The field may have had a short back and sides, but the fringe gets ever more luxuriant!

NO-ONE TOLD THE VILLAGE

If the fields and the main stage were necessarily smaller, no-one told the village, as, with all stops pulled, the bevy of alternate entertainments was engulfing the otherwise sleepy streets. It is a delicate balancing act, so as to draw no excess attention away from the main event, and I was struck by the respect that each of the sundry other platforms had for the parent of what made them the bastard offspring.

Particularly whereby, space willing, festival wristband holders were, by and large, granted equivalent access to those there purely for those fringe events. And, whilst this piece concentrates on the largest and most organised of these, at the venerable Brasenose Arms, our intrepid team did manage to pay fleeting visits to the Red Lion and to the Waterside and Marina complex, each having wall to wall musical offerings, Wednesday through Sunday.(Yes, pre-festival and post, for that fuller sense of absorption!) Similarly, Cream Of The Crop, née Field 8, had the same, providing almost the festival within a festival experience.

CREAM THE LION!

I confess I stumbled on the Red Lion events near by accident, intending mainly on the best graveyard to sink a pint in venue there is in the land. But there was music. A thing in bygone years, it was good to see it back again, in their sunny back yard. Arway Band were in full sway on Friday afternoon, a disparate selection of random blokes of all shapes, ages and sizes. And loads of them; accordion, fiddle, mandolin, keyboards, guitar, bass drums, another guitar. A superb and motley set of covers, encompassing T. Rex, David Gray and Creedence, they made for a jolly and bucolic racket.

And I apologise to the young fiddle player, playing beautifully on the quay at the Marina, for I caught not his name, as he delayed my tramp elsewhere. Delayed me delightfully. For I was on my way up to Cream of the Crop. This is a beautiful camp and glamp site, replete with permanent shop, bar and take-away food, and the finest field of miniature goats to entertain children of all ages. This elderly child loved them.

Musically I caught the Bob Phillips Dylan Rhythm Band. The clue is in the name, but rather than weedy Dylan covers, they, as the name says, gave a sturdy show of more robust renditions of the songs, both new and old, if concentrating on mid to late period. Phillips himself has an agreeable croak that fits the mould of his inspiration, mostly of the mid-90s. He on acoustic, he was backed by guitar, bass, drums and a really very handy harmonica player, who gave a definite bluesy bent to the proceedings. The guitarist had his handle on equivalently fine delta based licks to complement him. Smashing stuff for the swelter of early afternoon Saturday.

THE BRASENOSE

So then, the Brasenose, and what an event! A packed roster of bands often big enough to grace the field across the way, including several who had, an efficient and competent organisation, with merch to boot. If Cropredy T’s are a collectors item, year on year, I wonder to whether Brasenose Fringe shirts will too attract similar future attention. (If you missed those from last year, they and from the year before were also on sale!) There is even a beer, Brasenose Blonde, although I suspect that year round, and pub related rather than purely fringe.) Here is a brief taster of those bands our team did catch, with apologies to those we didn’t, often with self-imposed kick bruises as a result.

WEDNESDAY: ROLLING AND TRADDING

It was only a couple of years ago Virginia and John Kettle with Merry Hell opened the Main Stage of the festival proper, but this year they opened the Brasenose Fringe with a super 40 or so minutes of their offshoot project, Rolling Folk. Full of jolly melodic tunes, they once again set the Cropredy mood going with quality modern folk. Virginia works hard to stir up the audience to successfully get them dancing. With songs mainly from their album East of Elsewhere, the audience could feel they were truly back at Cropredy, if a day early. Hurray!

This mood was strengthened by the ever popular Trad.Arr., another group like Rolling Folk who are bridging the gap between traditional and modern . P.J. Wright has the incredible knack of finding the hidden link between delta blues and bucolic folk swagger. Lovely stuff, with the added delight that much the same band would be back tomorrow.

