Image: Paula Cuccurullo

In the dimly lit Speakeasy of Edinburgh’s Voodoo Rooms, the low stage is barely visible beneath a spaghetti junction of pedals and cables. Guitars line the rear wall of the tiny platform and a keyboard sits with chair precariously near the edge. The snug room is lined with already full seats and those in the audience of roughly 50 who didn’t bag one stand or sit on the floor in anticipation. The cosy venue is suited perfectly to the upcoming performance from singer/songwriter, Kathryn Williams, as she presents tracks from her new album, Hypoxia.

Before Williams take the stage her support act appear; a blonde, red-lipped singer clutching a glitter-edged guitar, and a slim, suited young man straddling a cello. They announce themselves almost shyly, leaving us unsure what the band name is, before launching into a breathtaking performance of Southern-style harmonising and Bluegrass, voices melding perfectly and the versatile cello singing like five different instruments. The songs are sweet and mournful, and we discover later they are The Jellyman’s Daughter. I thoroughly recommend you seek out one of their live performances.

Kathryn Williams is then onstage with backing musicians Andy Bruce – teetering on the piano chair and somehow squeezing in a guitar too - and Simon Edwards, on bass. Williams begins with a couple of Crown Electric tracks including ‘Underground’, penned as she sat on the floor of Kings Cross Station. Then she practically apologises that she’s going to play Hypoxia from start to finish, which nonetheless delights the crowd. Williams is enchanting throughout the evening, making quips about the dark songs as they depict the events of Sylvia Plath’s, The Bell Jar and its protagonist, Esther’s, descent into mental illness. Before playing opener, ‘Electric’, she describes how the lyrics portray Esther’s fascination with the Rosenburg trial then proceeds to croon wispily about the electric chair. She hesitates before explaining the next track, seeking audience approval (to a resounding, “Yes!”), although she often allows her evocative lyrics to speak for themselves.

To take Hypoxia from recording studio to live performance, Williams says, required reconstructing the tracks. In ‘Battleships’, the bass is used cleverly as the ticking clock and she prepares some songs on stage by recording layers of vocals, then using a loop pedal to control them while singing, with wonderfully atmospheric results. Perhaps due to this complexity, there is a brief glitch with sound control that unfortunately affects the tremendously acerbic ‘Tango With Marco’. Williams’ vocals don’t falter, though, and she manages to carry the track.

A barer rendition of ‘When Nothing Meant Less’ showcases the clarity of Williams’ voice as she sings about Esther’s relationship with Joan, a fellow hospital inmate who, like Esther, suffers suicidal thoughts. More upbeat, ‘The Mind Has Its Own Place’ resounds almost cheerily through the intimate setting before a bluesy rendition of ‘Part of Us’ with bittersweet – perhaps pertinent – lyrics; “The last time I felt lonely / the room was full”

Williams’ rendition of ‘Cuckoo’, penned with Ed Harcourt - “In his bath…It’s a good bath” - is one of the most haunting parts of the evening as she sings the disturbing viewpoint of a mother ashamed of her daughter’s illness. An echoing “cuckoo” call fills the dimly lit space and the hair on the back of my neck stands up: in interpreting The Bell Jar, Williams did not sugar-coat the pill.

Finishing Hypoxia, Williams rounds off her performance with a cover of Neil Young’s, ‘I Believe In You’ and her own ‘Heart Shaped Stone’, dipping behind an imaginary curtain (her hands) before reappearing (removing said hands) to complete an encore. Williams’ gentle, self-deprecating wit is so charming that in spite of the sinister element of her new album the audience leave smiling and upbeat, perhaps resolving to settle down soon with Plath’s book and Hypoxia as the perfect accompaniment.

Touring in support of current album Boys Crocodiles brought their twin Fender guitar assault to the welcoming confines of Edinburgh’s Sneaky Pete’s on Monday night, inspiring an old man to dance with a mic stand & invoking the name of one of the city’s punk legends in the process.

It’s doubtful that the venue’s compact stage has been the site of any more stylish guitar showmanship than that performed by Charles Rowell whilst Brandon Welchez and the rhythm section kept the pace to a frenetic level throughout. ‘Crybaby Demon’ and the other selections from Boys fitted seamlessly into the set amidst works from their previous four albums, allowing for the show to race along with only the odd break for tuning up.

Continuing a tradition which this writer first witnessed Mudhoney indulging in many years ago, The Exploited were mentioned and a cover or covers of theirs proposed as the next song up a couple of times but merely as a tease. The Elton Motello number ‘Jet Boy, Jet Girl’ did though get a rousing rendition as the encore, during which the bulk of Hatcham Social also made it onto the stage at the expense of a mic stand nearly clobbering the front row of the crowd.

Crocodiles delivered everything expected of them & looked thoroughly at home in the intimate space provided by the club. Hopefully you’ll experience them in a similar sized room.

Apologies to Vladimir who we were too late to see, arriving as we did just in time to see Hatcham Social take to the stage. A band previously known in name only, discovering via the club’s Twitter that they were on the bill was a decided bonus earlier in the evening and enlightenment as to what they’re all about keenly awaited. Visually two versions of Wolfy Smith and one of the Inspiral Carpets behind the drums was an odd sight to first be presented with but this soon became purely about the music.

