Bristol Folk Festival plays to its' strengths

On Monday, I woke up diddling which can mean only one thing, Lady Maisery! They are not on until the afternoon though and this allows me to take one more hit from the craic pipe by way of the beginner's bodhran work shop run by Gerhard Kress. He takes us from nowhere to drumming along happily to the Winster Gallop in about an hour, a minor miracle.

Lady Maisery have been on their 'Magical Maisery Tour' and launching into 'Portland Fair' it's clear they're at the top of their game. They're in a vast hall with a ceiling as high as the sky but it rings with the sweetness of their harmonies. We are hypnotised by the mythical magical ban-sitar, and the harp-on- a-stick gives the neurones in our auditory cortices a right tickling. At the end of each number, in that brief second of silence before the applause, there is a resounding west country "Yeah!" from someone near the front. There's diddling aplenty and a final treat in the form of Hannah's clogging.

Next up, its Walsh and Pound. Dan and Will have a mastery of their instruments that is rivalled by few, and as the toes start to tap among the crowd it's blindingly obvious that they love what they do. Their affection is infectious and it's during Will's Turkish tune that the floor starts to move for the first and only time at the festival. Dan's between song chat is top notch comedy. My favourite bit is his intro to a song about, "What a twat Jeremy Kyle is." As I say, top notch.

A bubbling Lucy Ward follows, her voice as fine as ever. She smiles her merry way through a set of songs about starvation, poverty, death and impotence and we love her for it. Her audience patter has evolved into something bordering on comic theatrical monologue. There are words of wisdom from the 'Boyfriend Dictionary of Dating' and for a finale we get 'Canny Lad', in which she gets a posh concert hall full of respectable people bragging at the top of their voices about their sexual prowess. You don't get that with the Berlin Philharmonic.

Events on the Fred Wedlock stage are brought to a close by Hannah James & Sam Sweeney. Though it's a much smaller venue than the main hall, I like to think the audience here are an elite bunch. Hannah and Sam obviously agree, opening with 'Hole In The Wall' which was written by Purcell, doncha know. 'Parson upon Dorothy / Dolly' is a fantastic way to spend 4 minutes 17 seconds and all that follows is of a similar polished vein. People stand up and rush to the sides to catch a better glimpse of Hannah's feet during the clog dances, and spontaneous diddling breaks among the audience on several occasions.

In the main hall for the evening concert, a solo Benji Kirkpatrick gets things going with a set of finely crafted songs showcasing his prowess with all things stringed and fretted. Then it's a tale of two audiences. The seating at the front has been removed, because it's time to dance with 3 Daft Monkeys. The view from the balcony is of a sea of bobbing heads, old and young, all getting their rave thing on. It's a wondrous sight. Behind them is another audience entirely; seated, looking at the ceiling, desperately wondering what to do. Dancing would be a good idea. The party continues in much the same vein with the Afro Celt Sound System, before several hundred sweaty, smiling people are discharged into the Bristol night. I bet they’ll all be back.

Looking back, the impression I'm left with is of a festival that plays to its' strengths. They have a first rate concert hall and they fill it with first rate acts. With a few honourable exceptions, the performers come from the younger of the spectrum. Many are relatively new to the scene, but all are talented, energetic and brim-full of ideas. If it's the music that you're into, and if you care about the future of folk, then you're onto a winner here.

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