Dawson has spent years recording a series of albums about a bad future in which the verdant mother is superseded by the evil computadora crew, and this might be the concluding piece of the trilogy. I mock lightly not because I don’t love nature or hate screens but because I cannot track what is happening, for example, when the narrator smashes the “screens” to rescue “Mam and Dad’s earthen vessels.” It doesn’t matter. Dawson and his small ensemble, including the radiant harpist Rhodri Davies, create a loose prog rock tarp that more than justifies its size. Just hop on and tumble down the hills with Dawson.

The Ruby Cord was the third instalment of Newcastle songwriter Richard Dawson’s time-travelling trilogy, and while it was set in a future, post-apocalyptic wasteland, Dawson’s trad-folk instrumentation and century’s old vernacular (not too many records released in 2022 referenced chiff chaffs, linen smocks and an inn keeper’s lad) meant it still felt part of the same olde worlde school as 2017’s practically medieval The Peasant. The epic journey of 41-minute-long opener “The Hermit” is a tough act for anyone to follow, but Dawson’s singular musical vision delivers. Songs are rich with narrative detail, dense tapestries of imagery for the mind’s eye to feast on, while the thicket of proggy folk that grows around them help to create an album that exists within its own, utterly unique universe. No matter what century it’s set in.