12. The CorriesHighland Lament
This is my favourite vocal harmony of all time. I lived in Scotland from the age of six until I was twelve, when my mum left my dad for a Northern Irish accountant and I upped sticks and moved to Ulster. After that, I’d revisit during the school holidays or the odd weekend with my little brother to see my dad. I consider myself Scottish to a degree as a result. It’s where my boyhood drew to a close; a place I never wanted to leave, after which life became irretrievably complex. When I hear that vocal harmony crack after the first part of the verse, I’m right back on Ayr beach, staring out at the isle of Arran after a kick-about with my old man and my little brother on a long summer evening. I shiver at the thought that I’ve since become a kind of receptacle, a congregation of dregs and compromise, or an evaporation of sorts, I’m half a death ahead of myself all of a sudden, the delicate bloom of innocence long since severely trodden, the song a frame which almost imperils the picture. The sadness of it all is almost paralyzing. There’s nothing quite like the Celtic shit to really stir the blood. Nothing I tell thee.
