Colin MacIntyre, the man behind Mull Historical Society, is enjoying a productive streak of late – and as his MHS series continues he moves behind the lens for inspiration.

The idea of writing a song cycle with contributions from a range of authors dates right back to early classical music, yet MacIntyre is successfully updating it with pop flavourings, modern settings and a refreshingly wide geographical scope. The previous instalment in this series, 2023’s In My Mind There’s A Room, successfully got its authors to picture an important room; this one goes to personal depths by asking 12 authors and poets for their thoughts on a photograph of personal importance.

Settings range from China to Gaza, from Botswana to Glasgow, and yet common ground is found through MacIntyre’s music, his Hebridean burr set to tuneful guitars and often urgent rhythms. On occasion it feels like there is too much text for the notes to breathe freely, with some of the poetry squeezed into shorter musical lines, but MacIntyre’s ability to set a vivid scene and bring a meaningful story to life is never in doubt.

Reading the notes for each song – and seeing the photographs – is a helpful guide, though the music does a great job in painting the picture itself. A vivid example is A Wish We’d Taen Mair, where Len Pennie gathers her thoughts on a childhood photo with her grandmother, and considers how priorities have changed since then. Her accent is the steadying complement to MacIntyre’s background angst.

When on home turf, MacIntyre sounds assured – but proves adept in finding unexpected locations. Once Upon A Tightrope travels to post 9/11 New York, where Colum McCann’s father-in-law has somehow survived working in the second tower. We Called It A Lake recreates the accordion band of Yiyun Li’s childhood, dressing it with plaintive piano and some endearing yet awkward syncopations. Reflecting in a very different way is the yearning chorus and plaintive violin of Cattle Bells, a standout song where Alexander McCall Smith’s text wistfully recalls a childhood in the Kalahari, Botswana.

Personal recollections of younger selves – and so-called progress of the modern world – becomes an underlying theme of the collection. Louise Welsh considers the ‘improvements’ made at Charing Cross, Glasgow, whose contentious building means traffic is “going nowhere faster”. The music responds in kind, its descending sequence restless and oddly unsatisfying.

Yet there are beacons of hope in the underlying downturn, the pulse quickening when Irvine Welsh meets the love of his life in lockdown (Dopamine Eyes), and on Hillman Imp’s sweet nostalgia, Ali Smith celebrating a motoring institution in tandem with a Highland scene.

It is in these more domestic and homespun scenes where MacIntyre’s responses are at their most poignant, contrasting well with the willingness to step out of his musical comfort zone. He is arguably at his most effective on songs like Where Are The Heroes?, successfully capturing the postal train on which the grandfather of Dan Richards once worked. Its rapid if unsteady motion is winningly rendered.

There is something for everyone in this photo album, the rich intricacies of life laid open for listeners to appreciate and enjoy. As with the real thing, every inspection reveals something new, a fresh detail here and there, providing a winsome, bittersweet experience.