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Yeah, yeah, New York has CMJ and London continues to absorb provincial talent like a well known quilted kitchen towel absorbs spilled fluids, but we, here in Northern Ireland possess the zenith. Now in its tenth glorious year, belFEST is well underway, with yet another great line-up featuring the cream of Northern Ireland's musical talent.

Two good things about tonight's performance, before it even begins: Firstly, this showcase is FREE. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, the crowd is totally up for it. The local scene is currently enjoying a bit of a renaissance, with more and more young people starting their own bands. The culture of mutual respect and support for each other's efforts is admirable.

David McNair's voice rises up out of the darkness. As a singer song-writer, he is diligently finding his style and crafting meditative, earnest mid-tempo ballads that put him in a more refined category than the likes of...well let's not even mention the hugely popular male singer songwriter who currently serves as the benchmark for this type of music. Suffice to say McNair's songs are more nuanced and have aspirations towards a more sophisticated model, that of The Unbelievable Truth or Declan O'Rourke. His backing band, including a demure, but utterly riveting female bassist, prove to be a huge a asset throughout.

Three Tales is a mongrel alt-country/folk rock supergroup hewn from members of several local acts. Bassist Jonathan Wallace plays for Olympic Lifts, drummer Desmond Mooney plays for Robin G Shields and singer/guitarist Ben McAuley has been in more bands than you've had hot dinners. Everybody knows what brilliant drummer he is, but tonight he's in the role of front man. He pulls it off magnificently, looking utterly at home in front of his audience, like a young Kurt Wagner, but with an old soul. Their last song, 'Sacred Things Untold' knocks the socks of everyone in the room.

It's a distinct change of pace as The Winding Stair begin their set. The band has been building up a formidable live reputation. The four members include a male lead acoustic guitarist, (whose penchant for metal informs his whole oeuvre spectacularly), and a female violinist/backing singer. Their compositions are more arrangements than songs, fugal in style, with references to sean n贸s, (particularly in the soporific acapella 'How Can I Be Lonely?'). The results are atmospheric, cinematic pieces that are more a testament to music-as-technique, than music-as-message.

And So I Watch You From Afar take no prisoners. Their sound exploits the auspices of the post-rock genre, (see Mogwai, Sigur R贸s and Godspeed You! Black Emperor). Their rebuttal to those who believe that all bands need a lead singer is a swift but effective battering of the cochlea. Theirs is an excessively masculine presence. Each song is built around a sturdy bass motif, (rhythm section Johnny Adger and Chris Wee are no frills, just kills), and two guitarists, Tony Wright and Rory Friers, then proceed to go stir-crazy on the delay pedal, segueing effortlessly through highly complex dynamic shifts, towards that punctuating, crucial climax at the end of each song. Then they roll over and go to sleep茂驴陆

By the end of their set, the fans at the front are actually dancing. They have their arms slung about each others shoulders and appear to be, as In the Face's Shane Horan points out, busting the most post of post-rock moves: the mopey cokey. Troopers.


By Ros Blair