review by Damon Boughen

Stornoway’s fifth album, the second after their unexpected reunion in 2022, Beyonder feels like the beloved Oxford band stretching their sound without losing what made them distinctive in the first place. The harmonies, warmth and fascination with the natural world are still unmistakably theirs, but this time everything feels a little broader and more adventurous. It is an album that rewards listening closely, full of small details and unexpected shifts.

Much of the record is shaped by frontman Brian Briggs’ time on St Kilda, and that sense of remoteness runs throughout. Nature is not simply decorative here: the sea, birds, landscapes and changing environment become part of the album’s emotional language. There is anxiety beneath some of these songs, but Beyonder never becomes bleak. Instead, it repeatedly returns to resilience, connection and the possibility of finding hope in uncertain times.

Musically, it is one of Stornoway’s most expansive records. ‘Marco Polo’ has the sense of movement and curiosity suggested by its title, while ‘Fire and Water’ and ‘The Book of Time’ show how naturally the band can move between intimate folk songwriting and something altogether bigger. ‘The Honeyeater’s Song’, featuring Ladysmith Black Mambazo, is perhaps the clearest example of the album reaching beyond the band’s familiar territory without sounding forced.

What works particularly well is that the ambition rarely comes at the expense of melody. Stornoway have always been at their best when beautiful arrangements sit alongside something slightly unusual, and there is plenty of that here. Even when the songs become more elaborate, Brian Briggs’ voice gives the album a sense of intimacy and continuity.

There are moments when Beyonder perhaps reaches for more ideas than it can comfortably hold, but that is also part of its appeal. This is not a band simply recreating Beachcomber’s Windowsill fifteen years later. It sounds like Stornoway are still curious about what their music can become. The result is a thoughtful, generous and quietly ambitious record: familiar enough to feel unmistakably Stornoway, but adventurous enough to justify its title.