THE SANDY DENNY EXHIBITION

In 2023, Georgia Lucas, daughter of Sandy Denny, brought the Sandy Denny Exhibition to The Brasenose Fringe. In 2025, she has returned with more artefacts and more trinkets from the Sandy Denny estate.

To see guitars, pictures, dresses and the like is great to see. They are lovingly presented with Sandy singing in the background. There is a real air of sadness that such a talent left us so early, but there is also joy that Sandy graced us with her presence.

Sandy’s lyric notebooks and letters to various people are fascinating to read, and the photos with her dazzling smile are entrancing. As the quote on the wall from one Richard Thompson says, ‘We only ever had her on loan.’ Sandy was from another plain. Her voice still breaks the heart, and her story shatters it further. Now, with Georgia’s quest to learn about her mum (she was nine months old when Sandy died), we get to learn a little bit more too. Hopefully, this exhibition will find its way into more and more museums up and down the country and around the world.

You can find out more about the exhibition here.

THURSDAY: BETTER LATE THAN NEVER

Hard ground and accompanying tentpole difficulties meant Gaelforce and the first half of 3 Daft Monkeys went by the by, to no small frustration. But, at least with the Monkeys, you know they are going to be on again somewhere and somewhere soon, such the astonishing work ethic of this 4 piece band. Gracing seemingly every festival stage I ever attend, their presence is always a welcoming delight, confirming the real world is thataway and that, for now, it doesn’t matter any more. I’ll swear they get better and better, unless it is the sheer familiarity of their whirling dervish of songs and tunes. I can’t tell you the names of most their material but it is all designed for dancing and dialling your smile up to 11.

Tim Ashton, guitar and vocals, together with Athene Roberts, fiddle and swirling, make up the central focus but, if you can, take your eyes of them, for the hand drum calisthenics of Rich Mulroyne and the wonder that is Jamie Graham, on six-string jazz funk bass and electric coloured leggings. I was entranced by their final half hour and look longingly to Shrewsbury Folk Festival!

THE SANDY DENNY PROJECT

Back again tomorrow be damned, now it was today, with this scribe cursing his plans for missing the night before. Possibly the most exciting act of the weekend, The Sandy Denny Project, this was always going to be a belter, P.J. Wright and his chums are the masters of kicking up a storm, with all those glorious anthems by and associated with Fairport’s most famous, sorry Richard Thompson, name, the inestimable and ineffable Ms. Denny. With Sally Barker, Marion Fleetwood and Gemma Shirley all adding their individual and collective voices to the powerhouse rhythms of Mat Davies, bass, and Mark Stevens, drums, Wright’s searing slide combines with Fleetwood’s fiddle and Shirley’s keyboards for a fabulous feast of flavours.

INCANDESCENT

Opening with an incandescent Banks Of The Nile, Stevens showed himself to be a noted member of the trumpet playing drummer cohort, folk-rock division, and, with dual lead vocals, Barker and Fleetwood, it all made sure this mournful masterpiece shivered all the requisite timbers. Wright wasn’t slow off the blocks, either, to brandish some flaming trademark licks to the plot.

From Listen, Listen to Farewell, Farewell it then went, and, if Wright’s vocal sounded initially a little odd for the latter, it then bedded in so speedily, as to become a song designed for a male voice. (As was to be discovered on Saturday night, on the main field!) But it wasn’t farewell, the set only just beginning, and a distinct N’Awlins vibe perfused then through, for Barker’s sultry take on For Nobody. Knowing looks were then scattered about the audience, as the guitarist then introduced the next song by way of the curious rhymes therein: “horses” and “yours is“! It Suits Me Well, of course, a song perhaps best known in the Swarb version, with Shirley’s electric piano a pleasure, suiting the arrangement perfectly.

ONE MORE DIXIE CHICKEN?

