It’s late Friday night, and the silhouetted Beast Epic image of Iron & Wine’s Sam Beam steps up to the mic, “I know you’re all worn out from the beauty you’ve heard today” he half-smiles.
The man’s not wrong. From the spectacular Malian-Gospel crossover of The Blind Boys of Alabama and Amadou & Mariam to the career-spanning greatest hits of Richard Thompson to the commanding, show-stopping presence of County Cavan’s Lisa O’Neill, as I recap over the eclectic bill of this year’s Cambridge Folk Festival, it’s no understatement to say we’ve been utterly spoilt.
Stood in the shade of our fiddler Fox mascot on Sunday, as a honky-tonk piano echoes from inside the Irish pop-up bar, I study the main arena once more. Just in front of me, an ear-muffed toddler bops a-top her father’s shoulders, as the melodrama of the Archers unfolds on Stage 1 and a dance troupe takes up in the distance. A relative latecomer to folk fests, it doesn’t take long to be totally won over by the charming scenes and inclusive atmosphere of Cambridge.
Coasting the outskirts of the site to a soundtrack of the Black Velvet Band coming from a nearby session, I admire the will power of a fresh-faced couple working through their morning sun salutations. Then I stop and watch in appreciation, as an artist stands before an easel and applies the finishing touches to her painting of this grand scene we’re both enjoying outside the Den stage. Later I spy Blues legend and octogenarian Lil’ Jimmy Reed splayed out in a camping chair outside Stage 2, undisturbed, soaking up the scenery for himself.
Then on top of that of course, we’ve got the wide-ranging youth music workshops, Extinction Rebellion’s presence and the marvellous work of this year’s curator, ‘sunshine superman’, Nick Mulvey to take into account. What follows is my weekend round-up of the best live acts I happened across during my first time outing at Cherry Hinton Hall.
Making their much-anticipated return after a four-year CFF absence is the mighty instrumental outfit, Rura. A slow burn intro soon opens up into a trilled trade-off between fiddle and pipes on Dark Reel, swiftly followed by The Smasher and Catriona’s. The latter dedicated to fiddler Catriona Price (who’d complained to the band that no one had ever written her a song) lifts with a wistful whistle harmony as the highly accessible hook is driven deeper against the sustained pulse of a backing track.
Combining Celtic musical tradition with an almost pop sensibility, their spirited performance plateaus on 2018’s album title track, In Praise Of Home. Composed by Steven Blake and featuring a poignant spoken word piece courtesy of Jack’s grandfather, James Russell, Foley’s bodhran and Brown’s guitar work lead the charge as the cinematic set piece reaches its peak. Homesickness has never felt sweeter.
“My darling, you seduce the sun,” sings Karine Polwart on Rivers Run as the early evening light seeps in at the corners of the main stage. Backed by Steven Polwart & Inge Thomson (and with her bairns in tow) the trio begin with Ophelia. The song’s fine-spun vocal refrain lingers above a warm spread of accordion, with Thomson’s fey delivery adding to the magic. A sublime meditation on the felling of Sheffield’s trees, Heartwood, taken from her recent Spell Songs collaboration follows suit nicely.
Suitcase, written about refugees struggling to escape Nazi-occupied Germany, then makes an uneasy advance, with the heart-wrenching clincher “and he still holds his fathers hand”, before I Burn But I Am Not Consumed presents an unflinching picture of Trump, told from the timeworn perspective of the metamorphic rock of The Isle of Lewis. The song is shiver-inducing and a mass ovation sounds out in agreement, as Polwart’s thought-provoking and gorgeously executed performance just goes to prove once more why she’s considered one of Folk’s foremost songwriters.
José González seems to work the serene vibe even further with the raga-loop of Lovestain and the acoustic body-slaps of Down The Line. Veneer choice-pick Crosses is perhaps the most refined example of what González does best, as his crestfallen delivery delicately rides a returning chord pattern, underpinned by a conflicting sense of calm and unshakable melancholy.
