Life, love and hope shine through Seamus Ruttledge's teatime treat

SEAMUS RUTTLEDGE obviously did not have marketing in mind when he picked the title for his second CD, Songs to have with your tea. It's the kind of title that smells of milky tea and marietta biscuits, but there's nothing milky or bland about this release. Constructed over two years or so in Kenny Ralph's Sun Street Studios in Tuam, this is a collection of fresh-sounding songs that combine Seamus's poetic impulse with terrific arrangements. His voice isn't bad either. In fact it's good, and his diction is excellent â€â€ you can hear every word, as befits a man who takes such care with them. Over the years I have come to dread the notion of the Irish singer-songwriter. For every good one, there is a legion of mediocrities whose every song sounds the same. Here in this neck of the woods we have at least two strong exceptions â€â€ Noelie McDonnell and Seamus Ruttledge. (And if there are others of like quality here, I just haven't heard them yet.) There are 13 songs on this CD, and while they all sound different, some distinct themes run through. There's Heaven, to which you can climb on a silver ladder; everything you've ever loved is bought and sold for 30 silver pieces; he tossed a coin with Caesar's face â€â€ Seamus was raised by religious in an orphanage until he was seven, and he hasn't forgotten his lessons. He hasn't forgotten the nasty parts either: one song, You didn't either is a gentle jibe at all who stayed silent during that era when innocent children were bullied and worse. Not that it's explicit, but in this country, all you need to hear is the line 'No one spoke up You didn't either' and you know what it's about. Not that this is a mournful album â€â€ far from it. Most of the rhythms are upbeat, and there is an overall feeling of hopefulness. There's love, of course, won and lost, but even the lost love contains not a trace of bitterness. These are songs from a man who has learned to live and let live, and take the best out of life. And maybe the title isn't so unjustified after all. It's pleasant to sit and sip your tea, or your coffee, or your pint, with this in the background. The arrangements are full of melody and invention â€â€ hardly surprising with people like Leo Moran (on guitars, glockenspeil, banjo and keyboards), John Flatley, Gary Quinn, Padraig Stevens, and Steve Hanks on board. Gary Quinn has some lovely accordion riffs on Such a difference and the brass on Journey is a treat. The stand-out track for me is the simply beautiful All the Blooms (A Broken Song). This is a simple arrangement of a wistful song, with a backing vocal by Michel Brandt that makes it close to a duet. I hate to make the obvious comparison, but it does remind me of Leonard Cohen and the Webb Sisters. Seamus Ruttledge's wry sense of humour led him to name his publishing company Gomey Records. There's nothing gomey-ish about this recording. It deserves to be listened to, and it will be a part of my in-car repertoire for a long time to come. â€â€ David Burke