Fiddle/guitar frenzy, anyone? That too, as Fleetwood and Wright sparred magnificently for It’ll Take A Long Time, before a return to the steamy swamplands and a very Little Feat-y One More Chance, vocals from Shirley and harmonica from Wright. Heck, there was even a sly little insert of Dixie Chicken segued into the intro. Leaving no genre unturned, a very proggy Autopsy followed, a song seldom heard these days, involving the use of recorded strings that, although likely real, sounded applicably mellotronic.

Come All Ye, in it’s original, is a song that formats the then members of Liege and Lief Fairport. It was lovely, thus, that reference was made to SDP, by tweaking the words just a little, in principally, the fiddler, “she plays so well“. And not untrue, either. A couple more songs and the air became suddenly suffused with dust, for it was time for Fotheringay. With tremendous serendipity, this was also the time that Georgia Rose Lucas snuck up to the barrier, ensuring blurry smudge of my copy.

FUNKY MATTY

You know Metal Matty, the lasting legacy of Maart’s sojourn with Fairport? Ready for Funky Matty, as the band tweaked as much soul into the tradition as anyone could ever want. Superlative, and a gauntlet to the lads themselves for Saturday. Time running out it was, via the fearsome roar of John The Gun, more a John the full flipping artillery, to some quiet to see us all safely to the end. Moody synths and plangent harmonica gifted Quiet Joys Of Brotherhood with a new coat of gloss, before, well, what else, an exquisitely tear jerking Who Know Where The Time Goes. I’d tell you how it went, but I could only hear the audience, myself included. Absolutely stunning.

RANAGRI

On any other day, Ranagri would have a show to steal. Sadly for them, it wasn’t any other day, not that it stopped them trying. A first live showing for me, their impeccable track record on disc translated seamlessly to the stage. Eliza Marshall’s flautery is outstanding, especially on the long bendy one, and every bit as effervescent as in the brief existence of Dream In Colours, at this Brasenose Fringe a year ago. Eleanor Dunson’s harp was striking as she not only added al the customary trills expected of the instrument, but also gave potent rhythmic accompaniment to Dònal Rogers’ guitar, at times also toting a drumstick. Who gave potent rhythmic accompaniment himself to percussionist supreme, Jordan Murray. With him, Urban Folk Quartet’s Tom Chapman, Evan Carson, himself ex-Ranagri, and Cormac Byrne, drum kits are beginning to look and seem so last century.

With a selection of songs both traditional and more recent songs of their own, they blended world music themes into the more celtic romanticism of Rogers’ upbringing. A beautiful song, based on the letters home that the Irish navvies building England’s industrial revolution wrote and sent, was truly outstanding, as was their take on The Wife Of Usher’s Well. However it was the gentler thought of “swimming with salmon” that has lingered long after their uplifting set drew to a close, from one of Rogers’ more autobiographical songs, based upon his time, as a child, at Ranagri, the farm that begat the band name.

FRIDAY: RUST FLYING

I confess I caught only the first part of the Welsh Celtic-punkery of Rusty Shackle. Very much in the vein of The Men They Couldn’t Hang. Two guitars, one acoustic and one electric, bass, and drums were topped off by the trump card of the fiddle and (was it a ) banjolele offered by their sixth man, Scott McKeon. Main vocalist is Liam Collins, who has a pleasingly abrasive tone, midway between Steve Harley and Liam Gallagher, and a guitarist, Alex McConnachie with a taste for Eric Bell/Whiskey In The Jar tones to his soloing, they are well worth looking out for.

This was very much a day where the main stage over the way was taking precedence, which meant missing Leatherat, who were on full charge for what was described to me, by several excited punters, as being the best of the whole fringe. Apologies, boys, next time!

SATURDAY: DREAMY DAY DRINKING

Another day for accumulating steps between Jonah’s Oak and Sandy’s Bench, one must see was always going to be the duo of Tu-Kay & Ryan, who started the day here, shortly after 11. One reason was to see Rebecca Ryan of the Brasenose team of fringe organisers, in her other role, as a performer, the second being that we know she and (Ash) Tu-Kay are bloody good.

