Delifinger, Withered Hand, King Creosote & Jon Hopkins - The Fleece, Bristol

Many, many years ago I wrote a sort-of-review of a Lambchop gig at The Fleece which I suppose was the beginning of the kind of inconsequential-wittering-leading-to-a-review style I seem to have adopted here. Having been involved with their very earliest UK releases - something I was fairly proud of, but never really thought about until then - I found myself getting riled by the audience as we waited to go into the venue. Later I got equally upset by someone who's girlfriend didn't like trombones. At least, looking back, I can say I've been a consistently - as I put it back then - "irksome little shit". Arriving at The Fleece tonight after watching a fairly glorious sunset in Bristol while the rest of the UK shivered in a cold snap, I find myself next to someone being just a touch overbearingly smug - perhaps, I pondered unrealistically as I regarded the gent concerned - it was even the same guy from 2002? As I waited I was treated to a hilariously inaccurate potted history of King Creosote's career. Various albums were mentioned, and concerns about being "too folk" quickly dismissed as there are comfortingly "very few duff songs". Apparently "they" insist on promoting Fife which is ironic and amusing because it's the "arse end of Scotland". Quite aside that Scotland goes on quite a bit beyond Fife, and that actually the East Neuk is one of the most beautiful places I've ever spent time I'm prepared to forgive them. They're here because of the Mercury nomination, and y'know "four stars in the Guardian and all that". It's wrong of me to judge, and I realise I'm drifting into the kind of elitism I claim to despise - but, if you're going to mess with the stuff which matters to me, which sustains me and keeps me sane in troubled times, please, please do get the geography right at least. That said, the fact that there are people here who don't share the almost fanatical devotion to the Fence cause which the label regularly inspires is testament to the power which the utterly remarkable "Diamond Mine" had over an unwary public last year. It was going to be an interesting night.

First up was Delifinger moonlighting in his solo guise tonight away from OLO Worm duties. Matthew Lacey takes the stage, a slight and rather quietly unassuming figure assisted by two silent assistants who manipulate all manner of technology to produce the various beeps, squeaks and shuddering basslines which shore up Lacey's delicate twist on casio-folk. On recordings Delifinger manages to create some truly unsettling tales, just odd enough to produce collar-loosening discomfort, but never outright disturbing. It's a neat trick which is in evidence on the first couple of tracks tonight, where he drifts from unnervingly off-kilter ballads to a sort of neo-Formby strum. Somewhere mid-set, it hits a bit of a strange slump where several of the songs are paced about the same and feel a bit pedestrian and listless sitting together. It's a shame, because I know there are Delifinger songs out there which this receptive, unusually welcoming Bristol crowd would respond warmly to. However, it all fits back together in time for the last track - a sinister, discordant beast which lumbers and thumps along while it builds in tension. It was never going to be easy facing a sell-out crowd, many of whom are here solely for the main act, but despite his visible unease Delifinger managed to get a fantastic reaction. Perhaps a more intimate setting and more time to explore a wider range of material would have made all the difference here?

From my usual apologetically out-of-the-way-at-the back vantage point, I surveyed the crowd between acts, only to see an equally apologetic Dan Willson struggling through the crowd, with his guitar in hand. Eventually he found his way onto the stage, assumed his position at the microphone and managed to create an ear-splitting explosion from it! This is Withered Hand, where what might seem ramshackle, a little uncoordinated and sometimes plain disorganised suddenly drifts into sharp focus to produce some of the most lyrically incisive, truly original guitar music you'll find right now. The set settled mainly on favourites from 2009's "Good News" album, including "Cornflake", "Providence" and "No Cigarettes". Hearteningly, there was some recognition for these tunes in the bit of the audience around me, and some genuinely smitten people as Dan's self-effacing stage presence and ability to suddenly launch into these wonderful songs kept them amazingly silent. That really almost never happens at The Fleece. Some new songs were in evidence too, including "It's A Wonderful Lie" where the middle-class angst must have struck more than a few chords in the audience tonight. For me, any human being who can somehow contrive a couplet which pairs "kids with degrees" with "fake bonhomie" is a candidate for sainthood. Throwing in two personal favourites in "For The Maudlin" and "New Dawn" before a rapturous closing take on "Religious Songs" and I'm beginning to think that this is something special which might just catapult Willson into the spotlight somewhat. Later, I hear someone whistling "Religious Songs" in the gents. That has to mean something significant - but I'm not sure quite what yet?

Finally King Creosote and Jon Hopkins take the stage to the gentle piano introduction of "First Watch". Hopkins alternates between harmonium and piano, with a little electrickery thrown in to create the lush, sometimes barely present shimmer of sounds which threads through "Diamond Mine". The plan is to play through the album with a minimum of fuss or interference, and despite a microphone hitch which would throw a less experienced performer off their stride, they do just that. The audience responds with genuine warmth and enthusiasm for this material - and it's good to hear the record played live once more, which gives it a fresh lease of life for me yet again. The strength of compositions like "Bats In The Attic" and "Running On Fumes" is reinforced by Kenny's remarkable voice which sounds even better than when I last heard it. The biggest reaction is reserved for "Bubble" which someone whispers beside me "just gets me every time" before adding "I hope I don't cry tonight". For the already established fan, the question is what delights will be slipped into the remaining part of the set by an ever mischievous King Creosote - and tonight we get a set which stays fairly faithful to his previous work with Jon Hopkins starting with a trio of "Bombshell" era tracks including "Cockleshell", "Spystick" and the utterly sublime "And The Racket They Made" which practically ends up with me in tears. I pretend it's an allergy as Kenny throws in a surprise cover of Simon and Garfunkel's "The Only Living Boy in New York" before another teary goodbye to the strains of "My Favourite Girl".

Once again, it was a privilege to hear King Creosote perform and an absolute joy to see an audience who in many cases had come with a single-minded wish to hear a specific set of songs go away having had just the briefest insight into the much wider, more intriguing and delightful world of Kenny Anderson. But, having finally seen him play a set of reasonable length, without being ill or experiencing technical troubles, I'd say that Withered Hand might just have stolen the show by a whisker tonight. In any case, it was a memorable evening - and I don't think I'll see The Fleece that busy again for quite a while.