[last year's girl]

I keep forgetting how nice Mono is. Curled up in an oversized armchair (admittedly more for the sake of trying to hide how short my skirt is than for any kind of comfort) while cute, scruffy boys play some of my favourite records on vinyl; surrounded by fairy lights and familiar faces, this could be my living room in some more interesting dimension where I am way cooler than I actually am.

Tonight sees the first collaboration between Icelandic musician Benni Hemm Hemm and perennial blog favourites the Second Hand Marching Band. They open with one of his and it’s the one I really like, the one that sounds like a fairground ride – a sedate one, like a carousel, by the sea in summer – when Peter plays the trumpet refrain. Their voices meld together better than you’d think, you know: his Scandinavian burr; his broad, childish enthusiasm; like the left and right sides of some cosmic musical brain.

And then Sophie kicks on the drum and it’s the cue for everyone for him or herself – strings and brass and the melodic cacophony which makes this merry band such an entertaining live proposition. The songs seem to write themselves every time, but it must take some crazed genius to make the pieces fit together. Perhaps a little too much emphasis on new material, and set closer “A Hurricane, A Thunderstorm” gets the most enthusiastic reception, but a damn good show nonetheless.

Through one epic soaring chorus I try not to think about what is missing; and I look around this room and these people – some of whom I’ve known now for almost a decade – and how so many things have changed, but all we can do is stick together and love each other in our own muddled, messy way, as best we can. And then Karmen nudges me and points out that the “ohhh, ohhh” we’re hearing from the stage is already sketched on the venue’s ceiling, and I knock myself out of my melancholy.

Which is probably for the best, because Aidan Moffat is about to climb onto the stage like the world’s most articulate town drunk and announce that he feels like shite before he starts singing a song about people talking about wife swapping on This Morning. It’s actually the first time I’ve seen him live since Arab Strap’s farewell show, although I’ve loved his spoken-word stuff and last year’s How To Get To Heaven From Scotland album with The Best-Ofs. It’s mainly tracks from those that he plays here tonight, stripped down on omnichord and accompanied by acerbic banter. There’s an Arab Strap song too, one he can barely remember the notes for – which is fair enough, because it’s one of the first ones they ever wrote. “And it’s fucking miserable!” he announces. And, probably, about really seedy sex.

Tonight, however, is all about the launch of Music and Maths, the new EP from Burnt Island. They’re a band who have been on my radar a bit recently after we featured them on, uh, Under the Radar – and I’ve been exchanging emails with frontman Rodge Glass, whose work I’d come across previously as part of Roddy Woomble’s incredible 2007 Ballads of the Book project featuring collaborations between writers and musicians. I spent much of the night hoping that he would turn out to be the interesting-looking chap in cowboy hat and tartan trews, but sadly it was not to be.

Glass is one of those disgustingly talented types who never planned to establish himself as a musician, yet has fallen into his role of frontman with remarkable ease. A published poet (his most notable performance credit pre-Burnt Island was performing one of his verses alongside Vashti Bunyan as part of Ballads of the Book) and award-winning novelist, it is unsurprising that his compositions are lyrically haunting – short stories rather than three-and-a-half minute pop songs – full of complex metaphors and gorgeous imagery. His soft, down-tempo voice, wrapped around flautist Amber Comerford’s honey backing vocals, and understated melodies provide the perfect setting.

But there’s still a little flash of the showman in there – a wry smirk, a glass of champagne held aloft onstage. Though I’m too tired to stay until the end of the set, it’s very clear that this launch show is only the beginning.

Music and Maths is released on 15th March, and you can catch Burnt Island live on the following dates:

19th March: King Tut’s, Glasgow (supporting Emma Pollock)
24th March: The Forest Café, Edinburgh
26th March: Roxy Art House, Edinburgh (with Alan Bissett, Adam Stafford and The Kays Lavelle)

DOWNLOAD: Burnt Island – Timeless Colour
PREORDER Music and Maths from Chaffinch Records