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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