Review: Kate Rusby, Bristol Beacon – ‘The Queen of folk Christmas’

Did you ever have a favourite aunt? One who would crash into your house on Christmas day, armed with presents, stories and endless chat.

One that would brighten the corners, spread mischievous glee and make life just a bit better? One who, when they left, left a hole that could only be filled next year?

Kate Rusby is that aunt.

This is her 17th Christmas tour, her 32nd year of touring and her 50th year and she is in a celebratory mood. Taking much of her repertoire from the “Christmas Sing” tradition of the pubs of South Yorkshire, Rusby is the Queen of folk Christmas and proves it with effortless ease.

Unlike many folk-y Christmas shows Rusby has crafted one that is big, warm-hearted and just full of good feelings and Christmas-y vibes.

There’s no Pagan darkness, no cynicism, not much of those ancient wassailing traditions. This is sparkly, fun and more than just a little bit silly.

Rusby’s 10 piece band stroll onto a stage that is festooned with ghostly, leafless trees, beautifully up-lit. It’s a Narnia just waiting for the Christmas spirits to unfold across it.

Before the gorgeous Hark Hark begins it is easy to see what we’re going to get from this evening. Rusby likes to chat.

She’s excited about the new Beacon, she’s excited to be back in Bristol, she’s excited to have her band around her. All of this excitement then spreads, irresistibly, throughout her set.

Nowell, Nowell is a collision of Northern (South Yorkshire) and Southern (Cornwall) carolling traditions. It’s the sort of thing that should be sung, lustily, in pubs as ale and cider flows.

Instead Rusby leads it with her voice of tarnished silver. Electric guitars shimmer and swoon around her and a five-piece brass band adds a bit of Sally Army oomph.

There are three separate versions of While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks scattered through the evening. Each distinctly different from the last, each with an accompanying story and each revelling in their good cheer.

Hail, Chime On starts with the familiar Shepherd-y words but soon becomes a jaunty singalong, double bass and brass leaping around Damien O’Kane’s power chords. The sound is huge; melodeon, tubas and trumpets sending this carol to the heavens.

Glorious, taken from the new album Light Years, is by some distance, the highlight of the set. A commemoration of hope, of rebirth and renewal, it is absolutely massive.

The orange glow of a winter sun meets the dark wings of a lost and broken angel in a euphoric explosion of glory. Rusby’s voice, slightly roughened by a cough, is as sweet and pure as ever, the kind of voice that would melt the frostiest of hearts.

Equally, The Moon Shines Bright is a lovely swirly selection box of delights. Closer to a folk song than a traditional Christmas song, it is, if anything, a carol for the whole of the year.

Sam Kelly’s electric guitar and Duncan Lyall’s Moog create a very polite psychedelic spiral of sound, bright, twinkling and a little fuzzy ‘round the edges.

Every now and then, watching Rusby and her band feels a little like stuffing your face with every green triangle from a box of Quality Street. It’s almost too sweet, too shiny.

An instrumental section smacks of late 70s light entertainment (albeit brilliantly played) and the fancy dress of the encore is, probably, best ignored altogether. Fortunately, these moments are easily forgotten about when everything that surrounds them is so charming.

As the lights of those ghostly trees flicker on at the end, the magic of Christmas is palpable.

Sweet Bells is the third version of While Shepherds and it sends us on our way with a flame glinting in our hearts. A visit from Rusby and her band prove that Christmas will be magic again.

Main photo: Gavin McNamara

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