Talisker Special Releases
A Trio: 2019, 2020 & 2021 Special Releases
A mini-vertical from the famous Skye distillery
As many of you regular Dramface readers are probably aware by now, most of my reviews lean more towards the quantifiable aspects of whisky.
My default is thinking critically about most things, and with my lack of any real creativity, this usually fills my writing gaps nicely. Something that I don’t generally advertise so readily is that I’m an avid music fan. I played the guitar pretty intensely from middle school until my early uni days and am still known to butcher the odd tune here and there.
With music, like any art form, there are a near infinite number of personal tastes and preferences. For most of us, though, however eclectic we may be, I think there are usually some common threads. The same variation in preferences is of course true for whisky; on a whim, I feel it worth considering the possible connections between the two. Of course, I’m no psychologist, and this is all more crackpot speculation than an anti-vaxxer’s evaluation of cellular biochemistry, but hey, it’s just for fun!
Firstly, it should go without saying that there will be many opinions expressed henceforth; they are completely individual and just as ludicrous and subjective as any other personal opinion not based exclusively on fact. Cool? Cool!
I got into music, like pretty much everyone else, through early formative environments, the first of which was my parents. Growing up in the noughties, most commercial music was pretty awful. Luckily, my dad in particular had a pretty strong influence, ensuring I grew up on a staple diet of 60s–80s rock à la Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Eagles, etc.
I wasn’t particularly interested in music until I hit about 12, when some of my classmates started bands and music became part of the social fibre of my environment. That age is ripe for fostering angst and anti-conventionalist sentiments which, ironically, guided many of us into the popularist realms of heavier bands like Metallica, Iron Maiden, and Alice In Chains. This was around the same time that I got my first guitar, and after a brief dalliance with introductory blues/rock tunes by the likes of Cream, Creedence Clearwater Revival and Deep Purple (to my poor parents — if you’re reading this — I’m sorry about Smoke On The Water), metal became my guiding light. To this day it forms an essential part of my musical palette, and it certainly it contributed to the discovery of other genres and artists for which I now harbour long-term appreciation. The first among these is my favourite artist to this day: the utterly inimitable Steve Vai.
He’s not an artist on many people’s radars unless they’re guitarists, but from pretty much any musical standpoint, the guy’s a bit of a legend. To give a slightly more relatable reference for some, he played for such artists as Whitesnake and David Lee Roth and even featured on Spinal Tap’s track “Short and Sweet.” His playing encapsulates everything from funk to jazz/rock fusion, from acoustic ballads to prog metal insanity; importantly, his playing style is always very much his own. As a veritable virtuoso player, he pushed me into a realm of analytic, technical, and meticulous playing styles which previously were entirely beyond comprehension. (Are we seeing any analogies yet?)
Learning about Vai’s background in music led me to such niche avenues as Joe Satriani (his guitar teacher), Frank Zappa (his first touring session gig), and even the prog metal icon that is Dream Theatre. Each of these artists naturally branched into other, generating further niche explorations until the tree diagram became some horribly tangled ball of fuzz. Today, my Spotify playlist encompasses everything from Devin Townsend to Miles Davis, from Polyphia to Death, and from Wintersun to Wardruna. As long as the music offers complexity, nuance, and characterful musicality I’ll give it a red hot go. The only unforgivable sins are over-simplicity, genericism, and lack of melodic musicality; again, it’s only a personal stance, but that pretty much kills off most forms of pop, rap, hip-hop, etc.
My preferences in music seem to cross many boundaries: most of the foods I cook involve strongly flavoured ingredients like added herbs and spices or otherwise involve processes that develop intense, complex flavours (think fermentation). My penchants in beer are much the same: whilst I love the expressions of subtlety and nuance in delicate brews like pilsners and witbiers, most of my more “academic” consumption is of complex styles like wee heavies, stouts, barleywines and mixed culture/cask aged beers like lambics and oud bruins. I’m not into visual art — really, not at all — but I’m thinking I wouldn’t enjoy minimalism. Well, you get the gist — at least, I hope so.
Music is, I believe, the best analogy for flavour we can wrap our poor synesthesia-afflicted brains around. We can discuss notes, describe subtle textural attenuations, find pretty bijective analogies for the composition of otherwise disparate elements, and even just give overall impressions. Certain folks are inclined to describe whisky in colours, and I can completely understand the type of cognitive associations being made in those cases, though to me they tend to make no sense without deeper contextualisation.
Comparatively, if someone says that a whisky is less like Paganini and more akin to Wagner, say, the meaning (at least in my tiny bubble) becomes clear: the drinking experience is less a sinuous, mobile and performatively improvisational experience than a dramatic exhibition prone to bursts of flair and overt grandeur. Not a well matured Benriach in bourbon, perhaps; rather, a younger port-laden GlenAllachie. Similarly, one might liken the odd chromaticisms of jazz to some unexpectedly pleasant juxtaposing flavours in a dram (sherry and peat, for instance), or the microtonality of Jacob Collier to some off flavour that actually enhances the whole (such as Springbank’s sulfur), or the simple pleasures of a twelve-bar-blues groove to a chilled bourbon in hand.
Let us segue into two of the whiskies we’re looking at today: the 8yos. Whilst whisky drinking is as subjective as any other connoisseurially enjoyed art form, I feel it is less what we are physically experiencing that varies between individuals and more our enjoyment and contextualisations of flavours. I’ve touched on this before; there are of course some notable exceptions (genetic blind spots or other specific predispositions to chemo-sensation), but for the most part, I believe the experiential variation is caused by simple interpretation. Chocolate or vanilla, classical or jazz, peated or un-peated. We all know what each of those items are, but our mileage varies drastically as to individual enjoyment. To this then, I should declare that I enjoy young peat. Not as much as old peat, particularly from the Islay distilleries after a couple of decades in refill bourbon barrels, but nevertheless. A bit like jazz and microtones, it can be a polarising experience, especially if one’s default flavour is cheap blends or, I don’t know, Oasis. Yeah, I said what I said.
