Never Enough Notes e-zine // reviews + interviews + music

After experiencing the unwarranted suspicion of trying to bust my way in free of charge (“And WHY are you on the guest-list?”) and a terrible yet thankfully brief attempt to locate the bar, I settled, and took in the surroundings of the English Folk Dance And Song Society venue while watching the first act on the upstairs stage, Tim And Sam.

So early on, both band and atmosphere struggled in this large and beautiful concert hall, with the audience too far away from the stage to assist any intentions of intimacy. At this point, I wasn’t entirely sure if I was attending a musical showcase or a school fete, so much so that I entertained the possibility of bumping into both my old geography teacher and Slash. With the two (superbly entertaining) toddlers joyously running around in front of the stage, I almost began looking for the bric-a-brac stall…

Alas, the move downstairs, where a room a quarter of the size held a large audience, and suggested that this was the place to be for now. Indeed, the day really began finding its feet with an emotive set from Revere, followed by talented and intricate songwriter Oh Ruin. As the sun (and the pints) went down, so too did the tension, and by early evening it was becoming a real joy. The hall upstairs was now in its element, as the audience increased and closed in (taking the toddlers’ place on the floor) to a perfectly lit stage. Downstairs kept its magic, offering one of the day’s highlights, Sam and the Plants, with their splendidly crafted and simple take on avant-garde, played with suitably bizarre instruments.

The John McEnroe act of the day (‘you cannot be serious?’) went to the electronic assault of Grasscut, who struggled not only to keep people interested, but also not have them leave in disgust. Resembling a cross between Hot Chip and a machine gun, it was like having the Sex Pistols support Dido. For that reason alone, I thoroughly enjoyed them.

The real winners of the day: American folk artist Sam Amidon, whose sensitive voice and presence accompanying simple traditional style songs, fitted perfectly into the candlelit atmosphere of the smaller room. Upstairs, the exquisitely eccentric songwriter David Thomas Broughton successfully manages to combine complete discomfort with such confident control, and such fragile music with a subtle force; perfect for this setting, and a performance that ‘headliner’ Jon Hopkins and his electronic wall of sound came nowhere near matching.

Ignoring the odd hiccup, such a diverse and talented selection of performers meant the day really was a success. Celebrating music like this in its most stripped-down (and often most genuinely magical) form is a stunning reminder that Cowell et al will never own everything. The eagle-eyes amongst us would’ve spotted one Beth Orton popping up on backing vocals here and there too. A fine day.

8/10

By Spencer Betts