Originally published at kemptation.com on 23 November 2012. Words by Richard Kemp 

If you happened upon the Colston Hall on Saturday night, amongst its high ceilings and sparkly clean décor, you would have witnessed quite the sight: a full house queuing all the way round the lobby for an English folk band. The word ‘folk’ has experienced a considerable musical revival over the last decade. You can’t go ten pages through a music magazine now without reading about some folk band or other. However, this folksplosion is larger down to contemporary artists, who work their way through acoustic numbers while harking back to the sounds of yore. Acts like Fleet Foxes, Ben Howard and Mumford and Sons have done a fine job of taking the folk name and spinning it in whatever way they like and they deserve all the praise they receive. Nevertheless, it is still a rare thing to find a traditional folk band filling out venues and getting serious radio play. Bellowhead is a perfect example of finding success at such an impossible task.

Started by accordionist/melodeonist John Spiers and fiddler/vocalist Jon Boden, Bellowhead scour the country for English folk songs long forgotten, rework them into old-time jigs, showtunes or dance numbers, and perform them to scores of merry, hopping punters. In 2010, Bellowhead had come to play Bristol in support of their Hedonism record. They took stage at the Old Vic theatre, which offered illustrious acoustics (hearing Boden belt out Amsterdam was a particular favourite that time round), but nowhere to stand. It meant that the closest anyone got to throwing out a jig was giving melodramatic handclaps and foot stomps. Granted, most people were stamping their feet so hard that their bums hovered over their seats for the entire performance.

Two years on and this night promised us a new venue and a brand new album in the form of Broadside. So, naturally, there was raw excitement filling the air of the Colston Hall’s main atrium. The place was so bustling, in fact, that there was a longer line for the men’s loos than there was for the ladies’. It would seem that traditional English folk can do unexpected things.

Eight o’clock rolled around and the gates of folkdom opened. People flooded the hall, filling every seat, corner, nook and cranny available. Young, old, fresh and seasoned, the audience included a healthy mix of people from all walks of life.

On first was Mama Rosin, a modest indie-folk three-piece from Switzerland. Complete with guitar, drums and accordion, harmonica, triangle, banjo and washboard, the trio had a surprisingly diverse sound. The frontman, dressed in sailor boy stripes and sporting long, frizzy and wonderfully big hair, led the band through everything from indie-fused dreamfolk to foot-tappin’ bluegrass. During a blues routine, the accordionist switched for a triangle and the drummer picked up a harmonica while proceeding to hammer on the drums one-handed. He later cashed in his drumsticks for a pair of maracas and then, later still, got up to tinkle on the washboard.

These boys are obviously talented and, though they haven’t quite settled on a sound yet, it allows for some pretty fun experimentation. It was simply amazing to hear three people make so much noise. During some numbers they seemed like the soundtrack to life on a desert island, nicely contrasting the maritime influences projected on stage as the backdrop for Bellowhead’s current tour. Every now and then, the band would shoot to an unexpected breakdown and take the audience with them, initiating spontaneous pockets of jig claps and swaying. It made you want to build a big bonfire in the centre of the dancefloor and start skipping, hooting, hollering and laughing like hyenas.

Mama Rosin is still in its infancy and clearly appreciative of the sizeable crowd Bellowhead had drawn for them. This could be seen by the permanent grins slapped on each musician’s face as they stumbled charmingly between English and French. They were sure to have gained some new fans tonight.

A short break, in which the crowd had just enough time to pile as close to the front as possible and observe the absolute zoo of instruments at Bellowhead’s disposal. Violins, trumpets, trombones, drums, guitars, cellos and all manner of accordion, melodeon and squeezebox just waiting for Spiers’ magic touch. The band arrive on stage to raucous applause and immediately jump into new track Black Beetle Pie, a positively ghoulish number that documents the recipes of an old lady who used to stuff her homemade pies with black beetles, stray animals and even her own pants. The lights turn an ominous shade of dark green for the chorus before the band grace into its climax. A little rest and lead vocalist/fiddler extraordinaire Jon Boden proceeds to explain what the song was all about.

Though started by Boden and Spiers, one of the beauties of Bellowhead is that every member, however new, has obvious input into what the band plays. This is no better shown than in the fact that each player gets a chance to introduce or leave an afterword to a song. It’s also evident in how much fun everyone seems to be having. The brass section jig it up like maniacs whenever they get a chance, legs and arms flailing all over. They even slip into slow motion, bullet-time moves at one point and the saxophonist gets blowing on his saxophone and clarinet – at the same time. The fiddlers get down on their knees to serenade the cellist, the only female in the 11-strong troupe, while lead man Boden makes sure to check on the crowd every once in a while, presumably to make sure they’re having as much fun as the band is on stage. They are.

Nevertheless, the good certainly comes with its share of bad. Without doing a full customer survey, it is a fair guess to say that many people came to tonight’s gig to jump, dance and generally frolic to 21^st century traditional English folk. While this was eventually delivered, the band took its sweet time getting there, waiting at least half an hour before cracking out anything that was remotely danceable. The crowd was fairly crushed and so having reason to dance around and make some space would have been a welcome relief. By the time the band started with its cavorting high jinks, in fact, it was almost too late, with some audience members wishing they had somewhere to sit after all. A stark contrast from the lack of floor space The Old Vic had to offer in 2010.

The band’s penchant for experimentation didn’t help the cause much either. Bellowhead are no strangers to mixing traditional tunes with modern themes. Funk, blues, electro, rock; it makes for a nice break between the straight-up folk, but it can also end up confusing the audience, who have no idea what they’re trying to achieve. The quick switch in style serves to kill any momentum the band has created and leaves them having to start from scratch to work the crowd back to its original, jig-crazed folly. Still, once the band gets going and reconvinces the crowd to move about, the whole room begins to lift up, painting a childish grin on every punter’s face.

What Bellowhead do well they do very well and they’re getting more exposure for it. Well deserved, it must be said. They form a band that has the ability to entertain effortlessly while keeping alive some of the richest and most rousing folk tales of yore. More than humble folkmasters, Bellowhead are anthropologists of the musical world.