It could be said that folk can, sometimes, be a bit of a backward-looking genre. What with all of that adventuring on the high seas, wandering off into woodlands and general knavish behaviour that goes on. This evening at Downend Folk & Roots was backward looking in a different sort of a way. There were times when SHERBURN BARTLEY SANDERS, an Irish flecked three piece, felt as though they'd stepped straight out of a 1970s folk club. 

 

Chris Sherburn (concertina) and Denny Bartley (guitar) have been doing their thing for years and it is only, relatively, recently that Emily Sanders’ fiddle has been added to the mix. It all works brilliantly too because she is an absolute star.

 

 

As if to lay down their Irish credentials the trio start with The Pogues’ A Rainy Night in Soho. Bravely, they dispense with MacGowan's original tune and squash his wonderful words into their own arrangement. The guitar and concertina thrum gently, a counterpoint to Bartley's strident folk club shout, until Sanders’ fiddle swirls in. It's a glorious late St Patrick’s Day celebration, a celebration of good, old-fashioned, no-nonsense folk music.

 

Bartley's voice carries with it decades of pub sessions; it is as honest as the day is long, as strong as a pint of stout. On The Longford Weaver he is drenched in his homeland (he's from Co. Limerick), blurring words together as his guitar powers the song along. Sanders see-saws her fiddle to keep pace with him; it's a breathless, dizzying slice of joy and is, according to Sherburn “way faster than any of us was expecting”.

 

He can be gentle too, though. Bright Blue Rose is slower, more beautiful. The guitar and fiddle crooning and swooning around one another, just as Bartley and Sanders drip honeyed harmonies. On The New Rail Road an old-timey country buzz surrounds him as he tells of sweat and toil. Stabs of concertina and fiddle slash holes through his world until all three break loose into a delirious instrumental conclusion.

 

 

If Bartley's voice is traditional and Irish then Sanders is a perfect English complement. Adieu Lovely Nancy, taken from their latest album Be-guile, is gorgeous, despite the heartbreak that befalls the heroine. Bartley's guitar and Sherburn's concertina strum subtly behind her, allowing that voice centre stage. It is sweet but as clear and clean as a March morning. William Taylor is full of fol-de-rolls, expertly marshalled by Sanders while Bartley whips the tune along. The concertina adds whistles and cheeps until the uplifting crescendo of The Autumn Child sweeps away any vestige of trad-folk politeness. 

 

There's a lovely feeling of family togetherness for much of the evening. A voice from the front of the stage continually joins in on choruses and, it quickly transpires, that that voice belongs to young Barney Sherburn, Chris and Emily's son. He comes into his own for the encore, lending high harmonies and “woo-woos” to Pete Coe's The Fireman Song. His enthusiasm is utterly charming - it is the very best of those Sherburn Bartley Sanders old-fashioned values.

 

 

The support act for the evening was Welsh singer PAUL LLOYD NICHOLAS and he had a bit of old school folk club about him too. His songs are very sweet indeed, taking little snatches of normal life and weaving them into little stories. Ernest & Adeline is a lottery-win-fantasy packed with heart tugging loveliness while Hold the Line is a love letter from the Verdun frontline. He is jovial company, rolling tales into one another, relishing an audience for the yarns he spins. 

 

The only things that could have made this evening more of a celebration of a time gone by was a cheese and pineapple hedgehog and a keg of Watney's Party Seven but, every now and again, there's not much wrong with embracing a time when things just felt a bit simpler. Sherburn Bartley Sanders, and Paul Lloyd Nicolas, were simplicity itself, and all the better for it.

 

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