The Scottish Borders are known for many things – the lush rolling pastures, small yet perfectly formed castles & towers dotted around like scattered chess pieces and indecent amounts of pheasant road kill. If you’re really lucky though and you go for a stroll early in the morning when the morning mist is just burning off the fields and the dawn chorus has subsided, you could, if you’re really quiet, stumble across that rarest of creatures – one that is both shy and easily startled, but well worth catching a glimpse of. I speak of course, of the fey, sensitive singer-songwriter, strumming his mysteriously tuned guitar amidst the fields and woods. Shades on because he’s cool as and his voice competing with the larks and sparrows, the sound of his guitar floating on the breeze so at first you hear it almost unconsciously but then it pulls you gently to it’s source.
OK. So we drove Matt out to a field, told him to stand in some mud and get on with it. Being the professional and talented musician he is though, he did exactly that and pulled another great performance out of the bag even if the audience was nothing more than a swarm of black flies. So enjoy ‘Next Stop, Summer’ by Matt Wilson.
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