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Live Music Review: Seth Lakeman

by James Stafford

Any mention of ‘folk and traditional music’ that’s casually tossed out in conversation invariably results in a few raised eyebrows. The beardy ale stereotype is a tough one to shake off, but that doesn’t stop a substantial number of twenty-somethings on the circuit from doing their level best to alert a wider audience to the power of traditional music. As the man at the head of folk’s assault on the mainstream Lakeman clearly has cause for celebration tonight. The nigh-on 1000 capacity Academy is packed to the rafters with what for a folk gig is a respectable mix of old and young, with a relaxed and confident performance from Seth, his brother Sean, bassist Ben Nicols and percussionists Andy Tween and Cormac Byrne receiving a rapturous reception.

There were those of us who, following a difficult summer of embarrassing tight T-shirt music videos and shouty vocal performances from the group, had begun to fear that Lakeman’s contract with Relentless was turning him into the aspiring pop-rock star nobody really wants him to be. Standard opener ‘Rifleman of War’ does much to dispel these doubts, a gleeful military stomp rendered still more danceable by the group’s dual percussive assault. Last year’s Freedom Fields album is heavily represented here, and as such Cormac Byrne’s presence in the band is all the more welcome.  His frenetic bodhran playing really shines on two numbers he plays as a duo with Seth, last year’s single ‘Lady of the Sea’ and fan favourite ‘The Bold Knight,’ from 2004’s Mercury nominated Kitty Jay.

The band in full-on stomp mode is arguably just as impressive. Live stalwart ‘How Much,’ a trip-hop wimp-out on Seth’s overlooked 2002 debut The Punch Bowl, is here pumped full of mashed guitar chords and thumping double bass, leaving it easily the evening’s most joyous moment. Meanwhile, sensitive treatments of recent singles ‘The White Hare’ and ‘King and Country’ show the group as a whole to be capable of more than tenor guitar riffery, the latter in particular gaining an emotional resonance lacking from either of its recorded incarnations. More’s the pity, then, that the title track showcased from upcoming EP Poor Man’s Heaven displays none of its predecessors’ subtlety, succumbing all too easily to a welter of cringe-inducing ‘Yeah!’s and ‘Come on now!’s. Hopefully, the Spinal Tap influence will not be discernable for long, and as soon as the singer banishes his bandmates and launches into an incendiary solo rendition of his greatest songwriting achievement, the terrifying ‘Kitty Jay,’ all is swiftly forgiven. The versatility and power of this group leaves them a force to be reckoned with, in the folk world and beyond.

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