Mosely Folk Festival

It's been a long time since I graced the shores of beautiful suburban Mosely, just outside Birmingham. I had the pleasure of revisiting on account of the Folk Festival arranged by a couple of kind hearted entrepreneurs who seem intent on the outdated model of a quality event with great music at its heart. Perhaps most inspiring of them all were The Bees, who's awesome diverse wares (funk/ska tinged rock?) I have not been party to until this event. Apparently they, like ocean colour scene, are Mosely locals.
Late on Sunday, after packing the car and setting ourselves down in a tent once used for lost children, we settled down to the final act of the night, the legendary Billy Bragg. As the drizzle swept through the park near the lake, some festival goers pushed their sleeping children away in push chairs, while others made them endure the elements a little longer just to witness the People's Poet do his thing. Remarkably refreshing, amusing, and a better singer than my memory serves me, Billy Bragg was a joy to watch. Best of all, his interval monologues whose topics ranged from Mick Hucknall's crass confessions to the perils of cynicism, contained just enough political ire to make them relevant, without sounding preachy or naive. Like a fine wine he has matured well.