The Tannahill Weavers are an enduring icon of Scottish traditional music who've assembled an impressive body of work over more than two decades of diligent recording and performing. It's hard to choose favorites in their long line of albums (more than a dozen at last count), but a definite high point is the 1990 release Cullen Bay.

The album begins with a rousing Jacobite anthem, "The Standard on the Braes o' Mar," coupled with an instrumental version of "The Haughs o' Cromdale." The boys of the band are feeling a mite rebellious, it seems -- and it's an excellent way to start things off. The all-male Tannies demonstrate their skill at vocal harmonies before launching into the bagpipe-dominated "Haughs."

They stick with the pipes for the next track, "The Fiddler/The Fiddler's Jig/Jenny Dang the Weaver/The Reel of Tulloch." Piper Iain MacInnes shows mastery of the instrument in this set, dominating once again the sound but never overpowering the instruments supporting him.

Next is a love song featuring lead singer Roy Gullane. But, while the Celts surely deserve their reputation as unrepentant romantics, "Joy of My Heart" does not tell of loves won or lost; rather, it's a love song about the island of Mull. While the band concedes in the liner notes that some mainlanders might find the love of an island somewhat perverse, that is not true in Scotland. They explain: "A Scottish pervert is something completely different ... a man who prefers women to whiskey."

It's back to the revolution in the next track, "Aikendrum," another Jacobite song from 1715. Although Gullane's voice is predominant, this a cappella anthem is another example of excellent vocal harmonies, with a touch of a round for added flair.

The next set, "Samuel the Weaver/The Panda/Thunderhead/The Cannongate Twitch/Allan MacDonald's Reel," gives the piper a rest for a bit and lets Phil Smillie take the lead on pennywhistle. The bagpipes aren't absent for long, however, and whistle and pipe carry a lively duet for a bit before handing off to John Martin's blazing fiddle. Smillie trades whistle for bodhran and off they go!

MacInnes slows things down a bit for "Kintail," a stately and somber Gaelic melody. Martin's fiddle, Les Wilson's keyboards, Smillie's flute and Gullane's guitar provide an excellent backdrop for the tune, each coming in gradually, slowly building the sound around MacInnes' gorgeous pipe work.

In case that left anyone too melancholy, the Tannies move on into a cheerful tale of courting in "A Night Visitor's Song." As they explain in their notes, night visiting was old-fashioned fun -- "...a young man's favorite night out was to go sit outside his girlfriend's bedroom windown in the rain." This grand tradition generally involved a long walk and a lot of alcohol, and the visitor would typically be rewarded by gaining access to the visitee's bedroom. "As all night visitees lived with their parents until they were married, true skill would now shine through as both endeavored to have as much fun as possible without making any noise and still be finished by dawn." The song only leaves about half a verse for the fun part anyway.

The final instrumental track of the album is "Cullen Bay/Dalnahassaig/S'lonadh Riud a Chunnaic Mi/Alick C. MacGregor." Besides the Tannies' usual tight playing, they added a bit of mouth music in the middle which really sets this one apart from the rest.

The album concludes with a Gullane original, "Braw Burn the Bridges," which is a particularly beautiful song about leaving beloved people and places behind. Gullane's mournful singing is matched by a flute-and-fiddle interlude which raises a lump in my throat every time I hear it.

The true Celtic music fan will likely have several albums by the Tannahill Weavers already. Any slackers out there who've somehow overlooked this tremendous band should consider Cullen Bay as a place to start a collection -- I'm sure it'll inspire anyone to track down more.