This week we are throwing our Scottish spotlight onto Roseanne Reid. I first encountered Roseanne supporting Sam Outlaw at Glasgow’s Admiral Bar a few years back. Since then she’s supported me on a few solo shows and we’ve featured her as a guest on Another Country. More importantly than all of that she recorded her excellent debut album, Trails, in New York City with Teddy Thompson and has a whole host of live experiences under her belt.

Last week we had a short email exchange and I asked her, firstly, where she was when the impact of the crisis stopped what she was currently doing?

Before the outbreak started, I was actually due to have my busiest Spring/Summer to date. I was booked to support the Wandering Hearts on their UK tour throughout April, following that I was due to go over to Holland and Belgium for a week to do some European shows. I was then going to come back to go straight into a two week UK tour with Teddy Thompson, culminating with my first slot at Glastonbury at the end of June! Then it would have been time to start work on the new album.

So fair to say, I’m especially gutted the outbreak started when it did…

I can imagine. It certainly seems you’d be busy. Can we talk a little about Trails? How long had you taken to get the songs together that album? I remember you said you even wrote some during the recording period. Which ones were they?

Trails was written over the course of a few years – songs like ‘Amy’ and ‘Miles Away’ were ones I wrote when I was a teenager. I have to say one of the songs I’m most proud of was written within a week of going into the studio to record! ‘Out In Space’ was a last minute addition, but I think it brings something totally different to the album. Heading North was the other one that was written very close to the wire!

Since Trails came out there has been a one off song from last year called Out In Space. A fuller sound on this one too. Is that a one-off or the first song from a second album?

That release for Out In Space was just a one-off really. It was because the song was picked to feature in a film called ‘About Colonia’ last year, and it was our way of supporting the film, whilst also giving a platform to a song that people had really responded well to from the record.

The song we knew you for changed a bit from its first recording.I Love Her So became a stone-gone slab of soul! Tell me about the journey of that one? Were you glad to see it taking a different turn?

I was just as surprised as everyone else with how this song turned out! Teddy laid the foundations with his ideas for it well in advance, he told me he could envision a sort of Motown sound – but even then I couldn’t have dreamed the form it took. We recorded it on the last day the band was in the studio, and I wasn’t quite happy with how my vocal sounded. I came in to try and redo it the next day but in the end we stuck with the original. I’m so glad we did because I couldn’t imagine it sounding any different now!

‘I Love Her So’ is one of these songs that will always work just as well with a band as it does acoustically. I love having that fluidity with a piece of work!

I know you get a few gigs with country Americana artists and you were ‘discovered’ at Steve Earle’s writing camp. Do you love country music? Who are the important artists in that genre for you?

I have such a passion for the Country and Americana genre, and I love and learn from every single gig I do with these artists. I enjoy Country music for many reasons, especially the wild side of it. There’s a good-time side to Country, and there’s a real dark gritty side to it – that’s what I find myself being drawn to more and more. I listen to the greats like Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard and the Dixie Chicks, but also the new generation like Eric Church, The Highwomen and Jason Isbell. Great songwriters – that’s what underpins it. These people are master storytellers.

On this week’s AC you’ll hear the music of Roseanne Reid plus some wonderful new things from Jess Williamson, Arborist and Ashley McBryde as well as disappearing down a few rabbit holes of choice. It all starts at five past eight on BBC Radio Scotland this Tuesday evening.

It’s Saturday afternoon as we drive down the dusty road on the outskirts of Rwanda’s capital, Kigali, into a church and school compound.  We begin to wonder if we’ve been brought to the wrong place. And yet there it is in big bold letters above a gate, ‘Nyamata Genocide Memorial.’

Awaiting us is Leo, a youngish man in a dark suit and open-necked shirt who is welcoming us in and introducing himself. It’s only half an hour into the visit that I ask Leo of his own memories of the genocide. Like any other child who was present in 1994, he recalls only too well. ‘I remember the bodies piled up on the streets.’ A few minutes later I ask if he’d lost any of his family. It’s a naive question I now realise. ‘46 members,’ he tells me. I ask about his immediate family and out of seven brothers and sisters only two survive. Both parents were killed too.

The horror of the genocide – which began in 1959, continued through 1992 to its eventual nadir in 1994 – casts the longest shadow. Outside the church in Nyamata a mass burial site now contains the remains of 45,000 Tutsis. A stair leads down to an underground crypt which shows the skeletons of the murdered. In another display room the cracked skulls of others bear testimony to the brutality of what happened in those dark days.

