Luckily, due to the delay, the change over time between acts isn’t long, and
the first act is on pretty much immediately. Can’t remember the name of
them, however. They seem to be two local guys trying to earn a few bob by
playing acoustic guitar. They played a… nice set. ‘Nice’ is really the only
way to describe it. They had some good songs, such as ‘Ocean Hands’, and a
new one (as if the crowd are going to know any different!) ‘Walking Shoes’.
However, they both reek of Sunday-newspaper-free-compilation-CD, and I think
they know, and the crowd know, that’s about as far as they’re ever going to
get. The character of the left guitarist, who seems to be the lead of the
band, can be seriously put under question, however. Whilst tuning up for the
last song, he storms off stage, complaining of not being able to hear due to
the crowd talking over him. Well-done mate, now the only thing people are
likely to remember about you (if anything at all) isn’t your ‘nice’ songs,
but your God-awful attitude.

Next band on are, again, a local band. A five piece by the name of ‘Letrix’,
made up of a drummer, bass player, guitarist, and two singers: One male, one
female. The sight of a keyboard on stage led me to hope that we may be faced
with some kind of Dogs Die In Hot Cars style outfit. However, it was not to
be. Instead, think more of a Maroon 5 tribute band with the Rooster
frontman. Each song has a definite air of American pop rock, and I’m pretty
sure that one of their songs mid-set was previously the backing music for
one of those abysmal Anastacia songs. This band is basically a vile
concoction of all those Americana rock bands that anyone, who has any taste,
hates. Not even the Maximo Park badge worn by the female singer, or the
glass of red wine she sips as she plagues the stage, can earn the band a
little credibility or cool. Another half an hour of my life down the drain.

So, it’s 9.30, and we’ve had to suffer two inadequate supports and poor
venue organisation. He’d better be worth all this, or there are a few gents
in the room going to be going home with very unhappy girlfriends, (it is
Valentines Day after all). However, the moment Stephen Fretwell subtly
waltzes onto the stage, almost trying to hide himself from the crowd, the
whole evening is transformed, and it’s as if the last couple of hours never
happened. Fretwell stumbles to the front of the stage, and takes centre. He
begins in the same way he means to end: with an acoustic guitar and
crestfallen memories. His first few songs are solo, which proves that not
only can no one write a bitter, terse, yet thought provoking lyric quite
like Fretwell, but no one can provide the spine-tingling delivery to
compliment it, either. After less than a handful of songs, the previously
restless crowd are silent and in awe. The magic of Fretwell has already
filled the room, and he’s only been on for twenty minutes.

After proving he can do it on his own, his backing band come onstage to join
him, highlighting the wonder of his songs. His set is mainly made up of
songs from his magnificent debut ‘Magpie’, but sees him occasionally delving
into numbers from his very limited ‘Northern Ambition’ release. With songs
such as the cynical splendor of acoustic number ‘Emily’, the rising majesty
of ‘Play’, and the heartfelt latest single ‘Run’, it’s easy to see why so
much fuss has been built up around Fretwell. Yes, it’s very easy to compare
him to the likes of Damien Rice. Fretwell even opens a song with an intro
teasingly similar to that of Rice’s ‘I Remember’. But Fretwell is so much
more than a Damien Rice clone. Over the haunting acoustics, the lingering
strokes of the piano keys, the pounding bass, and the subtle crashes of the
cymbals and drums, Fretwell colours his tales of beauty and depression with
a thick northern accent which lights them up in a way Rice never could.

It’s just a matter of time before Fretwell is propelled to the heights that
Damien Rice has acquired – let’s just hope Fretwell doesn’t follow Rice’s
example and release the same single over and over again. It seems whilst
Rice is taking the rout of perseverance, relying on the same album for some
three years, Fretwell is going to do things properly, relying on the old
fashioned way of touring. He’s already getting out and about, having
supported the likes of Keane and Athlete, as well as selling out his own
shows. For the moment Fretwell is a secret waiting. Waiting to be shared.
However, it’s just a matter of time, as Fretwell is destined to be heard by
everyone.