Firstly, apologies to Maria Ilett, who provided your reviewer with  shiny guest-list accreditation, only to be left unreviewed after an early exit. Despicable. In my defence, an emergency at work required my presence (unpaid) on Saturday morning so a post-midnight bedtime was a non-starter. Stay tuned for an imminent EP review by this artist.

Ute should really be my thing, with a glamorous female harpist paired with a decent male singer/guitarist . As always with acoustic acts, the Jericho audience loudly ignored most of what was going on onstage (although they provided hearty applause between songs-weird), but the pair didn’ t really have the tunes or presence to silence the loudmouths. The exception was the closing number which gave the harpist free reign to embark on a welter of scales and arpeggios that built to an impressive top-note climax-there was even the hint of a steal from Faure’s Requiem. The singer could certainly hold a tune, but he was too much in  thrall to whiny whingers like Matt Bellamy and particularly Thom Yorke to stamp himself on the memory. A more sympathetic environment (Holywell Music Room) and more inventive melodies are needed for this engaging duo to provide real impact.

The Peanut Albinos offer a compelling mixture of speakeasy jazz, Pogues-style aggression and beguiling ol’ timey country. For some reason, I found them rather scary; perhaps it was the beards and hats, or the rasping king-of-the-drunks excellence of the singer, but I felt an undercurrent of evil about some of the songs, especially the jazzy ones with their funereal banjo and air of mocking world-weariness. When the Great Depression hit and banker after banker took the plunge from the forty-first floor, you can imagine the Peanut Albinos playing away on the street corner as the emergency services searched the sidewalk for all the body parts. This sense of menace dissipates on the country songs where note-perfect harmony (with a spirit not far from The Band’s ‘Rockin’ Chair’ or even the odd track by our own Epstein) and instrumental tenderness are the watchwords, although the chord progressions are a little more sophisticated than in most country tunes.

Still, even with these lyrical interludes I couldn’t help thinking that the Peanut Albino’s appearance may be a harbinger of hard times ahead, as if they were a group designed for some future Perfect Storm (with pricipal components being Sub-Prime, Credit Crunch, Stock Market Crash and Beckham being picked for England again). Put it this way, if they succeed, it probably means the rest of us are in the shit.