Thursday 24/02/05 The Earlies, Hem, Martha Tilston @ Waterside, Sale

Sweetly asking the bouncers to get out of her direct view (“you’re putting me off!”) a very British Martha Tilston lent us a shambolic but endearing helping of self-penned songs addressing everything from love gone right to politics gone wrong. A less worldly wise Tori Amos, or a less flowery Judy Collins, Ms Tilston displayed all the ingredients of an iconic folkstress- the far-reaching voice, the quirky character, the thoughtful lyrics. Yet these components failed to hang together quite as naturally as they should have done, and as a performer she came across like an awkward teenager playing in front of her friends for the first time.

Instantly loveable and instantly forgettable, pretty eight-piece Hem sauntered through Americana inspired songcraft, merrily waving tambourines and tinkling with xylophones in time with dreamy riffs and pleasant vocals. The feisty, fiery-haired lead vocalist carried a wry commentary on the necessity of security guards at such a sedate event (who says Americans can’t do irony?), and the unlikely Sale crowd swayed along, creating the distinct feeling that this band would be forgotten as swiftly as they were greeted. New York’s answer to Ella Guru, the height of Hem’s glory is sure to be their recent addition to Radio 2’s non-descript playlist.

As The Earlies crammed onstage, it was difficult to tear your gaze from the guitarist’s comedy moustache and cowboy hat, but it soon became apparent that this isn’t a band that needs props in order to entertain. From the darkly comic ‘One of Us is Dead’, until the closing rendition of Tim Buckley’s ‘I Must Have Been Blind’, the crowd was gripped irretrievably. Some of the more mature members of the audience couldn’t quite contain themselves to the beat of livelier numbers, flinging their limbs about in a way they hadn’t since 1974.