Although billed as "a welcome rattle bag of laments, cover versions and traditionals", this supposedly disparate collection of unreleased tracks, B-sides and rarities is both extremely consistent in quality and more than good enough to be considered a fourth album 'proper' from Fife's most individualistic son.
Inevitably shoehorned in with all and any articles about the face of 'Nu Folk' or whatever the NME decides to call it this week, JAMES YORKSTON has basically ignored the brouhaha and just gone ahead and done whatever takes his fancy in the five years or so since his notable debut album 'Moving Up Country' helped garner him an enviable critical reputation. Yes, it's (very) broadly fair to deem it folk in that his music is warm, rustic and human and the settings for his songs are usually of the windblown, Celtic-tinged variety, but - as significant portions of 'Roaring The Gospel' again show us - Yorkston's muse is restless and refreshingly tough to pigeonhole.
One thing I've always enjoyed is that Yorkston's band are called THE ATHLETES because while their accompaniment is always nimble, it's also invariably nonchalent and unhurried. Indeed, they demonstrate their worth only too admirably on tunes like the wonky two-step of 'Blue Madonnas' and a slightly dustier, but equally seductive 'alternate' version of first LP favourite 'Moving Up Country, Roaring The Gospel' where off-beat, but brilliant rhythm section of Faisal Rahman and Doogie Paul are joined by an array of banjos, accordions and harmoniums.
Elsewhere, rather like the Tindersticks used to do, they enjoy a slightly sickly exhilaration when forcing the tempo a little. To this end, witness the strident likes of 'The Hills & The Heath' and the wild'n'peaty 'Sleep Is The Jewel' or be amazed by the sprightly beat, indie-Motown basslines and tumbling piano of the opening 'A Man Of My Skills' which lurches along joyously with an inebriated spring in its' step.
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Naturally, there's also plenty of room for slightly more traditional rustic fare from Yorkston. The only 'trad.arr' moment as such comes courtesy of the excellent 'Blue Bleezin' Blind Drunk', though its' vivid tale of dysfunctionality ("I married a girl for her money/ and she's worse than the devil himself") is as much a warning to the perils of ill-matched relationships as simply alcoholic reverie.
Meanwhile, after This Mortal Coil's seminal rehash, it's a brave man who takes on Tim Buckley's otherworldly 'Song To The Siren', but JY and co invest the tune with a positively Hebridean wildness and wonder and get away with it with slack to spare. Actually, the more you hear it, the more it makes sense in the context of his work, as does the truly seminal and much-vaunted debut single 'The Lang Toun', which finally makes it to regular CD release here at last. Clocking in at just under 10 minutes, this remarkable track concerning the ills of domestic violence ("you're lying face down in a bog") is endlessly potent and hypnotic and if you can possibly imagine a close-miked, folksier version of Spiritualized's drone-y glory then you're getting close. Genius, in simple terms.
So there you have it. Whether 'Roaring The Gospel' is intended as a clearing of the decks before James Yorkston embarks on a journey in a different direction remains unclear, but let's worry about that later. For now, let's embrace this rich and consistently spellbinding collecting from one of Scotland's greatest contemporary talents. Five years on, James Yorkston continues to set the standard.
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