The weather along the South Bank, where a small licensed barge called the Tamesis Dock is located, was bright with a weird misting of rain. It gave adequate foreboding for the evening ahead. Support The Lost Cavalry provide a gorgeous combination of acoustic, bass, uke and accordion, with the softest touch of snare, and Beirut-styled vocals. They also summon up the ultimate in trad-folk outfits with the use of a melodica and a glockenspeil. Early in the evening and unused to the swaying of the boat as I was, it all suddenly seemed to make a wonderful kind of sense; the rolling water and the movement of the music. Somewhere between Johnny Cooper Clarke and Blur lie the next act of the night, David Cronenberg's Wife. Their well-established anti-folk provides a maze of sarcastic yet earnest lyricism, and nightmarish, circuitous guitar and keyboard. Makes you imagine, or perhaps realise, what would happen if rockabilly music was hit by a train. Finally, the headline, New Yorker Thomas Truax. Truax is at first and second glance utterly insane and at third, fourth or fifth glance, a total genius. And you'll definitely be glancing again. A further example of anti-folk at its truest, he creates his own 'instruments' from madly engineered bits of other things, such as a kind of megaphone from a mic'ed up tuba, a drum machine known as Mother Superior from a perpetual-motion engine of a bike wheel with adjustable spokes which provide the various percussive noises, and the Spring-a-ling, I think it was called. You get the idea. The bizarre cacophony created is not subtle, but sums up a wonder with life and an ingenuity when faced with the complexities of the world which is hard to describe. Not bad for an evening on a boat.