Matt Scott - Stairway Songs (From Hillfoot Avenue, Rutherglen)

There’s many ways to listen to music.

Some are perfectly adequate and lend themselves to being used to spread the sound out in the background while you do this or that.

Think of the radio, the television tuned to a music channel, an i-pod docked and a PC playing a CD.

Then there are the earbud headphones and mp3 players for when we want to sit on public transport and look to drift away from our surroundings.

And then at the top are the audiophiles stereos designed to take the music and immerse you in it.

Best of all is when you use the latter with quality headphones.

Music that you liked you love, music that tugged emotionally at you instead draws something from deep within you, and if you want to get lost in a song this is how you do it.

And it’s with headphones clamped to my head that you can hear Matt Scott’s ‘Stairway Songs’ blossom into life.

It’s an immersive experience that is difficult to convey with words.

An experience that takes you directly into the room with Matt and his brother John as they snatched at something a bit intangible and ultimately managed to do what so many others fail to and captured a moment in time.

There’s are no frills to the recording and it could be described as coming from the bootleg end of the spectrum rather than that of the polished studio, but in this instance that is a strength rather than a weakness.

Close your eyes and the sound fills your head, everything else fades, and there you are.

There’s no cackling hen nights intruding with their chatter, there’s no drunk at the bar roaring his order at a busy bartender and the recording simply brings you in to directly engage with the music on a one to one basis.

There’s been much said about the traditional qualities that Matt Scott brings to his music.

A rich tapestry that begins in the cotton fields with the blues, that then coasts over the dustbowl with the sound of the folk protest singers floating on the wind before settling on the blue collar rock of the US with its home grown Frankie Miller rasp and the barfly eulogies of an early Tom Waits flavouring it all, but it’s worth pulling back from all of that and listening to the lyrics, and how Matt address them vocally, as that’s where the power lies

With six tracks recorded in a hallway between either one or two microphones, depending on what John Scott was looking for, the pair of them have genuinely turned in a body of work that should be able to pull a great deal of positive praise as the session quite literally stands head and shoulders above a very large percentage of music that I hear that is classed as part of the folk/blues genre.

It’s actually difficult for me to lay claim to this as I am personally friendly with Matt and could be accused of gilding the lilly for a mate, but if you want to hear what undiluted talent sounds like, the real deal prior to it being manipulated to suit the bland taste buds of a mass market then you need look no further.

This is an astounding recording and I am very proud to have played a very small part in bringing it forward to this stage just by being a sounding board to a young man who really deserves a great deal of recognition.

Bob, John, Paul and my son.

Recently Bob Dylan has been following me about wherever I go.
Not literally as that would be weird, but his nasal protest songs and his huffing and puffing on the harmonica have served as the soundtrack to my doing the dishes, the laundry and the preparation of meals on what feels like a daily basis for longer than I care to admit.
He's omnipresent in my house.
From the story of the hurricane to the answer blowing in the wind I've been taken on a meteorological song and dance by his Bob-ness for well over a month now.
The reason for all this is because my son has discovered the sixties.
Well he didn't discover the sixties, but more so rediscovered the bands of the era.
It all started with The Beatles.
Prior to that he was a Rolling Stones fan, and still is, but The Rolling Stones didn't act as a catalyst in throwing him back in time.
The blame for that lies with The Beatles.
Within a week of his delving into all things Lennon and McCartney every debate was rooted in who was the best between the two.
Of course it was Lennon, but he disagrees, and we go round and round and round tearing the argument to shreds.
However regardless of all Lennons failings he didn't write the 'Frog Chorus'.
When I throw that in the mix he gets that glazed look that all McCartney fans have when the 'Frog Chorus' gets mentioned.
They know they're on shaky ground.
It's the death blow that all us Lennon fans will deliver with a smile.
It doesn't matter how many great songs McCartney wrote, or co-wrote, because that song casts a shadow over them all.
If for some reason mentioning it doesn't stop a McCartney fan in their tracks then you can twist the knife a bit by singing a bit of 'Say Say Say' or 'Ebony and Ivory'.
Or his bit in 'A day in the life'.
I'd shove that comb up his arse given half a chance.
That should be enough to finish any McCartney fan off.
Anyway forget all that. I digress and its not really relevant.
The thing is that since the Beatles rolled into town there has been a real jump back in time musically speaking.
The Beach Boys, Led Zeppelin, Creedence Clearwater and Pink Floyd are the staples of the day.
The thing is that I'm finding it to be a a bit of a double edged sword.
On one hand I don't have to listen to what most sixteen year old kids are pumping out from their stereos, oops sorry, i-pod docking stations, and that can seem like a blessing.
The other upside is that musically we can also have some common ground.
Something to talk about.
Christ knows that at that age a father and son need some common ground or patricide/infanticide can become a very real fantasy.
I should be pleased that I don't have to sit with my head in my hands while clutching pain killers in my hand hoping that the volume of the latest happy hardcore track is going to be turned down a notch.
However the downside is that he's now of the opinion that starting off from the sixties and ending in seventy nine is the glory days of music, and those glory days will never be revisited.
And there in lies a bit of a problem.
He's so rooted in the past that the majority of modern bands and acts sound like shite to him, and as that idea becomes cemented in there is less opportunity to be taken unawares by something new.
It's not really a big problem though.
It's just that I would like to think that the door is left open a notch to allow something else in.
Rather than it being slammed shut on any new aural experiences.
As long as it's not the latest x-factor wannabe or another mainstream dance act then some variety would be nice.
Maybe I should introduce him to Nick Cave.