Over the years some incredible folk musicians have found sanctuary next to the altar in this church on the South Gloucestershire border. Glorious voices, wonderful fiddles and all manner of lovely stringed things have conjured some of the best music you will ever hear.
It comes as no surprise, then, that when two folk legends come to warm up a chilly evening, things get more than a little extraordinary.
To say that Peter Knight (Steeleye Span, Gigspanner) simply plays fiddle somehow feels disingenuous. He makes it sing as though it were lifted from the pages of an enchanted fairytale. John Spiers (Bellowhead, Spiers & Boden) is his perfect foil, a series of melodeons holding the line, stretching the canvas that allows Knight's magical colours free rein.
Starting with Cuckoo Set, three tunes with a cuckoo theme, the fiddle and melodeon build layer upon layer. There's a slow start, a zen-like meditation, Spiers setting up a heartbeat-thrum while Knight trills and chirps. It flows like water, you blink and suddenly you've become entirely immersed, the sound is everywhere, a melodeon drone matching your internal rhythms, fiddle flitting through tree-tops. You realise that if every woodland walk was soundtracked by this you'd probably go down to the woods way more often. Then it changes course again, two morris dance tunes swirl past with stomps and an irrepressible jubilation.
What the duo do to Scarborough Fair would have folk purists clutching their leather tankards in despair. Spiers says that they "play with" the tune rather than just "play" it, and he's not wrong. Knight improvises around the melody; you catch wisps of it every now and again as he chases down increasingly wondrous alleyways. Notes tumble from his violin, they float and soar, they creep and scuttle, they explode and cavort. This goes so far beyond your regular folk fiddler. This is astonishing.
Then it all changes again. A series of French dance tunes are sprightly and fun. Spiers’ melodeon to the fore, pushing toes to tap, feet to pound the floor. Knight starts to twist the tunes in odd directions and Spiers grins while his squeezebox laughs an evil-goblin laugh. There are jaunty hornpipes, 800-year-old dance tunes and foot tappers of all types. Knight and Spiers are in perfect step, in perfect control.
For Knight's From a Lullaby Kiss, he fuses an Eastern European frenzy with classical stylings until his creaking voice adds an unspeakable poignancy; the contrast between the fluidity of the violin playing and the vulnerability of the voice is intense.
In many ways John Spiers seems quite content to allow Peter Knight's dexterity to take centre stage - his shy grin suggests he's loving it as much as we are - but without his melodeon backbone, Knight would have no support. The drones on Bonny at Morn suggest a church organ or the howls of a Northumbrian gale. The relentless rhythm for La Dance de Madam Meymerie is the dancefloor that allows for Knight's mushroom-gathering abandon. It is the melodeon that circles slowly on The Hawsley Schottische while the fiddle peeks its head up, whipping at snatches of the tune.
The highlight of a brilliant set is Easter Thursday, a triple hornpipe from the 1600s. It's just so much fun. The tune cascades from Knight's fiddle, notes bouncing off down the aisle, grinning and stomping. If a hornpipe was something that sailors danced to help with the rhythms of their work, then this ship must have been full sail strung the whole time. It fizzes and leaps, Knight and Spiers putting the whole thing, the whole night, into constant motion.
Before all of this virtuosity, a three-piece from Wiltshire were mighty entertaining. Fly Yeti Fly are a core duo of Lorna Somerville and Darren Fisher, joined tonight by Alex Pearson on double bass. Their 60s flecked dream-folk-pop was beautifully November-scented. Ice cracked on Firewood as Somerville's voice warmed the pews, her mandolin blowing winds in from less bitter places. Fisher's harmonies complement her dreamy vocals on Mermaid Song, the two of them weaving tales as easily as breathing. They wrap us in a crushed velvet cape, one with a paisley lining. Lovely stuff.
That roll-call of brilliant musicians that have made their way to Downend just keeps getting longer. Tonight saw some of the very best.
Words: Gavin McNamara
Photos: Barry Savell
Photos: Barry Savell
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Back in March of 2022, we were due to welcome KNIGHT & SPIERS, but that pesky covid intervened. We’re delighted to say we’ve finally managed to find a date to reschedule, and they’ll be with us to headline our November concert.
Folk 'A-list'-ers, folk 'royalty' and folk 'icons' are terms frequently applied to Peter Knight & John Spiers, but what it means in reality is that they bring the best of traditional music to any stage they play.
The exquisite explorations of the liminal space that exists between traditional and classical music is what makes the music of Peter Knight and John Spiers so compelling and beguiling, ultimately rendering genres irrelevant.
The pairing of violin and melodeon is a classic one, but in the hands of Knight and Spiers, improvisation and invention meet the listener at every turn. Together they have created a musical document that resonates with history, but also something to inspire future generations of musicians to engage with Britain’s folk music heritage.
Opening the evening will be FLY YETI FLY, an alt-folk duo whose enchanting harmonies, warm instrumentation and heartfelt storytelling weave songs about connection and community. Blending folk, roots and Americana influences, their music is both uplifting and deeply moving, with a sound that is reminiscent of the late-’60s folk scene. Now living on their canal boat on the Kennet & Avon, their music is heavily influenced by the ebb and flow of life on the water.
