A career of 15 years or so and counting has seen Calum Stewart involved in a vast number of collaborations. They range from fellow traditional musicians in just about all of the Celtic nations to several symphony orchestras, and they’re a testament to his outstanding reputation as a player, composer and arranger. Scattered among the lengthy list of quality albums on which he gets credit is a handful of gems. These albums have been his personal projects, and True North is likely the finest example yet.
The title hints at an inspiration shared with his previous release, Tales From The North, and, indeed, all the tunes on True North have roots firmly embedded in the north, particularly the northeast of Scotland where Calum grew up. One significant difference between the two albums is that True North teams Calum with just two other musicians, both French. Yann Le Bozac, who, as with the previous album, provides double bass and Sylvain Quéré on cittern. Calum himself contributes his trademark instruments, principally uilleann pipes, switching at times to wooden flute–a simple trio, in marked contrast to the ten collaborators adding numerous instruments to the previous album.
The opening track is an atmospheric slow air composed by Calum and taking inspiration not just from Calum’s love for the northeast of Scotland but more specifically from The Highlands, a poem from step dancer extraordinaire and frequent dancer with the trio, Sophie Stephenson. The words are reproduced as liner notes. It’s played solo on the pipes, and Calum describes it as “evoking a powerful sense of home and belonging”, feelings deepened by recording the track in Calum’s childhood home in Speyside. Three other tracks and part of a fourth have been penned by Calum, giving us ample material to appreciate how well his talents as a composer have developed and matured. Four of the remaining tracks are tune sets, drawing pieces mainly from the Scottish tradition, but, as befits music played largely on the uilleann pipes, they include a couple from Ireland. Calum sees this roughly 50:50 split between self-penned and traditional pieces as allowing him to express his connection to the north on a personal level and also pay tribute to some of the traditional tunes of the area.
After this peaceful initial track, the first of the trad tune sets up the pace with three reels, tunes that Calum has been playing, he says, for as long as he can remember. Opening with a bass drone, it’s quickly overlain first by the pipe melody along with strummed cittern chords setting the rhythm, emphasised by plucked notes from the double bass. Once started, there’s no easing off the pace as the set progresses through all three melodies, North Highland Reel, Às a Thòisich and Miss Girdle. Exhilarating is the word that springs to mind, closely followed by breathless if you’ve let your legs enthusiastically follow that rhythm through to the end.
Maol Dònaidh is a pair of tunes from the collection published in 1784 by one of, if not the earliest Scottish collectors, Patrick McDonald. It slows the pace with an arrangement that allows both cittern and double bass to contribute to the melody lines rather than just setting the rhythm. The following two tracks are Calum compositions, Schottishe Kerlou and Cille Chuimein. The latter is a recent work, the title being the Gaelic name for Fort Augustus, Sophie Stephenson’s hometown, a place that Calum describes as close to his heart. Schottishe Kerlou is one of two tracks he’s previously recorded but which, with the passage of time, he now sees in a rather different light. It appeared as a flute-led piece on the 2014 album Hunter’s Moon with guitarist Heikki Bourgault. Its 2023 incarnation sees the main melody line transcribed to pipes and played at a slightly faster pace, emphasising the dance’s progression. With both cittern and bass again contributing to the tune, this arrangement turns it into a more complex and energetic piece that’s guaranteed to stick around in your head.
The second re-recording, Looking at a Rainbow Through a Dirty Window, is a tune that goes right back to Calum’s first album, Earlywood, in 2008, and which has since found a place in his live repertoire. The main melody is still played on the wooden flute, but it’s now teamed with cittern at the high end and bowed bass at the lower, becoming an even richer piece, rewarding the listener by instilling calm and uplifting spirits.
True North closes with a final three-tune set, connecting a march, The 72nd’s Farewell to Aberdeen, with a strathspey, Rothiemurchus Rant and a reel, Miss Lucy Campbell, ensuring that the album leaves you with the most upbeat of emotions. Those tunes are all very much part of the Scottish tradition, but also with strong connections to Ireland and across the ocean to Cape Breton. A highly appropriate closer for a musician who’s always bought into the Celtic tradition, wherever it’s found.
As Calum’s comments on this album make clear, he sees it as his eulogy to his homeland, an acknowledgement of his roots. And yet, this is far from being a simple revisiting of musical memories; he is breathing new life into many of the more ancient tunes, starting with the instruments on which they’re played. It’s unlikely that many of the traditional pipe tunes have previously been played on the uilleann pipes, and if they have, they’ve certainly not been recorded. Having a cittern as the primary accompaniment is another masterstroke. When playing alongside the pipes, it more than holds its own, providing a lightness and clarity of tone that’s a perfect foil to the more complex tones of the pipes. Calum spends much of his time in Brittany, and his collaborations there have all helped him develop an understanding of the subtle and not so subtle ways in which the various strands of Celtic tradition have evolved as their carriers have spread and intermixed across the globe. With True North, he has used that understanding to bring us a most delightful and varied paean of praise to the north of Scotland.
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Website: https://www.calum-stewart.com/