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Review: Jon Doran & the Northern Assembly, the Folk House – ‘Joyous, delicate, glorious’
Who on earth spends the warmest May evening on record in a dark-wood room, away from the mellowing sunlight?
Shade-loving folkies, of course, searching for the cool. “Ah, I know that you’re only here for the air con,” Jon Doran smiles.
The last time Doran was in Bristol he was with Janice Burns, with their perfect harmonies and heartbreak vibes. This time, though, things are a bit different.
Joined by Jordan Aikin (whistles) and Heather Ferrier (accordion), his Northern Assembly are full to the brim with energy and excitement; a three-piece that are, at turns, joyous, delicate and glorious.
The trio are from Newcastle
Kitty of Ballinamore, taken from their debut EP, is a Northern Irish song of unrequited love and betrayal. As all of the best folk songs are. Doran’s voice has a lightness, a sweetness, that makes for a heartbreaking vulnerability but it’s bolstered by Ferrier’s accordion drones.
As the fog of Aikin’s whistle rolls in, the walls of the Folk House melt away and are replaced by ragged cliffs and a churning sea.
There are whoops and hollers at the end of Father Micheal Hayes, a political Broadside from the 1800s, as the whistle rouses itself to a furious volley and combines with the accordion throb and Doran’s bouzouki.
It’s a whirlwind tour of Ireland, namechecking cities as it goes, that hides a subversive rebel song and this, somehow, is just right for the Northern Assembly.
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So many of the songs this evening are steeped in war and fighting yet there’s no violence, no chest-beating glorification of victory, not even weeping and wailing.
Instead, Doran shows compassion and reflection. Bold Wolfe has a slow thrum and buzz, the pulse of the blood as the whistle hovers over the battlefield, taking it all in. Bonny Light Horseman, too, is lovely, Doran’s deft storytelling allowing a tale of frustration and grief to simmer.
The astonishing thing about this band is how just three musicians can fill this place with the fullest of sounds. It seems silly to compare them with the majesty of the ten-piece Unthanks (although both bands are from Newcastle) but, at times, there’s the same sense of drama.
On I Drew My Ship Into The Harbour, Doran dispenses with any instruments at all and just sings. Ferrier, though, makes her accordion into a sweeping organ, a swelling of church-notes which Aikin’s whistle doubles down upon.
They build winding streets and the sounds of an old port city while Doran opens his heart, his voice tall and strong but cracking around the edges.
Heenan & Sayers seems to be the perfect Northern Assembly song as it tells the story of an 1800s boxing match, before these things became a spangled pantomime.
Again, there’s nothing triumphalist about it: it’s celebratory, infused with an illicit thrill. Ferrier and Aikin parry and feint, flicking out punches while Doran, once again, tells the story with grace and wit.
It’s a brilliant story set to a fantastic tune played by wonderful musicians. What more could you possibly need?
On this warmest of May days, when the most sensitive amongst us looked for respite, we found it in the Folk House with Jon Doran and his cooling balm.
Main image: Ant Miles
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