CHARLOTTE CARRIVICK, flatpicking guitarist extraordinaire, has her head down, tuning. Her face is obscured by a single, old-timey microphone. There's laughter from the three musicians around her. “What's all of that giggling? You're not supposed to be having fun." She is deadpan, dry as an Appalachian path. She looks up, there's a sparkle in her eye and electricity crackles from her fingertips. She chuckles and her acoustic guitar leaps onto life.

 

There are a lot of incredible players in the folk world but, oh my, these Bluegrass musicians! Phew! There's nothing like them. Carrivick is joined by Evan Davies on mandolin and Niles Krieger - incredibly this is only his second show with the band - on fiddle, both from The Often Herd, and fellow Midnight Skyracer member, bassist Eleanor Cross. All four are incredible.

 

 

Over the course of their two sets the four-piece play 20-odd songs and tunes. They flit and fly by, they are fireflies, they are hummingbirds. Vivid and quicksilver, the music shoots into your field of vision, a blur of beauty, shooting sparks before leaving you with your jaw on the floor and a tingle in your ears.

 

There are tunes that take a little snap-shot of a moment; I'm Glad That's Not My Dog is inspired by a Springer Spaniel and lots of mud but it absolutely sings. Mandolin runs tumble over guitar lines, until the fiddle bursts through and the bass yomps by its side. Each instrument steps up to that microphone, takes up the tune, throws in the air and passes it on. It's fast and flash but never clinical. Instead, feet move and those fireflies dance. 

 

Ron's Duck Blanket has a cute-cute swing that could soundtrack some of Morph's more whimsical adventures. There are mandolin plinks until everyone else joins for some serious multi-coloured, hand drawn silliness.

 

 

When Carrivick sings she shows impeccable taste. Jason Isbell's If We Were Vampires is gorgeous, all shadow-y swoon and velvet-y night. Her harmonies with Davies are beautiful. Dylan's Farewell Angelina has a slow moan helped by Cross’ bowed double bass while Pony Boy, by Mark Simos, starts with sweetness and light until it blossoms into something altogether more rousing.

 

Throughout the evening it becomes obvious just how much Carrivick adores her family. So many tunes have been written for her children, or various nieces, and you'd be damn proud if any of them had been written for you. Evie, Brighton Breesey, Robyn's Tune and Waiting for Annie all have an affection and warmth that is utterly captivating. All four musicians gloriously compliment one another, allowing each to breathe and express themselves but singing with one voice too. No, Hatit has a Chaplin-silent-movie lopsided swagger and is just fabulous. 

 

By the time The Charlotte Carrivick Band make their way to the end of their set things are at fever pitch. Papa's on The House Top is a knee-slapping hoedown complete with fully rockin’ slapped double bass and then Krieger takes centre stage for a fiddle driven Train on the Island. His playing is breakneck but completely effortless, it glides across the tracks at dizzying speed. Davies and Carrivick race to keep pace and Cross is as languid as she's been all night. Phew!

 

 

Before the music began it was pointed out that the Queen of Country, Emmylou Harris, is in town tonight. Not that this has put off the Downend faithful. They are richly rewarded, too, by a fantastic support set from ERIKA OLSON, an American singer-songwriter by way of East Sussex. She's a bit indie-folk, a bit country, even a little bit of soulful testifying. 

 

This is How I Pray is nature-green, Olson's earthy voice adding sass and sway, while Benefit of the Doubt strains with anger and frustration. It is here that her inner street preacher peeks out; social commentary as barely contained fury.

 

If there are comparisons to be made then, maybe, Bonnie Raitt is a good one. Olson's voice is strong, especially on the anthemic I Don't Feel Like Fighting, and tells stories with Raitt's authenticity and assuredness. We might not get Emmylou but no-one's complaining. 

 

Charlotte Carrivick knew, of course, that if there's one thing that this music is, it's fun. This is music that crackles and leaps and does all of the good things. There's nothing like it.