In 1644 a momentous battle took place on the fields that are now home to this unique British festival. The Battle of Cropredy Bridge pitted Sir William Waller’s parliamentarian army against King Charles and his, resulting in the loss of 700 of Waller’s men. It was a grisly business, and one that Fairport Convention’s Simon Nicol made reference to during his band’s headlining set on the Saturday night. Fortunately, the annual three-day celebration of folk music that folk-rock monoliths Fairport started in 1979 is an altogether more good-natured affair. And what’s more, Yusuf was in town. Or more accurately, the village.
Unlike last year, the weather held out. Proceedings began on the Thursday with the staggeringly misjudgement that was Henley all-girl rock band Harlequin. Young and enthusiastic yes, but rambling banter and apparent ‘attitude’ perhaps do not a meaningful contribution make. Manchester youngsters 4 Square were more impressive; magnificent musicians all let down only by one painful excursion into sentimentality, excused by their singer with “everyone likes a bit of cheese, don’t they?”. Oh well. Steeleye Span’s Ken Nicol has forged a partnership with comedian Phil Cool, and the former’s virtuosity alongside the latter’s oddly entertaining impressions eased the way into a patchy, rushed and unfocussed set from a clearly bored Buzzcocks.
The ennui that Buzzcocks left in the air soon made way for the quite mesmerising Steve Winwood. Drawing on recent material balanced with songs from Traffic, Blind Faith and The Spencer Davis Group, the 61-year-old produced a performance the like of which this festival hasn’t seen since John Martyn in 2006. Both catering to his pop success along with his proclivity towards lengthy jazz-folk workouts, Winwood was superb.
A particular highlight of day two was Wolverhampton’s Scott Matthews. Emerging in the dead of early afternoon, the purists of Cropredy didn’t take too kindly to his odd tunings, his 12-string and his Jeff Buckley-lite voice. It’s true, he is no genius, but his introspective brooding actually stood out well amid more traditional acts like Feast of Fiddles and The Churchfitters, who performed the following day. Matthews has an obtuse charm that must be worked for, something that the easily-pleased throngs who are only after a jig or two might not appreciate.
Unseemly guitar noodling almost got the better of John Jorgenson, up later on that day, but he redeemed himself with a bizarre version of The Beatles’ ‘Love To You’ alongside a few other well-chosen rock covers. As far as guitarist go, mind, few, if any, can hold a candle to Richard Thompson. Playing a lengthy solo acoustic spot, he covered ground from his time with Fairport right through to his remarkable 1000 Years of Popular Music project (the song plucked from that being The Who’s ‘Subsitute’). Other highlights included ‘Down Where The Drunkards Roll’ and ‘I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight’, and a duet of ‘Persuasion’ with his daughter Kami, who herself performed her own song ‘Little Boy Blue’. “Nepotism will get you everywhere,” said Thompson senior. “Well, to Cropredy,” retorted the younger, who unlike 99 per cent of budding young songwriters, has her fanbase already totally set up for her.
The following afternoon was something of a letdown. No act managed to cover themselves in glory in the beating sunshine, including an oddly subdued Ralph McTell. By the time Fairport Convention started at 9pm, there was such a cloying sense of expectation that when Yusuf Islam eventually did meander out and join them (Cropredy’s “worst kept secret” according to the programme), his entrance was slightly underwhelming. He was only around for a matter of twenty or so minutes, in which he resolutely played songs from new album Roadsinger, only giving us the slightly wet ‘Peace Train’ of his major classics. He soon left, however, and Fairport got on with their marathon performance, delving into such untrodden territory as songs from Babbacombe Lee. As every year however, they returned to ‘Meet On The Ledge’ for their grand finale, sending many of the 20,000 in this Oxfordshire field a-blubbing. In it’s thirtieth year, despite some patchy music, this was one of Cropredy’s grandest occasions.
