‘Hello,” said Grace Petrie sweetly, “I’m a protest singer.” Murmurs of approval. “Actually, I’m a socialist, feminist, lesbian, leftwing protest singer …” The place erupted.
Martin Carthy suggested recently that something intrinsic was lost to British folk when it relinquished its political soul to genres such as rock, punk and hip-hop. Chris Wood, meanwhile, pondered at this very event a year ago why young musicians weren’t getting angry any more.
Maybe now – with plenty of Trump references and Maybot bashing – the tide is turning. Fight-the-good-fight veterans the Indigo Girls closed the night on the main stage one while the fierce fusion band Bokanté rocked up stage two. Putting an immediate stamp on proceedings as only the festival’s third artistic director in its 53-year history, Bev Burton programmed an all-female lineup of acts on the two main stages on Friday, which was quickly dubbed Women’s Takeover Day. It was a bold initiative that might have had more impact without a surfeit of politely pallid country-pop outfits who made you yearn for Kate Tempest to march up, grab them by the collar and tell them to get a grip.
Coven, Petrie’s invigorating union with the similarly politicised Belinda O’Hooley and Heidi Tidow, along with the trio Lady Maisery, banged a few heads together. While still sounding like three clear entities, they drew palpable strength and conviction in the new format and were one of the highlights of the day. Another highlight was Amythyst Kiah, a Rhiannon Giddens prototype from Tennessee with a bold Nina Simone voice, who made comments such as: “This is a song about the apocalypse.” She played everything from Hangover Blues to Another Man Done Gone, and also delivered a soulful Jolene – a tad embarrassing as the Scottish singer/harpist Rachel Newton had also done it on the same stage immediately before her. Two very different versions, but neither a patch on Dolly.
The day included the emotional return of 82-year-old Shirley Collins, who had appeared at the first Cambridge folk festival, in 1965, though she remembered none of it. She reflected instead on the lovely dress she’d worn on her second appearance with her late sister Dolly a few years afterwards. Collins had a more than 30-year absence from performing due to dysphonia, but she made the most of her return to the spotlight, delivering the starkly brutal traditional songs of revenge, murder and mystery that highlighted her 2016 album Lodestar with cool assurance, cracked voice, radical arrangements and injudicious asides.Saturday brought a torrent of rain – along with much-needed diversity to the lineup. Fantastic Negrito was, well, fantastic. A cross between James Brown, Led Zeppelin and Chuck Berry with a Don King haircut, Negrito is a brilliant, natural showman who gave us what Burton described as one of those “lemon sorbet” moments – the kind that take audiences out of their comfort zone and define festivals. While offering an entertaining running commentary on his colourful backstory (“I’m a recovering narcissist”), he speculated on the outcome of an imaginary fight between Kurt Cobain and Leadbelly during an epic version of Black Girl that won’t be forgotten in a hurry.
The other lemon sorbet moment of the weekend occurred with the 14-piece Orchestra of Syrian Musicians, whose charm, grace and fluctuating moods, rhythms and Arabic songs inspired an audience singalong. There was an element of politics, of sorts, with the mere sight of these exiled musicians playing with such relish; Cambridge rose to them. The afternoon turned Irish as Beoga shared anecdotes about playing Galway Girl at Glastonbury with Ed Sheeran. They were followed by the incomparable accordionist Sharon Shannon playing a very different Galway Girl – Steve Earle’s roof-raising anthem – to a spectacular reception.
Jon Boden, the unofficial king of Cambridge and guest curator this year, returned with an 11-piece band that featured a brass and string section. Anyone anticipating the type of joyous danceathon perfected by Bellowhead would have been shocked. Two ex-Bellowheads were with him (Paul Sartin on fiddle and woodwind and Sam Sweeney on drums), but there’s no leaping around for their band the Remnant Kings. It was courageous – and some might say foolhardy – to return with a set of brand-new material, from his forthcoming concept album Afterglow (described by Boden as “a post-apocalyptic bonfire-night street party”). At times it was glorious – and a year on the audiences might know the material well enough to sing along – but this day there were blank looks and a muted response.
Frank Turner, a late replacement for none other than Olivia Newton-John, was left to restore agreeable mayhem. His endearingly frantic set of anthemic choruses and punk know-how included organising the audience into conga lines and honouring Newton-John with a raucous version of You’re the One That I Want.
That Eton education wasn’t wasted.
