Heya. Been a bit. There’s been a lot going on here. Lots of moving parts in our lives. Lots of things that have kept me from having the time and desire for this little vanity journal we started all those years back. Most, I will keep to myself, but I’ll be honest: one of the biggest deterrents has been the fact that I work in the world of whisky. I spend 40 hours a week talking whisky. And that’s before time dedicated to the clubs. And the events. And the random conversations with people. And all of that comes before the simpler pleasures like sharing a few drams with friends. That’s a lot of time spent talking about whisky, if you get me.

I’ve also spent the better part of the last couple years in school because I decided one day that I wanted to be a paramedic. As you can imagine, these career choices are somewhat incongruous. Well, they at least require a degree of separation. ‘Malt Medic’ isn’t really a profession, is it? We’ve likely all heard the apocryphal tales of Laphroaig evading the full brunt of prohibition as it was supposedly considered to have ‘medicinal’ properties, however I’ve yet to encounter a protocol that suggests Laphroaig as a treatment option. (Insert tagline: ‘Laphroaig… at least it’s not ivermectin’)

So, for a while, I’ll be splitting my time between proselytizing about ‘The Great Drink’ and sticking needles in people. Both are rad careers in their own right. I’m a lucky guy – and beyond grateful – to be able to voluntarily make a life decision like this so late the game. I love being on ambulance more than you can possibly imagine. And I love the idea of whisky being a part time gig, instead of so all encompassing. Win, win.

But no matter anyway, neither of those things should come between us and our time together now, friends. And to ensure it stays that way, I’ve pulled the ace (or Joker?) from my sleeve and am now laying it on the table. I figured every Batman needs his Robin; every Thelma, her Louise; and every Shrek, his Fiona. Me? I have an Aaron. Cue the A-A-ron references for that generation who prefer their ‘memes’ in the more old school verbal tradition. And why not? We do ‘round here. A-A-ron is coming aboard to share some local perspective (and inimitable flavour with oh-so-many pieces of flair, I’d imagine. There’s a bit of a quirk or two there, as you’ll see).

There won’t be social media updates from me, cause… well… social media. It’s a rather toxic cage we put ourselves in of late, and I don’t like to feed the beast. Aaron may have different intentions. That’s his prerogative and I’m a-ok with it. With the exception of maybe a quick Instagram message to say we’re opening shop again, you won’t hear much from me anywhere but here.

So, in this age of rather shortened attention spans and preference for video as the medium of public discourse, why are we trying to turn over the engine on this snarly old machine? Well, firstly, I firmly believe whisky is in an absolutely unprecedented historical time right now. There are things going on that should be acknowledged, analyzed, and discussed. Much in the world of whisky is very positive right now – in some ways it’s a golden age – but there is a lot going on that is not so great, too. In fact, it seems we’re watching the early stages of some sort of implosion, or at least indrawing. I am keen to engage with an audience on some of these things.

Secondly, I think that some things stand the test of time better than others. The written word remains. Will short internet clips? Maybe. Tough to say. But I’ve always been an old schooler. Not in the ‘afraid of change; we fear technology’ kind of way, but more just someone who has an appreciation for something more rooted in tradition and less… ephemeral, maybe? Fortunately, I know many of you feel the same. Hence the profound global appreciation for all things Springbank (and soon, Kythe).  So, we’re priming the engine and filling the tank to start back down Distillery Road with you all. I don’t know where we’re going to end up, but the road is wide open in front of us, and I’m excited for the trip.

I (we) hope to see you girls and boys in the comments. I’d love to see some of our old commenters extraordinaire come back into the fold, but time is a cruel mistress, and I get they’ve likely largely moved on. That’s ok. This is, after all, just a collection of jottings that serves as my (now our) malt diary.

Fair warning: the site may be a bit chameleonic for a while as we find the new format and esthetic. Feel free to get comfy, but you can leave your shoes on through the construction phase. And finally, sincere apologies for the ads and garbage that permeated the site while I was ‘away.’ Should be fixed now.

