Beth Malcolm with Heather Cartright

I just had one of those blink and thirty years have passed moments. One minute, it’s the 90s and I’m listening to - and being super-impressed by - Jim Malcolm at Edinburgh’s Wee Folk Club at the Royal Oak, then…flash… I’m at Crail Folk Club listening to and being equally impressed by Beth Malcolm, Jim’s daughter… thirty evaporating years later. How about that!

Beth is chummed by Heather Cartwright, she of the wonderful guitar playing and accompanying stellar vocals. Speaking of vocals, the first thing you notice about Beth is her rich voice, chocolatey in the lower range, nectar sweet in the upper, always assured, note perfect and expressive.

A traddy kickoff with ‘Edward’, sung in auld Scots, a tale of murder most foul. This Edward chap is quite the swine, he kills his father, pretends the blood on his sword is from various animals then appears to run away leaving family behind!

And, as if by the flick of a switch we leap from trad to modern sounding self-penned territory, with ‘Rolling Stone’, a song of a settling heart …

‘I always thought I’d be content being free

I always thought love was just a bind

A willing ensnarement of body and mind

I never hoped it would be you by my side

I never thought that I’d find you in time’

Beth was a history teacher for a couple of years then mesmerised by the treasures offered by a world of folk music she jacked in the teaching. This figures in some of her lyrics and chat, notions of don’t worry about the pension, live life now crop up. If I was the heckling type I might shout out something about making sure she sees a pension advisor, but that wouldn’t get many laughs.

Bothy ballad ‘The Plooman Laddie’ takes us back tradwards with fabulous unaccompanied vocals and delightful, spontaneous audience participation… we can really sing here in Crail!

With ‘I don’t Want a Brit Card’ Beth hints at which side of ye olde Scottish Independence fence she ties her plaid to. I couldn’t tell from the audience temperature whether they were for or against such a thing but no one stormed out.

‘A Man Who Loves the Worst of Me’ is a cracking song of maturity and self-reflection hinting at depths to be further mined.

Norah Jones’ ‘Don’t Know Why’ is jazzily offered, Beth suggests that it will challenge Heather’s guitar playing… not at all, it’s braw!

Before I check out here I should mention the floor spots. All-the-way-from-Edinburgh Brian, takes on Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ accompanied by deft fault-free finger picking and a solid vocal delivery. Philip from Glenfarg gives us an unaccompanied ‘Lassie O’ the Morning’, Johnny does the comic one about driving in the car with his mammy and his mammy’s mammy, and finally Peter offers his unique take on the blues with a self-penned song for his granddaughter.

And a final mention of the raffle, we still had the taupe vs. elephant’s breath ticket colour thing going on. Last rumour I heard was that there were no more tickets of that colour left. Well, you just can’t rely on village rumours, can you?

Photos by Peter Salkeld, words by Callum MacLeod