Scotsman Alasdair Roberts continues to plow a determined, crooked furrow. Almost twenty years into his career now, he puts out records and plays live shows that reach out to a particular audience and are deeply appreciated by that constituency.
On latest album The Fiery Margin he adds more grist to his particular mill. Baroque, honed Folk enquiries, carved out with loving attention, one foot in the past, the other planted firmly in the present.
An excellent review on the Folk Radio site, far more informed of Roberts lyrical concerns than I am, details the specific focus of scrutiny of the tracks of The Fiery Margin. Roberts has a historian's eye for detail, and a musician's gift for channelling them, chiselling out tunes that stand on their own merits if you don't wish to investigate the lyrical subject matter further.
With an assembled band of musicians and backing vocalists deeply tuned to his mission statements, the record is best experienced at a single sitting. With all the intimate warmth of a Postgate / Fermin soundtrack, but as with all the best children's fare the constant sense that deeper themes are being explored and ancient wisdom unearthed.
It's a shame that Roberts work is unlikely ever to reach out to a broader audience than it currently commands. He's too far into a career to expect to suddenly bask in the spotlight recently shone on the likes of Richard Dawson.
Mainstream audiences perhaps are unready for songs written from the perspective of a gargoyle to the mason that created it, (as with Common Clay here). This is music designed for a select and selective congregation but not precious in terms of its endeavour. Roberts is the genuine article. A gift giver.
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