With that behind us, please join me in welcoming Aaron, my Boy Wonder and the ogre that completes me, the man in the mad tangled locks and Dali ‘stache, into the fam. We’re gonna have a time, as they say out east.

Next post…  a quick review of a Cambus or two. Then I think Aaron should take center stage and say hi in his first post.

Stay tuned. Thanks for spending time with us.

–  ATW (Curt & Aaron)

Sigh. I sort of feel like the cartoon character that lights the fuse on some big cauldron-bellied cannon and waits for the inevitable ka-boom, only to have the damn thing blow up in my face long after the expected blast should have happened. Such is. As Lennon said, “life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.” That’s all well and good, I suppose, but that doesn’t mean we should just sit around and wait for the other shoe to drop. So, to quote Andy Dufresne, I suppose it’s time to “get busy living or get busy dying.”

Without too much elaboration, ATW was to have become a bit of a Collective. A few of the malt cognoscenti were to have come on board here, creating a bit of a whisky think tank and forum for critical discussion. A few things conspired to make that well-nigh impossible. As I said, such is.

The idea isn’t dead – indeed, there may be guest posts from time to time or something of that ilk – but for now I guess we’ll go back to tried and true. In other words, you’re stuck with the one-man-band. So let’s get back to what we know. Hopefully we can pull up readership a bit.

And fair warning, just to stir a little spice into the stew, I may occasionally drop a few words on other things that light me up: music, guitars, art, watches, writing, family, cigars, who knows?

Sorry we couldn’t bring it to fruition for you, but hopefully you’re interested in walking a little further down the path together anyway.

Peace and love.

I don’t suppose there’s any reason to wade in slowly, is there? I mean…we’ve known each other for quite some time here on ATW, most of us. And I think we all know that most of the time things are more akin to back alley bare knuckle boxing than to full-on gloved-up pugilism, right? So let’s step into the fray a little bit here. I want to say a few things, but I imagine there are a few of you out there that wouldn’t mind chirping in a word or two, as well. Feel free to weigh in with comments, if you so see fit.

A couple of months back, Jim Murray created quite the stir when he crowned Alberta Premium Cask Strength Rye his 2021 Whisky of the Year. That, in and of itself, isn’t the biggest deal. Maybe a little bit of a stretch, but to be fair, the whisky was really, really good. The review here on ATW attests to my firm belief of that. And Murray has long been considered a bit of a leading contrarian. His picks always seem to fall far outside the norm of what most would consider believable winners. Unfortunately, accusations of payoffs and under-the-table dealings have followed him for years. Personally, I’ve never bought into that idea. Some of Murray’s more controversial picks have included Ballantine’s 17 year old blended whisky, Crown Royal Northern Harvest, and an elusive, apparently non-existent batch of Ardbeg Uigeadail. The general consensus seems to be that someone like Murray, being the leading whisky critic in the world, probably has access to some of the most insanely brilliant drams from the 50s, 60s, 70s and every other age imaginable. Ergo, it seems almost inconceivable that Murray’s selections would be so…pedestrian. Inconceivable, that is, until one considers that the man is essentially trying to sell the same book year upon year, with minimal changes to the bulk the text. So how does one keep such a tome relevant, and make sure consumers keep coming back with fistfuls of dollars (or pounds/euros/what-have-you)? It’s simple. Keep it controversial; keep ’em talking. And, let’s face it, picking a 1970s single cask outing from, say, GlenDronach, with an outturn of less than 600 bottles, doesn’t really speak to the masses. But some mainstream release that no one could see coming…and available at an affordable price point, to boot? Rather brilliant, actually.

