Fiddle and accordion music from Glasgow

We immediately felt a strong attraction to the Taynish NNR in Knapdale, a stunning strip of land jutting out into Loch Sween in Argyllshire. The reserve contains a variety of habitats, from its saltmarsh to its shoreland, to its ancient oak woodland. In researching the ecosystems and importance of this land, we came across the Marsh Fritillary Butterfly, a threatened species in the UK and across much of Europe. Taynish is one of the few places in Scotland where you might catch a glimpse of this beautiful butterfly.

With the butterfly as our main character, we began to construct a story that followed this delicate little creature through the various landscapes of the reserve. From the marshland, rising up into the air, fluttering through the oak and ferns of the forest, over the highest point of the reserve, Bàrr Mòr. Then the wind changes, the sky darkens and our butterfly is swept out to the loch, battling over the waves pushing in from the sea. But, in the end, all is well, and as the sun breaks through the clouds up we soar high into the sky, gazing over the beautiful land below.

Watch the film made with Fèis Rois and NatureScot (opens in a new tab)

Dealan-dè Bhon talamh bhog aig Loch a’ Bhealaich, Dh’èirich thu dhan adhar. Sgiathan maoth is dathach A’ gearradh tron ghaoith. Thairis air cnap is dail, Thairis air Bàrr Mòr, Eadar daraich is raineach, A’ lorg, a’ lorg a chinn-ghuirm, Am muireach. ‘S tu a tha brèagha ‘S tu a tha crìon Mo dhealan-dè. le Neil Sutcliffe

Many of the landscapes that have inspired the music on this album are natural, that is to say they have existed in some shape or form long before the evolution of humans on our planet. We both feel drawn to these places – in our modern society we are increasingly drifting away from our connections with the natural world, the animals, plants and geology of the earth. And yet both of us live in the heart of Scotland’s largest city; Roo has lived in Glasgow all his life, and Neil has been in the city since 2017. Our relationship with this busy metropolis is complex. For Roo it is his home – the people, the streets, the smells and sounds he grew up around; for Neil it is a second home – a thriving community of artists and friends which both stimulate and exhaust.

As we explored the places where we had a sense of home, we knew that we would have to write about Glasgow. Our shared experience of the city was of hours locked in practice rooms at the RCS as traffic whined outside; of late nights at gigs in concert halls, bars, and churches; of frantic and furious rushing from event to event. Despite this, there are also moments of calm and reflection – in an instant the noise can die down, and you can find yourself in a park, under a streetlamp, or gazing up at the moon, before the city sucks you back in. The constant stimulation of the city, the ceaseless noise and movement, and the brief punctuated moments of peace: these all inspired this composition – Metro Madness.

tyro (ty·ro): a beginner, novice in learning

Tyro Bay is a place outside of time. You will find yourself there, at some point in your life. You wake up one morning to a soft grey light, your ear resting on a light, shifting shingle. The gentle whisper of the waves, as they break over the shore, washes over you. As it falls back into the ocean, each wave draws a little of your thoughts with it, shifting with the pebbles. A wooden rowing boat aches in the water.

The birds greet the morning one by one. A single note breaks the air, a question, carefully placed. No reply. The note sounds again, bolder now, more awake. And is answered. The birds throw their voices to one another across the breeze, until one single line soars above the rest, and twists and turns over the ocean.

The sail is raised, the wind rises, and we are off!

Much of this album was conceived through improvising, composing and recording at The Old Schoolhouse in Port Appin. Our dear friends the Reids, who own the house, have very kindly hosted us there several times, and it has been a pleasure to make music there. The house faces out onto the shore, looking over a couple of skerries onto Loch Linnhe. Sitting in the kitchen, looking out over the sea-loch, your eyes are drawn up from the water to towering mountains rising above Glensada and Kilmalieu. These hills are ever-present whenever you are in this part of the world – wherever you go, whatever you are doing, they look down on us like vast prehistoric beings.

Though they look still and static, these huge hills are moving, flowing as rivers of rock. These mountains across Loch Linnhe follow the line of the Great Glen Fault which continues in Newfoundland in Canada, separating millions of years ago. This deep geological time gives a perspective to our own fleeting lives. To the mountains, the whole of human history is a blink in their existence. They have been on their own journey since long before we evolved, and will go on moving long after we are gone. This sense of time is what inspired the very beginning of this piece.

There is another side to the work. Both of us are keen hillwalkers, and we wanted to write a piece about the experience of walking in the hills. Awakening in the morning, bleary-eyed and stiff, and stepping out for that first breath of fresh air. And the long, slow trudge up the steep slopes, false summits raising hopes, until finally you emerge onto the top of a hill. On a clear day, the sky and the world open up above you. You can see for miles, and look down upon the spines of the mountains around you. It is an exhilarating feeling of transcendence, of escape from the business of everyday life. The “metro madness”, the hustle and bustle of cities, or simply everyday worries and fears. It all evaporates into the blue skies, or (on some days) is swallowed by the mist. This is our ode to the hills.

Meandering past old mills and bridges, the river Kelvin patiently watches Glasgow grow old and new. In the 1st movement, droplets of rain fall on the Campsie Fells and the river starts to emerge with each gradual confluence. The 2nd movement flows through Dunbartonshire’s bonnie pastures on a frosty winter’s morning. The river is awash with the sounds of life and continues to build momentum until we arrive at the scene of the 3rd movement. Here, we witness an ominous meeting: ‘The Council of Cormorants’. Huddled, cloaked and hooded, the convocation appears to be hatching some kind of evil plan for the world – who knows what they’re plotting…

The 4th movement carries us to Glasgow via the magical Dawsholm Park. The banks are strewn with mysterious artifacts and tell stories of forgotten histories. In particular, one rusted iron gate stands facing the water, as if a portal to another dimension – we never dared enter it for fear of where we might end up!

Before starting to write ‘Kelvin’, we cycled the length of the river to gather stories and take inspiration from its many beautiful scenes. Most of the course of the river boasted natural beauty and wildlife, although we were disturbed by the end of the journey; as it comes to meet the Clyde, it becomes obscured by dense urbanisation. It slows to a halt and the waters thicken to a dark, murky oil. The fifth and final movement tells the story of this decay and points to its parable with mankind’s current impact on so much of the natural world. All the previous themes from through the piece drift through the movement as the waters stagnate, like distant memories carried by the stream.

“After a long journey, you take off your coat and shoes and take a seat in the kitchen. A cup of tea finds its way to your hands, as warm as the laughter that welcomes you. Stories are shared, ideas ignited, and a smile spreads from your face to your heart – you’ve arrived at the Hartys.”

Tucked away at the foot of the Lancashire Moors, their hand-built home is bursting with music and art. They are seldom without stowaways, who always leave rejuvenated, with their hearts and minds filled to the brim. When trying to capture this essence in music, we were overwhelmed with ideas and possibilities and so limited our focus to certain special memories from our time with them.

The opening hears us welcomed by a bright young melody, excited for what’s to come. We share memories and ideas in quick succession as we settle in. In time, the games begin and we dance through scenes of magic and adventure (and even the odd pirate!). We eventually come to rest in a dream-like state with thoughts gradually emerging and dissipating.