Once again, the High Wycombe Travelodge girded its loins for its busiest weekend of the year, as the crowds gathered from near and far (but mostly far) for the next instalment of the first of the annual “Roots” festivals of the year.
The venue, Buckinghamshire University, is conveniently located right in the centre of town, neighbouring a large shopping centre and the aforementioned hotel (other hotels are available).
The venue itself has had some renovation and upgrades since the last year, mainly noticeable in the swish toilets and covered smoking/eating outdoor area, but the layout of events remained the same: a large corner stage in the main room (The Venue) neighboured by the smaller bar (The Saloon) which the acts were programmed to alternate between, meaning that there were zero clashes, one of the many positives about this festival.
Events kicked rowdily into gear with impressive punctuality on the Friday, with Luke Tuchscherer & the Penny Dreadfuls delivering a fiery set of politically charged anthems. Setting the collaborative tone for the event, too, Hannah White and Hannah Lou Deeble joined the band on stage for backing vocals. Among the set was the hopefully angry This world is worth saving, quite right too.
In a quieter contrast, Canada’s Suzie Ungerleider opened the Saloon stage, accompanied by regular European sidekick BJ Baartmans on a selection of guitars, performing a set of material from across her career, with fellow Canadian Tara MacClean and violinist Grainne White accompanying sweetly at one point – the closing singalong of the line “Run away with me won’t you” got an affirmative response to the well-chosen and paced set.
Brighton’s Hollow Hand were much anticipated, and they presented a set that was fuelled on the ghosts of Tom Verlaine and Lou Reed, guitar style in the case of the former, with twinned and entangling lead lines, albeit rhythmically in the case of the latter; the insistent drumming of What Goes On was noticeably present at one point.
Tara MacClean returned to the Saloon stage for her own set, bravely dropping in a cover of Emmylou Harris’ Deeper Well second song in amongst her own gentle originals, given light and shade by Grainne White’s violin (definitely not fiddle in this context). Standout track was the touching Love Never Dies dedicated to her dad.
Lucky Lips had played the festival before in its early days, but have been less active in recent years due to lead vocalist Malin Pettersen’s solo career obligations, so it was a delight to experience their mix of covers (including Tonight the bottle let me down) and originals which resonated well with an exuberant crowd who by now were on to (at least) their third pint.
“Officially”, that was the last set of the evening, but the masses huddled quickly into the Saloon for a lagniappe bonus of The Dreaming Spires, who’d side-stepped to High Wycombe amidst their tour. Newer songs like 21st Century Light Industrial sparkled (and obviously jangled), a cover of Tom Petty’s Listen to Your Heart was a joyous surprise, and the closing Dusty in Memphis saw Robin Bennett doing a Bono and mixing in with the crowd. Fabulous. Some people then went to bed. Many didn’t.
Midday Saturday was still too early for some, but those who made it to the main stage were treated to a haunting and literate set of guitar/vocal vignettes from Toria Wooff, who, despite being slight in stature, filled the room with natural stage presence, wry humour, rich vocals and tidy finger-picked guitar. Over in the Saloon, Skyscrapers delivered a shoegazy and trippy set that occasionally veered into later Wilco territory before the return of Danni Nicholls back on the main stage. Nicholls was accompanied by Luke Tuchscherer (drums on this occasion) and the ubiquitous Dave Banks on bass, plus Sam Barratt on lead guitar, who cleverly complemented Nicholls’ soulful set of breakup and “breakup adjacent” (Copyright D. Nicholls) songs. Recent material from the new album, Making Moves, came alive in fleshed-out band form and bodes well for a full listen to the album.
Ramblin’ Roots Revue regular Paul McClure gave a rare band performance over on the Saloon stage – renowned for his stage banter, that was kept in check by a tight time frame and the need to deliver a catchy selection from his new album The Good and the Bad of it. Joana Serratt, meanwhile, took a musical turn into janglier territory than some of the soundscapes of previous releases. Unfortunately, a somewhat muddy vocal mix took the edge off a little.
Lucy Kitt last appeared at the Ramblin’ Roots Revue in 2019. Since then, she’s become a mum, and one of her brood provided unintentional percussion and charming stage presence to the songs from her 2025 album Telling Me. In the other room, David Ford, accompanied by Ed Blunt on piano, gave an emotional and spirited performance of songs from a twenty-year-plus career and was joined by Hannah White for a Bob Dylan cover, too. Always in demand as a sidesman for the likes of Jarrod Dickenson, Ford was just as confident taking the spotlight himself.
There are always a few unexpected, and joyous, surprises amongst the unfamiliar at Ramblin’ Roots and this year, French songstress Domino Lewis stepped into that role and wowed an entranced crowd. Her recordings have featured classic country styles; pedal steel, brushed snares, etc., but even without them, her crystal sharp voice, wit, and ear for a timeless melody with sharp lyricism added up to a hugely charismatic stage presence via the delivery of songs like Do It All and Baby. There was a queue of independent promoters at the merch table post-performance wanting to know when she intended crossing back to this side of La Manche. Judging from that reaction, it hopefully won’t be too long.
Again, dipping back into past performances, Case Hardin played the festival back in 2018. Their songs were brought back into a live public setting with the billing of original members Pete Gow and Jim Maving, and friends, including another guest appearance from Hannah White, and there was a new song too, with a thundering chuggy blues riff; the end or the start? Who knows.