Come the middle of the set José finds himself having to fight back against the noise spill coming from the back of the tent and brooding number Killing For Love happens to do the trick to some extent. Recalling Low Roar & Kings of Convenience’s Øye & Bøe, the addition of ‘two soft voices blended in perfection’ from González’s band members lends itself well to the plaintive nature of González’s songs. Closing cover Heartbeats seems to be what a lot of the crowd were holding on for and it doesn’t disappoint, although it does feel painfully short-lived.
It’s been almost fifteen years since Calexico and Iron & Wine’s joint EP In The Reins was released and since then both acts have grown considerably in notoriety, with Beam recently collaborating on records with Jesca Hoop & Band Of Horses’ Ben Bridwell. All this considered, tonight’s partnership still feels like a career-high for both acts involved, as each plays wonderfully to the other’s strengths. They might be humble and as unhurried as ever, but their excitement to be out on the road again is painted across their faces.
The Arizonian anaesthesia of Years To Burn opens, with the wiry stetson’d Joey Burns’ lower register gorgeously paired in harmony with Beam. Like a hook-heavy Kiss Each Other Clean cut, which unfurls with some good ol’ fashioned Levon Helm southern charm and Garth Hudson-esque organ, Father Mountain quickly wins us over, before a free-jazz inflected, double bass solo from Sebastian Steinberg steals a little limelight.
Their second collaborative effort only dropped in June and as such, many listeners might be unfamiliar with the majority of tonight’s set, though they’re rewarded by the sheer appeal of these arrangements. From dirty blues breakdowns and dustbowl fuzz spinouts to the penultimate eight-minute flaring trumpets of The Bitter Suite (with touching acoustic favourites, Naked As We Came & Falling From The Sky also accounted for); Beam & co look like they’ll have a few converts joining them for their promised ‘punting on the Cam’ date come tomorrow. That’s as long as fans can live with the Graham Nash jibe.
Catrin Finch & Seckou Keita settle us in with a Saturday afternoon set drawing from songs from 2013’s Clychau Dibon and 2018’s highly-acclaimed SOAR. A descendant of the Malian Keita family of kings (on his father’s side) and the Cissokhos (on his mother’s), Seckou’s Kora playing has deep traditional and ancestral roots. Building on the regional tunings of Gambia, Mali, Senegal and Guinea-Bissau, Keita continues to experiment with his own devised tunings, inspired by the ancient place-specific tunings of West Africa.
Once official harpist to the Prince of Wales, Finch also holds some high titles and accolades, though it would appear through this likeminded meeting of unique playing styles, the duo have really hit their niche. Not to be brushed aside as simply ‘a pair of harp virtuosos’, there are no airs to their performance, perhaps best displayed during the tongue-in-cheek percussive playfulness at the beginning of their set. Intricate interplay, incredible showmanship and exquisite instrumentals inspired by the migration of the Osprey – Saturday’s off to a flying start.
Over on Stage 2, Kathryn Tickell recalls her first experience of the festival feeling somewhat star-struck at the age of six watching Steeleye Span, “I can still remember what Maddy (Prior) was wearing now” she grins. In a long flowing, jade-leaf dress she leads The Darkening through a spritely set which lurches forward with the same force of larger acts like Bellowhead and Eliza Carthy & The Wayward Band. The rapid-fire delivery of Colliers with its Durham pitmatic mining terms is followed by a tune inspired by roguish piper Jamie Allen, which contains the memorable lines, “wild notes like ribbons through history”.
Hushabye Birdie features the distinctive lead vocals of Kate Young. Her stunning flourishes, the ensembles enthusiasm and Tickell’s evocative Northumbrian Smallpipes playing create quite the spectacle, topped only by the all-out energy of ‘supposedly’ gay anthem, O-U-T Spells Out.
During my time between The Den and Coldham’s Common open stages, I’m also lucky enough to catch three up-and-coming performers that happen to make a very strong impression on me. Over on The Den stage, Calum Gilligan quickly proves to be a gifted songwriter with a voice to back it up. With the clear tenor of Glen Hansard and some subtle Cat Stevens similarities in tone, original songs So Long and Otago Fox glide by with a casual bittersweetness, while the reflective strain of Knowing All I Know fits in remarkably well alongside impressive Kazakhstani traditional Dudarai.