We pay our respects and are driven on to be welcomed by Claudette standing in the doorway of a small house typical of those built by the government to compensate survivors of the massacre. She smiles as if she has no cares as we assemble in her small living room. As well as our small delegation of observers we are joined by two men. It turns out they are Hutus who carried out killings and Claudette is a survivor from the church we have just visited.

As she tells her story of miraculous escape, then recapture, assault upon assault, betrayal and degradation beyond belief (she was trapped in a latrine for days, only able to escape by clambering on dead bodies piling high enough for her to climb out), we are all in tears.

Then we are all focusing on the two men who have said nothing. Claudette draws our attention to the taller one called, Claude. He, she tells us, attacked me with a machete slicing my shoulder where I had already been wounded. Thinking her dead, he resumed his rounds of killing. The atmosphere in the room became tense as our eyes all turn to the man listening with bowed head. It is his turn to speak.

Claude confirms what she has told us. He tells of the hatred of the Tutsis he had been taught growing up. He explains how little he knew and how killing men, women and children during the 100 days of genocide became second nature. When the new government finally wrestled control he fled over the border to the Democratic Republic of Congo. He tells us it was a few years before he heard there was what Rwandans called Gacaca trials – the truth and reconciliation programme designed to allow the country to move on, accepting the facts about what had happened.

Signing up to return, he committed himself to re-education and rehabilitation. On realising that a survivor lived nearby he presented himself at Claudette’s house on several occasions. Each time Claudette would scream and cry out to neighbours for help. Still he returned. Finally, one day he brought his wife and stood in her garden determined to apologise and repent for the evil he committed. Claudette accepted him in.

Claudette

In the most remarkable story of mediation any of us can recall, the two became friends. She, having no surviving family of her own, regards Claude as family. It is similar for Claude. ‘She even attended my mother’s funeral with me,’ he tells us. There is silence in the room as we all take in the true cost of beautiful forgiveness. Percy, SCIAF’s programme managers for Rwanda sums it up perfectly later in the garden outside the house: ‘It’s Saul becoming Paul’. Claude’s own precis is perhaps even more eloquent: ‘She gave me a human heart,’ he tells us.

I hope this story helps to explain the horror that has been visited upon the women in neighbouring Democratic Republic of Congo and in particular North and South Kivu featured in my earlier blogs. Those Hutu killing gangs who fled from justice in Rwanda went on to commit a reign of terror in the DR Congo along with the many other rogue militias intent on exploiting the country’s rich mineral wealth for their own good.

These armed gangs have continued to terrorise rural communities, raping women, killing men and children, destroying communities and spreading HIV. Atrocities that defy description have been visited upon the civilian population. My wife and I bore witness to how Scottish charity SCIAF has carried out a methodical programme of medical care including surgery, trauma counselling, financial support and free legal aid for thousands of women and girls who have been affected by violence. It is the focus of their WEE BOX Lenten appeal this year. But much more help is needed.

I’ve shared the above story of peace, hope and reconciliation in Rwanda as for me, it acts as inspiration as I reflect on the ongoing crimes against women in DR Congo, that peace, security and dignity are possible. At the moment, it is a vague dream, which one day must become a reality.

Please help women affected by sexual violence in the DR Congo and other vulnerable people around the world by giving to SCIAF’s WEE BOX BIG CHANGE appeal today.  All public donations given before 20^thMay will be doubled by the UK government. 

Visit www.sciaf.org.uk. 

Father Justin’s brand new white trainers are getting muddy. It’s mid-morning and despite the look of resignation on his face he has once more agreed to take us on a short tour of the parish. He’s sporting the new trainers on the basis of expecting a more sedentary day in his CDJP (Diocesan Centre for Justice and Peace) office, but his enthusiasm for telling us the story allows him to indulge his Scottish visitors a little longer.

It’s the rainy season in South Kivu in the Democratic Republic of Congo and here in Bukavu the rain has turned the rudimentary roads around the Parish Church of Mater de Dei into something approximating the Somme. Our photographer Simon has seen a spot he thinks would be good to frame a shot and we are making our way through the mud up a steep hill in an area Fr Justin says is controlled by ‘the local mafia.’

