It’s show time, and you are in the company of two contemporary singers, raconteurs and musical mediums of inescapable style and depth. Both players come from the slow-burn, rough-hewn, passionate side of musical stagecraft, and seeing them swagger and stomp is a treat for all.
Richard Dawson’s voice has been compared to everyone from Tim Buckley to Richard Youngs while his guitar playing recalls Sir Richard Bishop and Zoot Horn Rollo and, combined with the inescapable snare of his lyrics, means surrender to his music is inevitable.
Frank Fairfield is a sensation, even is he is not letting off fire crackers or constantly uploading to YouTube. He is a banjo picker. A fiddle hummer. A song singer. The music he plays, creates, and performs is the music that carried all of us, from all over the world, to the place (wherever that place may be) we are now. He plays the American landscape, the one he himself sees and experiences. He goes about it with the only tools necessary, as any good craftsman would. A man not competing with time, only living in his own.
This is a seated show