There's something very special about a Saturday afternoon spent watching live music. Everything just stops. All of the hassle, all of the heartache just melts away. This is the second of Downend Folk & Roots’ 'Live at Lunchtime' gigs and JACKIE OATES proves herself to be the perfect guest for a laid-back, inclusive, gentle hour (or so) of lovely folk music.

 

Best known for her own take on the English pastoral tradition, a string of brilliant collaborations, and a multitude of BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards, Oates is a singer and fiddle player that has long had an affinity with children and songs of childhood. Which is a good thing, because there are plenty of little ones tottering and grooving about this afternoon.

 

 

These Saturday lunchtime concerts at Downend follow a simple pattern; there are two short sets, everyone is welcome, children can make noise, there’s squash and colouring (for young and old) and the whole thing is beautifully relaxed. Oates is as charming; as smiley, as welcoming as you could wish.

 

Starting at the piano with Isle of France, which she learned from the incomparable Nic Jones, she is warm and sweet. Her voice high and lovely, telling the tale of a shipwrecked convict, and human kindness. It is the perfect way to start, a welcoming embrace that is as beautiful as it is thoughtful. The piano lulls Dream Angus into a gentle lullaby and, later, issues a warning to Young Leonard on the dangers of going swimming. At all times, Oates is the delightful, and delighted, host; she chats and grins, tells stories and simply soothes.

 

 

She doesn't play the accordion very often but, in this relaxed atmosphere, uses her recently learned “three chords” wonderfully endearingly. There’s a false start here and there, an apologetic giggle, a quick check that she’s playing the right key but then there's a set of Christmas songs that are gorgeous. Bergers, Écoutez la Musique and As I Lay on Yoolis Night are both Breton carols, filled with the buzz and huff of an old, old fireside. You can almost taste the mulled cider. Both songs are taken from her forthcoming Christmas album, A Midwinter's Night, that she's made with Bellowhead's John Spiers.

 

Robin Tells of Winter is also snow-dusted, it is slow and gentle, her fiddle carefully plucked and her voice filled with a hot-water-bottle glow. The Sweet Nightingale is unaccompanied and “quite wiggly”, full of trills and curlicues. Both fill this room with smiles. 

 

Oates finishes where she started, back at the piano. May The Kindness, taken from her classic Hyperboreans album, is exactly what needs to be taken away from this afternoon. It's stunning, a warm-hearted encapsulation of everything that Downend are doing here.

 

Watching live music on a Saturday afternoon is, undoubtedly, brilliant. Jackie Oates makes it magical.