In our sights is a small area now touched by tragedy. The week before, after similar rains to the ones we have experienced over the last twenty-four hours, the timber supporting one of the hastily built houses atop a steep hillside gave way. A landslide ensued taking out half a dozen other dwellings and leaving five people dead.

The place to which we are climbing is where three young girls from one family had been buried for five days under rubble; their rescuers had been the youths who were our guides. ‘Had the authorities helped with the recovery?’ my wife asks one of the young men who had been part of the make-shift operation. It seemed the only people concerned enough to help had been neighbours and volunteers, although there was talk of assistance from MONUSCO (a United Nations organisation charged with helping to bring stability to eastern DR Congo.) who brought spades.

As we view the scene and begin to understand the helplessness of those who had lost everything I see the first signs that all of this was becoming too much for Fr Justin. The short burst of exasperation wasn’t due to his 24 hour, 7 days a week vocation to running an ever expanding parish, his other day job at the Diocesan Centre for Justice and Peace, or the danger he feels every day from militias who have twice made attempts on his life, but simply the concern he feels for the families who keep pouring into this huge shanty town to flee the imminent danger they experience in the isolated villages in South Kivu.

Katana Hospital near Bukavu, DR Congo. A Project receiving funding from Scottish chariity SCIAF.

 ‘I tell them to go back,’ he tells me. ‘There is nothing for them here. No work, no schools and no housing…but still they come. How can you help us?’ He looks down at the jumble of tin shacks perched on the steep incline which have no official utilities to speak of. His desperation for these new residents to return is only a fleeting thought which is quickly chased away by his overriding frustration, ‘They have no water, can you help us to give them a water supply?’ We nod hopefully, but we all know it will take more than our visit to change this city.

It’s not hard to see why Fr Justin might become frustrated. The term multiple deprivation is tossed around glibly; but here it has real resonance. As we walked through the streets and back alleys to the site of the landslide we passed children who had no money to go to school, scores of unemployed young men and open sewers running down towards the centre of town.

As we struggled to keep our balance in the mud Fr Justin bestrode the hills like the proverbial mountain goat. A slightly overweight avuncular figure he would have made the journey in half the time had he not been stopped by children who wanted to speak and the many young men who considered him to be their friend and ally. ‘You don’t fear for your safety?’ I ask him back in the calm of the parish house overlooking the jumble of make-shift housing. ‘No,’ he tells me, ‘These people are my protection. They know I am telling their story.’

Their story is what we came to hear. South Kivu in eastern DR Congo has experienced decades of war and extreme violence. Since the Rwandan genocide in 1994 when the gangs responsible fled over the border, the DR Congo has become their home. Their presence in outlying areas coupled with other militias intent on controlling the country’s vast mineral wealth have made North and South Kivu almost ungovernable. The victims inevitably have been women. Rape has been widely used as a weapon of war and Fr Justin’s day job, once Mass has been said and funerals taken place, is to represent the thousands of women whose lives have been destroyed by sexual violence. Much of this work happens thanks to money given in Scotland to the Catholic international aid charity SCIAF who we’re travelling with.

The women’s stories we hear again and again involve armed men coming at night to a village, gang raping and beating them, often in the presence of their family, before abducting them.  Their husbands, children and families are often bound, to render them powerless. The women often return pregnant, often carrying STDs, being HIV positive and suffering severe internal injuries. Their lives as they knew them can then be over. Their husbands cannot accept the children, their families will not entertain them in the house and they become alienated from their entire community.

The Commission for Justice and Peace in Bukavu, led by Fr Justin, is a place of refuge and support for these women. Their work with SCIAF, who is helping to provide medical care, trauma counselling, legal aid and support so women can recover and become financially independent is transforming thousands of women’s lives. But many more still need help.  The charity’s Lenten WEE BOX BIG CHANGE appeal is helping to raise money for its work in DR Congo and around the world, and this year it has Aid Match funding from the UK government so all donations given before 20^thMay will be doubled. It’s a cause worth supporting.

From our short time in South Kivu, we learnt it is a harrowing and unpredictable place to live, especially if you’re a woman.  But amidst the suffering, we also found joy, and it’s worth sharing that too.

It was Sunday morning and we are crammed into the sanctuary of Mater de Dei Parish Church to experience Mass at 6am led by Fr Justin. Hordes of locals are streaming up the hill to the church to join the 2,000 souls inside. Singing like I have never heard fills the room and, for the first time ever, I have the sense that the old image of music lifting the roof off the building begins to make sense. Dancers surround us dressed in traditional costume and a celebration begins.