They both sing, but Ryan takes most the leads, her often Collister like register perfect for the songs of, often, lost love and regret. Or sometimes, lyrical retribution! File under the jazzier end of folk, the songs were ideal for a balmy summer Saturday. Tu-Kay, no slouch vocally himself, imparts ideas of a higher pitched James Taylor or a less vinegary Al Stewart. Helpfully, he has JT’s guitar chops to hand as well. A stripped back Drink It In, as compared to the recorded version, ended their set perfectly, in mellow blissfullness. (Day drinking, eh!)

THE DUNWELLS

The Dunwells are clearly a draw for the fringe at The Brasenose. Having shared stages with bands like Scouting For Girls, Bryan Adams, Tom Jones and Elbow to name a few, the band are clearly confident in their sound.

As the crowd grows gradually, The Dunwells’ powerful sound delivers rousing track after rousing track. Their sound is big, showing why they are held in such high esteem. The Leeds band have a long time slot to fill, but they do so excellently. Their usual configuration is as a duo, but this full band iteration is superb. The band are on tour later this year (click here for info).

WHEN RIVERS MEET

When Rivers Meet are history makers. In 2023, they crashed into the official album chart as an independent blues/rock group. In 2025, they have gone one further and broken into the top five. To see such a high calibre act on the bill at The Brasenose Fringe is great.

From the off, the wife/husband duo of Grace and Aaron Bond get stuck into their gutsy and raw blues rock. There are slide solos in many of the bands songs, as well as crunching riff fuelled passages. Prior to the band hitting the stage, the strains of Thunder’s River Of Pain was heard on the PA. Thunder are a great band comparison to make.

Full of passion and soul, the group clearly have plenty of fans in the garden for their show. For those unaware of the band, they certainly know the name now…this writer included.

THE BARSTEWARD SONS OF VAL DOONICAN

The Barsteward Sons Of Val Doonican are a band that need no introduction really. Straight out of Barnsley Rock City, the parody group have a reputation that precedes them. Quirky parodies of famous songs recalling the life and trials of a band from Barnsley.

Their latest album, Evolver, is due in September. Punters at The Brasenose get a little taste of that with Born To Be Riled (about getting mad on the motorway) and Fly Tipper (you get the gist; just hum it to Day Tripper).

A reworked, McFly tinged version of The Lady In Greggs sets a high octane pace for an absolutely rammed Brasenose garden. Shifting from Chris De Burgh to McFly on the speedometer has revitalised a classic of the Barsteward repertoire.

Now made up of a largely new band, The Barstewards work the crowd masterfully after a lengthy sound check to squash gremlins. Who knew that a folk parody group would need so much ‘leccy! Tarnlife is an early highlight and favourite and closers Jump Ararnd and The Devil Went Down To Barnsley are bonafide party pieces. The Barsteward Sons Of Val Doonican are a fixture of these parts on this weekend. Maybe next year they’ll be back on the main stage in the big field.

MERRY HELL

John Kettle was a little uncertain, ahead of Merry Hell‘s performance, as to the wisdom of a clash with Fairport, worried this may affect attendance. Clearly he has failed quite yet to register the surge of goodwill that exists out there, and here, for his band of vagabonds and wastrels. For, as he was compiling the set list, so, at the back of the pub, a throng of Hellster’s were accruing, with excitement. And I don’t know about you, but if you hadn’t realised that even Gordon Giltrap was a fan, well, he is, there in the crowd, and granted a pre-show audience with the band to pay his respects.

Immediately from the start it was apparent what a tight unit the band have now become, with that in no smal part seeming down to the rich and warm fiddle parts of Simon Swarbrick, relative new boy, and the first time I have seen them with the band. With a name like that, there must be a lot to live up to, but, boy, the boy can play and Uncle Dave must have surely been smiling tonight. Kicking off with 2018’s Loving The Skin You’re In, that set up the mood and the message for the evening. Andrew Kettle’s voice gets stronger and stronger, a voice well-weathered through adversity and celebration alike.

