And as the world spins on regardless of the result of the World Cup, those of us who cared about greater things harked their herald angel instead towards the aural joys of The Trembling Bells, Woven Tents and Muldoon’s Picnic.
Muldoon’s Picnic took their five part a cappella axe and neatly and effectively used it to open the coffin of populist songs and styles from times gone by and then reinvigorate them with all the goodness and niceness of close formation harmonies. That might not sound like much of a plan but the end result was nothing if not uplifting.
Woven Tents were less inspirational. The drummer donned a kaftan which, as all students of history know, is a dress that some men wore back in the sixties just so they could obtain a proper beating from any passing policemen. Said drummer then spent his time petulantly avoiding the songs being played by the calliope obsessed keyboard player and the somewhat confused by it all accordionist. When they, no doubt accidentally, hit their groove you could hear the value of their collaboration but, in truth, their set just made me want to become a policeman.
Good things were still to come though with a casually efficient performance by Trembling Bells ending the night. Their fluency in the ways of seventies folk rock was plainly obvious as was a warmth of spirit that both transcended technical difficulties and brought the audience closer to them. This, unless the rules have recently been changed, is a quality of the best performers and, as a bonus for connoisseurs of the female voice, there was the ethereal glory that is Lavinia Blackwall to worship. You can’t really go wrong with that.
You can go wrong with public transport however. A mere twenty minutes of that and I wanted to become a serial killer.