And then there were two; the countdown continues……..

And then there were two might seem an odd way to comment about a duo, but, bearing in mind this, their supposedly final/possibly farewell tour, has been in two parts, and the first was as their long term trio format, with Miranda Sykes, that renders this applicable. And, with the deliberation of now revisiting some of the venues, or the sort of venues, visited on the way up, rather than a greatest hits, this was more a cornucopia of deeper cuts. Sure, with some well loved songs shoehorned in along the way, and even some new.

If you have only either of the two retrospectives, the last, Roots 2, reviewed here, you shouldn’t expect to hear much there present. In less accomplished hands (and voices), that might seem bold, but they don’t deal in disappointed audiences, the tricks up their copious sleeves never sending home punters unhappy or shortchanged. Lord knows and I should know, I’ve seen ’em enough times over the years, with Steve Knightley and Phil Beer never settling for the ease of just more of the same.

Lichfield Guildhall is a cracking little venue; I confess to being uncertain if SoH have actually performed here as a duo or trio, but certainly the two participants have been here separately, with a solo Steve Knightley and the Phil Beer Band both having played successful gigs here, and jolly good they were too. Given the setting, all ornate woodwork and heraldic flags, it is always a delightful contrast between the surroundings and whatever is in the relatively small stage area. Sold out tonight, and deservedly, this meant a suspension of any support or of the usual raffle, unless I missed that in the queue for the bar, showing this to be serious fare. With the good burghers of the city all scrubbed up in their Saturday best, a hush hung over the expectant crowd.

Bang on 8 and, with the brief introduction and housekeeping announcements done and dusted, on they strode, the stage already decked with their panoply of stringed instruments. Knightley tends to do most the chat, which then allows Beer to pipe up with his more acerbic asides. A run down and explanation was offered around what the evening might contain, together with a breakdown of quite how many miles of relentless touring and playing they had notched up over the years since 1987, their first release, and before, along with some history around how they came to be. And thus, with Beer on his trusty cuatro, in they launched with the aptly titled Friends, from said first release, an eponymous cassette. Knightley proudly said how he had written the song aged 19, not that you’d know it, the interplay of cuatro and guitar, with his rich soar of a voice, to which Beer’s lighter harmony wedges perfectly.

Their ease in imprinting a cover with their own brand was shown next, with a brief reverie around the perceived grandeur of US place names, as compared to our own less exotic destinations. Lichfield gave entitled laughs around the mentions of Tipton and Walsall, the biggest reserved for Beer’s quizzical “Tamworth Alice” for, yes, it was Lowell George’s Willin’. Featuring the first of many demonstrations of his peerless slide technique, it led straight into The Blind Fiddler, which, despite the title and their arrangement, making it sound distinctly trad. arr., is actually a Hoyt Axton country cover. And clearly needed Beer to now be a blinding fiddler, with which he has seemingly effortless form. Early favourite Beat Around The Bush then reminded me why I bought that particular CD, their first studio recording on that format. So far and so very, very good.

Beer gave us a solo turn, defining his love of Davy Graham and, in particular, his 1965 Folk, Blues & Beyond, recounting how he had made it his then aim to learn how to play each and every song therefrom. That he succeeded was demonstrated by a lovely Sally Free And Easy. He then took his turn offstage as Knightley told of his travails in, initially, vainglorious attempts to crack the music industry. His early template was Bob Dylan, and his very first attempt at writing a song was offered, the audience invited to guess the rhymes. It wasn’t too hard a stretch. Babe.

Back as a duo, we had a few more, all interspersed with the stories of their origins. Yeovil suddenly sounded less bucolic than any imagined idea. A glorious Crow On The Cradle reminded all as to how well they can do moody and maudlin, another from their debut, before perhaps their most recent recorded song, lockdown single, The Best One Yet. This undoubtedly poppy song was a timely riposte to the reminder that this night, 23/3/24, is four years, to the day, since we were first subject to covid quarantine restrictions. As ever, brief catches of Here Comes The Sun and I Can See Clearly Now drifted into the arrangement, a Lichfield chorale taking us into the interval.

The second half carried on much where they left off, revisiting and remembrances, again featuring solo opportunities to shine. This and their inability to stick much to any pre-planned setlist, can make life a little fraught for the reviewer, the rudimentary list retrieved bearing little reference to what was eventually played. Suffice it to say that Knightley opted to regale us with a new song, all of a fortnight’s vintage, perhaps a precursor of what he called his solo tour, to follow when SoH are put safely to bed. (Is this in addition to his new band, Dream In Colors, with Johnny Kalsi, Eliza Marshall and Bennett Cerven, who have a swatch of festival appearances lined up for the summer? A: According to his website, yes. Does this man never stop working? Probably not.)

Elsewhere came Man Of War, Cold Frontier, You’ll Get By, all played with the same ridiculously casual, good-natured virtuosity they each exude. Up close it was possible to see just how complex is the fingerwork that Beer applies to any manner of fretboard, Knightley too showing he is way way more than a mere accompanist, his own playing sometimes forgotten against that of his old mucker. But when you have that voice, heck, he could play spoons or just shake some maracas and we’d still look impressed. This comes to the fore when he seeks audience assistance, hurriedly offering the words in his honeyed talking tones at the start of each line, before stretching out to lead the chorale. Consummate.

All too soon it was the end, with longtime favourite, Santiago, brought out to complete the set. This keening lament of a song was the perfect finale and the audience gave perfect pitch. Or so my ears told me, which may yet to be discerned, as this night, and several preceding, were all being recorded for a final and further live recording. Yes, there was an encore, staunch traditionalists that they are. Suffice to say, it wasn’t Tipton, I think that more a reminder for where they weren’t, but was The Ride, an apt description for the enjoyable journey we had been taken on. Bonne chance, Phil and Steve, hoping the current meaning of see you later, instead of goodbye, may be the correct terminology.

Here’s Man O’ War as a takeaway, if not from Yeovil:

Phil Beer’s website / Steve Knightley’s website

Show of Hands online: website / facebook / x (formerly twitter) / instagram

Keep up with At The Barrier: Facebook / X (formerly Twitter) / Instagram / Spotify / YouTube