Caitlin Gilligan appears at a similar time the following day and just like her brother’s set, the tent chatter soon levels out to hushed awe. Opening with the Northern Sky-styled fingerpicking of A Whisper Of Light, there’s a little Linda Perhacs and Vashti Bunyan in the delicacy of her delivery, though she sings with a singular clear-eyed intensity of her own. Caitlin’s lyrics seem to gently ride the line between innocence and experience, and swapping to banjo, partner Isaac Ockenden soon jumps up to accompany her on guitar. Ockenden’s late Coldham’s Common set on Saturday night also brings the tent to something of a standstill. His snarling holler on biting banjo number Merry Hill closes out the day in quite glorious fashion.
Our final day on site happens to be bookended by two standout masterclasses. The first Celtic collaboration comes thanks of McGoldrick, McCusker and Doyle. John McCusker who first played Cambridge Folk Festival thirty years ago with the Battlefield Band, promises although they’ve played over a hundred gigs already this year, it’s all just been warming up to this. In-between impeccably played, stirring tune sets Doyle leads us through the vengeful murder ballad Willie Taylor, before a touching rendition of Liberty’s Sweet Shore, which pays tribute to the 30,000 victims of famine who failed to make the mass exodus to Canada. Elsewhere the dark nursery rhyme of Burke and Hare meets the transporting sea air of Leaving Friday Harbour, our trio, fingers feather-light, spearheaded by twin flutes, finish with yet another reel as the crowd dance and wrestle those heavy hangovers.
As if that wasn’t joyous enough, Daoirí Farrell’s All-Star Celtic Session headline spot offers one final hurrah. Farrell opens solo with Creggan White Hare (a track with 1.1M YouTube hits and rising) and it’s immediately obvious what the hype is about. Farrell’s unmatched vocals sound flawless, rising and bucking like the nimble hare, his dynamic bouzouki work dropping down low to reflect the narrative’s flow. Michael McGoldrick makes a pleasing return, joined by Niamh Dunn, Dónal Lunny, Séan Óg Graham, Robbie Walsh and Donald Shaw, as the collaboration falls into place on Paddy’s Green Shamrock Shore and Pat Raney.
Just imagine stumbling upon this session in the backroom of some boozer. A prospect not that far-flung knowing Farrell cut his teeth at these sorts of sessions and still likes to. All that graft shows with the absolute ease the ensemble barrel through his originals and approaches the romantic melodies of traditionals like Galway Shawl. Calls for an encore flood the marquee as the band offer up the uilleann pipes led Van Diemen’s Land as their grand finale.
It gets me thinking, that whether it’s applauding wildly as solos reach their climax or their willingness to drive a clap at the very slightest hint of a tune developing, Cambridge Folk Festival must be home to some of the most supportive music fans I’ve ever witnessed. What’s lovely is you can see the acts and organisers feel this sense of gratitude too and it’s clearly reciprocated.
During archive footage of the festival taken from The Old Grey Whistle Test in 1974, Arlo Guthrie wagers, “I think this is about the best festival there is in the world right now”. He concedes that where American events like Newport have grown in size, they’ve also lost some of that communal magic. Hearing the immortal Planxty crammed onto a stage smaller than the current Den set-up, it’s easy to recognise something of Farrell’s All-Stars in their vibrant, captivating sound. Comparing 1965’s village fete frivolities with the ‘Cambridge Folk Fair’ that Daoirí salutes earlier during his set – though we may see markedly more in attendance today – the festival still manages to keep every ounce of that community cheer intact.
Whilst also staying true to their original ethos of curating a bill of the finest in Folk and World music, Cambridge Folk Festival also pays it’s dues to artists past and present, as 2019’s rostra just goes to prove. As we make our bleary-eyed journey back to Coldham’s Common and our bus performs a second lap of the final roundabout (much to the passengers drunken delight), I clock a small sign reading something to the effect of “We’ll see you same time next year”. Well, it’s safe to say my summer calendar going forward just got a little more exciting.
Photo Credits: Aaron Parsons