Staran 2.0 prove the sum is truly greater than the parts, even with parts like these.

Release Date : 24th October 2025

Label : Self-Released

Format : CD / Vinyl /Digital

THE SAME CRACK TEAM

If you wonder why it has taken Staran so long to pull together a second album, a quick glance of the names should reveal why, irrespective all the other ongoings since the spring of ’21. These are the busiest players in Scotland. Once again, pianist and percussionist, John Lowrie, has re-grouped the same crack team as for that eponymous debut. Look across the array of albums by the likes of Blue Rose Code, Kim Carnie, Siobhan Miller and many, many more, and the name Lowrie invariably pops up, either on keys or kit.

Friendships forged on those sessions have lasted, and so “his” band includes Carnie, on vocals, along with James Lindsay (Breabach) on bass, Jack Smedley (Rura) on fiddle, and Innes White, on guitars, and who, like Lowrie, has appeared alongside just about everyone of note in Scotland. (Quite how Carnie has found the time, Lord only knows, what with her own album and one by Mànran coming out over the past couple of months.)

Gold From Ruins, the title, is a nod to the inspirations here. Although all but 3 the 10 tracks are original compositions, the seed to each of them lies within fragmented relics of ancient songs, stories and folklore. The remainder are, unsurprisingly, Gaelic songs, brought to the table by Carnie, and gifted new arrangements. A special treat is the presence of further Scots musical royalty as guests, filling out and expanding the already expansive soundscape. So the likes of Julie Fowlis, Matt Carmichael and Ailis Sutherland all appear, as does the crack string section of Seonaid Aitken, Kristan Harvey, Patsy Reid and Alice Allen. God forbid, if that tourbus ever went over the edge, they’d have to cancel Celtic Connections for years on end.

CHARACTERISTIC TURN OF KEY

It is with an atmospheric wash of ambient sound that the album opens, for Lowrie’s introductory The Turning, with a glow of warm synthesisers and keening vocalisation, each setting a moody scene, that augurs well. Attention drawn immediately, it segues swiftly into some rippling piano. This, again by Lowrie, is Meta’s, and his characteristic turn of key is instantly apparent.

The reference sound might be akin to Bruce Hornsby’s, and if that makes you frown, you clearly haven’t appreciated the broad scope and cross-genre textures the American pianist has at his command. Either way, Lowrie has a similarity of touch that is enormously attractive. Some possibly electronic percussion slots in, as does the rich bounce of Lindsay’s bass. Smedley then adds some chunkily warm slow fiddle. There will be some guitar textures building between it all, and it is utterly gorgeous, gelling still further as Aitken’s string arrangement adds further lustre. What a start, with the pace then lifting into the second part of the tune, ahead repeating piano, like waves, to close it. Wow!

Electric piano and muted guitar then beckon in the first song proper. Duan Callaig. With the Gaelic words largely drawn from the traditional, Carnie has added extra verses and supplied the new tune. She and Fowlis share the singing, initially trading lines, then adding harmonies. Fowlis has a slightly more angular tone to her rightly celebrated voice, making the contrasting rich roundness of Carnie’s contribution all the more engaging. Their voices hang together perfectly, with the guest and the bandmember each the equal of the other, displaying no sense of hierarchy. The strings, again, are exemplary. Aitken has an uncanny knack of making her contributions, and that of her associated players, vital and integral to the whole, rather than just any glossy and otherwise unecessary extra coat of paint.

A CALIBRATED PLUMB LINE

Smedley’s composition, Time to Fly, is up next. One of the 3 tracks that has just the core band present, it has a flickering keyboard motif, with White laying down some sparse guitar parts. Smedley starts to bow energetically, the overall trajectory now like that of a fast flowing mountain burn. Lowrie takes a middle section that seems to suggest a change of season, ahead Smedley again picking up the pace. Lindsay is quietly ensuring the plumb line is calibrated to and beyond any requirement, and it is another quiet triumph.

Talking of, Roro then shows off quite what a lyrical player of acoustic bass is Mr Lindsay. With the passing of Danny Thompson, he must surely be in the running to assume a similar mantle, as an in-demand master of his instrument. That is heightened here, in this new Gaelic song, by Carnie, with Lowrie’s arrangement, which brings in the soft blowing tones of Carmichael’s tenor sax. You know that particular tone that Van Morrison always used in his Celtic Enlightenment period? Carmichael has that to a T, and, with the piano and bass, there is an elegant bed for Carnie’s vocal to float upon. The percussion here sounds human and it is as fine a piece of folk-jazz as I have heard this year. As Aitken and co. add their Caledonia Soul Orchestra alike, it is just tremendous.

COMPLEX PERAMBULATIONS

Skirr is more orthodoxly highland trad in style, at least as Smedley fires it up. But, moments away, it is led back into a the more complex perambulations, led by Lowrie and the still present Carmichael. Gentle programmed beats lap around the periphery and it becomes another credit to Lowrie’s composing and arrangement talent. Returning to song, Colla Mo Rùin is another of Carnie’s rearrangements, in conjunction with White. (The yin to her yang, across her recent solo record, and the associated tour, Innes/Carnie is clearly a combination to relish.) Here is where the small pipes of Sutherland make their presence known, buried a little in their earlier appearance. The song affects a dramatic stance, a lament that seems to bring forth images of fleeing Highlanders and snowy mountainsides, should any soundtrack researchers be reading.

Time for more instrumental territory, it is again just Lowrie, Smedley, Lindsay and Innes that weave together the intricate patterns of Cherish The Day, a co-write of Lowrie with Kris Drever, with Redhythe Point, a tune by Smedley. Intrinsically different, they nonetheless get loomed well together, by virtue of the quality of play. Smedley still has that same delicious chunky tone, it seaming so well against the bass and piano of his cohorts, ably abetted by White.

A GENTLE RED SKY AT NIGHT HORIZON

Gura Thall Ann An Sòigh, Carnie’s final trad. arr. song, is near just her voice and piano, the barest of background fiddle sawing a gentle red sky at night horizon. It is almost a shock, if a pleasant one, as Fowlis returns to add her harmony, and it becomes a real tingle up the spine moment. This is neither folk nor jazz; in fact I don’t know what it is, beyond beautiful, that is.

A tough one to follow, that gauntlet is met by Lindsay’s sole composition, Jinibara, which lopes exquisitely out, his bass exerting a slow swagger over a prolonged synthetic drone. Lowrie then joins, with some piano which dapples in, as Smedley ladles in more of his signature fiddle. Gradually building, the momentum then sidles sidewards, with Innes layering in some subtle electric guitar, and Lowrie taking another Hornsby-esque lead. Carmichael is back on the case, arriving much at the same time as the string quartet. This is a statuesque distillation of all 8 musicians involved and had me applauding, even alone in my cave, at silly o’clock.

WEIGHT WELL PUNCHED

This year has seen Scotland continue to punch above its weight against the competing nations of these islands. With Staran on this sort of form, I don’t see that ending any time soon.

Here’s that consummate closing track, Jinibara:

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