Steve Knightley (& The Winter Yards Band) – Coventry HMV Empire – Wednesday12th November 2025.
Ringroad wrangling rendered righteous.
ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING….
Knightley? Again? Yes, it can seem that way, a 4th show, in only around 18 months, but, you see, the thing with Knightley, these days anyway, is that he is never ever quite the same. So, in that time I have seen him put Show of Hands to bed, light up the brief, bright flame of Dream In Colours and then launch his “new” solo persona. This tour is for the veteran road-hungry performer to revisit his catalogue, solo, SoH and otherwise, in a band setting. And what a band, with David Delarre, late of Mawkin and various of Eliza Carthy’s combos, on guitars, John Parker (Nizlopi) on the biggest double bass in the world, and human octopus, Evan Carson, on his own loopy variant of a drum kit.
It is years since Coventry has drawn me to it’s central cocoon, since which time the ring roads have grown like Betsy. A short drive became a marathon, as I went around around and around, never quite finding a way off the constricting band of carriageways. What signage there is, is a hindrance. But, more by luck than judgement, Salt Street I finally found, and the multi-storey. From there to the grandeur of the Empire. Expecting an Apollo, or at least an Academy, this was a chiily old cinema, upstairs in the pedestrian mall that masquerades as the city centre.
Rather old school and rather jolly, a big old bare room, with dark walls and a stage, emblazoned with the destination logo. School assembly chairs in rows stood testimony to the ambience offered, which even the neon sign screaming “merch”, over a table at the side, couldn’t dispel. A decentish looking bar, too, not that I was tippling. My sort of venue, with a capacity circa 300, at a guess.
DELIGHT
Mr Knightley himself came on to introduce the support band, True Foxes. Almost protegèes of his, he discovered the two cousins playing in a West Country bar, and, liking what he heard, signed them up to sing bvs on last years The Winter Yards album. It then seemed logical to bring them along for this tour, to both reprise those vocals and why not open up the show as well. He has good ears.
Amie Parsons and Chloe Payne came on, shortly after 8 and delighted the almost but not quite full house from the start. Parsons plays guitar, and sings the lead vocals for their essentially personal songs, whilst Payne adds harmonies, all the while pulling glorious boomy runs out of her acoustic bass guitar; not a stand-up, but one of those lovely instruments like Dave Pegg often adopts. The songs are well put together, and comparisons with First Aid Kit or Secret Sisters would not be remiss, if with the tides and timbre of a Cornish harbour town.
Opening with a song from their yet to be completed second album, this was all about the joys of being a woman, or, as was added, 60% of the time. Having the slightly deeper voice of the pair, Parsons holds the melody, with the higher Payne adding almost grace notes, rather than just singing along.
A DUO TO KEEP AN EAR ON
This worked especially well for their cover of Kate Bush’s Running Up That Hill. With most of the additional songs also coming from the as yet unreleased album, there was but one from their debut, but that didn’t phase them one bit, or matter to the audience, most of whom, anyway, were hearing them for the first time. The closer, with a canny lyrical lift from Anything You Can Do, was superb, Parsons’ acerbic diatribe to the school “mates” who belittled her musical talent. Definitely a duo to keep an ear on.
CASUAL INDECISION
That treat duly delivered, the interval was sufficient to attend to any interim needs, in preparation for the main course. As the lights went down, so Parker first, and then Delarre, ambled on to their part the stage, Parker to his bassy behemoth, Delarre to a small rack of guitars, acoustic and electric both. Carson made a swift beeline across to his hybrid set up, all manner of skins to bang, slap, tap and jingle, leaving only Knightley to finally casually saunter on, affecting mischievous indecison as to which of his instruments: guitars x 2, mandocello and cuatro, he might choose. Mandocello of course, my guess his favourite, as the quartet launched into Dance On Mars, a song yet to be committed to record, previewed in his solo tour of the summer.
Delarre quickly showed himself to be very much a more than adequate Beer to Knightley’s, um, Knightley, his fingers scattering notes from his acoustic guitar like so much confetti at a windy wedding. Parker, meanwhile, was keeping a tighter rein, issuing forth only the notes that mattered, deftly dripfeeding them into the whole. Double bass really seems to be this year’s model, as, even before the sad death of Sir Danny Thompson, the likes of James Lindsay and Ben Nicholls have been never busier. Now add Parker to that small but perfect company. Carson, meanwhile, was just ridiculous, his volley of percussive hues, worldbeats emanating from all four corners of the globe, as joyous as the grin on his face.
WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG?
The even newer Go Wrong, followed, one of the classic narrative type songs Knightley is so adept at, setting a scene up for consideration, ahead of questioning, slyly, as to what could possibly go wrong. That, “what could possibly go wrong“, was also the chorus that, ever the folkie, he encouraged all to sing along with, succeeding. Starting with the Titanic and WW1, getting then very much more up to date, with wry digs at the “wisdoms” of our leaders, encompassing wars, lockdown and, for the last verse, AI. A samba in his YouTube “premiere” of the song, here it was a far more muscular beast, Delarre now spitting out shards of electric.
Showing an eye is being kept on his old mucker, Sydney Carter’s Crow On The Cradle, a staple in Phil Beer’s solo shows, he deemed it worthy a borrow, The anti-war song was transformed, garnished with an electrical storm of reverb and echo, courtesy Delarre once more. Realising a mention of Knightley’s voice has been, as yet, unforthcoming, any doubt that he could not hold his weight over the electrical storm would be needless; his voice remains as strong and effortlessly projectile as ever. And he wasn’t wrong, the song was very well worth the outing. The first song from the album was up next, I Tried, and, given the True Foxes had added vocals on the disc, back on they came to do the same tonight. With now six people on stage, four of them singing, it was an uplifting moment, before the cousin’s return backstage
IT’S FOLK, NOT WOKE
If anyone had thought the evening was missing a step-hop hornpipe, Delarre was your man, as he tickled up post rock avant garde guitar textures into the noble morris, in a brief instrumental, shrugging off all the good natured jibes, from his bandleader, levelled at he and any fellow practioners of the art. From what I recall, this was segued into Knightley’s clever and witty riposte around all the dreadful things that happen in the world of folk: murder, incest, and depravity of all colours, lifting exemplar lyrics to underline the point, and all allowable because it’s from the tradition.
And, of course. it didn’t miss the open goal, the rhyme: “it’s a folk song, not a woke song“. As we all grinned and giggled, it was then straight then into Flora, a song drawn deep from said tradion, picking up extra noir in the journey it took, overseas to Appalachia, a glorious folk-metal extravaganza that would have done the Magpie Arc proud.
INHERENT PATHOS
Carson left the stage for a trio version of The Ride, aka the title of the album, which was tremendous, drawing out all the inherent pathos. Less successful, I fear, was a duo, Delarre and Knightley, rip through Galway Farmer. If the acapella version on the solo tour was my favourite of the many and varied iteration of a song he is rightly proud of, tonight it seemed a tad rushed. It didn’t need, either, the paddywhack accent adopted. Delarre was, however, possibly faster in the home strait than Mr Beer ever was, thus gifting the song an each way bounty. For the return of the band, it was the ever more topical Cutthroats, Conmen and Villains, the singer revealing the “my old school” mentioned at the beginning was actually just around the corner from this venue!
EVERY CLOT OF GRISLY
I always loved the Show Of Hands way with a cover, and so the fact that Boys Of Summer was in the set, and known to be, gave some anticipation. The new version delivered, ringing round and true. (I had wondered around an update to the Deadhead sticker, as per the Bellowhead of occasional versions, but no, not tonight.) Have I mentioned Delarre and his enviscerating guitar yet, that a prominent feature once more? Keeping the electricity and energy ramped up high, Reynardine, up next, was savage, drawing every clot of grisly out the old staple of trad.arr. If Robert Plant’s Saving Grace were to do the song, it would sound much this way.
Getting close to the end, our pulses were given time to slow, for possibly the star track of the album, Transactions, which just gets better and better, on each hearing, Knightley’s lyrical weave of subjects is masterful and sage, giving much food for thought. With the seldom seen Now You Know, an amiable country tinged plinker, the audience were granted a final sing song. Final, that is, if you discount the encore, which, unusually for these days, even had them leave the stage beforehand, with Knightley, last to leave, nearly making it to the door backstage, before turning. What could it be? Cousin Jack, of course, a rousing rendition, all six now back on stage, endeavouring to sing louder than the audience, with only the sound of the instruments managing that.
SETTING SIGHTS FOR SUMMER
Another show, another Knightley. The Winter Yards Band are a stonking unit, and I wish them greater legs than Dream In Colours. With the festival rosters for next summer beginning to drop, let’s hope they will feature frequently and often. With Knightley’s heaving back-pack of songs, with new ones tumbling out willy nilly, this is a band well worth the catching.
Here’s flavour of the show, with Transactions, live from the rhearsal rooms, pre-tour:
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