Outside of the church, life will go on the same as ever. The poverty is endemic, the roofs let in water and electricity is sporadic. But this morning, in this Mass there is joy for the two hours in which we are assembled.

Is this the opium of the people in full spate? A mere diversion from the struggle that should be waged against those in power who allow such deep inequality? Or is it, as I believe, the necessary outpouring of an affirmation, that despite every single thing going against them, human beings (and these particular humans) endure against incredible odds.  That simple act of survival can’t simply pass unacknowledged. When we celebrate we do it together because it is in becoming one unifying voice of joy, defiance and hope that we give ourselves the strength to keep going.

I looked round at our small Scottish delegation comprising Christian, Buddhist and agnostics alike. We’d all heard the stories of heartbreak, violence and destruction. We all knew the task to turn some of that was overwhelming and yet we, all of us, recognised – albeit for a brief two hours – the necessity of joy and hope.

Visit www.sciaf.org.uk. 

To get to Katana Hospital we need to follow the main road north from Bukavu in the Democratic Republic of Congo alongside Lake Kivu. In normal circumstances, for instance, a couple of miles across the border in neighbouring Rwanda, the journey would take half an hour. However, in the rainy season on mud-track roads in war-torn DR Congo it’s a long and bumpy ride.

 If our journey is hazardous and lengthy we can only imagine the difficulties encountered by the women we have come to meet – victims of gang rape who have needed medical care including fistula operations. They have returned to Katana Hospital today to bear witness to the help they have received from Scottish charity SCIAF and its partners here. After decades of conflict in which sexual violence has been widely used as a weapon of war, here is not a good place to be a woman.

 We assemble in a crowded office to meet the doctors who have been carrying out the work. The Principal of Katana, Dr Michael explains the nature of the task. Since 2010 women have presenting themselves at the hospital needing clinical procedures to alleviate the effects of the sexual violence they have experienced. Typically, women have been attacked by armed groups of men, raped and infected with HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. 

 However, this can be only the start of a painful journey. Many women become pregnant as a result, and often the children born out of these circumstances will be rejected by the family concerned. Perhaps worse than this is the physical, psychological and social ignominy inflicted through resulting fistula. This causes the victims to suffer incontinence (sometimes double incontinence), resulting in alienation from their own community.

 At Katana Dr Michael and his team have been performing fistula surgery with women from South Kivu over the last ten years. His training was paid for by SCIAF. These operations have allowed the women concerned to begin their lives again and, in many cases, allowed them to reestablish relations within their families and villages. To hear their stories is moving and profound.

 It’s Lorraine, my wife who, with our translators speaks to Simone. Her story is typical of so many of the women who come to Katana. Her husband and children had managed to flee when rebels came to her village but the gang caught up with her. Simone was beaten and raped. After this she stayed alone in the house and without anyone to help. She tried to run, but she had no energy and couldn’t speak to anyone including her own husband and family. Keeping this a secret was vital as she feared telling her husband would have made him reject her. She explains that this is a common reaction amongst other women in the neighbourhood. The first time she told the story was when she came first came to Katana Hospital for surgery.

 After a long four years, hiding the effects of the rape from her husband and family she realised she suffered from fistula and needed treatment. During these ‘horrible’ four years she suffered double incontinence and her only explanation to her husband was that she had given birth to large babies. It’s impossible to imagine the humiliation, alienation and suffering Simone and the women who we meet at Katana had to endure. Equally it is also miraculous to them how much the operations carried out by the team here can change their lives. For many of them it is almost like being offered a new life all together.

 Remarkably this is done with donations from people who support SCIAF back in Scotland. The medical team carrying out the procedures do so on very small budgets. Their salaries, though high in comparison to their patients, are minimal and resources are sparse. Dr Michael explains that operations have been carried out under the torches of mobile phones very often as power cuts are so frequent.

 It’s not difficult to imagine Dr Michael and his colleagues could be attracted to more lucrative, less arduous posts even here in this forgotten outpost of DR Congo. Their work makes a huge difference though.

Katana Hospital near Bukavu, DR Congo. A Project receiving funding from Scottish chariity SCIAF.

