A feast of keys and strings from Mackenzie & Matheson, to lift the heart and unfurl a saltire to.

Release Date : 13th June 2025

Label : Self-Released

Format : CD / digital

Please don’t judge me, but sometimes I get muddled as to who plays with who, in the close and complex ranks of Scottish music, when so many of the musicians have their finger in so many pies. Questions in the house, around polydactyly, would not be remiss. All set to suggest this was the second by this duo, convinced of a recent review, I needed to check my citation. And, indeed, whilst each have appeared on these pages, and recently, it has been separately, often more than once at that, and in a number of different combinations. So, as far as I know, this is a first recorded pairing of these two graduates from Glasgow’s Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, duly joining a dizzying array of fine young musicians on the vibrant Scottish circuit.

UNRESTRAINED

Mackenzie plays fiddle and Matheson piano. Neither are particularly restrained by genre typecasting, but we, to a point, are, and so know the former most from Assynt, the band, and his solo piece, The Dawning, and the latter from TRIP and FARA. as well as his project, with Graham Rorie, We Have Won The Land. Fiddle and piano is a classic, time honoured combination over centuries, if a little out of favour, piano at least, in these days of more exotic instrumentation. I, for one, love and enjoy the sound, delighted that there seems a resurgence of the combination in Scottish folk and traditional music, in part down to Matheson and his ilk.

Take Six tempts a connection to Dave Brubeck but, no, with the truth very much more elegaic; the whole set was recorded over a hectic two days of playing together, live in the studio. All ten selections were drawn from the sixth studio recording, also, and always the last.

TUNES & JIGS APLENTY

All tunes are a mix of their own individual compositions and those by others, with many stemming from the tradition, written often aeons ago. There are often two or three within each track and, realising that reviews can thus become laboured lists of sources and authors, here I am going to skate over such detail. It’s probably all there if you want it, via the disc sleeve notes. But it is the title track that gets the rig reeling, starting off as trad a village hall ceilidh as you can, until you catch the synaptic syncopations between the two players. Mackenzie is sawing for his life up down and over, with Matheson chasing him, every step of the way, throwing out more flourishes than a curling club has brooms.

Ascension Jigs, up next, is, a set of three of them. More disciplined than the helter skelter so many assume de rigeur to a jig, if you concentrate (very hard), you can perform that old Superstition trick, Stevie Wonder’s, the one where you move your feet to every twist and turn, and to every note struck. You’ll lose them, mind, for the third tune in the set, as Matheson bursts into a brief lead moment, a solo, that scatters the notes like so much sand on a windy beach.

THRILLS AND FRILLS; NO BELLYACHE

The Frigate starts with one of those graceful tunes that skip along in a sedate side-saddle, never failing to cause any smidgeon of Scottish heritage in your soul to stand proud, more so as it slows for the more ceremonial second half, led by Mackenzie. When Matheson trills in with atypical frills (thrills?) of accompaniment, it is little short of wonderful, making the final parting shot of the triad triumphant, ahead reprising the opening. Go on, admit it, you never knew how rousing this sort of music could actually be!

Whittamore Road slows thing right down, a slow air with all the grandeur of anything by Duncan Chisholm or Donald Shaw, even. The Capercaillie man did actually include the traditional tune on his soundtrack for Hebrides, Islands on the Edge, which is maybe the familiarity hinted at. Slow and plangent, it puts bumps on goosebumps, the elongated sweeps of fiddle complemented by the never too busy piano, Matheson knowing when and where to apply restraint, even as he picks up the main melody alone.

Given away by the title, Vamp City rollicks then right out the traps, a jolly swagger with a knowing sense of ill-repute. (It also led me to an extrordinary website, Tunebat, which breaks it down into the constituent rhythmic patterns, so as to facilitate any curious turntablist seeking amenable remix territory. This must surely prove the hipster potential here, boys!)

FECKING PIANO, FER CHRISSAKE

Back to a slow and slightly stumbly air, for Dear Janet. Stumbly? This is the remarkable quality possessed by Matheson, and noted first on the second track, where he seems almost deliberately to hit the notes adjacent to the one expected, before hitting the intended. This blurs the received outcome in a pleasing and quite disarming way, much as an uillean piper or practitioner of the slow whistle can bend notes. This is a fecking piano, fer chrissake! And let’s not forget his compadre, who is simultaneously scooping his play into areas seldom managed by his peers. And what I just say about the piano? Well, Herd Laddies, a Matheson solo. which follows, is just chock-ful of that sleight of hand. It is the shortest track here, so you may as well play it twice.

I remembered the phrase strict tempo as I wrote this, until now thinking it just the name of an early and underlooked Richard Thompson instrumental album. OK, not quite true, but the link is apt, for, if you loved that album, you are going to love this. If but one RT aficionado can make that leap, my job is done. This I mention as Dan’s Delight offers the strictest of tempos and my legs are on fire, figuratively if not in reality, as I sit at my desk. If The Fair Headed Boy seems to offer some transatlantic hues, they are those of a much travelled tune, ending up on a dusty prairie, oceans away from home. Mackenzie’s tone is so warm for this it sounds like accordion, almost catching me out.

DEFTLY SCUNNERERED

Who can resist a strathspey, I wonder, if begging the further question around quite what is a strathspey? The closing track, Scott Scunnered is, that’s what, the rhythm so beloved of Edwardian Smoking Rooms and Country House parties. With Scott Skinner, 1843-1927, the most celebrated composer in this idiom, the title is a canny play on his name. Well, I found it funny, and it is a cracking way to close this irresistible record, even if there is a risk of Captain Pugwash coming hurtling in, near from the start. So come on, you know you want to. I know you need to.

Let’s take a stroll down Whittamore Road…..

Graham Mackenzie: Website / Facebook / x / Instagram

Rory Matheson: Facebook / Instagram

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