MUSIC

The Cube, Bristol (Wed 19 Oct)

There is a sense, upon the first gentle stroke of guitar and tender opening vocal refrain of Hollowbody (Bristol-based Dan Weltman), that this gig couldn’t have been held anywhere else. The old theatre seats, the creaking floors and the dusky smell of mildew that permeates The Cube all night create an atmosphere of informal intimacy, perfect for the evening’s soundtrack. Hollowbody presents bare-bones acoustic folk with twinges of country and blues – his finger-picked guitar work flitting in and out of rough-edged but sweet vocals – its power held within its apparent simplicity. Lyrically he ranges from charming and whimsical to Cohen-esque isolation and world-weary confusion – each style presented with effortless grace. Dark, light and every shade of grey in between, it all comes naturally, and the result is as charming as it is impressive.

If the bar seems to be set high, Crippled Black Phoenix frontman Joe Volk just decides to float over it like it wasn’t there. The visuals behind him depict a snowy Scandinavian landscape, his icily intricate melodies introducing the scene perfectly, a taste of what’s to come. When the instrumental intro is finally shattered by his vocals, it’s awe inspiring. Wow, what a voice. Crisp, delicate and utterly captivating (I actually forget to write any notes throughout), his set oozes a sombre beauty, a beauty aided by him affording his intricate musicianship as much space as his vocals and his unerring sense of pace and timing. Stunningly bleak and devastatingly beguiling, the 45 minutes fly by, all sense of time lost to a truly gorgeous performance.

Sam Amidon casually ambles on stage with cohorts for the night Chris Vatalaro and Shahzad Ismaily (officially the coolest motherfucker on the planet, by the way) and proceeds to wildly and informally chicane his way through a wonderful, often unexpected, cover-laden set. Covers, yes – but really these are Amidon originals, the way he appropriates each style from gospel to blues to folk with his own unique bent. These songs, for this evening, belong to him. Equally unique is his performance style – a truly self-effacing artist shunning the po-faced traditionalism that can sometimes follow folk around and just (literally, in the case of one front-of-stage dance manoeuvre) spazzing out. He has us laughing during a freeform jazz riffing parody one moment, then completely wrong foots us with a banjo thrash-out a la Clarence Ashley the next. There is so much to like about his performance: the skilled musicianship of all three; the fact that we’re suckered into a singalong; or the freeform approach to each track (Ismaily using a wooden chair as his percussion of choice at one point). Everything seemed shambolic and structured in equal measure. Surprising at every turn, it’s a pleasure to watch and is a reminder of what live performance can and indeed should be. A fine night. (Stuart Roberts)

Copyright Stuart Roberts 2011