AT THE FOLK-PUNK MUSIC HALL

Stand Down and There’s A Ghost In My House followed in swift succession before Virginia Kettle got into her stride, with audience favourite, not least for her inspiring introduction; she knows her audience well, Bury Me Naked. One of many songs in their roster that carry a heady whiff of music hall about them, it is this band of the people aspect that endears them so much to their fanbase. A few more songs and they leave Mrs Kettle alone on stage, for another slice of ribald knowingness, her ode to not being a shrinking one, Violet. By now the pub garden was shaking through the numbers of dancing feet.

IN A HANDCART

Vagaband, and band are all back on stage, all, I note, titfered up, bar hardworking drummer, Andy Jones. This demands attention, if only to admire the range of flats, trilbies and the rest. But, of the rest, surely pride of place must go to Bob Kettle and his purple topper, a battered headpiece to envy, and responsible, I’m sure, in part for the wonky grin he affects throughout. One of the several songwriters in the band, to see him purely as purveyor of bouzouki would be to do him a great disservice. The song is pure punkery of the Celtic-folk variety and is a riot.

ANTHEMS AND MIRACLES

With Swarbrick switching over to a natty electric fiddle, the heat was rising, needing the audience to let off steam, which they did audibly and with relish, the chorus for the anthemic Don’t Say I, Say Us, surely becoming their signatory. A song then to celebrate festival season, Summer Is A’Coming, must have been able to be heard across the way, a song so infectiously bucolic as to have the lame on their feet and the dumbstruck howling.

With a very strict 10pm curfew, all eyes were on the clock, to see how many songs they could squeeze in before that hour struck, with the answer being more than you might think. But, with a final “What have you got for us, Simon Swarbrick” from his bandmates, it was One More Day Without You, a song to sing and hum over the traipse back to the field.

BRASENOSE SUNDAY

We have to admit to having felt ‘a bit thrilled’ when we learned that Birmingham Americana hotshots (and At The Barrier faves) The Lost Notes would be the closing act at this year’s Brasenose Fringe.  As regular browsers of these pages will be aware, these guys never fail to deliver the goods and they were an inspired choice to send this year’s Cropredy visitors home with wide grins on their faces and indelible tunes in their heads.

But, for the few of you who haven’t been paying attention, let’s have a short recap…

At their core, The Lost Notes are husband-and-wife Ben (vocals, guitar, harmonica and trumpet) and Lucy (vocals and ukelele) Mills, and their companion, lead guitarist and vocalist Oli Jobes.  They’ll often perform in that format as a trio but for their bigger – and their more prestigious – shows, they’ll often supplement their lineup with bass and drums.  This weekend, they appeared in a kind of half-fat form, with regular drummer Max Tomlinson eschewing his kit and underpinning the group’s sound with some impressive bass guitar playing.

MOSELEY’S FINEST…

The setting was perfect.  OK, weekend visitors were starting to drift away from the village as the weekend drifted to its close, but the mellow, peaceful atmosphere that had infused the weekend hadn’t deserted Cropredy village and there still plenty of us eager to experience that special magic that always accompanies a Lost Notes appearance.  Did we want to hear some wonderful harmony-infused Americana, performed by Moseley’s finest?  You bet your bagpipes we did!

A burst of Oli’s signature fingerpicking was the signal that we were underway and the band launched into Hold On, a slow/quick/slow country ballad that was pitched just right for the laid-back vibe of the garden.  “We’re going to do a few mellow ones until the sun dips behind the stage,” said Ben; it was clear that he’d read the vibe just right!

The Eagles-flavoured Don’t Try It on Me (opening track to last year’s magnificent Good Luck Shoes album) was followed by the band’s token ‘protest song,’ Banker’s Blues, a cheeky country shuffle with Ben on harmonica and Oli and Lucy having great fun with their harmonised vocals.  Lucy underpinned the song’s lyrics with some great facial expressions and I loved Ben’s Mexican trills.

