The local folk-warrior three-piece reunited with their former fiddle player for a riotous set in Stroud, writes Alex Parnham-Cope.
Just last year, Sound Records was named Britain’s best record store, but the shiny accolade hasn’t gone to their heads. It remains a humble and cosy venue in the heart of town: there are stacks of rustic wooden boxes with countless vinyls, the myriad genre labels scribbled on dog-eared cardboard. The small performing space ensured an intimate show for the evening, although the stark fluorescent lights and lack of amenities were a reminder that rollicking live music isn’t quite what the space was designed for. “If you need the loo, go to Curio”, frontwoman Zora called out – “and if you need a record, you’re in the right place!”
The soundcheck was still unfolding as the modest but effervescent crowd of locals piled in from the February cold. If they minded the initial background chord plucking and amicable chaos, they didn’t show it; the supportive community spirit of the attendees was undeniable.
Before long, the technical tribulations had been mastered and the Stroud-based folk aficionados burst confidently into Colours of the Hedgerow, from their 2017 EP In My Blood. The wistful and waning string sections collapse into each other beautifully, uniquely marrying traditional folk sounds and poetic sensibilities with a fiery modern flair. Grounding the show is singer-songwriter Zora’s full and confident vocals, sliding up and down octaves with the authority of a seasoned pub band veteran.
Dryadic’s songwriting is at once both personal and political. The band’s socially conscious credentials are unapologetic and refreshing, down to Zora’s T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘More Blacks, More Dogs, More Irish.’ Some of their more foot-stomping numbers embrace the kind of proletarian battlecries we might expect from The Levellers, while infused with a feminist queer revelry reminiscent of Grace Petrie. Their new single Rainbow Family is an ode to found community in the face of persecution, the soaring string melodies brimming with defiance and pride.
The quick-fingered work of fiddle players Aly Rainy and Joanne Dziecelska was nothing short of brilliant. The crowd’s enlivened foot tapping upgraded to stamping and hollering on more bombastic numbers, suitably roused to action and erupting in applause afterwards. A fellow pundit beside me let out a suitably impressed sigh of “…awesome”.
Despite their political sensibilities, Dryadic’s smorgasbord of folk delights was happily unpretentious and unsectarian. As well as railing against the privatisation of public services and lamenting corporate domination, other tracks see Zora wrestling with their emotional demons or venting the exhaustion of everyday life. Mansplainer was a rousing crowd favourite, a joyously pissed-off middle finger to patronising blokes everywhere. The pithy songwriting and stirring instrumentation point to Dryadic’s deserved popularity and rising success (although that particularly sweary single might not be getting much radio play anytime soon).
The band’s playful intimacy with their audience and casual stage presence is married with technical brilliance across the talented party of players. Their fierce yet fun approach was embodied in the evening’s musical crescendo, as the musicians began chasing each other through the packed venue in a riotous circle, the fiddlers duelling on stage as a towering double bass danced through a ducking and weaving crowd. Whether you’re a seasoned folk fanatic or just looking for life-affirming live music, with Dryadic you’ll be in safe hands.
