An acoustic masterclass of trad from Carter, as he snaps at the heels of Mssrs. Thompson and Simpson.

Release Date: 5th December 2025

Label: Self-Released

Format: CD / Digital

AS RUTLAND AS RUDDLES

Sam Carter comes from Oakham. Or, at least, from Rutland County, for those with a sense of what once was. I don’t, but the all but titular track of this EP, is and has always been, one of my favourite songs, especially when sung by squeezebox pontiff, John Kirkpatrick. So Carter had to sing it and I had to listen.

Carter is one busy boy, as he bobs between both acoustic troubadour and electric adept, with a catalogue chock full of his own affecting songs. Last year’s Silver Horizon : “a primal scream in whispered form“, came in his plugged in mode and was a delight. Still is. Since then he has (gloriously) filled the substantive Martin Simpson sized gap in the Magpie Arc live shows, a marker of quite how his dexterity on the strings is valued, it being neither a gig for the faint hearted nor those buttery of finger. Next summer sees him perform a string of solo shows, to celebrate the canon of Nic Jones. Surely more than enough for any one person to factor in, but, no, here are five songs, all drawn, broadly, from the folk tradition, just voice and finger picked guitar. Just in time for, well, you know.

LILTING CADENCES

First of the five is Now Is The Cool Of The Day, originally from the singing of Jean Ritchie. Even with Carter’s soaring English diction, there is no escaping this is Appalachiana, characterisable by the lilting cadences in the rippling guitar. That soar is incremental to the appeal of Carter, his vocal a fluid instrument that inhabits all emotions required, which, all to often, are those of melancholy. And whilst sounding nothing (much) like him, there is an inescapable tang of Robert Plant in the delivery, both vocally and in the staccato arrangement of later verses.

The Oakham Poachers, plural, is superb, a vehicle crafted out of angular picked notes, Carter now dialling his voice down into sombre. A more stripped back version than any of the several Kirkpatrick’s available, the sparse skeletal guitar is more than enough. I think an extra verse or two is grafted in to, with a greater detail of the expected fate of poachers in times bygone, and who they actually were. Tubal Cain isn’t a folk song, rather more a setting of the Charles Mackay poem, about a bold blacksmith. Without that knowledge you would assume otherwise, it sounding as ageless as the hills, even the melody, written especially for this by Carter. If, like me, you love the ping of a harmonic, you’ll love this, it freely scattered therewith.

PULPIT OR PUB

Such are the number of songs from The Sacred Harp, the 1844 hymnbook, filtering down and into the repertoire of so many, I think these sacred songs fit into a very folk shaped hole in the classification of genres, although gospel could certainly take a shout as well. This is the straightest delivery here, and is a striking song with a striking melody, well able to grace either the pulpit or the secularity of a saloon bar performance.

The final track, The Light Guitar, had me expecting an instrumental, a paean, maybe, to the Richard Osborne guitars he favours. But, no, it is another trad. arr., trad. trad. this time, rather than by sleight of supposition. I can’t actually think of other songs that reference the instrument in this way but it is clearly perfect for Carter. As well as the cascading constancy of the picked strings. in between verses there are some wondrous chiming chords, full of chorus pedal echo, that lift the song to new heights.

TO RELISH AND CHERISH

That this is another good ‘un should be no surprise. The fact he can knock ’em out so swiftly maybe might be. Clearly undulled by all the work he has crammed in, this is an artist to relish and cherish. Play it again, Sam!

Catch a rare unbeanied Carter as he boggles through Tubal Cain. (The beanie’ll be back for the Oakham Poacher tour, which starts next year, as per website).

Sam Carter online : Website / Facebook / X / Instagram

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