For more than two decades, Skerryvore have built their identity around movement. Between the traditional sounds of Scotland and contemporary songwriting, intimate storytelling and festival-sized performances, the band have steadily expanded what Scottish folk music can sound like without abandoning the culture and landscape that shaped them.
Their new album, Beautiful Mistakes, feels like another turning point. Following the success of 2023’s Tempus, Skerryvore could easily have pursued the same formula. Instead, they chose to strip things back. Working with producer Jamie Squire, the band returned to the simplicity of writing together in a room, allowing songs to begin with little more than chords, melodies and something meaningful to say.
The result is a record that feels noticeably more personal. Across songs including ‘Fly’, ‘Singing Up In Heaven’, ‘The Game’ and ‘While I’m Breathing’, featuring Tamzene, Skerryvore explore memory, grief, uncertainty, identity and the acceptance that life rarely unfolds perfectly. Even as their sound continues to evolve, Scotland remains firmly at its centre, particularly on the instrumental ‘Scarinish’, which reconnects the band with the Isle of Tiree and the landscape where their story began.
Perhaps that is where Beautiful Mistakes finds its greatest strength. Rather than chasing musical perfection, Skerryvore have become more comfortable with vulnerability. As the band put it, “Better to say something meaningful or relatable than to put on a dazzling but empty musical display.”
For a group that began playing ceilidh music simply for fun, the journey has taken them far beyond anything their younger selves imagined. Yet Beautiful Mistakes suggests that after all those years of progression, Skerryvore are discovering that moving forward can sometimes mean returning to the simplest things: being together, trusting the song and having the confidence to leave the imperfections in.
Skerryvore has spent years proving that traditional Scottish music can evolve without losing its soul. Looking back on that journey, what do you think people still misunderstand about the band and the music you create?
I’m not entirely sure, but perhaps, in some ways, people dismiss anything that has traditional elements as ‘ceilidh’ music. We did, of course, begin as a band within this genre, but I think we’ve progressed and developed a lot since then.
After reaching new commercial heights with Tempus, there could have been an expectation to simply repeat that success. Instead, Beautiful Mistakes feels more introspective and emotionally exposed. Why was this the album you needed to make now?
I think we’ve all reached a certain age and a level of maturity. Tempus partly turned out the way it did due to the restrictions that were upon us during the Covid pandemic. We weren’t allowed to be in the same room, and so it produced something different. Beautiful Mistakes is kind of the opposite in terms of how it’s come together. It felt like the right time to get back to basics and have everyone together in one room from the beginning of the recording process.
The title Beautiful Mistakes feels almost like a rejection of the pressure to present a flawless life. In an era where social media often rewards perfection over honesty, what conversations were you hoping to start with this album?
You’ve described this as your most personal record yet. Was there a particular moment during the writing process when you realised you were revealing more of yourselves than on any previous album?
I don’t think there was a particular moment, but I did ultimately realise that every time I tried to write something, it was very personal. More personal than before. I think I’d got to a point where I’d held a lot back until now.
Working with Jamie Squire, who has been closely associated with The 1975’s evolution, marked a significant change for Skerryvore. What did he encourage you to let go of creatively that ultimately made this album stronger?
I think Jamie encouraged me to let go of the previous ideas of what we are as a band. To let go of the perceived idea that we need to tie ourselves down to a specific thing. The only remit was to write the best songs possible.
You have spoken about starting many of these songs acoustically before allowing them to grow. Did stripping everything back first reveal anything unexpected about your songwriting?
I think the best sign of a great song is that it works with almost no other parts besides a vocal and the basic chords. That way, the melody and the meaning behind the song need to carry everything. I think the unexpected part for me was that I don’t need to hide behind anything else.
‘Fly’ looks back at your early years with a sense of gratitude rather than nostalgia. If you could step back into one rehearsal room or one tiny venue from those formative days, what would you tell the younger version of Skerryvore?
I’d definitely tell us all to have more confidence in our abilities as a group. We were always quite nervous performers when it came to our own material, and we compared ourselves to others a lot. I think I’d tell them not to be so hard on themselves.
Your music has always balanced Scottish tradition with contemporary songwriting. Has there ever been pressure from either side to lean further into folk authenticity or mainstream accessibility, and how have you resisted being boxed in?
