after two days, during which Jazz fancied Folk, which coupled soon afterwards with Rock, only to be shot via a particle accelerator into the Scottish Highlands, just one thing is missing: the Blues.

Zappa, who sings his Blues as always uniquely into his harp, when he does not just then use his contra-bass voice to lean his Blues upon the last beam of dusk's sunlight.

Yet, at our festival he won't do so alone. With Irish melodies and gentle women's voices the Wild Irish Lasses will cloak Zappa's pure, rough energy into sheets of musical velvet.

Those who know it already value the result, the others can use the chance at our festival to be pleasantly surprised. Either way this band will represent a worthy start of the last evening of the festival.