Ferryhorn Reckoning from Ceilidh Concrete by TartanGrime

Ferryhorn Reckoning crashes in, charting Sàrmac’s wrenching passage from splintered islands to the Govan quays. Distorted ferry blasts twist under Isla Rua’s searing Scots verses, a low, anxious pulse underpins it all, mirroring the fluttering hi-hats. Tension builds through these initial bars, the air thick with the weight of exile. A mid-track spoken-word monologue emerges from lapping waves, a stark shift in focus, grounding the narrative in collective memory and defiant resilience. This fragile calm rips apart with the first tartan glitch—the pipe drone collapses into a vacuum, an unsettling quiet before the beat drops again, leaving a void that feels like a punch. That briny tapestry of cracked pipes, rattling 808s, and whiskey-barrel snares leaves a bruised hope, the defiant grit of standing on a wet quay, clutching everything that still matters.

We forge pipe skirl with raw trap bass. Gaelic shouts meet grinding drums. Listen up, this is our riot from the glens to the tenements.