One night for Norma

You'd think that the absence of its star would be a handicap for a show, but last night's benefit for Norma Waterson managed just fine. It helps, of course, when you have such a strong line-up that Linda Thompson can restrict herself to compering and a little light backing vocal. And perhaps it helps that the folk scene is familiar with the singaround, where those present take turns to choose the next piece, but can thin perform solo, invite someone to support them or throw it open to all. I'm always taken aback by the convention whereby performers politely withdraw during each other's solo, and we had none of that last night. A semicircle of chairs across the stage of Hall 2, a grand piano at one end and Linda Thompson at the other, a clutch of microphones, never at the right height, in the centre - and it would have felt like the best folk club you'd ever been to if it weren't that only Vin Garbutt had managed to smuggle his glass of wine onto the stage.

The show had the eclecticism of the best folk clubs, too: a mix of vocal and instrumental, traditional and not traditional - one of my lasting griefs is that while the contemporary folk scene still accommodates singer-songwriters, few performers cover the writing of others. Norma Waterson does, and thanks to her we had the pleasure of hearing a magnificent unaccompanied version of Black Muddy River. Bella Hardy seemed a little stunned to find herself singing a Grateful Dead song "but Norma has made it very much her own" (which does an injustice to an interpreter of someone else's songs, and isn't quite true: the song remained audibly the Dead's even at this further remove, which is only right and proper).

Other highlights? Well, let's see. I enjoyed Jez Lowe's Jack Common's Anthem (more than a touch sentimental, but that's what an anthem does) and Andy May's virtuoso playing of the smallpipes (after which he just accompanied other people on the piano, and no doubt did it very well, but I felt he was undrused). Alistair Anderson played two contrasting sets of tunes: in the first half a lively set of traditional tunes, ending, in honour of the first time he (as a member of his school rapper side) met Norma and Lal Waterson, with a rapper tune - with a few dance steps to match. Then in the second half a quiet reverie as free and open as the hills (was it Road to the North? It might have been). I wasn't the only one knocked out by this: Sandra Kerr completely changed her mind about what she was going to do next and, after Linda Thompson's introduction, full of lovely praise for Leon Rosselson, said "Sorry, I can't do that now," and sang a lullaby instead.

I enjoyed Margaret and Andy Watchorn's traditional Northumbrian tunes on pipes and fiddle, too, but the other highlight of my evening was two songs from Emily Portman - and it was her album that I bought. She sang two of her own songs, as well as joining an ensemble rendition of one from Norma's repertoire, There Ain't No Sweet Man That's Worth the Salt of My Tears. Mossycoat is a fairytale in a song, which is impressive enough; Sirens is urban fantasy - the flickering streetlight transforms the howling sirens into creatures of myth - echoing in my mind against the book I am currently reading (Desdaemona by Ben Macallan, and it's excellent, thankyou, since you ask) and not just because both were written in Fenham.

I note, from Emily Portman's website that the other members of her "trio" (as they were introduced) were Rachel Newton of The Shee and fellow Folk Awards nominee Lucy Farrell: they were very good. And shouldn't close without saying that the news from Norma is good, too.