Jeffrey Martin had a self-proclaimed water buffalo in his throat, but that didn’t hinder his vocal qualities all that much. Storytelling is an art, and ‘daddy was one long cigarette’ is a line that tells more than a psychologist is willing to reveal. Cultivate that garden in your mind, because we want to come and visit more often.

The changing of the guards brought us Anna Tivel, the only fair voiced angel amidst the devil’s apprentices. Anna combines the soft touch of early Joni Mitchell with the confidence of a mermaid with many-a shipwreck on her permanent record.

Sara Schook & The Disarmers delivered a set of southern groove & fuzz that was inherently original. If Dolly Parton’s illegitimate daughter grew up on a Sonic Youth diet, she would follow this band to the end of the earth. ‘Drinking water tonight cause I drank all the whisky this morning’. Bottom’s up!

If cryo chambers and time travel are a real thing, I’m putting my money on Theo Lawrence. He walked straight off the train onto the stage, breathing black and white & picking that guitar like a French lover… A sharp-dressed man that plays two murder ballads in a row will surely stand the test of time.

Devon Gilfillian can break a heart of stone. The control that oozes from this man is exhilarating: sweet and soft backstage, an absolute machine on the buhne. Backed up by a toughened groove machine, he delivered a set that ranged from free flowin’ soul to down low blues. And that voice… sexy like Marvin Gaye on the town, rough like Ben Harper the day after. The grand finale - a postmodern remake of The Last Waltz with the lads from True Strays as special guests - was a worthy apotheosis of the first day at Rootsy Summer Fest: an explosion of joy and musicianship, paying tribute to the roots… real music for real people, as promised. F*ck Fake!