Skip The Budgie

Start of an two-week tour 'party' at Bar Unlimited, Bristol.

My friends and I have a term for the kind of music that Arctic Circle make. We call it 'whimsy'. Gentle, pastoral songs that make you think that the world might actually be quite a nice place after all. All their friends have come to encourage them and the place is packed and sweaty. For seven people in a tiny space, they are pretty tight and together, swapping instruments all over the place.

Francois and Rozie, having just played with the Arctic Circle continue the quirky pop, adding an electro flavour with Francois' extremely lo-fi French sound. Extremely French, but don't let that put you off, some of these songs are great in a playful mellow sort of a way.

All of Francois and Rozie and the Arctic Circle's mates disappear when the real talent start. Sure, they're all having a go on the same roundabout and are obviously all terribly young and stuff, but you'd think some of them would stay to hear two of the greatest solo singers in Bristol at the moment. But no, going upstairs to congratulate yourselves and make a noise is far more important. After all, it's not like we're here for the music, is it?

The space enables me to get a seat near the front however, so other people's tragic failure to recognise what's good for them becomes a boon and I settle down to enjoy the intimate songs of Caroline Martin. She dashes Arctic Circle's dream of a happy world to the ground and grinds it into the floor with her heel, with songs about love, loss, loneliness, sex, abuse, self-consciousness, being a hooker - did I mention sex? Sometimes you don't know where to look, but you always think 'lady, you keep singing like that and *I* wouldn't walk away'!

Rose Kemp is ill. She says 'God I want to die', perhaps a little too often but soldiers on, her incredible voice seemingly unhampered by the cold. She crouches in front of a pedal board, mic strapped to her throat and loops some glorious harmonies together. She hammers her guitar with the frustration of being pissed off and ill. She apologises for the lack of drummer and then proceeds to play almost-metal but it's just her! She still sings like an angel, Sing Our Last Goodbye and Hurricanes are particularly moving. I do feel a bit guilty however and am almost relieved when it's over, knowing she can go home to nice hot whiskey and lemon but she does an encore anyway, after all, this is her tour.

In two weeks time, I'll review the end of tour gig and we can see how far they've come.