Clynelish 14 — Wax and Salt
By Rafi Mercer
Some whiskies are defined by a single signature, something that sets them apart from the crowd. For Clynelish, that note is wax. The 14-year-old expression, the distillery’s flagship, carries a texture and taste often described as candle wax — an unusual quality that has made it one of Scotland’s most intriguing malts. Add to that its coastal setting in the far north of the Highlands, and you have a whisky that blends waxy texture, maritime salt, and Highland fruit into something singular.
Clynelish’s history dates back to 1819, when the original distillery was built by the Duke of Sutherland. The modern site, established in the 1960s, produces whisky that has become a favourite of blenders and single malt drinkers alike. It sits just a stone’s throw from the sea, and that geography shows in the glass. The 14-year-old bottling has long been the gateway to Clynelish’s distinct profile, and for many it becomes a quiet obsession.
In the glass, it gleams bright gold. On the nose, there is lemon zest, green apple, honey, and brine, with that faint waxy character already evident. On the palate, it opens into orchard fruit, malt sweetness, and coastal salt, followed by wax, spice, and a touch of smoke. The texture is oily yet clean, the wax note giving it a grip that holds the flavours together. The finish is long, slightly salty, with lingering citrus and wax. It is whisky that feels both precise and idiosyncratic — a dram that doesn’t aim to please everyone, but captivates those it does.
In the Tracks & Tales Guide to the Top 50 Whiskies, Clynelish 14 earns its place for its individuality. It shows how whisky can carry quirks, how flavour can be shaped by texture as much as taste. It is not a whisky of extremes, but of subtle strangeness — the kind that stays in memory.
Its musical counterpart is Talk Talk’s Spirit of Eden. Released in 1988, the album is one of the most enigmatic of its era — quiet, minimal, full of space, yet carrying intensity. Like Clynelish 14, it resists easy categorisation. It isn’t about big statements, but about detail, atmosphere, and subtle force. Listen to tracks like “Inheritance” or “I Believe in You” and you hear the same balance: delicate surfaces carrying deep undercurrents, restraint that becomes power.
In a listening bar, the pairing has a particular intimacy. A dram of Clynelish 14, its waxy texture coating the palate, as Spirit of Eden plays softly, its spaces as important as its sounds. The whisky’s citrus brightness mirrors the record’s fragile light, while its salt and wax echo the music’s darker undertones. Both experiences require attention; both reward it with resonance.
Clynelish 14 is not a whisky for first impressions. Its waxiness can seem strange at first, its subtlety easy to miss. But spend time with it, and it becomes a benchmark — a dram that teaches you to notice texture as much as flavour, to listen to the spaces as much as the notes.
And perhaps the next step is to find a place that allows for that kind of listening — a bar off the beaten path, where the music isn’t rushed and the shelves hold bottles chosen for character, not fame. Because Clynelish 14, like Spirit of Eden, reveals itself slowly, fully, only in the right kind of room.
Rafi Mercer writes about the spaces where music matters. For more stories from Tracks & Tales, subscribe, or click here to read more.
