JENNIE MACFIE samples the inaugural Northern Roots Festival, and seems to have quite liked the Groanbox Boys

NORTHERN ROOTS is a welcome addition to the Highland festival scene, family-friendly, with a distinctive flavour all of its own. It was well into the Crosseyed Gals’ set before I realised the interesting pattern of fairy lights behind the makeshift stage in the Bogbain Adventure and Heritage Farm steading was in fact random knotholes in the large wooden double doors which, until recently, was only ever opened to allow tractor parking.

The steading is certainly full of heritage, and it was a bit of an adventure, too. It’s a very basic venue which feels a bit like an old church, with its long narrow nave and high, vaulted roof. And also its lack of heating; we had been warned, though, as the website had advised wrapping up warmly, and many a car rug was pressed into service before the day was over. But Northern Roots is a music festival, and the music was worth the occasional shiver.

The Crosseyed Gals, a Swedish/Scottish band playing rootsy alt-country Americana opened proceedings on Saturday afternoon, with pure breathy vocals from Sofie Jonsson, which at times reminded me of a feminised Nick Drake, and some lovely instrumental and vocal accompaniments from Liza Mulholland and John Mitchell, abetted towards the end of the set by Mary Anne Frew for a very jolly rendition of their eponymous Skip Gordon ditty.

On an extended mission to find something warm to a) drink and b) wear, I missed most of Ranald Smith & Iain MacGillivray’s set, but managed to hear enough to appreciate their mellow, beautifully matched guitarwork and passionately felt lyrics. The afternoon’s concert finished with the ethereally beautiful songs of Fiona Mackenzie, mostly from her solo album Elevate, one of the great and enduring audio delights of 2008.

Also known as Fiona ‘Gress’ to distinguish her from the swarm of singers with the same name, she has been described as Kate Bush meets Bjork on the Isle of Lewis – but that’s only the half of it. As she started to sing, the audience suddenly hushed in concentration, stunned by the quality. Accompanied by Brian O hEadhra on guitar and Rick Taylor on keyboards, augmented by Liza Mulholland on accordion for ‘Maria’, her set was a musical treat of the highest order.

The evening concert began with a workmanlike set from Andy Gunn and his Band, which dipped into blues and country before settling into a comfortable rock groove. The Sheila Henderson Band were next up with some polished, tight but enviably loose folk/country. The diminutive Ms Henderson has a stunningly beautiful voice which punches well above its weight, and her musicians, who look like a motley crew, are equally gifted. Her lead guitarist Brian Nicholson looks like a cross between Bill Bailey and the Hairy Bikers, but plays like the longlost love child of BB King.

Bruce MacGregor has been waxing lyrical about the Groanbox Boys for the past year. I was expecting well-played bluegrass, maybe a bit hokey, but definitely authentic and well-played. I was thus completely unprepared for the reality, which is almost impossible to describe. The set swooped and soared from Nick Cave to Dr John the Night Tripper via Paul Simon’s Graceland, veering occasionally into Trent Reznor territory and suddenly heading back to Maryland as though butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth. File under E for Extraordinarily Excellent.

© Jennie Macfie, 2009