiddle, together with the presence also of the great James Lindsay, Breabach‘s pocket dynamo, on bass and moog, with the Shooglenifty drummer, James Mackintosh. “Mr Rusby”, banjoist Damien O’Kane, also takes a turn for one track. Sound promising?

Strap in!

Glad of that seatbelt, opening track, High Place Phenomenon, will likely have you blinking, first with astonishment and then delight. Steering you off the scent, first there is a trickling sound coming from without, a wee burn or some such, and surely about to herald a clarion of highland warpipes.

But no, it is the swift strum of a guitar that comes in first, followed by a no nonsense bass and congas. The string section then wallop in with a HI-NRG unison flourish, more in keeping with Studio 54 than Glasgow City Halls. A brief bray of sax before the strings then take the scything lead. What the actual? Without turning a hair, Ainslie’s low whistle locks into the groove, followed by some jazz-folk fusion fiddle, more sneaker pimp sax, back to whistle and possibly flute, each the soloists all rabidly passing the parcel back between themselves, ahead the music stopping. Of which there is little chance, at least ahead the 5 minute mark. The best bit of disco I have heard all year, and I don’t even like the stuff!

With no time to consider what you have just heard, Step In The Divide wellies in, all of a welter, the dial turned this time to some low key jazz funk. Again the hand-percussion is prominent, this coming from new Sanctuary Band recruit, Paul Jennings, last seen with Ross Couper. The additional orthodox kit is helmed by Steven Byrnes, yes, the same one who is touting the guitar. A keyboard driven middle eight seems part Napier, on organ, and part Ainslie, synth, it being one of his many credits listed here.

kindred spirit

Between all these disparate parts, Ainslie is also blowing a veritable storm on whistle. Cast In A Pool Of Knowledge allows a little slack into the system, as the whole ensemble lock into a new-age groove. The fiddle of Greg Lawson is prominent as this starts, a gradual crescendo seeming on the rise. But, instead, the saxophone, Paul Towndrow, from the Blue Rose Code big band, and bamboo flute, Ainslie, swap and share textures. The bass moog of Lindsay ripples beneath it all, and rather than any forthright melody, it feels all a tone poem of individual sounds, meshing together and moulding apart. Those familiar with Ainslie’s last opus, Vana, will find some kindred spirit. (This is the track with the presence of thunder sheet; I remain none the wiser!)

Karmatic sees a propulsive ripple of banjo from O’Kane, possibly an unlikely companion for the return of the disco strings, but they co-habit surprisingly cohesively, as does, now, the clavinet of Napier and whistle. Banjo and whistle then bounce around in unison, riding the wave of the retro orchestration behind them. Quite what has Ainslie been listening to of late?

one trick pony bucked

If worry that this may be all a one trick pony ride, the reassuring lower list of lowland pipes rears up for All My Years, initially unaccompanied. However a cross-current of percussion and strummed guitars breaks in, at a tangent, the two distinct parts of the arrangement working well with and against each other. Much as I enjoy whistle, the pipes confirm themselves as the bigger draw, at least for my ears, and this is a superb, seasalty air, the combination of drones and keyboard adding the spray to the surf. It is subtitled Lament For Ukraine, that sentiment not detracting from the imagery in the least.

That period of (relative) respite taken, it is back to this decidedly above average white band to latch onto another groove for Call Of The Void. Flute floats over the lurch of percussion, John Blease in there somewhere too, alongside Jennings and Byrnes. Napier continues to churn out surprises aplenty, his organ and skittering piano worlds away from his usual environment with Chisholm, with a hint of acid jazz dashed liberally into his soloing.

Not missing a step, it is straight into the four to the floor Rat Horns that now breaks, two paired tunes, whistle to the front. Keyboards add the sensation of brass before, o joy, in bust the horns, Towndrow now joined by Mikey Owers from the Grit Orchestra, and Matt Gough, also BRC, on trombone and trumpet respectively. Even though I want to follow the whistle, it is the unison brass play that captures the attention.

eerily high pitched

Finger picked cittern, or possibly octave mandola, makes an unexpected appearance for Sync Or Swim, but the title is a giveaway, as piano and fiddle undertake a heavily syncopated waltz, to which Ainslie adds some flute, it becoming eerily high pitched. Jock Urquart intones some spoken word, one of his poems, over a lull in the backing. and has a track record for this, delivering similar on Sanctuary and Vana, the two preceding Ainslie albums, always planned to form a triad with this release. Frankly, I can do without this aspect, within or without that context, but it does at least break the thread sufficient to all the more appreciate the music, as it fires back up, not least as it is the sound of a whistle, as in a human whistle, not the instrument, that appears first, before further syncopations carry the tune to conclusion.

If Dawn In The Blue City invites an flavour of the Far East, that is surely intended, although whether the one in Morocco or India is open to conjecture, my money on the latter, given Ainslie’s love of the sub-continent. (It is Jodhpur, confirming that, a due mention noted in the liner notes.) A backdrop of early morning city sounds greet a lonesome whistle, fiddle and keyboard lament, all the frantic flitterbejib of earlier tracks abated.

All too brief, when Slow Down starts up, it is almost in the form of a blues, with a bagpipe arpeggio, before the string section booms in. Not disco this time, here it fully the sense of a big country they evince, even to the extent of almost mimicking the theme from film of that name. More than a nod than a lift, though, as the then interplay between strings and pipes is tremendous, with a lingering sweetness of euphony.

bonuses

That is officially it, but both my copy and bandcamp offer a further two tracks, as a bonus. Planet Of The Vapes, with extra points for that title, is an opportunity for Ainslie to parade his plucking on the aforementioned mandola, beside which Townend is blowing a delicate breeze, on tenor. A jazzier interlude than before, Napier and Lindsay are genre effective in their piano and bass duties.

The closer, Kindered Spirits, I am assuming spelt that way deliberately, is a reflective and near ambient piece, starting with what might pass for church organ. Whistle tootles in with characteristic flair, double tracking allowing a brace of them, a snare drum rolling, pipe band fashion in the wings. Pipes join for the conclusion and all is well with the world, the sound helping us wish it were, as it ends on a sixpence, unexpectedly. Superb!

Ainslie suggests, or, rather, instructs, the album should be listened to in one setting, and in this carefully chosen order. I think that the least we should do. Several times, even if the understandable temptation is to play the effervescent opener time and time and time again. I have been, and hope he will forgive that.

Me adding this won’t help but I have to, and you’ll hear why!

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