When I first heard The Shieling, it quickly became one of my favourite albums of 2025. Fergus McCreadie's ability to paint the Hebridean landscape in music borders on genius. Every composition seemed to capture the stillness, beauty and ever-changing character of those islands with a clarity that few musicians can achieve without a single word being spoken. When I later heard there might be a companion release drawn from the same remarkable recording sessions, it instantly became one of my most anticipated releases of 2026. The thought of returning to that musical landscape was simply too tempting to ignore.
There are occasions when an
album feels so complete that you wonder whether there is anything left to
say. The Shieling was one of those records. It painted such a vivid
picture of the Scottish landscape that it seemed impossible to imagine anything
sitting naturally alongside it. Yet The Shieling – Companion Pieces proves
there was still more of that journey to explore.
Rather than feeling like a
collection of outtakes or material that somehow failed to make the original
album, these six performances simply widen the horizon. They allow us to spend
a little longer inside the same world without ever diminishing what came
before. If The Shieling was the destination, Companion
Pieces is the opportunity to take the slower route home.
Recorded during the same
remarkable sessions on North Uist, Fergus McCreadie, David Bowden and Stephen
Henderson once again demonstrate why they have become one of the most
compelling working trios in European jazz. There is an ease about their playing
that cannot be manufactured. Years of touring and performing together have
created an almost conversational understanding, where every musical decision
feels instinctive rather than considered.
That connection lies at the
heart of this recording. There is no unnecessary complexity and no desire to
impress through virtuosity alone. Instead, every note serves the music. Silence
is treated with as much respect as sound, allowing each melody to emerge
naturally before quietly dissolving into the next.
McCreadie continues to occupy a
musical space that is entirely his own. His writing draws deeply from the
character of Scotland without ever becoming overtly traditional. Folk melody is
never presented as quotation or decoration. Instead, it forms part of the
music's DNA, sitting comfortably alongside modern jazz improvisation to create
something that feels both timeless and unmistakably contemporary.
Opening with The Pass,
the trio immediately returns us to the atmosphere established on The
Shieling. McCreadie's piano unfolds patiently, never rushing its
destination, allowing each phrase to breathe. It is playing that values shape
and colour above display, trusting the melody to carry the emotional weight.
Ford the River introduces a gentle sense of movement. David
Bowden's wonderfully warm bass anchors the music with quiet authority while
Stephen Henderson continues to prove himself one of Britain's most sensitive
drummers. His playing rarely demands attention, yet without it these
performances would lose much of their depth. Every brush of a cymbal and every
understated rhythmic shift adds another layer to the landscape.
The alternate takes of Lily
Bay and Windshelter are among the EP's greatest
pleasures. They reveal just how fluid this music really is. Familiar themes are
approached from slightly different angles, phrases linger a little longer, dynamics
shift almost imperceptibly and the emotional emphasis changes with them. It is
a reminder that truly great compositions are never fixed objects but living
pieces that continue to evolve each time they are played.
The previously unheard Boulderfield and Red
Deer sit comfortably alongside the original material. Like so much of
McCreadie's writing, they invite the listener to create their own imagery.
Rather than attempting to imitate nature, the music simply leaves enough space
for the imagination to do the work.
Throughout the EP, the trio's
collective restraint becomes one of its greatest strengths. Nobody overplays.
Nobody fills silence simply because it exists. Every decision feels considered,
yet never calculated. The result is music that possesses an honesty which
becomes increasingly rare the more polished modern recordings become.
Producer Laura Jurd deserves
considerable credit for preserving that intimacy. The recording never feels
manufactured. Instead, it retains the warmth and closeness of three musicians
sharing both a room and a common purpose. You can almost sense the Hebridean
stillness surrounding the performances.
In many ways, Companion
Pieces completes the story of The Shieling. Not because
the original album needed finishing, but because these performances add another
perspective on the same landscape. They enrich rather than repeat, offering
fresh views while remaining entirely faithful to the spirit of the original
sessions.
The timing of this release feels
particularly significant. Later this year Fergus McCreadie brings his new
commission, Flight Pass, to the EFG London Jazz Festival for its
London premiere at Kings Place. It represents another step in the evolution of
an artist who continues to broaden his musical horizons while remaining firmly
rooted in the landscapes and traditions that have shaped his writing. If Companion
Pieces reflects on one remarkable chapter, Flight Pass promises
to open the next, suggesting that McCreadie's creative journey is still
gathering momentum.
The Shieling – Companion Pieces may only last six tracks, but it serves as a
beautiful reminder that some musical journeys deserve to be revisited. For
anyone who fell under the spell of The Shieling, this is not simply
an epilogue—it is an invitation to step back into one of the most evocative
musical landscapes created in recent years. Glenn
Wright
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