Lucy Ward, Biddulph Arms Staffordshire, 18th September 2012 9/10

Lucy Ward came to my attention through a four star review of her new album in The Guardian. Single Flame has attracted almost universal acclaim, which helps to explain why this small venue was absolutely packed last night. The 23 year old's first break was reaching the final of the BBC Young Folk Awards in 2009, and she went on to win best newcomer the BBC Radio 2 Folk Awards last year. This emerging artist's profile has recently increased further due to the depth and richness of this release.

I was curious as to how effectively the atmosphere of Single Flame's production could be recreated live, with its cello, double bass, drums, electric guitar alongside Lucy's acoustic guitar. Any concerns were dispelled as soon as she started her first song, boldly performed a cappella. She was subsequently joined by a violinist, but her voice is the key to a spellbinding performance. It's wide in range, deep in sonority, and highly expressive. Her tuning (which I'm highly sensitive to as a former cellist) was impeccable throughout, making me wonder if she possesses perfect pitch. Her singing is also extremely versatile, adapting equally well to a jazz number like Blacksmith Blues as to a folk standard like Marching Through The Green Grass.

Place is of central importance to folk music, signified by Lucy's proud display of her Derbyshire accent and Derwent Valley roots. Story telling is also at the core of this tradition, further anchoring her songs to the local history. So Alice In The Bacon Box from her first album tells a sad hundred year old true tale of poverty in Little Eaton; giving voice to an outsider and inspiring a visual artist. For The Dead Men pays tribute to past protesters, whilst engaging with contemporary issues such as cuts in public services. It was fuelled by anger around the extravagance of Thatcher's funeral at a time when austerity is affecting the most vulnerable. She felt this was such an urgent message that she released it as a single. Social media led to the song being noticed by Billy Bragg, and gained Lucy a sound track commission for a film about the human cost of the banking crisis.

Yet, the variety of mood in this set was remarkable, and humour played a central part. During the charming support act of David Gibb and Elly Lucas, I wondered if the audience was almost too respectful and passive. This all changed during their final number when they invited the everyone to sing along as a warm up for the main act. The town of Biddulph has a long choral tradition, and the room suddenly sprung to life. Lucy's manner on stage is warm and outgoing: she enthusiastically explained the meaning of each song before she performed it, and encouraged sing along choruses. This was most evident during humorous pieces such as her John Prine cover Let's Talk Dirty in Hawaiian, when she played ukulele. At times her enunciation and flamboyance during such lighter numbers reminded me of Amanda Palmer.

Lucy talked at length during the near two hour set, yet the magic of this occasion for me were the darker musical moments, when she performed her more recent, deeper songs. Highlights included Last Pirouette, based on a poem written by her father. She enthused about a love of music from her parents' generation, in contrast to her lack of connection with many contemporary genres. The lyrical Shellback was written in memory of her grandfather, and movingly portrays the emotional damage of military service, whilst Icarus is also sad, lyrical and tender. An expressive face told a story as rich as her sonorous voice, and was a joy to watch. Her friends David Gibb and Elly Lucas returned to stage for the encore, a cover of Bob Marley's Everything's Gonne Be Alright, a message which for all the darkness in the world felt true, when music has such power of healing.

This show was part of a long standing series put on by Biddulph Up in Arms folk club, who provided a warm welcome and excellent organisation. You can listen to some excerpts from Lucy's new album below. Meanwhile, I'm excited about her plans to tour next year with a full band.

Portugal. The Man, Night & Day Cafe, Manchester Friday13th September 2013 (N/A)

When I discovered one of my favourite bands was finally returning to a small venue in Manchester, I was so excited I was probably the first person to buy a ticket. Having just released an album called Evil Friends, the Friday 13th date seemed apt. Portugal. The Man's show at The Roadhouse in March 2011 made an incredible impression, whilst eight months later they played one of the most memorable gigs I've experienced at The Deaf Institute. PtM were also one of my highlights of this year's Coachella, so there was no hesitation in queuing for 3 hours to secure a place at the front. Heavy rain did nothing to dampen my spirits, serving only to remind me of my time in Alaska earlier this year and contemplate the impact of such awesome wilderness on musicians. The support band Sundara Karma from Reading also made a strong impression, belying the fact that they're all just 17 years old, and so too young to drink at Night and Day Cafe.

After Portugal. The Man finally came on stage, it was clear that they more than compensated for the lack of their usual lighting rig, lasers, and fog machine with incredible sonic energy. Those distinctive falsetto vocals were recessed from my position at the front, but I knew most of the words already. It was perhaps the stage layout that dictated Zach Carothers acted as the frontman, but John Gourley did seem to be suffering from the heat in the packed and tiny venue. Yet, this is a band who are totally committed live, putting all their soul into the performance, and they quickly transported me to a different plane. Far from a run through of the album, they stretch and improvise their songs in a wondrously spontaneous whirlwind of sound. The guitar solos were epic, and angular rhythms showed their impeccable ensemble playing as they worked themselves into a frenzy.

This freedom from the constraints of the studio makes what transpired next even more perplexing. The Evil Friends album has attracted generally favourable reviews, and so it's not surprising the set leaned heavily on its songs. There have been a few dissenters, yet even the often pretentious Pitchfork ultimately understood that this was the band's next phase of development, an important progression. When Danger Mouse approached them, Portugal. The Man abandoned the album they were already in the studio recording and started afresh. Gourley has described the relationship as a collaboration so close that Brian Burton had joined the band. This has resulted in an infinitely richer sound, trading some experimentalism for colour and harmony. It's also a personal statement, dealing with the bands relationships with each other; such is their perfectionism that Gourley said: 'The last record almost killed us. This record almost killed us. Every record pretty much almost kills us'.

Yet, the overwhelming impression on this Friday 13th was that Portugal. The Man can rock: the notion they had sold out to a pop gloss was preposterous in the face of a barrage of raw energy. This didn't stop a clearly inebriated member of the audience shouting repeated expletives about Danger Mouse. Following a performance of Modern Jesus, he began to call for songs from their 2006 debut, Waiter: "You Vultures". This clearly struck a raw nerve, and Zach explained that Danger Mouse was real to them right now, whilst returning the insult. Less than an hour after they came on stage, it was all over, encores a distant hope. I fear that Manchester may have a long wait until the Alaskans return again. This is an incredibly hard working band, who tour and record relentlessly, but this felt in vain given their reception. They later Tweeted about the idiocy of shouting at someone with a microphone.

Yes, Evil Friends is a darker album than In The Mountain, In The Cloud, but it's built on psychedelically spaced out vocals and with its wonderful choruses has fun, not anger at its heart. The Beatles are one of their key influences, yet this Friday 13th, love was in short supply. Another gig goer made clear by reference of my appearance that I was out of place in this trendy, metropolitan venue. He was just as lacking in inclusiveness as classical music fans excluding those who chose to dress informally. I'm left failing alienated such values, and despite waiting 48 hours to write this review, I still feel too upset to attempt to analyse the set in detail. Yet I did manage to listen to Waiter: "You Vultures" for the first time in ages. Yes, its stripped back sound is bold and direct in impact, but their development in the past 7 years has been wholly positive. That doesn't stop me wanting to forget this evening though, and questioning my heartfelt belief that music is necessarily a force for good.