Review: Bellowhead, Bristol Beacon – ‘An unhinged party on a sinking galleon’

Life’s a bit rubbish really, isn’t it? It’s cold, for starters. And America has lost its mind (again). And the criminals that have run our country for the best part of fifteen years are still not behind bars. It’s just as well we have music to cheer us up. It’s just as well Bellowhead are touring again.

The last time The Longest Johns, Bristol’s very own shanty-punks, played at the Beacon they headlined, bringing palm trees, high octane sea shanties and a party atmosphere with them. This time they’re supporting but they are determined not to be overshadowed.

Now a solid three piece, Robbie Sattin, Andy Yates and Jonathan “JD” Darley are as full of silliness, good humour and tremendous harmonies as ever. They hammer pieces of metal for Hammer and The Anvil, ask for “spooky tree shapes” to accompany Oak & Ash & Thorn and try to start some sort of massed rowing event, all the while thrashing away on mandolin, banjo and guitar or, simply, supplying warming three-part harmonies.

Their voices buzz and hum, ocean deep but as cosy as a dark-wood cabin. The Worker’s Song is unaccompanied but properly stirring, a unity of purpose. Wellerman is, of course, deliriously received and all the better for that. The three of them tear about, bouncing, dancing, goofing until The Beacon is wreathed in smiles.

Their short set is wonderfully infectious. In truth, the packed Beacon would have been more than happy for much more. By the time they had run through Drunken Sailor and Hoist Up the Thing the outside world was entirely forgotten; all that mattered was brilliant folk music.

Bristol’s Longest Johns, now a trio, have been supporting Bellowhead on their November tour – photo: Gavin McNamara

And folk music doesn’t come more brilliant than when it’s delivered by Bellowhead. Eight years after splitting up, two years after their reunion tour, twenty years since they formed, this multi-legged folk monster is still the best band around.

Jon Boden is still the greatest ring-master-front-man; Sam Sweeney still launches himself off of anything, duelling his fiddle with Rachael McShane. John Spiers is still the perfect foil to them all.

There’s still a four-piece brass section that caper like loons. Benji Kirkpatrick is still a (not very) frustrated guitar god. Pete Flood is still the finest drummer you’ll ever see. Everything is as it should be. It is, in truth, hard to forget that there’s a Paul Sartin shaped hole but Sally Hawkins does a fine job on fiddle and oboe.

Two years ago, when they reassembled, they were still reeling from Sartin’s passing. There were times when those shows felt like a catharsis, others when they were too slick. Tonight, though, the setlist is almost entirely different and the mood is, very definitely, joyful.

Let Her Run and Gosport Nancy, both taken from 2014’s Revival, explode across the Beacon. The brass section sound incredible, lending serious volume and swing to a shanty and a traditional drinking song.

There’s delirium from the outset. If there’s folk music in there, then there’s also raucous jazz, noisy rock ‘n’ roll and, on Fire Marengo, serious seat-shaking funk grooves. A huge helicon rumbles away beneath the fiddles and the trumpets.

On Hudson’s Hornpipe/Parson’s Farewell, the dancing becomes furious, fiddle and brass leaping together. At one stage Sweeney goes down on his knees in front of Hawkins just as she unfurls a beautiful oboe peel. He is, at once, missing an old friend and celebrating a new one. It’s a tiny, beautiful moment.

Nothing can top the Bellowhead experience – photo: Bellowhead

The pace almost never drops. Prickle Eye Bush may be from their debut EP but it’s wildly dynamic. On Jack Robinson the fiddles pierce through great sheets of brass, trying to reclaim folk from the jazzy wall of noise. The Rochdale Coconut Dance is an unhinged party on a sinking galleon.

All the while Boden whips up the crowd, exhorting us to dance – “This one is much more fun if you stand up,” he bellows before Haul Away. You have to wonder why someone decided to leave the seats in, but we stand anyway. And dance. And jump.

All resistance would have been futile in any case, as they end with four of the greatest, most reliable, moments from their impressive back catalogue. London Town, New York Girls, Roll the Woodpile Down and, finally, gloriously, Frog’s Legs & Dragon’s Teeth make life worth living, the woes of a politically uncertain November melting away.

If you don’t like Bellowhead, there’s a good chance that you’re an ostrich. Or that you vote the wrong way. Or that you still trust charlatans and ne’er-do-wells.

If you don’t like Bellowhead, your life must be a bit rubbish.

Main image: B Kerridge

Read next:

• Review: Gina Larner, The Louisiana – ‘Firebrand fusion of country-pop and rock’
• Review: Martin Simpson, Folk House – ‘A touring stalwart proof of the living folk tradition’
• Review: Jackie Oates, Downend Folk and Roots – ‘A welcoming embrace’
• Review: Arooj Aftab, Bristol Beacon – ‘Simply sensational’