Vocally they brought Orange Juice to mind early on and from the second song onwards the power of a good tune to lighten your mood was evident. Either association with Crocodiles or just the fun of being on stage found the band powering through songs which on record turn out to be a lot more traditionally indie than the young Stranglers-like versions experienced here. They had a ball (to the extent of forgetting they were in Edinburgh & not Glasgow) and it was a pleasure to finally manage to attach a sound to their name.

Amanda Palmer is a walking mass of contradictions. For example, tonight she is in Dublin as part of a book promotion tour but she has failed to bring any copies of the book with her. She left them in Britain when she departed for a two day Irish leg that began at the Dalkey Book Festival. She has to borrow a copy from a fan, who has brought it along tonight to be signed, to do a reading.

The book in question, The Art Of Asking, was written as an expansion of her T.E.D. talk about her career and about crowd-funding. More than 10 million people have viewed the 14 minute talk on YouTube and the book climbed high in the New York Times bestseller list when it was published last year.

Palmer appears on stage at eight sharp with a punnet of mandarins. She tosses them one by one into the fully seated Academy crowd. Cheers follow each successful catch. One, tossed to an outstretched hand from the balcony, falls short and lands in the safety netting below.

The stage is set sparsely with a keyboard, stool, two mic stands and a ukulele. A circle of flowers is arranged around the performance area. Before saying a word to the audience she approaches the lip of the stage and sings ‘The Wind That Shakes The Barley’ a capella. I don't know if you could hear a pin drop but you can hear my pencil scratching, so quiet is the room. She belts out all 4 verses to a big ovation before taking a seat at the keyboard.

Palmer is six months pregnant and feeling sad and tired, she announces, before launching into ‘Astronaut: A Short History Of Nearly Nothing’ from her first solo album. During ‘Ampersand’ she playfully highlights the contradiction between the lyrics of a song for the wilfully single and her swollen belly.  

As she switches instruments and picks up the ukulele her husband, the writer Neil Gaiman, dutifully appears with a plectrum for her to use. Gaiman later returns to the stage, for a longer period this time, to read passages from his wife’s book. His reading includes an emotive extract from 'The Velveteen Rabbit' which has many attendees dabbing their eyes, whilst Amanda gazes on adoringly.

‘Map Of Tasmania’ is a raucous call and response number examining the socio-political significance of lady gardens, body image, and accepted norms of beauty. On record it is a funky dance tune with a latin beat but here tonight, on a ukulele with 400 people yelling “Fuck it!” in unison, it comes off as an old fashioned punk protest song.

Palmer is joined onstage by Whitney Moses for a question and answer session based on submissions from the audience. This is her fourth show in the Academy and she reminisces about the time her band were stranded by the Icelandic ash cloud, leaving her to improvise a show with local musicians and attempt a duet over Skype with collaborator Jason Webley.

She mentions her childhood love of U2 and discusses the time she met Bono. When she asks if it is acceptable to slag off U2 in Dublin, the answer is resoundingly affirmative. She demurs though and speaks with respect about him and their disagreements on the digital distribution of music, noting that the discussion pre-dated their deal with iTunes.

Moses and Palmer then duet on Garfunkel And Oates’ ‘Pregnant Women Are Smug’, a sardonic and topical comedy of manners, and together perform a stunning take on The Dresden Dolls’ ‘Delilah’. The contrast between the levity of the former and the stark heart-wrenching beauty of the latter typifies Palmer’s appeal, and the mutual regard she shares with her fans. It’s an eclectic evening both in terms of the show content and the tone.

The set ends with a rousing rendition of ‘Coin Operated Boy’ and an encore featuring the aptly titled ‘Ukulele Anthem’. You never know what to expect from an Amanda Palmer show. Each gig feels like a unique presentation. It will probably be some time before we see her perform again on these islands. A last hurrah in Belfast marks the beginning of her maternity leave, if such a thing existed in the music world, but it has been one hell of a send- off. Goodnight Dublin, it’s been emotional.

Festivals, whether indoors, outdoors or a mix of both continue to be a growth industry and something we here at Musos’ Guide aim to bring you wide ranging coverage of both in the UK and further afield.

So far in 2015 we’ve tweeted and reported back from Live At Leeds, Cosmic Trip in Bourges & Primavera in Barcelona and in the coming weeks and months expect to be doing the same from Edinburgh’s Franklin Fest, Hamburg’s Reeperbahn Festival, Liverpool’s Psychfest & Utrecht’s Le Guess Who? to name just a few.

The USA is no doubt a world leader in the development & expansion of the festival as an interaction between fans & the bands they love. Whilst our size has so far limited us to one in-person series of pieces on the 2014 South By So What? festival in Texas the embedded infographic in the Media section at the foot of this page gives you an idea of the scale of things on the other side of the Atlantic and may possibly inspire you to hit the road to catch more than one European event over this Summer.

Many thanks to Max Reich at Rukkus for taking the time to send us the image.