Fergus McCreadie continues his explorative evocation of Scotland in this latest release. If his 2018 debut Turas was a general invitation, subsequent editions have narrowed and deepened the field.

In 2021 Cairn led us out to roam the Hebridean coast; the following year, Forest Floor guided us into the wooded hinterlands. Now Stream invites us to consider the lochs and burns that crisscross his native land. As ever, he’s accompanied by his constant companions David Bowden and Stephen Henderson, and their playing is as sympathetic, as supportive, as flexible and as accurate as we’ve come to expect.

There are the now-familiar Celtic inflections, but McCreadie is careful not to overdo them or to allow the occasional pensive prettiness of a landscape-based programmatic approach to overwhelm: “The Crossing” is a tour de force that moves from the pastoral to a Jarrett-like frenzy that reminds us that McCreadie has the formidable chops and driving emotional intensity to back up his vision.

‘Storm’ is an excursion into non-pulse time that still maintains the lyrical character; ‘Driftwood’ wears its Traditional heart more openly on its sleeve; and ‘Sun Pillar’ hints at Jarrett again, but this time in his pastoral/gospel mood. There’s evidence throughout in the carefully crafted arrangements and considered programming of how seriously McCreadie takes his music: if there’s no immediate evidence of a progression from his fully-formed debut, he has accomplished that rare thing – a very distinctive voice that’s immediately recognisable.

The recurrent harmonic simplicity and melodious lilt of tunes like ‘Stony Gate’ will not be for everyone but no-one can deny the commitment of the vision, nor the passion of its execution.