Martin Simpson – Celtic Connections – Strathclyde Suite – Glasgow Royal Concert Hall – January 19, 2026.

Martin Simpson

This was an evening of fine singing coupled with pure guitar magic supplied by both artists. LIAM DOCHERTY is a 19-year-old Canadian guitar prodigy now resident in Scotland. He’s been playing in public since he was seven years old and is an official partner of Taylor Guitars. He’s also a Danny Kyle Open Stage finalist, and that much-prized accolade led to his supporting a guitarist he’s admired for years, the legendary Martin Simpson. All of which helped me expect something special from this young artist – which he delivered in spades.

From his opening, beautifully finger-picked traditional take on House of the Rising Sun to his crowd-pleasing finale of local boy John Martyn’s classic May You Never, Liam took us on a tour of the 20th century’s top acoustic blues and singer-songwriter artists.

Big Bill Broonzy’s Hey, Hey showed off his vocal skills as well as a torrent of notes picked with precision and apparent ease by his right hand. As a guitarist myself, I could imagine the many, many hours of practice and, yes, pain, that must have gone into creating that impeccable expertise.

Other highlights for me were his own song Picked Flowers – a musing on nature, love, and impermanence which bodes well for his development as an original artist, his version of Doc Watson’s Deep River Blues – made particularly poignant for me by the recent passing of the Grateful Dead’s Bob Weir for whom it was a signature number, and the singer-songwriter elements which greatly pleased the audience.

Nick Drake’s Riverman was just beautiful – and greatly enjoyed by a voluble Drake fan who was sitting right behind me as well as by the hall in general. Liam closed his set, as mentioned, with a song that, for many of us, epitomised the genius of John Martyn: May You Never. Cue rousing applause for a most impressive performance. My only advice to this already accomplished performer is to follow a similar path to the headline act he was supporting and craft more new and original arrangements of his covers repertoire and further develop the songwriting skills he obviously has. I predict a very bright future.

Where Liam impressed, MARTIN SIMPSON  truly touched me. His entire stage presence and playing radiates a warmth that invites his audience into his world. Like the late and much-lamented Archie Fisher, he has a gift for a great story, and the narratives that accompanied each song were as valuable a part of the evening as his musical performance – which is not to downgrade that performance as it could only be described as magnificent.

He opened with an atmospheric slide guitar version of Willie Johnson’s I Can’t Keep From Crying Sometimes – a great choice for grabbing the public’s attention that also left plenty of room to dynamically build his set – and what a set it was. The first Martin Simpson song I ever heard was performed at a session in The Clutha Vaults by my late friend Joe Durkin (a fine player). So, Martin’s refreshed take on Love Never Dies brought back many memories as well as renewed admiration for one of my favourite songs.

I previously mentioned the importance of the artist’s narrative abilities, which were brought into prominence by his recounting the events that led to his inclusion of the ballad Mary Hamilton (aka The Four Marys) in his set and the tragic story of the real Mary Hamilton, inspiration of the song. Martin had referred to one aspect of his job as making audiences, and I paraphrase, “warmly miserable”, and this one certainly hit that spot.

Another emotion-stirrer was one he’d prepared for the previous evening’s Dick Gaughan Tribute concert. Victor Jara’s Hands, not a Gaughan original (written by Calexico’s Joey Burns) but long a part of Dick’s repertoire, had me in tears. I’m a Hispanist as well as a musician, so I’m very familiar with that dark period in Chile’s history. The underlying passion in Martin’s delivery and the sensitive guitar dynamics made this a masterpiece.

On a more uplifting note, the story about his father – born in 1899, reached captain’s rank in WW1 and served in WW2, who never could hold on to money or a job, but who helped open his son’s eyes to the wonders of the world – was told with much warmth and affection and the number it provoked, the ironically-titled Never Any Good, revealed not only a good chunk of the singer’s upbringing but was also a fine demonstration of Martin Simpson’s ability to create great songs as well as interpret them.

I’ve mentioned before that it seems almost unjust to pick highlights out of wonderful sets, but such is the critic’s lot. Every song – Blues Run The Game, Handsome Molly, Skydancer, Icarus et al. – was performed by a master who, at 72 years old, is at the top of his game. An absolute delight.

BOB LESLIE