The Brothers Gillespie
The Merciful Road
Self Released
2022
Over the past year, not surprisingly, I’ve tended to review albums produced during, or shortly after, the Covid lockdowns. For some, the connection was little more than timing; others were products of collaborations that would most likely never have happened without the disruption to musical careers caused by the pandemic. But few have revealed a link as telling as the one at the heart of The Merciful Road. Listening to any of James and Sam Gillespie’s music, one soon realises the inspiration they draw from the countryside and culture of their home county of Northumberland. Spending the lockdowns there, deprived of the opportunity to go out and perform, they discovered and explored more of the wild places they love, involved themselves in issues that threaten the future of such places and the people who live in them and delved into the history, both of the countryside and of their family. Above all, they had the time to ponder how all this could find expression in their music. The result is a collection of seven new songs and a new arrangement of one traditional that tells us much about how The Brothers Gillespie view the world and life, and which also sound just wonderful. Many before me have written of the largely undefinable excellence found in vocals produced by siblings. Such quality has long been a cornerstone of the Gillespies’ output, and, when combined with their gentle and varied instrumental arrangements, their music becomes the complete gold standard package.
Having emphasised the degree to which they draw on their Northumberland heritage, it’s somewhat unexpected when the album opens with a song taking inspiration from the Luberon area of southern France. As much as the land itself, it’s the kindness received from strangers while the brothers were walking and wild camping there that prompted the song. The experience of moving through a land that was welcoming to travelling strangers seems to have inspired the title, Pilgrim Song, and that, in turn, has left the song with a decidedly spiritual tone. Pilgrim Song also has a rhythm, harmonies and a voice that, in my head, places it far to the west of either Northumberland or Luberon; it’s more reminiscent of Appalachia. For a duo that has previously been commended for “showing British acoustic music in its best possible light”, this was unexpected, though perhaps not entirely surprising given some of their past material. This is in no way a criticism; Pilgrim Song is a powerful and welcome opening to the album. Behind the voices, there’s a relatively simple accompaniment, guitars and the first of the album’s guests, Jen Hill, on double bass.
Wingrove Road finds the brothers reminiscing about aspects of childhood in Northumberland, not in the countryside but on the streets of a town on the outskirts of Newcastle, a fairly multicultural town judging from the lyrics.
Bird on the Bough marks another change of style. It’s a slow, gentle blues and, bearing in mind these songs were written during covid lockdown times, it’s clear the words are charting a period when the outlook was dire and spirits at a very low ebb. The bleakness of the lyrics, though, is lifted by accompaniment from the clàrsach of Edinburgh harpist Siannie Moodie and James’ fiddle. In part, the lyrics contrast the depressing mood of the time and the irrepressible singing of the Bird on the Bough, a contrast nicely mirrored by Siannie’s light, airy runs and arpeggios.
Great Aunt Katherine tells a family tale uncovered by who else but the brothers’ great aunt Katherine. A historian based in Australia, she managed to track the journey of ancestors who left Highland Scotland at the time of the clearances, emigrating first to Canada, then on to New Zealand and eventually Australia. The song that James and Sam have crafted from this story is beautifully poetic, the lyrics paired with an arrangement that breaks yet more new ground. Mairead Kerr’s piano is a major component, duetting with a fretless gourd banjo (Jason Romero of Pharis & Jason Romero also plays one on Tell ‘Em You Were Gold).
Descended, a gentle song, but nevertheless a passionate plea in support of the local opposition to plans to place a 55-metre high monument, the Ascendant, on top of Cold Law Hill, the high spot of a wild area known as The Wannies. The instrumental arrangement for the song reveals yet more of the variations they can employ. Sam’s flute features strongly, and James adds percussion in the form of a Tamburello hand drum and what I imagine to be a fairly large shaker stick fitted with tambourine zills. Plus, one of them adds a drone from a shruti box. The exceptional qualities of the brothers’ vocals will always immediately capture one’s attention but then along comes a track such as Descended to remind us of the skill and imagination they also bring to devising their arrangements.
The simplicity of their treatment of the traditional song, When Fortune Turns the Wheel, a well-known parting song from the Borders, is in sharp contrast to Descended. The vocal has the brothers’ voices harmonising, whilst a superb accompaniment is provided from Siannie’s clàrsach. This theme of parting and loss continues with the final track, The Endless Road. These last tracks give a timely reminder of the battles with the loneliness of isolation that so many people fought during the pandemic.
The album was recorded and produced by James and Sam alongside Tim Lane, the producer of their previous albums. The studio was a cottage fittingly located in the Tweed Valley at the heart of the border country. During lockdown, the brothers received an Arts Council grant “to develop their creative practice,” using it, in part, to extend their recording and producing skills. The stylishly constructed recordings on The Merciful Road are testament to their success. The CD comes with a sleeve and lyric booklet of elegant simplicity, perfectly matching the mood of the music. The design is credited to Siannie Moodie, while the line drawings of scenery, trees and birds that make such an impact were produced by Gemma Koomen.
This album needs to make no apology for, at times, dealing with dark themes. I’ve found the experience of listening to the beautifully produced music an overwhelmingly joyous one. Their previous albums established The Brothers Gillespie as musicians with a finely honed sensitivity to the natural world, both celebrating its glories and calling out the threats to its future. The Merciful Road has these qualities in abundance but also highlights a more personal side, the experiences of lockdown having encouraged a baring of souls. James and Sam have commented on Bird on the Bough, saying, “the blues can be a pathway, even though things are dark and desperate”. I would wholeheartedly extend that sentiment to this album in its entirety.
Order The Merciless Road here: https://thebrothersgillespie.com/store