But that’s not the real controversy this time. The issue at hand, as it relates to the Jim Murray brand, is not a new one. It’s a tale that has become part of the oral lore of the man in the white fedora, rarely turning up in the written word (for fear of legal reprisal, I’d imagine?), but almost always surfacing in face-to-face discussion. The real controversy that has bubbled and roiled beneath the surface for years now has been Murray’s reliance on sex, innuendo, and what is being called out as overt misogyny. And unfortunately, the language in The Whisky Bible does little to assuage the accusations.

It took Becky Paskin, spirits journalist and editor of the incomparable (and now sadly defunct) Scotchwhisky.com, to bring this issue bubbling to the surface of our public whisky discourse. Paskin put herself out there and, risking the ire of a largely male-dominated whisky world, said the things that should have been said long, long ago: that this sort of marginalizing, incredibly inappropriate speech is not even close to acceptable. Period. Sexism is something the whisky industry has struggled with for far too long now, but this sort of egregious example is on another level entirely. And while many were quick to agree that things needed to change, it goes without saying that it should never have been allowed to reach this point in the first place. Brands, retailers, and ambassadors have been using Murray’s scores to sell product for years. Why did it take the fortitude of Becky Paskin to make so many of us do an about face?

I think the thing I struggle with most is that it took this long. I mean, rumors of Murray’s impropriety have stretched back many a long year now. I know of venues and organizers who, after hosting him, utterly refuse to have him back. I’ve heard tell of walkouts and interactions with female audience members that made me cringe, simply in the telling of the tale. Forgive me for not rehashing details or providing examples here, but my knowledge of the law is meager, to say the least, and a libel case is not something my bank account can afford right now. Suffice to say, much is word of mouth, but makes me think of the old adage: if it walks like a duck…

But even forgoing the accusations of impropriety, there is simply no question that Murray’s language (bordering on blue, in many cases) is out of touch and anachronistic not just in the age of Me Too and progressive equality, but in the year 2020. We, as a race, should be better than this. Again, I’m going to choose not to repeat any of the dozens of examples of overtly sexual text from The Whisky Bible that have made their way around the media over the past couple of months, lest my doing so amplifies the voice, but let me simply state that if the language one chooses to use marginalizes and makes a segment of the population uncomfortable, then maybe it’s time to change. And by maybe, I don’t actually mean maybe.

Credit where credit is due: Murray is a hell of a writer. It’s not easy to sell over a million copies by being a hack writer (James Paterson, Dan Brown, etc not withstanding). If you want to read prose that teeters on the knife edge of poetry, read Jim Murray’s Complete Book of Whisky. As an author, he truly is gifted with a knack for beautiful turns of phrase most of us can only envy and admire. It’s in other matters, though, that he leaves us wanting. Or in some cases, wanting a little less. In Murray’s contemporary jottings, it would seem that a bit more socially conscious diction and a sense of judiciary selectivity are the pieces that are lacking. In short, as gifted as he is, there is simply no need to resort to this sort of lazy eroticizing to romanticize a great drink. There are plenty of non-innuendo driven superlatives that would not only suffice, but more adequately serve the purpose.

But they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and maybe there’s some truth to that. In four days Murray turns 63. Hardly an old dog, excepting in the matter of old habits. Instead of a scenario where most would have issued their mea culpa, Murray instead doubled down, referring to “faux outrage” and the criticism being an exercise in “cancel culture” meant to take down “the world’s most successful author on the subject.” So much for tact.

Whether Murray recovers from this, or The Whisky Bible ever regains its place of prominence remains to be seen. A legit apology or entreaty to make amends does not appear to be forthcoming. I think many are now curious to see what sort of rebranding, if any, will be undertaken to strip the tarnish from this once towering reputation.

