When we who dwell on this side of the big pond think of Scottish folk outfits, it is the Battlefield Band and the Tannahill Weavers that come automatically to mind. As treasured as they may be, they are not the only carriers of the Scots tradition, naturally and happily. Scotland's pubs, clubs, festivals and concert circuits are home to other fine musical assemblies, including Real Time and North Sea Gas.

Vaguely reminiscent of a Scots version of Altan -- though it has to be said that Altan, arguably second only to the Chieftains in general excellence among Irish folk bands, is in its own exalted category -- Real Time, which hails from the border country, has a four-member core. As lead vocalist, Judy Dinning (who doubles on acoustic guitar) is the most immediately audible presence, a commanding singer of such noble archaic ballads -- surely incapable of wearing out their respective welcomes -- as "High Germany," "The Trees They Do Grow High" and "Bonnie Glenshee," while Kenny Speirs, also a guitarist, sings compelling versions of "Gallawa' Hills" and "Haughs o' Cromdale." Young fiddler Iain Anderson ably accompanies the singers, while stepping out to take the lead on some instrumental medleys of traditional tunes, and keyboardist Tom Roseburgh and guests Stevie Lawrence (bouzouki, percussion, pipes, whistles) and Gary Forrest (accordion) nicely fill out the sound.

As long as Real Time is sticking to traditional material, I can conceive of no cause for complaint. The more contemporary material, more acoustic pop than trad-based folk, is not so much to my taste, however. The closing cut, "Stay Young," attributed to the un-first-named Gallegher and Lyle, amounts to an inferior rewrite of Bob Dylan's "Forever Young," itself among Dylan's lesser inspirations. Like its model, "Stay Young" wearily compiles cliche on top of cliche -- not excluding, or confined to, "the best things in life are free."

Fortunately, Home Thoughts concentrates its attention mostly on old native songs and tunes and revives them with skill and soulfulness.

The three-member North Sea Gas has been around for nearly three decades, with its roots in pub-folk of the Clancy Brothers/Dubliners era still in evidence, if in muted iteration. As with Real Time, this band's originals are the least engaging cuts, anyway from the perspective of somebody who knows the band only from its recording. "One of Those Days" and "Classy Lassie" -- the latter drawing on the exhausted metaphor of woman's body as shiny car; George Jones's "The One I Loved Back Then" at least is a whole lot funnier -- surely work more effectively in live performance, with a crowd aglow in the hazy warmth of favorite beverages, than preserved on disc. On the other hand, one contemporary song, "Follow the Heron," by non-band member Karine Polwart, is a highlight, possibly because it sounds as if it's been around a couple of centuries.

On Rosslyn, North Sea Gas comes not to dazzle you with hot licks and shocking 21st-century arrangements. It's here to deliver some very fine, mostly been-around songs ("Barnyards o' Delgaty," "Killiecrankie," "Tramps & Hawkers") and instrumentals in an attractively straightforward stringband approach. It succeeds sufficiently to keep me returning, pleased and contented, to the disc. That's my definition of a good record.

NSG's spirited fiddle-and-bouzouki-driven arrangement of the often-recorded "Bonnie Lass o' Fifie" (a.k.a. "Pretty Peggy-O") moves it beyond the routine. I'm also grateful to hear such an impressively felt reading of the mournful transport ballad "Jamie Raeburn," which I last heard on a Ewan MacColl LP decades ago. If anything, the song is better than I remembered it, and my memories of it were never anything but the fondest.

[ visit the North Sea Gas website ]

[ visit the Real Time website ]