Recording of the Week, Fergus McCreadie, 'Forest Floor'

Winner of ‘Best Instrumentalist’ at the Scottish Jazz Awards, pianist Fergus McCreadie has built up something of a wunderkind reputation for his consistent and thoroughly-realised output from such an early age. Forest Floor is Fergus’ third full-length release, following 2020’s Cairn (the Scottish Gaelic term for a stone mound) and his 2018 debut Turas (the Scots word for ‘journey’), and sits comfortably in the same musical vein of folk-influenced jazz. Consistent throughout all of Fergus’ music is a love for the natural landscape (particularly his native Scotland), and a general appreciation of the world, travel, and the outdoors – and what better way to express that than with the incorporation of Celtic folk melodies into his otherwise ostensibly jazz-rooted piano trio music? Fergus is one of the few jazz artists I’ve heard that really captures that jaunty sound of Celtic folk music, with heavily syncopated melodies that are also incredibly singable. Also in line with the visual direction of his previous album, Forest Floor’s album cover features a similarly minimalist arrangement, though the Scottish stone of Cairn has been replaced with some carefully-placed decorative foliage. Rather fittingly Forest Floor picks up right where Cairn left off – Fergus deliberately doesn’t shake things up too much in terms of musical ground covered, but what we do get is undoubtedly a strong development on his past work, realised with all the more conviction than before.

On Forest Floor those folk melodies are important as ever for Fergus, just as they were on Cairn, propelling himself and the band through the record at a jolly pace perhaps uncharacteristic of more American-leaning jazz; right from the opening ‘Law Hill’ the McCreadie trio don’t hesitate to kick things right into high-gear, as Fergus’ main musical draw reminds us that this guy could sit side-by-side with both seasoned jazz and folk players alike – imagine the top melody to ‘Law Hill’ played on a scratchy fiddle and you’d be halfway between the two. ‘White Water’ in the latter half of the record also features some of the more overtly folky turnarounds, while bassist David Bowden really puts the work in on the lyrical bass solo at the beginning of the track. For Forest Floor, Fergus sticks with his very same trio bandmates that have played alongside him since Turas – the aforementioned Bowden and drummer Stephen Henderson – and given their near-five years together they’ve built up quite the chemistry. While Henderson’s time in the spotlight is brief on ‘Landslide’, he makes his case throughout the album as equally important as the bandleader himself in crafting the tension of the pieces.

Another of Fergus’ key strengths when it comes to original music is his attention to dynamics and structure; ‘The Unfurrowed Field’ probably being the prime example of this on Forest Floor, cycling through huge vistas of diverse sound, while ‘Morning Moon’ restrains things a lot more as Fergus and co. pivot into more serene, atmospheric terrtory. It’s no surprise that an artist whose music entertains such a fascination with the natural world is fittingly cinematic; as much as Fergus is a great jazzer, someone needs to get this guy a scoring gig for a film or series. Then there’s the slowly unfolding ‘The Ridge’, though minimalistic in its progression, again exhibits the band’s use of volume as well as Fergus’ well-honed piano chops, and proves to be arresting despite its more modal structure. His bandmates take things back even further on the placid title track, only coming in to offer the odd bit of counterpoint and texture while Fergus plays what is ostensibly a solo piano piece, as well as the closing track ‘Glade’ where we get another taste of Fergus in the spotlight as he plays the album out. Forest Floor is a true tour-de-force of Fergus McCreadie’s strongly-crafted musical identity, and much like Cairn that came before it manages to do so without this ‘Celtic folk-via-jazz trio’ sound feeling the slightest bit one-note.