After making my way to the head of a sizeable entry queue, Aldous Harding was about to grace the Folk Club stage. She’s an artist I’d seen compared to countrywoman Hollie Fullbrook of Tiny Ruins, so I was pretty keen to find a good seat. She entered and took a moment too long to settle in, chastising herself with a brand of self-deprecating banter that was to pepper the set: “Yeah I’m a real glamour puss – so full of grace… and shit.” The crowd had a giggle as she started lightly picking the chords of album opener Stop Your Tears. When her voice filled the room I got a little shiver, and found myself in some far-off ancient village where a Gaelic princess was singing lullabies. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? It was. I normally just end up finding myself at the bar.
Following up with new single Hunter, the spell went on unbroken. The effect was only slightly lessened when she covered Nick Drake’s Been Smoking Too Long, if only because the subject matter was more straight-up than Harding’s own work. Joined onstage thereafter for a couple of surprise duets with Marlon Williams (including a take on a 15th century folk song), I can honestly say I’ve never heard two voices sound better in a room together (including Tom Jones and Ed Sheeran). When Williams split he took the guitar with him, leaving Harding alone to sing Edith Piaf’s Je Ne Regrette Rien a cappella. It was a seriously ballsy move and showcased a husky depth in her voice not heard in her own haunting hymns. I bought the album on the way out the door.
Another surprise guest, poet Sean M. Whelan, took to the stage to deliver his modern urban musings during the set changeover. I was engaged by his stuff – he seemed like a good guy to have a beer with; offering experience without proffering advice; like the cool uncle you never had. Then came another man I’d love to have in my family (if only for the honeyed lava baritone genes), Mr Rob Snarsky.
The set drew heavily from his new album Wounded Bird, with highlights including One Last Song, It Starts with Snow, and Christmas Card from a Drunken Sailor. It was the quieter moments which really saw Snarsky at his best; his lustred voice simmering over hushed chords. During the louder, strummier songs it seemed like the guitar was competing a bit, scratching away underneath his voice where the rich instrumentation of his sometime band The Blackeyed Susans could’ve been. Still, it was a minor point in a majorly good show. The songs were great and the vocals amazing throughout, and it was a more than pleasing performance for a long-time Snarskophile like me.
BY JULIAN DOUGLAS
Loved: Three of the best voices I’ve ever seen live.
Hated: Lacking cash for a Rob Snarsky snow-globe. Best merch item ever.
Drank: Responsibly.
