Once again a fine evening at the Labour. Almost too fine, in fact. Andy and I set up the PA and soundchecked the bands in blazing summer heat. Even as we did, it crossed our minds that nobody in their right mind would want to spend and evening like this crammed into a small club like ours. It would just be too uncomfortable.

All preparations made, we took Joe Woolley, Jesse Morningstar and his rhythm section for dinner, a brief moment of calm during which we ate tortelloni, learned important things about our guests and worked the Rizla accordingly. On our return to the Labour Club, we were disheartened to see that our fears had come true. There were about 8 people in the room, 6 of whom looked as though the last thing they needed was a dose of live music.

Twelve minutes later the room was full.

Joe was first up. His guitar sound is fuller and fatter than ever before, and it proved a worthy magic carpet on which to ride. With his smart new fabrics and classy, confident performance, Joe had the punters sitting up and paying attention to just how much he has been improving as a performer over the past few months.

Curtis E. Johnson simply arrived in the building, sat down, plugged in and started. Plenty of classic originals, delivered on electric guitar in a brash, no-nonsense style. A version of The Cockroach That Ate Cincinatti really got things stirred up, before our hero was joined onstage by Psychedelic Terry Walpole (The Only One Of Its Kind) for a raging rendition of the Incredible String Band's "Dear Old Battlefield". Against all the odds, the unlikely trichological twosome brought it off large-style and left the stage to warm applause.

Then a boy with looks like Buddy Holly and a voice like John Lennon takes the stage, toting a tiny nylon-string classical guitar. The first number (during which, I must confess, I managed to leave the introductory music still playing through the poor bastard's foldback!) was halting and a more than a little on the gloomy side. Them natives was restless. But as soon as the unwanted accompaniment was removed from the monitors, Jesse and his band began to weave real magic. Soul, gospel, folk and blues all passed through their ever-so-slightly wonky West Country culture filter, gradually drawing the audience in until they were grinning like fools. Their skills and inventiveness left people breathless as they showed just what a wide range of colours three individuals can conjour at one gig. An inspired version of "Tighten Up" secured an away win for the plucky Bristolian beatniks, and from then on it was disbelieving grins all the way, as Jesse and his boys layed encore after encore upon a delirious crowd.

Needless to say, the evening ended in moronically good-natured mayhem and Spanish champagne at Shakespeare Villas.

Jesse exceeded everybody's expectations. Next month we're featuring a really exciting band from Leeds called The Echo Chamber. Damn it, I'm living my life for one single night each month - but at least that night is Masters of Budvar.