Maybe tomorrow I’ll want to settle down. Maybe tomorrow I’ll just keep moving on. Maybe tomorrow I’ll just form a jazz collective, eat out of bins, ride trolley-cars and folk reality off for an altogether happier existence of artisanity, open spaces and blissed-out tunes. This is music which orbits loyally around its core – Kirsty McGee – who is the chanteuse captain of the Good Ship Hobopop, who navigates stormy channels in her own inimitable style, with no fear of wreckage or mutiny, guided as she is by something far more important than a little magnetism and the night sky. The Hobopop Collective are (at the core) Kirsty McGee and Nick Blacka, whose full-bore sound is further complimented with contributions from a select chain-gang of revered and secretive illuminati. These genial gamblers and innovative imagineers create a smoky and folky jazz fug of quietly militant and socially conscious music that cranks like a banged-out Mustang ’57 pissing petrol the length of a winding Scottish B-road as an old tape crackles on loop. Think Corinne Bailey-Rae arm-wrestling Sinead O’Connor for a dram of whiskey at a disturbed banjo buskathon for burglars, blind folk and beatniks.