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Review: Sam Kelly Trio, Downend Folk & Roots – ‘Utterly irresistible’
What’s the biggest mystery in the world? The building of the pyramids? Some kind of Bodmin Beast or Bristol crocodile? The continual, inexplicable voting in of morons? Or is it that Sam Kelly is not an absolutely massive superstar?
As baffling as America’s love of Trump is, I’m going with that last one. Sam Kelly should be a proper pop star, adored by millions. Zillions, even.
As it is, he’s won BBC Folk Awards, released four brilliant albums, collaborated with loads of great singers (Kate Rusby, Seth Lakeman, Katherine Priddy et al) and has the ability to hold a sold out Downend in the palm of his hand.
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He jokes that the opening of his set is “slick” as he tears into a perfect pop/folk version of Little Sadie before sliding into the trad Irishness of Tinker’s Poteen.
Jamie Francis on banjo and Archie Churchill-Moss on accordion keeping him company, the three of them stir up a groove that snags at the corner of every mouth in the place until huge smiles light up this April evening. Two songs in, and they are utterly irresistible.
Having visited American roots and traditional Ireland, The King’s Shilling is from Scotland but it still has that heart-leap bounce, Churchill-Moss driving a stomp box and Francis getting dizzy on the banjo while Kelly tells a tale as old as time.
He is an extraordinary communicator, possessing the kind of voice that makes the oldest of stories relevant, makes you want to lean in as he gathers you towards him. There’s warmth to it, a roughness around the edges, an effortless depth.
Across their two sets, Kelly, Francis and Churchill-Moss explore folk and roots to the fullest.
There’s a stopover in the Appalachian Mountains for Angeline the Baker and a stroll across the border to The Bonny Lass of Fyvie-o. Both are fabulous. They inspire sing-alongs, more smiling and the unshakable belief that music just doesn’t get any better than this.
It’s not all trad stuff and unearthed old songs though: Kelly writes a decent song too. The Old Deceiver, from the latest album Dreamer’s Dawn, is political, taking righteous aim at the rise of populism.
If the full band version equates anger with noise, then the acoustic version seethes with a gentle fury. Two guitars snap and bite while Kelly expresses bewilderment.
Guiding Light is a love song that the Radio 2 masses could easily take to their hearts: it is pop/folk of the very highest order, as good as anything by those earnest young men that seem to sell loads of records. Kelly is quick to point out that it’s not about God but it is simply heavenly.
If the songs belong to Kelly, then Francis and Churchill-Moss take ownership of the tunes.
The Burning Threads/Slip Through Your Fingers are stuffed with joy, forcing the tapping of feet and more of those grins. Damien Mullane’s Pop Polkas create a safe space for dancing, compelling the most English of hips to attempt a little shimmy.
Banjo and accordion whirl about with total enjoyment, nothing stopping their unrestrained delight.
Kelly reckons that the latest album, Dreamer’s Dawn, was tricky to write yet it is on the title track that you feel that unmistakable heart-swell, that explosion in your soul. It’s a song about the delight we find in music, in folk festivals, in dancing like lunatics.
It sums up everything that is brilliant about the Sam Kelly Trio, the banjo, guitar and accordion dancing around a fearsome bassy stomp while the words remind us of the wonder of this place, of this whole world. It is gloriously, perfectly uplifting.
It would take a seriously good support act to be remembered after that lot. Fortunately this evening was opened by Lou Shepherd and she is much better than “seriously good”.
Shepherd’s debut EP is due for release later this year
A Bristolian singer-songwriter who is still to release her debut EP, she brings shafts of Laurel Canyon sunlight to this bit of South Glos.
There are hints of Joni all over the place. West Winds is a gentle acoustic breeze, light and soft, while Mackerel Skies shimmers with a silvery stillness. There’s the unmistakable sparkle of classic songwriting and her voice is, simply, the most beautiful thing.
Rambling ‘til Sunrise has a lazy, freewheeling quality, as carefree as an Amsterdam bicycle wheel while Rise, the title track of that soon-to-be released EP, is full of Who-Knows-Where-the-Time-Goes goodness.
There is no doubt that, as soon as the EP comes out, Shepherd will take her place as one of Bristol’s ‘ones to watch’ for ‘26.
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In a world which is, more often than you’d like, mightily confusing, it’s so good to know that brilliant music will always be there to help us feel better. Now, all we need is for Sam Kelly and Lou Shepherd to be megastars.
All photos: Chris Dobson
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