 At the end of the conversation Lorraine asked Simone about life now. She explained, that not only had her own life been changed for the better but that the dialogue around women had become more open. Women were telling their own stories and sharing with others had meant that more and more women were coming forward for fistula operations at the hospital. This, clearly is, a huge piece of progress for women in South Kivu. For herself, Simone sums it up eloquently, ‘I felt happy to see that I have become, again, a woman.’

 SCIAF, along with their local partners, is changing women’s lives for the better, providing medical care, trauma counselling, legal aid and help for women so they can become financially independent. But more help is needed.

 DR Congo is a war-torn, forgotten part of the world which has suffered extreme violence and is still suffering from massive neglect from its own government. I’ll write more on this next time.  It is missing out on the huge investment happening across the border in Rwanda. That investment has only been possible because of peace and stability (despite it being seen by Rwandan watchers as a fragile peace which may not last).

 That Congolese women have borne the brunt of years of war is without question. It’s impossible to count the number of ways they’ve been scarred by years of turmoil. The physical and mental scars will be there for a long time still to come. Waiting for peace to break out is not an option, however. SCIAF want to help women regain control of their lives now.

 You can help. All donations towards this year’s WEE BOX/ BIG CHANGE appeal given before 20^thMay will be doubled by the UK government. That means every pound you give will go twice as far.

Our visit showed us how that money can make an enormous difference. Please give generously to this year’s appeal and help bring about change for good to those who are most in need.

Please visit www.sciaf.org.uk.

Almost exactly two years ago I found myself in Music City. Richard Murdoch (our esteemed AC producer) and I had gone over to Nashville to collect some interviews and experiences for some upcoming shows. You may well have heard some of these conversations in some of the shows we have broadcast over the last couple of years. Remarkably, there is still one major interview we have not yet put out, which, when we do may be the best of all of them.

The blessing and the problem with being in Nashville for a fixed length of time is you have to make some concrete decisions about the people with whom you want to speak. As you will know if you love the genre, country music is all about stories; and there are so many great ones. Rodney Crowell would be more specific and insist country music is really at its best when it involves a ghost story or two also.

Once we had wound up all the things we had time to record for the BBC I decided to stay on for a few days to see if I could also do a bit of my day job – songwriting. My good buddy Gregor Philp had come over, secured a great Air BnB which was in walking distance to all our favourite social hangouts and together we put in some appointments with some writers we’d been introduced to. As luck would have it we ended up writing two songs which ended up featuring on the new Deacon Blue album which we’ve just released. The first was a track we actually wrote and even demoed with a writer called Aaron Espe called ‘Wonderful’ and the second was a song called ‘Keeping My Faith Alive.’ Both writing sessions were joyous, but the first day we spent writing with Gordon Kennedy  was particularly memorable.

Gregor had been introduced to our co writer through the good Judith Owen and, in the Twang Town tradition – there was a story. And what a story! When we arrived at Gordon’s house he’d been preparing for us. It was a small show-and-tell session. Something he thought we’d like and perhaps even touch or play…..we were intrigued. Lying out was a beautiful red Gibson 335 semi acoustic guitar. ‘That,’ Gordon pointed out ‘ was the guitar my father played when he picked out the riff on Pretty Woman.’ It’s not often you hear all that memorabilia in one sentence and, in truth, we didn’t take it all in, so busy were we admiring the guitar.

Your host with the ‘Pretty Woman’ guitar.

It was the starting point for a perfect day of writing, interjected by story after brilliant story. Gordon told tales about growing up in a house where his father, Gerry was one of the top producers and guitarists on Music Row. There were yarns about Roy Orbison, Roger Miller, Eric Clapton and Garth Brooks…oh and so many more. As the song came together I said to Gordon, ‘If we got you and your dad into a studio, do you think we could record the conversation?’ Gordon was delighted to organise it, and a couple of months later we found an afternoon where the three of us spent the best part of an hour talking about everything. There were songs, laughter and so many great memories. If you missed this show the first time around, you are in for a treat this Tuesday as we celebrate the songs, productions and country connections of Gordon and Gerry Kennedy. It’s all on BBC Radio Scotland this Tuesday evening from 8 p.m.

Things move pretty quickly, don’t they?

Last week at this time I was engaged in discussions about the protocol over hand/elbow/foot shakes with our US visitors. On Thursday afternoon we were still working towards a massive C2C weekend. By Saturday afternoon any such gathering seemed to be about the stupidest thing you could begin to consider.