I have no problem with the little oddities and idiosyncrasies of whisky as long as they’re complemented by the rest of the flavours; some lanolin can add a richness to peated whisky when it might jut out uncomfortably in a delicate Lowlander. A slight cheesy and tailsy dirtiness might complement fermentary characteristics, as can be seen in certain Tobermorys. As touched on above and in other articles, Springbank wouldn’t be the same distillery without their signature sulfurous “Campbeltown funk”. So just as with jazz, a few “off notes” add colour, as long as the whisky and the music call for it in context.
Talisker is to me a bit like Black Sabbath: an utter classic, full of character and individuality, complex though perhaps without any great nuance, simply allowing their unique approach and style to be expressed. Similarly, the frontman (shall we equate Mr. Osbourne with heady smoke or is that just too crude?) could be accused of drawing attention away from the intricacies of the other constituents.
Okay, I think you’ve all suffered enough of my laboured metaphors and similes. Let’s taste the blighters, shall we?
Review 1/3
Talisker 15yo, 2019 Special Releases, 57.3% ABV
£115 at launch, £175 today, still available. Paid AUD$190
Nose
Warm, woody and ashy highland peat layered with slightly dusty American oak bringing soft buttery toffee and some toasted coconut with spices. Good bright citruses with some grapefruit peel and very moderate meaty/pickled onion thiols; let’s not forget Talisker uses worm tubs and has a minimum 65 hour fermentation length. With time, we find a little green melon rind and some ripe apple esters evolving.
Palate
Some very nice similarities here to the fine distilleries in Campbeltown: that combination of moderate-heavy peat, pleasant thiols and what I’m sure some might call saltiness. Some more enthusiastic fruits here with more melon and grapefruit, some lemon oil, and perhaps even a little passionfruit thioester. Otherwise, we’re pretty similar to the nose: warm highland peat with some kippers and charcoal complemented by sweet caramel, light menthol, vanilla and mild spices from the charred American oak.
The Dregs
If I were to raise one qualm, it’s that the overall composition leans just a little sweet for me, though it’s a pretty minor complaint- just personal preference, but if they increased the number of un-charred refill casks by, say, 10–20%, this might pick up an extra point. Anyway, a very fine release that exemplifies some of the more complex aspects of Talisker, beyond the usual “Peat, salt, pepper.” With releases like this and the 18, I’d say less like Black Sabbath and more like Crack The Skye-era Mastodon.
Score: 7/10 TK
Review 2/3
Talisker 8yo, 2020 Special Releases, 57.9% ABV
£80-£90 at launch (paid AUD$150), still available
Nose
Much more raw and much closer to the spirit; overall, a feeling of more youthful volatility and standing next to a still during the heads-hearts cut. Lime zest, coal dust, olive brine, kippers, some pleasant herbal terpenes, acetic ferment qualities à la ethyl acetate, new plastic, and smoking rubber. This borders on both hogo and mezcal, and there’s some new make sweetness.
Palate
Lean and austere, offset only by some spirit sweetness and young ester fruity citruses. Additionally, there’s mashing in smoked grist, soot, crustaceans, chalk, lime juice, mild terpenes, and mezcal. It’s acetic and mildly autolytic, and gently bitter-phenolic on the finish.
The Dregs
Though I prefer the 15 its the extra complexities and better expressed tertiary characters, this is a splendidly fun whisky. It could do with a little more age in my opinion, or perhaps some slightly more active rum casks, but this is a bit like the Coltrane of whisky — it’s either your flavour or just too experimental. Personally, I think it’s great fun, and I’m happy to be drinking and reviewing it. However, if they had left it to get to 12 years or so I think some more esters and other complexities might have emerged from the vestiges of new make while preserving much of what makes it fun. Take the score accordingly.
Score: 7/10 TK
Review 3/3
Talisker 8yo, 2021 Special Releases, 59.7% ABV
£80-£90 at launch ( paid AUD$145), still available
Nose
Young, slightly more spirity again, with a touch more acetic ferment — lambics and geuzes. Some good herbal notes give added interest: herbes de provence, black pepper, and all manner of good terpenes, plus a bit of a clean, fresh vegetal note like fresh cut grass or rhum agricole. The smoke is there, slightly louder than the 2020; it's bright and sharp again à la mezcal and slightly more coastally peaty with some soot, tar, and plastics reflecting the age and low cask intervention. Smidge of white pepper and some smoked almonds in the background.
Palate
Very sharp, bright, lively, zesty and like a very dry riesling in composition. Something to drink while listening to Vivaldi’s Winter. The notes here are pretty well the same as the nose with some added roasty touches (ristretto) and a very staccato attack on the mouthfeel. Austere to the extreme, almost to the limit.
The Dregs
I realise how much of a stereotype this is, but a perfect whisky for eating oysters, crab linguini or just any rich seafood — bouillabaisse, anyone? It’s made to cut through about anything, and in that sense it would probably make for a stellar cheese pairing too. Not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for those with an aversion to youthful malts. Personally, I find this very cool.
Score: 7/10 TK
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. TK
Other opinions on this:
Words of Whisky (2020 Release)
Liquorhound (2021 Release comparison)
Got a link to a reliable review? Tell us.