There probably has been pressure from both sides of that coin. I think the main thing is that you choose to lean into something in a genuine way. If something sounds more ‘commercial’ or more ‘folky’, I think it’s fine as long as it’s because it was genuinely what you felt was the best route for you at the time. I don’t ever feel boxed in personally and have always tried to make music which is me.
‘Singing Up In Heaven’ is an incredibly personal tribute. When you write from a place of grief, how do you decide which memories remain private and which become part of the music?
Everyone has their boundary level, I suppose. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable sharing bad memories about a person who is no longer here. I also think it depends entirely on the song and what you’re trying to get across to the listener.
The instrumental ‘Scarinish’ celebrates the Isle of Tiree, where the band’s story began. What is it about that landscape that continues to shape your identity, even after touring the world?
We decided quite early on that we’d never lose the roots of what we are as a band. The traditional music of Scotland is intrinsically linked to the landscape, culture, language and people, so it’s always going to be in us.
Many artists talk about growth as becoming technically better. Listening to Beautiful Mistakes, it feels more like you’ve become comfortable with vulnerability instead. Do you think emotional honesty is harder to achieve than musical perfection?
That’s a very difficult question. I think with Beautiful Mistakes, we’ve certainly become more comfortable with vulnerability, and for me, this has been far more difficult and more important than achieving musical perfection. You’d drive yourself crazy looking for musical perfection anyway. Better to say something meaningful or relatable than to put on a dazzling but empty musical display.
Songs like ‘The Game’ suggest you’re engaging more directly with the state of the world. As songwriters, do you ever feel a responsibility to reflect the times we live in, or do you prefer leaving those interpretations to the listener?
I always prefer to leave things open to the listener. I can say a few of my thoughts on the matter, but I’m not here to preach to people.
‘While I’m Breathing’ marks your first recorded duet. What made Tamzene the right collaborator for that moment, and did working with another vocalist change the emotional dynamic of the song?
I think, first and foremost, Tamzene was chosen for her vocal abilities and for having the type of voice that suited that particular track. It wasn’t necessarily going to be a duet, but Jamie and I both thought it would lend itself well to one. It was our preference to have the other vocalist be part of the writing process, and Tamzene came in and helped us write the verse in which she features. This definitely changed the dynamic by hearing her perspective on the whole thing, especially since the track was otherwise already complete.
You’ve become renowned as one of Scotland’s greatest live bands. How do you approach writing songs that work both as intimate listening experiences and as anthems for festival crowds?
I think it’s easy to fall into the trap of writing songs which you think will be an ‘anthem’ or one that’s more of a ‘live’ track. Look at Lewis Capaldi or Adele, for example. Almost all of their biggest hits are relatively low-key piano ballads, but because they speak to people so effectively, they’re still huge anthems in a live sense.
Looking back across your catalogue, what do you think has remained completely unchanged since the band first formed, and what part of Skerryvore today would have completely surprised the musicians you were twenty years ago?
We had little intention of being where we are today, and I think the whole thing would surprise a younger version of ourselves. We merely started playing ceilidh music for a bit of fun and only even considered writing our own material once it was deemed feasible that we could record and release an album.
There seems to be a renewed global appetite for music rooted in heritage and identity. Why do you think audiences today are reconnecting with traditional sounds at a time when the music industry has never been more digitally driven?
This is a huge question, especially with the ever-growing intrusion of AI within the industry. I think what’s happened is that people have finally become overburdened with the onslaught of information, falseness and vapid sentiment. They want to get a grasp of something real again. I hope!
You’ve often spoken about the importance of chemistry within the band. After spending so many years together on tour, how do you keep those relationships healthy when the lines between friendship, family and work inevitably blur?
Through respect, I think. Knowing boundaries and giving people space. We’re also highly democratic as a group, and I think that helps everyone feel that their voice can be heard.
When listeners reach the closing track, ‘Beautiful Mistakes’, what do you hope they’re left questioning about their own lives? If the album changes just one perspective, what would you like that change to be?
I’d honestly rather leave that up to the listener than tell them what to take from it. I’d hope that there are several ways to look at things. As with any form of art, if someone takes something positive from this and it changes their outlook for the better, then fantastic.
I kept the conversational character of the answers rather than over-polishing them into PR language. The main changes are punctuation, sentence structure, missing commas, a few awkward constructions and consistency around album and song titles.