SUMMON UP THE SPIRITS…

Let It Rain, another track from Good Luck Shoes is a lovely country weepie to which The Lost Notes bring too much joy for it to be really weepy, and the feeling was blissful as Ben led the whole garden in singing the song’s “la-la-la” refrain.

I’ve often remarked on Lucy’s uncanny ability to bring the spirit and sound of several of history’s great singers into her own vocal stylings and she called upon the spirit of Billie Holliday to inhabit the Latin-flavoured Run Like a River.  Lucy swapped places with Ben to deliver the song from centre-stage, as location, weather and music all fell into perfect alignment.

Green Grass, the opening track to The Lost Notes 2017 Run Free Right Now album is an almost appropriate title for a sparkling bluegrass song, and it’s a song that lets The Lost Notes express their natural joy – and the audience felt that joy, too, as they clapped along and joined in with the soaring “Whooooaah” chorus. 

DIVINE HARMONIES

The Lost Notes are renowned for the quality of their vocal harmonies – it’s a skill that each of the band’s front three – Lucy, Ben and Oli – have by the spadeful and they exercised that skill to great effect for the enchanting a Fool Once Told Me, a song from the 2020 album, Lowlifes and High Times.

Ben led the audience in a round of applause for the Brasenose team for bringing this whole delightful event together, before the band returned to Good Luck Shoes for No Place Like Home, a song that could have been written especially for this very event – and the audience showed their appreciation by singing along beautifully.  Max wasn’t needed for this one, so he was dispatched to the bar to bring back beers for the sweltering performers…

The ‘mellow’ period of the set was brought to its close by Still I Come, another treasure from the Lowlifes and High Times album.  The sun had, by now, completed its dip behind the stage and the band decided that it was time to crank up the pace a tad.  And, what better way is there to do that, than with the raucous gospel of Baby Won’t You Come.  Ben’s lead vocal was joyous, the harmonies were divine and Ben, Oli and Max all delivered sizzling solos on their respective instruments.

YOU’D HAVE TO BE MADE OF STONE

Mine Is the Heart is, quite possibly, my favourite Lost Notes song.  Lucy always manages to summon the spirit of Karen Carpenter as she sings this one and she had the Brasenose Fringe spellbound as she exercised the whole of her magical vocal range.  You’d have to be made of stone to be left cold by that voice.

The excellent Head Over Heels never quite made onto the Good Luck Shoes album – the band apparently ran out of studio time before the recording could be completed but it has to be a shoo-in when they get round to making album #4.  Oli takes the vocal lead, as Lucy and Ben provide a velvety backdrop.  The audience were asked to turn to their left and sing the chorus, with sincerity, into the face of the person next to them.  Happily, nobody was offended by such familiarity, and no fracas broke out…

Ben’s trumpet brings a jazzy feel to Wildman, the track that closes the Good Luck Shoes album and I have to confess to feeling a tinge of shock as Lucy disclosed her (slightly disturbing) obsession with Prof. Brian Cox during her introduction to the blissful Pieces of a Star.  It’s another song that suited the peaceful, warm, Sunday ambience perfectly, and its performance was an experience that I’m sure to recall frequently throughout the coming cold, dark, winter.

SAME TIME NEXT YEAR?

The show’s climax was approaching and I’ll Be the River had its usual impact upon a Lost Notes audience as the crowd rose to its collective feet.  And they stayed there as Run Free Right Now brought the show, the festival and the weekend to its virtual end.  This year’s festival was very special and I, for one, will be counting the days until next year’s event rolls around again.  Thank you Rebecca and the entire team at The Brasenose, thank you Fairport, thank you Cropredy and, this year, thank you The Lost Notes for bringing such happiness into our lives.

But that wasn’t quite the end.  The Lost Notes were enticed back onto the stage for one final farewell and the crowd bopped and leapt around for one final time to the glorious stone in My Shoe.  A Lost Notes gig is an experience that isn’t to be missed…

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