Boden has been praised for pushing boundaries with his solo work, which some in the folk community have endearingly described as ‘electronic’. Yes, there is electricity in the electric guitar – and perhaps in the original Edison wax cylinder phonograph recordings which punctuate the set – but otherwise the Remnant Kings are a resolutely acoustic affair, a four-piece backing band of prodigiously versatile musicians who play guitars, mandolin, concertinas, double bass and, impressively, drums and violin simultaneously.
It’s easy to believe that the post-technological England Boden describes would be popular with this crowd, and the traditional songs and Kipling verses that Boden sings alongside the original material evoke a very traditional idea of England. It’s a curious kind of future-nostalgia which would fall flat if it weren’t for Boden’s skill both as a songwriter and performer; his strong yet trembling tenor voice rings clear over his percussive Nic Jones-style guitar playing, his effortless melodeon and concertina work and his energetic flowing fiddle. The first set mines the Floodplain album heavily, and in such a relaxed setting songs like Beating The Bounds and Days Gone By – a song whose rolling off-kilter 7-time rhythm complements the image of the story’s protagonist lying on a motorway – really begin to shine. The lyrical tone of songs like Has-Been Cavalry and Don’t Wake Me Up ‘Til Tomorrow is undeniably bleak but the songs are never depressing and his metaphors and choruses follow more in the tradition of melancholy Tom Waits than traditional Martin Carthy.
Songs from his first album ‘Painted Lady’ come out, and a fuller sound is given to some from the excellent Spiers & Boden ‘Songs’ album, intercut with more traditional songs and wax-cylinder recordings. The arrangements are considered and appropriate and the backing band is modest and coherent; there’s no showy instrument-swapping for the sake of it.  Spiers and Boden’s Doleful Dance of Death needs to be backed with double-bass and wine glasses, for example, just as the cover of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love needs to be played by a concertina trio. The PA is turned off for an entirely acoustic closing song, the band takes a bow and the audience put the chairs away in a well-practiced motion, readying the hall for the next night’s darts league. Boden isn’t so much bringing folk music into the present as skipping the present entirely, and his attempt to look straight over us from the future to the past, while conceptually very risky, does largely pay off. At least it does when performed in a village which gives a good impression of wishing the present would be done and bugger off.