It is too often that the scholarly side of folk music presents itself as a sort of merit badge on the sleeve of the performer; where there’s some superfluous "Guantanamera" talk-down spoonfeeding us some sort of proof of authenticity in place of communicating the intricacies of a tradition through the music itself. Alasdair Roberts sings as if returned from the grave, spinning mock gospels and timeless ballads with the gravity of one who has seen all ages. His own songs play out as if they’ve been floating around the North for a few hundred years, betraying a deep knowledge of all manner of British music passed, so it’s no surprise that an album of traditional tunes will carry the weight of their age.
There’s no question that this album serves as a proper record of these songs—descriptive notes and Child reference numbers accompany each title, along with Roberts’ distinctive Theorbo-flop guitar tunings. The songs themselves largely deal with darker matters, from the gore of Long Lankin to the tragedy of Barbara Allen. It's with great subtlety that Mr. Roberts expresses the depth of this music, and perhaps that’s why, rather than inviting us to “Sing Out!”, he suggests we “Stravaig With Gravitas!”.