So the question now becomes one of who or what fills the void left in the wake of Murray’s exit. Well…it’s simple really. And I don’t understand why it didn’t happen sooner. In 2012 I did an interview with Serge Valentin of Whiskyfun, wherein I asked him whether or not he had plans to publish any sort of alternative to The Whisky Bible. It need be noted that Whiskyfun is now home to almost 20,000 tasting notes. In Serge’s genuine and endearing humility, he assured me that he was not the cat to chase down the chubby little mouse (Murray, I mean, and yes…I am paraphrasing, as Serge is much too polite to use such an analogy), and had no plans to publish (in paper form, at least) his whisky reviews. Now here is where I’m left a little perplexed. In an age where paper is starting to take on the stigma of plastic or fossil fuels, why are so many married to the idea of a hard copy book that brazenly refers to itself as the bible, staking claim to a title that suggests near impunity from criticism? All of us, seemingly, carry our phones with us everywhere we go now. Does it not make more sense to simply bookmark Whiskyfun on our mobile browser? The reviews are fair and humble. They are articulate, relatable and succinct. And more importantly, they are legion. It’s hard to imagine a source more complete than what Serge has curated for us on his site. I dare say, in 2020 The Whisky Bible is well nigh obsolete. It has been in my circles for many years now anyway. And no one I know mourns its place on their shelves.

So let’s take this opportunity to reflect a bit on where else we may be overlooking long overdue change. When is reflection ever a bad thing?

Finally, I just want to say thank you to Becky for saying what should have been said long ago. Your courage is an inspiration.

And for those that want a few more details, here’s an article from The New York Times that provides a bit more context.

Yours,

C

Hi, friends.

For those of you kind enough to follow my darker literary pursuits, Rotten Soil, my second novel is now up on Amazon. A lot of us are in isolation/quarantine/misanthropic bliss, so a bit of escapism is pretty much mandatory. The thing is…most of us are also suffering a fair bit of economic strain too.

So, I have put the book up at $0.99. I make nothing, but at least maybe a handful of good people can fill a few hours with thoughts other than the second coming of ‘Captain Trips’. I have also dropped the price of Sadie (short story) and Darker Things down to $0.99.

If you do read any of them, and find yourself with a few minutes time afterwards, I’d greatly appreciate any reviews on Amazon or Goodreads. No pressure, though. This is not a quid pro quo thing.

Hope you’re all taking care and being safe. I’ve been debating whisky reviews here for a bit now, but it seems almost inappropriate at the moment. Feel free to a drop a line and share your thoughts.

C

…And I Feel Fine.

Happy New Year, friends. Hope your 2019 was rich in stories and blossoms into some of your greatest memories. And here’s to 2020 being the best yet.

As for me and mine? Well…it’s been a rough go ’round here. The last couple of years have seen some twists and turns in our lives, and very few have been positive. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to let it all get us down. Life is too short to wallow, aye?

This is just a quick note to let you know that I am wading through a few health concerns as we speak. And yes, unfortunately they are concerns that may well limit my ability to do this. Notice I said ‘limit’, and not ‘prohibit’. Just bear with me. I am trying to find a couple of contributors to maybe help share the burden. Easier said than done. I’ve yet to meet my ‘Angus’.

Anyway…I am okay. Until we reach the end of a run of tests here (a wee ways off yet), then it will be status quo. Albeit, a more leisurely-paced status quo.

In the meantime…how ’bout a Port Ellen review?

Haven’t forgotten about ya. Fighting a ridiculous cold. Unless you want tasting notes for Buckleys cough syrup and hot toddies, I’m probably not much good to you right now. Back soon. Promise.

Back about four and a half days now. And I can’t lie, I have never experienced such jet lag. I simply can’t seem to get back in the swing of things. Granted, I only took a single day of recovery before heading back to work, but still. I think I’m starting to wear my years with a little less grace than I once did. I ask no sympathy, though. How do you feel bad for someone who just spent the better part of two weeks drinking with his mates in some of the greatest warehouses in Scotland?

I have a quick malt malt feature tasting note coming later today, then we’ll start digging into trip updates, reviews and some editorializing. Bear with me. Much to come. In the meantime…it’s good to be back.

And yes…I am already planning 2020 trips.