Tickets for the concert, which takes place at CHRIST CHURCH DOWNEND on Friday 21 November 2025, are available online HERE and from MELANIE’S KITCHEN (cash only). They are priced at £14 each in advance or £16 on the door. Doors open at 7.00pm and the music starts around 7.45pm. This event is also included in our AUTUMN/WINTER SEASON TICKET, if you've bought one already.
There will be a bar, stocking cider, soft drinks, wine, hot drinks and real ale from Bristol’s HOP UNION BREWERY. Audience members are encouraged to bring their own glass/mug/tankard, as well as reusable bottles for water, as part of the drive to be more environmentally aware; there is a 50p discount for those that do. There will also be sweet treats available at the bar courtesy of Radstock-based THE GREAT CAKE COMPANY, as well as a prize draw, which helps to fund the opening artists for each concert.
For those that can’t make it to Downend, or miss out on tickets, this concert will also be live-streamed in partnership with LIVE TO YOUR LIVING ROOM, so you can watch from the comfort of your own sofa! Head to livetoyourlivingroom.com for more information on live-stream tickets.
For further information, please email This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it. or find us on FACEBOOK, INSTAGRAM, BLUESKY, YOUTUBE or TIKTOK.
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The number three is a special thing. The Chinese consider it lucky, De La Soul thought it magic, English teachers just can't get enough of the Rule of Three. And folk trios? They're pretty amazing too.
THE SHACKLETON TRIO and THE ASHEN KEYS effortlessly demonstrate that, while two might create a contrast, three allows for nuance, possibility and glorious intricacies.
From the opening seconds of Mandy Lynn, it is quite obvious that The Shackleton Trio are out to prove the true power of three. Georgia Shackleton's fiddle pings off of the mandolin of Nic Zuppardi, while Aaren Bennett's guitar clears a path to the dancefloor. The mandolin lends a Bluegrass edge but Shackleton's fiddle keeps things on this side of the Atlantic, the push and pull creating unbridled joy.
It's a joy that rarely lets up. The Fashionable Farmer swirls around the harmonies of Shackleton and Bennett as the fiddle and mandolin pokes gentle fun at a daft chap. Black Sluice, taken from the current album celebrating their ten-year anniversary, creeps stealthily around a tune that hints at smoky Parisian bars before being illuminated by mandolin flashes. For a slightly depressing song it has a brilliant chorus and a great spoonful of jauntiness.
The Shackleton Trio bask in a love of nature too. There are Fenlands and brave animals everywhere you look. Two Hundred Miles tells the tale of a determined and loyal dog; it gallops along, the hard tracks of rural America scooting beneath its feet, Zuppardi's banjo pushing it forward. Lonesome George is short and sweet, the celebration of a giant tortoise, and Shackleton's voice is simply the loveliest thing. On War Pigeon, the fiddle and mandolin spill into a dizzying Bluegrass hoedown as she tackles tongue-twisting lyrics. The love for, and awe of, the animal world is palpable.
The Frost Fair harks back to ancient, chilly days but warms like an ice-bound brazier, Bennett's acoustic-Led-Zeppelin trills and a fabulous chorus doing the job. Bird's Nest Bound, meanwhile, is a feather-light Blues, banjo bubbles popping at the softest of touches.
It's not often that the Downend audience gets up to have a dance (they much prefer a hearty sing) but, tonight, there’s some spirited, untethered whirling. Bolton Lodge is a walking tune that spins with its arms wide, bouncing on the balls of its feet. It has a childlike fizz that sends people up and out of their seats. The Stanford, a tune written for a pub, does it too. Mandolin and fiddle zooming around, pausing, dipping, then joining the steady thrum of the guitar.
Three instruments, gloriously intricate, full of possibility, sparking utter joy. The power of three in human form.
Most bands, having had to endure a five-and-a-half-hour drive from Kent to Bristol, might be a bit grumpy. The Ashen Keys, though, drift in on a cloud of harmonies, as gentle, as untroubled as if they'd just wandered in from next door. The Den, taken from their debut album The Name on Your Compass, is a wind-blown waltz, layers and layers of voices creating something lush, something drowning-deep. There are breathy oboe sighs from Rachel Lowrie and an Amélie accordion from Vicky Price, paving Paris streets.
The Ellerby Hoard tells of treasure hidden under floorboards and is just as magical and unexpected; Hannah Ellerby (no relation) narrates a story that teeters on the edge of spooky as Price's French horn ghosts around it. Finally, Lowrie's acoustic strum drives the whole thing prog-folkwards. With Cassandra, The Ashen Keys mine their literary loves and unearth a blues-y slink that's full of dark corners and strange creatures. The three of them casting shadows, breathing life into myth, intoxicating with harmony. It's the harmony that does it really as Lowrie, Price and Ellerby gently twist around one another on Gathering, their voices nothing short of magical.
Words: Gavin McNamara
Photos: Barry Savell
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