Jim Moray, ICA, London

Not a hey nonny nonny in sight

In Dude, Where's My Country?, Michael Moore points out that although the majority of Americans are "the living breathing definition of liberal in their everyday words and deeds, they won't use the word itself." Likewise, he says, "most independent, free-thinking women rarely use the word 'feminist' anymore."

And so it is with the dreaded phrase "English folk". See. Your eyes are already scanning the page, and, yes that is an interesting haircut, but can we please return to the matter in hand? Now, what I'm going to ask you to do here is pretend that I have Uri Geller-like qualities (the intentionally creepy ones) and together we are going to clear your head of everything you think that you think about English folk music. Clear your head of those hey nonny nonnys; clear your head of the beards and the corduroy, the real ale and the over-earnestness.

There. Now this is a review of a concert by a young man named Jim Moray. And it is fitting that this 22-year-old's first headlining London concert is at the Institute of Contemporary Arts. For although Moray plays the sort of English folk music (no negative thoughts; retain open mind) that has existed for centuries, he plays it using loops, samplers, backing tracks and the very latest in digital technology.

Which could, in theory, make matters even worse. That it doesn't is largely due to the sheer youthful exuberance and joy of seeing and hearing a performer who has found his métier. As he kicks off with his stirring rendition of "Early One Morning", we are transported back, through this bashful young man who stands before us, to a world of fair maidens singing from the valley below; their pleas for their lover not to deceive them, to never leave them, are heartbreaking in his hands.

And then the technology kicks in. Backed only by a stand-up bassist, a drummer and an Apple Mac, Moray weaves his spell. It is the spell of Sweet England (the name of Moray's breakthrough album). It is the sound that we should still be celebrating. It is the sound of our past, and while practically every other nation on earth still feels their folk music as a living, breathing thing, we have been made to feel somehow ashamed of our flag, our collective soul and our musical heritage.

Weaving tales of squires, beautiful young maidens and raggle-taggle gypsies, Moray is a nervous but mesmerising performer. As he samples his own guitar, loops the sound live and then plays over the top, he gives the impression of the shambling new waver. The songs skip by: "Poverty Knock" from his debut album I Am Jim Moray; "Two Sisters" and "Lord Bateman" from Sweet England, which even the grumpy old Daily Telegraph proclaimed had brought folk music forwards by 30 years.

The punk ethic is hardly surprising. As Moray bangs at his guitar and prances like a Billy Bragg who can actually sing (and man can he sing), it's worth remembering that before he found his calling, Moray played drums, bass and guitar in a variety of run-of-the-mill student "indie" bands. It was only when he couldn't keep the bands together and found himself on his own, that he took a step back and listened to the voices in his head. Space cleared, the songs that emerged were those songs that, as he says, "you know, but you never knew you knew". Moray now plays with the zeal of the converted. After this "Smoke and Mirrors" tour, he is planning to go back to his adopted home town of Birmingham to start up his own folk music club. With typical wit and freshness, he is planning to call it Four-Letter Word. And you really should give a folk about it.

s.richman@independent.co.uk

Medicine Bar, Birmingham, (0121 693 6333), Tue; Electric Theatre, Guildford (01483 444789), Thur; Zodiac, Oxford (01865 420042), Fri; Village Hall, Priddy (01749 675562), Sat; tours