SUCH is the time-lag between his visits up here that a whole generation of folkies may have grown up without encountering Leon Rosselson. This was his first Edinburgh gig in 10 years and those present were notably from the school of longer memories.
Younger listeners may know him through Dick Gaughan singing his Diggers anthem, The World Turned Upside Down. Rosselson has many, many more where that came from - he also sings it with a bit more subtle persuasion than Angry O'Leith, and, after fortysomething years as a social and political observer, he remains razor-sharp as a performer, wit, and wordsmith.
The images and lines that tumble forth could fill a reviewer's notebook. There's wur ain dear Queen (not) playing maracas in Ivy Benson's band as her husband shoots his mouth off like a waking blunderbuss in a song written for Her Majesty's silver jubilee but, like lots of Rosselson's older songs, sounding just as apt today.
One hapless hero buys a chest expander but can't get the box open and another, the pyromaniac Tim Maguire, goes on trial and the judge's wig mysteriously catches fire. And then there's The Neighbours Cat, a virtuoso piece of rhyming and diction set to a concise guitar arrangement that, were Rosselson's oeuvre not so much broader, might be the definitive snapshot.
He turns his attention to asylum-seekers with grim but compassionate and inspired versifying, views New Labour with wryly mocking disdain, addresses the situation in Palestine with historically informed insight, and sings of what it means to be Jewish with such moving self-examination that I leave feeling not just entertained but enriched, too.
The Herald (formerly Glasgow Herald) Friday May 3 2002