In contrast to the experimental proclivities of his more "freakish" Drag City labelmates (John Fahey, Six Organs of Admittance, White Magic), the more traditional folk of Scottish singer and guitarist Alasdair Roberts seems tame, and perhaps even quaint. With Roberts' thick, Highland accent and his bright, acoustic sound, the songs from his newest album, The Amber Gatherers, could be heard wafting amongst the clinky din of a dimly-lit countryside pub. Having said this, it would be wrong to write off Roberts' poised, lilting ballads as commonplace additions to the bevy of tired, Celtic-folk rehashes. The overall sound of Gatherers - music so light-spirited and genteel it makes you wonder who couldn't like it - works almost to mask the creative nuances and complexities of its songs, which demand careful, repeated listens. Using unconventional tunings and wickedly clever pacing and phrasing, Roberts achieves a stark and simple beauty the hard way. In the case of standout track "Firewater," syncopated handclaps and a subdued electronic drone call attention to the album's intriguing relationship between tradition and unorthodoxy. Although Roberts' tune is about as palatable as music gets, he does not achieve this through old musical clich‚s of one, four and five-chord repetition. Rather. his style is built from the ground up, with his own reinvention of both a timeless art and instrument. -Joe Yeakel

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