One of the things to like, nay love, about the Ramblin’ Roots Revue is the stage that it gives to younger bands. The Roebucks certainly fell into that category with an explosive set of 21st-century rhythm-and-blues. At times dipping into Detroit Cobras territory, at others invoking the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, they’re part of, dare I say it, an embryonic psychedelic garage rock scene, alongside names like The Crystal Teardrop, Scott Hepple and the Sub Band: there’s a sound emerging.
Malin Pettersen returned to the main stage once more, this time only accompanied by musical amigo Stian Jorgen Sveen on pedal steel. What followed was one of those “You needed to be there” moments; Pettersen, reflecting on her first nervous solo performance on the same stage, has come on tremendously in terms of her comfort on stage, she simply oozed class and is an undoubted major talent. Songs from Wildflower and favourites like Alonesome and Arkansas were received with hushed silence then rapturous applause. Whatever you were doing on that Saturday night, if it didn’t involve being at that set, you made the wrong choice. Sublime.
The hardest working musician at the festival, Dave Banks, then got to do his own thing: a set of chunky, muscular rock on the Saloon stage with his band The Penny Dreadfuls, before William the Conqueror drew in the biggest crowd of the event with Quiet Life still a standout. Then there was the race to get in position for the traditional Saturday night tribute show delivered by the Clubhouse All-stars. This year, Neil Young was the subject and the setlist was largely chosen from a Facebook poll. There was no F*ckin’ up (this reviewer’s choice), but all the biggest numbers were there; Like a Hurricane, Mr Soul and the inevitable Rockin’ in the Free World. Extra kudos go to Malin Pettersen (again) for a wonderful take on Harvest Moon and to guitar hero Dave Banks, who channelled Shakey himself on every solo on every song, and once again to bed, or not.
Those who’d paced themselves sensibly trickled back at Sunday lunchtime to sample the affable biker guys Splash the Cash take on Johnny Cash in their own reworked and occasionally grungy way, before Elly Hopkins woke the increasing numbers in the Saloon with tough Throwing Muses-type confessionals. Over on the main stage, Glasgow’s The Poachers delivered a set of hangover-friendly mid-paced singalong melodies before James Hodder took the audience by the short and curlies on the Saloon stage. Self-effacing wit, strong guitar playing, often in D minor, “the saddest key”, only made the audience, who were clearly on his side, warm to him more. It was most beautifully shown when the audience sang along, unaccompanied and unprompted, to Wilderness Road, which visibly touched Mr Hodder himself. Not expecting that so many people would know all the words to one of his songs, he went on to later remark that not all his gigs were like this. In a fair world, they should be.
There were more old friends reunited on the main stage, where Don Gallardo and How Far West (UK) performed. A pre-COVID regular in the UK, Gallardo was once more matched up with long-time musical buddy Travis Stock and European guitar-slinger Jim Maving. Once the initial ring-rust was shaken off, the band were welcomed back with a rush of love. A guest appearance from Andrew Bridges, the drummer’s son on bass and Gallardo’s brother Joe (who was coincidentally also in Europe) made it even sweeter. The ending mantra/singalong of “We belong together/ Love is all you need” sung by an audience divided by where they were standing and the lines in the song, yet together in spirit, tied it all together nicely.
The young folks got in on the act again over in the Saloon with Birds Flying Backwards, whose spirited potpourri of 70s influences put them in a similar musical area to Canada’s Horsebath. A man who’s been there, seen it all and done it, however, was Sid Griffin back over on the main stage. Seated and in good humour (he started off by playing his own applause off his phone into the microphone), he dipped into newer material from The Journey From Grape To Raisin as well as heading back into The Long Ryders and Coal Porters catalogues. He delivered a crowd-pleasing set.
Previously having performed solo and as a duo on the main stage, the beautifully contrary Louis Brennan brought a six-piece band, including two backing singers, to the compact and bijou Saloon stage. What followed was a glorious jazz-soul mini-revue of frank and honest world-weariness and celebration. More people really, really ought to know about Louis Brennan, and this performance only entrenched that opinion. He’s got an eponymous new album out soon. Just buy it and go and see him for yourself.
With the legendary Geraint Watkins on keys, Slim Chance celebrated their heritage, opening with How Come and The Poacher; this was the equivalent of the Glastonbury Sunday legends slot, before a retreat to the Saloon to catch Holly Carter with her band. With a Gretsch guitar and Joe Wilkins’ Fender Jaguar and Danelectro baritone on stage, there was always going to be twang, and indeed there was. Tales of historical inspiration and faux pas about shiny foreheads visible from the stage made this an all-around win for Ms Carter.
On to the final stretch, and Hannah White delivered a set high on adrenaline, righteous anger and raw emotion. The reggae-skank of No Joy and the biting reality of Mother You Are were particular highlights before a rapturous double encore egged on by the Sound Lounge crew in attendance (who needs the Bromley Contingent?!)
And, music over, there was still beer to be drunk, conversations to be had, and goodbyes to be said. Hats off to the organisers for reminding and enforcing the need to be quiet and respectful when in the presence of quieter acts and for the effervescent enthusiasm throughout the weekend. While a festival will never please everyone with the musical selection, the folks at Ramblin’ Roots Revue always go the extra mile in creating a mix of old, new, trusted and edgy. 2026, like the previous years of the festival, was a triumph.
