Rachel Unthank & The Winterset: Preston Bradley Hall, Chicago
Where: Preston Bradley Hall, Chicago.
When: 31st May 2009
In this day and age, you would rarely associate Chicago with regional English folk music, but in the learned and ornate surroundings of the Preston Bradley Hall at the Cultural Center – formerly the Public Library – nothing seems more appropriate. So when Geordie four piece Rachel Unthank & The Winterset materialised on the mini stage it did seem like they had been there all along, woven into the furniture.
Given the intimate surroundings, and “audience of a certain age” (yours truly was perhaps the youngest there), it was gratifying to see that they were initially shy and quiet, perplexed even by the reception that they received. Upon realisation that the audience was firmly welcoming and on their side, they joked and chatted with the raffish charm that only Tynesiders seem to pull off with complete aplomb. “Everything’s gone a bit Obama crazy since we were last here”, says Rachel by way of introduction. “And now you’ve got yourself a new president”. Ripples of laughter awakened the Hall even further and put the liberal looking audience at complete ease, as much as it does the band. For a band that is consummately faithful to their genre, this was as politicised as they got, and from then on it was a feast of folk.
Their opener 'The Sandgate Dangling Song' set the tone for the evening. The clarity of Rachel’s voice – which pierced the stillness of the acoustics – made the bleak, dialectal Geordie folk song all the more poignant and was delivered with such eerie beauty that every spectator was transfixed.
It is always a treat to come to a folk gig because, for fans of music as an informing and entertaining art form, there are few genres that carry such weight. Each song has its own history, legacy and renown, and of course tells a story. Be it complete artifice or fiction based on experience or even true experience, folk continues to captivate my interest and imagination.
Add to this the use of dialect and regional colloquialisms and the package is complete. So it was not remotely disheartening that all the tales told were bleak, harrowing and dark because they were relayed with such feeling and harmony that the subject matter evoked empathy rather than horror. Songs of lost children ('Felton Lonnen'), men lost or dead in the mines ('Guard Yer Man') and the perils of the mining profession ('Close the Coalhouse Door') are all grim but oddly wonderful to listen to.
The last of the three is the most thought provoking because of its composition. Whist Rachel and sister Becky’s – both possess searing and unique voices – duet is sung in a dirge-like manner, alternating lyrics such as “There’s blood inside/There’s bones inside”, the song is a delight to hear, as the piano and Niopha Keegan’s violin accompaniment are harmonious and warming. As the piano crescendos in the closing stages, the lyrics reach their peak of misery. The piano softens and the violin rings out stridently. A fantastic dénouement.
Not all the set is depressing, and the band is quick to apologise for their imagery, which is both touching and for me unnecessary. 'Ma Bonny Lad' offers romantic, light relief in the form of a cheerful ditty about a woman’s pride of her man. Another spice of versatility is added when Rachel gives a demonstration of tradition Tyne and Weir and County Durham clog dancing with Keegan accompanying on the violin. It is a great touch that the band resolutely sticks to what they know and love. Nowadays, bands are so driven by labels and important yet tiresome details such as unit sales, that acts often lose sight of what got them there in the first place. For Rachel Unthank & The Winterset, music is a whole lot of fun, although I am sure that this is still a serious business for them.
For folk is a serious business. There is so much scope for success and yet – as Bob Dylan has found, to his detriment – a risk of being accused of plagiarism. This is a non-existent threat for RU&tW, as their songs are their songs and the songs that they borrow from other people are spun in such a manner that the original artists can only be pleased if the band uses their material. 'John Dead', 'Guard Your Man', 'I’m Weary From Lying Alone' and Nick Drake’s 'River Man' are all rendered with such individuality, mystery and beauty that they resonate for hours after. Besides the fact that there are also essences of Linda Thompson and Clannad (all from Keegan’s breathtaking solo 'I’m Weary…') poking through, the whole set is triumphant; not one duff moment.
Whilst the commercial music world is at its most dominant in America at this time, for one night in May at least, the folk tradition was alive and well and ruling the roost in Chi town.
5 stars
Words: John Elmes
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