What kicks in hardest for our generation is the curtailment of choice. We’ve been so used to the idea that expense is our sole limitation. In these strange times there is an unlikely levelling for all social groups. You can be a billionaire but still not be able to travel any further from home than the person on day release from prison. A salutary thought.

So….what can be done in splendid isolation? For me the answer is always – the song. Much as I admire the songwriters who gather together in unlikely rooms and produce nuggets of pure gold, I am still a believer in the art of the singular song. And, as my dear pal Davie Scott, who knows more than most about these things  would say, ‘If you want a song, get a songwriter.’

I still love the empty house, a head full of half-formed ideas and time for thoughts to travel. The possibility you can start anywhere you want, with any words or notes you choose and in your own imagination you can invent a little story that, for the short time you play it to yourself (and often it gets no further) makes you happy.

I also love the strange process of a song being finished and only you know how good or bad it might be. It’s the next person who hears it who will determine how far it might travel. Recently I had the strange experience of listening in live from Australia as we travelled to a gig and listened in on the web to Zoe Ball playing out a song to the world for the first time. In the words of one genius song it felt like they’d ‘found my letters and read each one out loud.’ 

So, as the spring weeks come in and we spend a fair amount of time alone, I hope songs and the radio might offer some solid companionship in a strange old time. We may find ourselves letting go of a few luxuries in the months ahead, but I’m pretty sure we will all need songs.

As we see artists who can’t play live and audiences who cannot gather, we have to, like the old cliche goes, make our own entertainment. It therefore falls on me to tell you that we want to redouble our efforts to bring you the best in country and Americana music on any given Tuesday. We will throw a little C2C party for an hour of this week’s show where we can all imagine a little of what we missed over the weekend. Like most weeks too, we have found new things you might love. We hope that may just about make the difference to your day

So listen out for Luke Combs, Tanya Tucker, Runaway June and Eric Church but keep listening too for Swamp Dogg, Amy Laverre and Perlee all from five past eight, this Tuesday evening on BBC Radio Scotland.

.

I met up with my youngest this weekend in London. We hooked up over a couple of days and in between seeing him on Saturday and linking up again on Sunday afternoon he’d been to a gig up in Hackney. Telling me how good it was, he pulled out his phone and showed me the video of the artist from close quarters and how he’d given him a high five, from the front row. I loved all of this. After all how good is it when you discover a new favourite act and you get in early and see them in a gig the size of your living room?

You can lose some of this when you get to play your own gigs and you’ve have had a sneak peak behind the curtain. Like Dorothy, once you’ve seen behind the Wizard of Oz’s curtain it’s hard to reassemble the myth. However in my later years I can recall some special nights seeing artists for the first time and getting excited as ever just to catch them at such close quarters. Sam Outlaw, Sturgill Simpson at The Admiral Bar in Glasgow, Phosphorescent at the Captain’s Rest and Richmond Fontaine in Stereo where an excited punter informed me, ‘you should be playing these guys on the radio.’ I had to point out to him that we were the only people who were – but hey, I enjoyed the night hugely. Then there was Music City seeing Gretchen Peters and other nights in Nashville experiencing Ashley McBryde at Third and Lindsley for the first time, some magical evenings at The Bluebird and a round in a venue I can’t even recall in the company of Liz Rose, Hilary Lindsay and Lori McKenna as the Love Junkies, where they just sang all their brilliant hits. Had I been able to high-five each and every one, I would have. Heck I would have kissed them all…but they’d not thank me, I’m sure.

GILL LANDRY

This week we’ll bring you an intimate session and conversation with another singer songwriter you might well have encountered at an intimate gig in Scotland recently. Former member of Old Crow Medicine Show, Gill Landry will be singing songs and telling stories from his recent album, ‘Skeleton At The Banquet.’ It’s a session we recorded a couple of weeks back and I got a chance to talk to Gill about his recent solo activity as well as his days as a multi instrumentalist with OCMS. Talking of the Medicine Show…

They will be coming in next weekend to Country 2 Country along with a host of other acts. We’ll give you a suitable preview to the coming festival as well as playing some tracks you might expect to hear at The Hydro. We’ll also play you new tracks from Nadia Reid, Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit and a host of other new things you may well want to see in a wee club, somewhere near you any time soon.

Join me live this Tuesday evening from five past eight on BBC Radio Scotland FM.